Thursday, December 25, 2014

Rolling Stones (fa la la la laaaa)

Today is Christmas, 2014.  I am the mother of 2, a wife who loves her husband, a 40 year old singer who doesn't sing that much lately, and I have no real land, no country.  my husband said to me last night, "it's just annoying that we have no city.  no place we belong.  That would be crazy depressing if it weren't "we".  I have a happy, loving family.  I never feel alone, unsupported, or at odds with my spouse.  I have two living, relatively healthy parents, two healthy living in-laws.  I have healthcare (thanks Obama) and I have food, and a roof.  Holy carp, if you compare me with the whole freaking g world, I have everything.  Life itself is a gift.  Happiness is a gift, and I am wealthy.  probably wealthier than the folks who fired my husband, or the people who turned me down without even granting me an audition for my Doctorate. 

 So rolllling along, we are, now again available for a new city.  We will stay if it works, we will go if it works.  All I know for sure is that we learned this Christmas that it wasn't quite working where or how we'd hoped.  Again.  Daddy still doesn't have a job that pays bills or fulfills him or uses his skills, and Mommy is still living in part-time world and hoping to sing again.

 I love where I am and I hate where I am.  Probably ok, huh? 

Gonna quote the Indigo Girls again
 there I am in younger days, stargazing, painting picture perfect paths, of how my life and love would be
not counting the unmarked paths of misdirection, my compass, Faith in love's perfection, I missed ten million miles of road I should have seen...and we sit here in our storm and drink a toast, to the slim chance of love's recovery.

Tuesday, December 2, 2014


I think I just had my first panic attack.  Something with the dogs happened, and a neighbor was nice, but suddenly I found my heart pounding.  Would she scream?  She was on the phone, would she call the police?  Then the nausea, my ears with a deafening hum, heart banging on my rib cage and tears pouring and I have no idea what's happening.

And then the suggestion my sister made last night comes to me.  Do I have some form of PTSD?  Now I feel lame.  I'm not like...a vet, or someone involved in a shooting.  But I did hide in my house at night for 2 months, afraid my neighbor would kill me.  I did shut off the lights so he couldn't see me.  I did hold my husband while someone ripped him apart.  It was so ugly.  And I may be free, but often, I don't feel free.  I can't just relax, I need the tv on all the time.  No music,  stuff with words.

Everything is hard to do.  Motherhood is hard.  Holidays, cleaning, red tape.  All the stuff that is normally hard is extra hard.  Normal me is fine.  The kids and I laugh and read books. But a few times a day, I am not me.  I am hoping it's better, not worse.  But I'm not sure.

I am gaining weight.  I have gained about 8 pounds in 4 months.  I have bad spinning headaches.  Is that blood pressure?  I wish I knew.  My blood sugars are higher than ever.  For the first 3 months here, I had periods every two weeks.  Thinking about the health stuff just makes it worse.

My husband says, "you are not allowed to be more upset about me than I am" and he hugs me, but I don't know when it will feel like recovery.  Even vacations don't feel like vacations.

Somewhere in here there is a transformation.  I will get to the other side.  I will.