Thursday, February 11, 2016

Shits and giggles.

My dad used to say that... its not all shits and giggles, you know.
I can't, right now, think of what exactly he meant, but I do know this marriage wasn't. It wasn't all terrible, and it wasn't much fun.  I wasn't a victim of anything, but in my inability to depend on HubsJ, I was certain.
Inconsistency is surprising, after all, in that all it takes is those few times, to be a certain thing.  Its part of the definition.... And a mamabear superwoman rises from the ground to protect and defend and maintain and shore up defenses.
Rather than remove the source of all that hurt and growing anxiety years ago, I kept waiting for him to address his issues, to chose me over them, and I suppose it was Love that made those choices, and now simple Self-Preservation has stepped in instead... the whole self, the self which includes the bodies of the three children, whose selves I am still somewhat responsible for. Love is there, but she is riding side saddle, and has a mask and a scarf, and it is downright hard to recognize her sometimes.... at least, i think that is who that is.  

I can feel some of the ice cracking up in me, I've been having more fun with the kids, feel more free to have people to the house, knowing what will be there.  First, I have to re-introduce myself to some of my friends, I have been missing for awhile.  It is slow, and sometimes I am wearing a grizzly mask when I don't want to, and it is scratchy and smells of old rubber, an old face I am putting on because it is habit.

I don't mind the shits, really, as long as I get some giggles.  And I can feel them just around the corner.  It will be nice to let some of that hyper-alert guardwiththetaser go. Tasers have their own weight you know, and of course, there are accidents...


MotherOfGooses said...

a breath of something...that is good!