OK, so maybe the problem is a little more than the blues, in which case, I'll talk to my dr. next month and try to get to the bottom of whatever is bothering me.
Be that as it may, I decided to medicate in one of the least offensive ways I know how... retail therapy. I got my hair trimmed and actually let her style it this time (nice! it even came with a scalp massage). I bought shoes to replace the favorite pair I tore up in Hawaii, a new purse, some hair styling products and a new lipstick. I came home actually feeling pretty.
I'm glad it's the weekend. I'm totally digging my new book and I have 3 hours of shows taped. I'm also going to try to get some rest and some exercise.
Friday, April 29, 2005
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
false start
OK I tried to start Jonathan Franzen's "The Corrections" but it was depressing the crap out of me and I don't need more of that. I'm already sulky and moody enough, thank you. So I grabbed "The Time Traveler's Wife" instead and if that isn't better I'll have to take drastic measures and break out the Jennie Crusie mindcandy I have stashed away.
I think I'm having a midlife crisis. T says he doesn't know what's wrong with me, "We've been plugging away just like always," he says. This says to me that he is happy doing what he's always done. Which is great. But I feel furious even thinking about it. I think I should be happy but I'm not. I'm bored, restless, irritable, lonely and my back hurts.
I think this restlessness is a way of courting disaster. Part of my drama queen psyche seems to like to shake things up to feel something, which is a seriously messed up way to be. WHY can't I just be happy?
Supposedly exercise helps "the blues" or whatever you want to call it. Maybe I should try it. I do enjoy throwing myself in to a big project, something that takes hours because then I just get wrapped up in what I'm doing and don't have the opportunity to overthink things.
I'm really in danger of becoming a crazy cat lady.
I think I'm having a midlife crisis. T says he doesn't know what's wrong with me, "We've been plugging away just like always," he says. This says to me that he is happy doing what he's always done. Which is great. But I feel furious even thinking about it. I think I should be happy but I'm not. I'm bored, restless, irritable, lonely and my back hurts.
I think this restlessness is a way of courting disaster. Part of my drama queen psyche seems to like to shake things up to feel something, which is a seriously messed up way to be. WHY can't I just be happy?
Supposedly exercise helps "the blues" or whatever you want to call it. Maybe I should try it. I do enjoy throwing myself in to a big project, something that takes hours because then I just get wrapped up in what I'm doing and don't have the opportunity to overthink things.
I'm really in danger of becoming a crazy cat lady.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
My
My happiness --
a small kernel planted in shallow soil
in a box full of roots
in the half sun.
My changing heart--
a fruit broken open on the sidewalk
spilling its insides out
on the dry stone.
My lifetime choice--
a small house and a small garden tended
nothing new, one day that
leans on the last.
a small kernel planted in shallow soil
in a box full of roots
in the half sun.
My changing heart--
a fruit broken open on the sidewalk
spilling its insides out
on the dry stone.
My lifetime choice--
a small house and a small garden tended
nothing new, one day that
leans on the last.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Things I'd like to do:
- get a massage
- get a mani/pedi
- see Yellowstone
- see the Grand Canyon
- spend a few days in the Smithsonian
- read all the books on my bookshelves
- go to Europe
- write a book
- lose 30 pounds
- meet my sister
- pet a tiger
- go to Maui
- get a makeup consultation
- grow beautiful tomatoes
- find the perfect haircut
- rock a baby
- laugh every day
- participate in community theater
- live without regret
- publish a poem
Is it possible to live without regrets? What would you undo, if you had a do-over? And where would you be now?
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Messed up kind of love
Last night, T started to watch Oprah as I was heading upstairs for a little on-on-one time with “Empire Falls”. Oprah was featuring a woman named Ayelet Waldeman, of whom I became an instant fan. With one foot on the staircase, I started watching -- and I never got to “Empire Falls”.
This little 5-foot-nothing mom faced off a crowd of angry moms who were offended as hell about what she had written – with only Oprah and another petite mom named Muffy to back her. And what did she write that so enraged the mob? That while she loved her children, she was not in love with them. Her husband is still the center of her universe.
Wowch. (My new word for painful revelation). You should have seen how ticked those moms were. But Ayelet is right. And even though I don’t have biological children, I see how having a kid in the house changes the focus and affects couplehood. If’n y’aint careful, kids can take over every nook and cranny of the house and your heart. Leaving no room for daddy. Or mommy. Making couples forget how those kids got made in the first place. Sadder yet, was the mommy mob’s vociferous insistence that hubby will wait until the kids are grown and she has time to give him a little of herself, oh, 15 or 20 years from now.
