tides and seasons of my secret life

Thank you, Kirsten I’ve been a bit out of touch with you girls lately and I only discovered this a moment ago.

The bloggin’ blessing was started by Ukok, who writes about it:

 The idea… it’s a game of tag with a difference, rather than looking inwardly, we look outside ourselves and bless, praise and pray for one blog friend. By participating in this endeavour we not only make the recipient of the blessing feel valued and appreciated, but we are having some fun too. We’re going to see how far the bloggin’ blessings can travel around the world and how many people can be blessed! Recipients of a bloggin’ blessing may upload the above image to their sidebar if they choose to. If you receive a bloggin’ blessin’ please leave a comment on this thread here so that we can rejoice in just how many blessings have been sent around the world!

Since most of you who are closest to me already have been blessed, this one’s easy on me. I pass this blessing on to Mary, Jay and Maddy.

To Mary, because I always know she hears me. In many things, we’ve traveled similar roads, although years and continents apart. I truly admire the person she’s managed to become. And I look up to her and know, I can do this. Thank you for shining brightly, dear.

To Jay, because she’s brave and strong, facing human pain and suffering on an everyday basis and writing about it humbly, gently, beautifully and respectfully, thus making us see and appreciate what a frail miracle life is.

And to Maddy, who lives a merry life in Villa Villekulla. I would have loved to be your daughter You make me laugh. You make me open my heart and eyes wide and see things differently. Yay you!

Pass it on, girls. I am so glad to have you.

‘Your task is not to seek love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.’ ~ Rumi

We’re staying home. We have a couple of invitations, but I don’t feel like going. My head is bursting and after waiting patiently for the dull ache to subside, it only became kinda sharp-ish, so now I’m doped up on paracetamol, which is the only pain medication I am allowed to use. 500 mg every 6 hours.

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My drive is gone. I barely managed to wash the dishes. Yesterday I took a nap in the afternoon and when I woke up, The Darling Man said, I put on the lights for you, so you don’t wake up in the dark. He knows I hate to sleep in the afternoon and waking up to darkness makes me wanna cry. So he’s being considerate, he put the lights on for me. How sweet.

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Thinking of Yogamum and WoYoPracMo, I dug out a yoga studio offering prenatal yoga. Unfortunately they write on their website it’s only safe to attend classes after the first trimester of pregnancy, because things are a bit vulnerable before that point. So, YM, dear, let’s talk about it in 2009

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I’m downloading Marry Poppins, I suddenly remembered how this movie makes me laugh and dance. And although prenatal yoga is out of reach for the time being, this kid sure needs some prenatal literary education

So have a great and blissful time, girls (and boys). Stay safe. See you next year.

It started out alright and spiraled down towards mild-but-annoying-disaster. Dad & The Darling Man got themselves drunk on Christmas’ Eve (it’s a man’s thing, you don’t understand, ahem) and mum unpacked her shiny Victorian attitude and went on lecturing for three days straight. So, thank you, family, you are a blast.

I feel weird. Apart from the general nausea-inducing weirdness of pregnancy (5w5d today) I’m in no mood for anything. I don’t like seeing people. I don’t like picking up the phone. I need the apartment re-painted for the baby. I need more space. I need some shelves to hold my books, which are stacked in the kitchen cabinets and strewn around the floor. I need a washing machine, ’cause I can’t stand the piles of dirty laundry waiting to be washed by hand anymore. And maybe I need some Klamath weed to live through the darkness of winter.

The shrink called to tell me he was down with a cold, so I decided not to risk it.

But holy weirdness. This must be hormonal.

I should have posted about this DAYS ago, but I am so very much out of breath that I don’t know how to phrase it, so let’s spill the beans: I am 5w0d p-r-e-g-n-a-n-t today!

I saw my two pink lines on Monday morning after work and I have repeated the test a dozen times since, ’cause every time I sneeze, I fear the baby’s gonna drop out I went to my OB on Thursday, who couldn’t see the embryo yet, but saw a gestational sac measuring 6mm at 4w4d or so.

In a way this comes once again to prove that the Universe hears our prayers.

This is exactly what the “baby” looked like

Oh, please, keep your fingers crossed that all goes well. I’ll keep you posted. Lots to share.

Love,

M.

Okay, I stole that idea from Mary, but since she stole it from someone else… I think that’s actually called sharing And that’s what we do around here, no?