Get real. No man wants to have bad sex or none for 15 years. No man wants to be relegated to the way back while wife is doling out the juiceboxes and doing flashcards. Sorry. Even I was shocked (and I think T was too) that 1 in 5 marriage are zero sex marriages (or less than 10 times per year). What happened to balance, for heaven’s sake? What happened to setting aside time to nurture your marriage so your kids can have a stable and loving home?
And what kind of kids are getting raised? Lavished with over-the-top love, parents orbiting their children like moons, the kids are encouraged to be selfish, self-centered and oblivious to anyone else’s needs or feelings. They miss out on the chance to observe and learn from a loving romantic relationship. They never see that sometimes other people’s needs should come first because their needs drive their mother’s every action. I think it’s important to make children a priority – otherwise don’t have them. But they can’t be the only priority. Nor should they believe they are the most important people on the planet.
I’ve added Ayelet’s website to my bookshelf. I’ve never read her stuff – except “Truly, Madly, Guiltily” but after her graceful, classy appearance on Oprah, I plan to.
This little 5-foot-nothing mom faced off a crowd of angry moms who were offended as hell about what she had written – with only Oprah and another petite mom named Muffy to back her. And what did she write that so enraged the mob? That while she loved her children, she was not in love with them. Her husband is still the center of her universe.
Wowch. (My new word for painful revelation). You should have seen how ticked those moms were. But Ayelet is right. And even though I don’t have biological children, I see how having a kid in the house changes the focus and affects couplehood. If’n y’aint careful, kids can take over every nook and cranny of the house and your heart. Leaving no room for daddy. Or mommy. Making couples forget how those kids got made in the first place. Sadder yet, was the mommy mob’s vociferous insistence that hubby will wait until the kids are grown and she has time to give him a little of herself, oh, 15 or 20 years from now.
Get real. No man wants to have bad sex or none for 15 years. No man wants to be relegated to the way back while wife is doling out the juiceboxes and doing flashcards. Sorry. Even I was shocked (and I think T was too) that 1 in 5 marriage are zero sex marriages (or less than 10 times per year). What happened to balance, for heaven’s sake? What happened to setting aside time to nurture your marriage so your kids can have a stable and loving home?
And what kind of kids are getting raised? Lavished with over-the-top love, parents orbiting their children like moons, the kids are encouraged to be selfish, self-centered and oblivious to anyone else’s needs or feelings. They miss out on the chance to observe and learn from a loving romantic relationship. They never see that sometimes other people’s needs should come first because their needs drive their mother’s every action. I think it’s important to make children a priority – otherwise don’t have them. But they can’t be the only priority. Nor should they believe they are the most important people on the planet.
I’ve added Ayelet’s website to my bookshelf. I’ve never read her stuff – except “Truly, Madly, Guiltily” but after her graceful, classy appearance on Oprah, I plan to.
Monday, April 18, 2005
Yes
Love is a choice, not a feeling.
Today I choose to love my husband. Today I choose my family and all its hassles over the whatever that is out there. Because the whatever is not for me..
My mom always said my grandfather must have had gypsy blood because he loved to move around. I used to think about this as a little girl and I thought once I had a place of my own I'd never want to move. But now I find this is not true. And in fact I've spent the last 6-12 months of my life thinking of nothing but moving around. Some women fantasize about other men -- Ben Affleck or the dude in the coffee shop. I fantasize about quiet little loft apartments, neatly furnished and easy to clean.
A few days ago I came one sentence away from that little apartment. I say one sentence but it was really just one word, yes or no.
He asked me, "What is it that you really want to do? Do you want to stay or not?"
All that is selfish in me, all that wanders away from the keyboard and the kitchen sink to other lives lived elsewhere, the old me, worldy and gypsy -- wanted to say "no". But somehow I found myself forming the word "yes". Yes to sinks full of dishes, to shimmying washing machines, to weeds in the backyard. To listening to his breathing in deep sleep. To sending a daughter to Europe when I would rather go myself. Yes to clothes on the floor and yes to the house that we thought we would have sold and moved away from by now. Yes to forgiveness for all my hurts, both real and imagined. Forgiveness 70 x 7.
Maybe the gift of a mature relationship is the realization that not everything that I need can or will come from him but some things must. I can talk about books and film and history with other people. I can have dinner with girlfriends and a healthy career. And for unconditional love and acceptance I can go to God. But when it's time to go home, it's to him I will return because that is the deal I made. I swore before God to have him, for better or worse.