So, Sweetpea,

Let’s start out by saying you’re half as old as I am now, or maybe I am twice as old now as you are. But that’s just the digits. You feel old already? Oh, just wait until you’re my age. Basically, you’ll be disappointed to hear that life just doesn’t get any easier. On the other hand, I need to stress out (what may sound like unsolicited advice, but you haven’t quite reached that rebel stage yet, so hold your breath and listen) - easy does not necessarily mean good. You need to learn about quality.

I know you are dying to hear that this business called “Life” is going to turn out just fabulously carefree and wonderfully harmonious. (Although I don’t really understand how you expect this to happen, from where you stand right now. But you kinda still believe in fairy-tales.) Well, it’s not. I won’t spill the beans though, ’cause I am afraid you might decide not to pull through with it and then in some other parallel reality I might just turn out not to be existing by the age of 26. And, this might console you, I very much like existing.

In case you’re up for some more of unsolicited advice, let me tell you. That God-thing you’ve started peering into, keep that up. In some way or another, this is going to be the light at the end of the tunnel of your darkest hours.

I also know you’re craving some good news, so I’ll give you that. Later rather than sooner you’ll find yourself loving your parents. And you’ll find them loving you back. But mind you, this is going to be a long ride and you’ll need all the patience and faith you can muster. Also, in 7 years time you’ll fall in love truly, madly, deeply and there’s nothing you won’t do for that man, which you’ll find yourself sharing a life with in another 6 years time.

Against all odds

I love you
against weather and climate,
against all rules of
gravity and distance,
centrifugal force and human logic.

I thirst for you
against my far better knowledge
of life’s outcome
and it seems now I’ve lost all my
instincts of self-preservation.

I stand
against nature and history
ready to live or die
or set a precedent:
no one has ever loved you before

and no one will.
But I.

And eventually, you will. In the meantime, there will be a woman or two (don’t you blush on me with disgust, young lady) and also another guy who’ll make your world spin counter-clockwise, but brace yourself, it will be as short as it will be delicious.

But babe, even now I’m double your age I find myself doing lots of things I don’t really like. And there are lots of things about myself I don’t like at all. So keep down that self righteous attitude. You’ll find out to be no better than the people you despise. And you’ll find out that’s not such a bad thing after all. Because if I can give you any sensible advice at all, it would be those wise words by Thich Nhat Hanh (you’ll find out who that is soon enough)

Until we have become that which we are demonstrating against, we will have made no progress.

I know it won’t work for you yet, but you might consider being less of a pathological liar. It is a form of self-defense, but you’ll have to learn the hard way that honesty always is the better path to choose. It spares you the need to confess and long for redemption, later on. Also, it might spare you some couple hundred bucks worth of therapy and public embarrassment. Those lies, they always turn against you.

I also do know you’re already are as much of a codie as I’ll ever be, but let me tell you, people will always love you more for who you are than for whom you pretend to be. And pretending to be who/what you aren’t is lying, mind you. You don’t need to be fragile or ill (in case it occurs to you as a good idea) to be loved and soon enough everybody will be sick of it. Most of all you. But by the time you realize this, playing the drama-queen will have developed into an addiction of its own. (Remember the money you’ll need for therapy.) So please, if there is any road around it, take it. You won’t be sorry for listening.

And I won’t mind at all if in some parallel reality you turn out to be a better person than I am now.

Just in case you feel lonely, helpless and abandoned (c’mon you do), please know that I know what you’re going through and I have compassion for how hard and painful that’s on you. This is to say that all mistakes are forgiven.

Now let me hug you like no one ever has and just keep going, will ya?

Love,

BigSis (the one you were not supposed to have)

P.S. And, oh, babe, before I forget. By the time you are me, you will be slim and gorgeous, one way or another. Stop throwing up, start doing yoga. It will do your stomach some good. But it won’t stop our mum from going all Jeez, how skinny you’ve become! In some ways she’ll never change, you know.

I seem to have a sincere and honest aversion towards Christmas. Not in the religious sense, of course, but my experience of Christmas never (not even once) matched what it’s apparently supposed to be. And maybe year after year, and layer after layer of disappointment added up to what I call my “Christmas depression”.

Our sweet dysfunctional family didn’t even manage to play happy like others do. It’s always been just an outright torture to be out of school and no place to hide. When Wyrdbyrd tagged me with a Christmas meme a few days ago, I just couldn’t help thinking WTF? My mind goes blank on that one. So thank you, sweetie, but this just isn’t going to work.

Yesterday I talked to the shrink about how sad I feel around this time of year. I just can’t seem to think of a reason why to be happy. But I also realized, this is in my choice now. I’m grown up and I can let those memories haunt me, but I can also choose to look at this and change. Today I discussed with The Darling Man (he’s had similar Christmas experiences during the last years) what we want for Christmas and I told him I wanted the tree and the decoration, and the food, and just being together. I want to change the pattern. So now I’ll start to research some recipes (watch me, I’ve never even touched the stove for something else than brewing coffee ;)) and buy some decoration, and I’ll try to get into the mood for this. I have an aversion towards the cooking and the baking, too, ’cause my mum always made such a big deal out of it and ended up screaming and slamming doors because she felt we weren’t enough involved and no one was helping her out during those long kitchen hours. But now I realize it’s a way to show your love and care. So I might just as well give it a try and be wifely and homely. Let’s see how that goes. I’ll keep you updated.

The Chief’s torturing the hell out of me lately. It took her some 4 months but she finally had me crying last week. I don’t even want to start on the horror that one week of day-shifts turns out to be. By the time I come home I’m capable of doing nothing than watching a couple hours of stupid daytime TV. Oh, let’s cut the crap.

Very much like Yogamum I don’t feel like doing yoga, or any kind of practice, for that matter. I don’t even feel like leaving the house and seeing some friends, which is very much different than going into my cell that will teach me everything. I’ve not been avoiding that cell intentionally, I just don’t have the energy left to deal with what’s in there. I don’t even have the energy to throw in a load of laundry. So I’ve been putting things off into the infinite. And they will catch up with me, sooner or later, which gives me the creeps.

Christmas is bothering me, too.

(more…)

Talking. This is all so very confusing, so I’ve been tapping around in the dark.

There’s this thing I have to acknowledge my parents for. They’ve grown immensely. They’re nothing like they used to be, mentally abusive and generally just repeating their own parents’ behavior. I don’t know what efforts it took them and we all know it’s still a long way to go. But hey, THIS is just pretty amazing.

My grandma died at the age of 80. She had always been somewhat strange and paranoid but lately it had turned into a mental illness. She believed people were watching her through walls and planned on killing and poisoning her. I don’t know whether it was full-blown schizophrenia but she made life pretty hard for all of us. Mostly, my mum took care of her, bought her groceries and kept an eye on her several times a week. My grandma refused to come and live with us, she felt fine by herself, she always insisted. Until last Wednesday my mum got a call from the police department. You know, one of those calls we always dread when we watch CSI. One of those calls, saying, we’re sorry, ma’am, but your mother’s lying at the foot of her apartment building and she’s pretty much dead.

It would be pure hypocrisy to pretend I was shattered by the loss. She had never done much for any of us, her children or grandchildren. She preferred the privacy of her hallucinatory world and she made that clear, definitely. But all of this just makes it more complicated. When you lose someone you love, there’s clarity. You feel the loss and the grief and it’s all pretty simple. But here. Guilt and questions arise. Was she lonely? Was I supposed to love her more, care about her more? But she never made any indications she cared about me. She never called. I never called. Does anyone deserve to spend a lifetime deprived of warmth and genuine love? But that was her own choice, my dad says. She chose to live alone, but she didn’t feel lonely. How do you know, I ask? Well, she insisted she was doing fine on her own. She never wanted to come over or spend time with us. Did she ever show she cared about you? No. Not really.

(to be continued)

Last Wednesday my grandma jumped or rather fell off the 9^th floor. She died instantly. As far as anyone can figure she must have been in some sort of haze and probably didn’t realize what she was doing or what happened at all. Still there is a touch of mystery to it, since she was kinda smallish and it must have taken her great effort to climb over that railing. We will never know what really happened, but suicide has been excluded as a possibility for various reasons. Anyway, I won’t go into that now.

And I assure you, this post is going somewhere (and I’m not just tormenting my readers with horror-stories from my freakish life), but now that I’ve started to write, I realize I can’t do it all in a breath. It’s a lengthy story about family history, mother-daughter relationships, loneliness, guilt, pain and love, ultimately. I’m still trying to unwrap it in my mind. Thanks to God I’ve got that shrink now.

And, I’m fine. Really. Sometimes healing comes when you least expect it.