Yes. Yes. and Amen.
Today I choose to love my husband. Today I choose my family and all its hassles over the whatever that is out there. Because the whatever is not for me..
My mom always said my grandfather must have had gypsy blood because he loved to move around. I used to think about this as a little girl and I thought once I had a place of my own I'd never want to move. But now I find this is not true. And in fact I've spent the last 6-12 months of my life thinking of nothing but moving around. Some women fantasize about other men -- Ben Affleck or the dude in the coffee shop. I fantasize about quiet little loft apartments, neatly furnished and easy to clean.
A few days ago I came one sentence away from that little apartment. I say one sentence but it was really just one word, yes or no.
He asked me, "What is it that you really want to do? Do you want to stay or not?"
All that is selfish in me, all that wanders away from the keyboard and the kitchen sink to other lives lived elsewhere, the old me, worldy and gypsy -- wanted to say "no". But somehow I found myself forming the word "yes". Yes to sinks full of dishes, to shimmying washing machines, to weeds in the backyard. To listening to his breathing in deep sleep. To sending a daughter to Europe when I would rather go myself. Yes to clothes on the floor and yes to the house that we thought we would have sold and moved away from by now. Yes to forgiveness for all my hurts, both real and imagined. Forgiveness 70 x 7.
Maybe the gift of a mature relationship is the realization that not everything that I need can or will come from him but some things must. I can talk about books and film and history with other people. I can have dinner with girlfriends and a healthy career. And for unconditional love and acceptance I can go to God. But when it's time to go home, it's to him I will return because that is the deal I made. I swore before God to have him, for better or worse.
Yes. Yes. and Amen.
Monday, April 04, 2005
Murcia me
So an update on the Israel post. I have not felt the pull and tug of the Holy Land, nor have I received any divine hints that I should go. So I will not go. Someday, I will. Some year, when A is not headed off for a semester abroad at Murcia. Someday when I can go and share it with someone I love. Someday when I am more spiritually ready.
Touching history and seeing the places Jesus saw just seems too easy. I can't explain it. I just know that my faith would be solidified if I could put my feet on the Via Dolorosa or see the Garden Tomb, where for us Christians, everything began. Or stand on the Mount of Olives, eat fish at the Sea of Galilee. It would be so much easier for me to believe then -- like Thomas, I have a foolish need to put my finger in the wound. But that isn't how faith is supposed to be.
"Now Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." Hebrews 11:1
For a little while longer I need to keep nurturing my faith.
Oh, I don't know if this makes any sense at all. Suffice to say, I just know that this is A's year for Murcia, not my year for Jerusalem.
Touching history and seeing the places Jesus saw just seems too easy. I can't explain it. I just know that my faith would be solidified if I could put my feet on the Via Dolorosa or see the Garden Tomb, where for us Christians, everything began. Or stand on the Mount of Olives, eat fish at the Sea of Galilee. It would be so much easier for me to believe then -- like Thomas, I have a foolish need to put my finger in the wound. But that isn't how faith is supposed to be.
"Now Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." Hebrews 11:1
For a little while longer I need to keep nurturing my faith.
Oh, I don't know if this makes any sense at all. Suffice to say, I just know that this is A's year for Murcia, not my year for Jerusalem.
Friday, April 01, 2005
audience of one
20 years ago, my mother sat in a darkened auditorium watching me act on stage. She sat in the audience while I sang thin, slightly off-key solos at school concerts. She attended the music department awards breakfast when I got my vocal award -- not for being good but for being tenacious. Her smile of approval meant more to me than the cold words from a so-called friend who said I sucked and didn't deserve it.
She was there for every single thing I ever did. In 4 years, she never missed. She was my audience of one.
Last night, I became K's audience for the first time. And I never appreciated my mother more than in that moment, feeling exhausted from the day, sitting in a darkened auditorium with a quarter tank of gas in my car, 2 hours worth of work to do at home and another day just like that one tomorrow.
In so many ways, I have become my mother. What an honor.
She was there for every single thing I ever did. In 4 years, she never missed. She was my audience of one.
Last night, I became K's audience for the first time. And I never appreciated my mother more than in that moment, feeling exhausted from the day, sitting in a darkened auditorium with a quarter tank of gas in my car, 2 hours worth of work to do at home and another day just like that one tomorrow.
In so many ways, I have become my mother. What an honor.
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