December 22, 2012 § 2 Comments
I guess because I can’t say no. Is that why? my mouth is always full and my eyes always dry…is that why I cry? Why I can’t see the top of a hill from the lowest dark little valley. Is that why I feel it’s so hard to be me? Why I can’t stop medicating my pain, why I can’t sit with it a while, get used to its sting? Because I’m a nicer mom, when I’m sober and a smarter wife and maybe even a better person so I wish I’d stop filling my mouth and my body. And I wish he would too.
December 10, 2012 § 1 Comment
I am taken with yours
your square peg fits my odd-shaped soul
November 13, 2012 § 1 Comment
You can pick one in this life.
You can pick one and have that one.
If something comes, if someone comes along, someone who is supposed to be yours, not your wife or husband, but YOURS, that’s different.
It’s hard for the one and for the one who receives the one.
How can you deny yourself me?
Shouldn’t you be SO proud I am yours, so proud someone so talented, smart, clever, loving is yours?
Shouldn’t that surrender feel like the biggest gift you could get?
You’ve tied my hands since.
We can’t talk about it, like what I need that you have given me and hold back from me now.
This is a death, over and over. I don’t know if I should walk away. I don’t want to. The list of things I want…
If I beg here, right here in public, Big Daddy, would you make it all better? Take me back? Tell me you love me and I’m your Baby Girl again?
Because I will. I will beg.
Please Daddy. Please. A million times please.
Know I do not want to replace your true love, know I don’t want to destroy all you have worked so hard for, know the two can exist.
We could have a healthy relationship of no consequence to your marriage.
You think you can just ignore this, that we can suffer thru with the chaste digital existence. That is not living. Denial.
Yes family is so important to you and I…mine…
Maybe you do see what I see or see me as never moving on and always demanding more.
This is not prayer, but a desperate plea that you see me as you were.
You did love me.
October 26, 2012 § 1 Comment
Oh the glorious moments after the children are bedded down. I settle myself in my evening safe space, laptop, blackberry, weed, bowl. Lighter. The pressure valve that’s thrown, the release of a big puff of air when you realize you survived another day. Another whole day of kids and husband and life. Disasters, holidays, happy days, homework time, random moments of a practically spiritual nature. And laughing. What else can you do but laugh a lot. That’s how you get them there, give kids roots and give them wings, as my friend Libby would say. I’m sorry I can’t give them more and I’m proud for what I give them. I agonize over every misstep, every fall back and broken expectation. Like fractured glass. Then, there are spelling tests. 96! And the LittleOne says “Mommy, can you scratch my back?” And you do and she throws her head back and says “Ahhhhhhh.” And you can’t believe it!
It’s worth it. For these thrown valve moments.
September 25, 2012 § 1 Comment
I can barely muster the energy to continue this climb. How dramatic of me, right? I feel exceedingly tired, like I am carrying the largest of burdens and the saddest of futures is waiting on a bloody horizon of my own design.
Big Daddy always said I demanded rescue of him.
Is that a bad thing? I’ve been strong an awful long
August 11, 2012 § 1 Comment
You are scowling.
I say you are not happy.
You get angry and argue the point.
You say most people are just getting by.
I get angry and argue the point.
I say “okay, are you happy?”
You say you are happy.
You are scowling.
July 9, 2012 § 5 Comments
I want to be at home, where I am happy about my true life. Just who do I think I am? Am I fooling myself into believing I am honest and true? Happy and sincere?
I am a wreck. My house is a wreck, my marriage is a wreck. I just want those moments with my lips against baby skin, or those moments where I prepare meals for them, answer their questions. I just want to be mom. It seems like the only thing I am sure of.
Since Big Daddy left I’ve been throwing myself into my family. Trying to, trying to remember my love in that slant, remember the past, which is something precious only he and I possess. And I cheapen it by wanting more, by wanting out when things get tough and stay tough. See? Even in writing this, I defend my actions.
Yes, we are open for reasons that don’t include falling in love with other people.
I have always been so eager to sell myself short, offer myself to any takers, regardless, saying I owed it to myself because I never had it before. Like mom says, if you don’t do something, sometimes you have to go back and do it.
Wish this whole mess had never started.
July 5, 2012 § 7 Comments
He is always losing something. His keys, his phone, his iPod, his license, his bank card, his hat, his work shirt. Honey, have you seen the keys? I can’t find my license. Where did those directions go? I lost my sunglasses.
When I was six months pregnant with my first daughter, he put the keys in my purse and promptly FORGOT. We didn’t check it until hours of looking later. At that point we had already contacted the dealer to order new keys. I had missed work. We had called my sister-in-law down from New Hampshire to drive us to GET the new keys and screamed at each other. A lot.
For years, it drove me nuts. I would set up key hooks. We tried a bowl. Nothing I could do, no habit to ingrain, no trick I could teach, no job I could assign could stop him from losing his shit.
Then, one day it just dawned on me in one of those freeing moments where a chunk of that chip on your shoulder that you never admit exists falls away and you breathe deeper than you thought possible. Things like that just happen to him. It’s just part of who he is. Loving him doesn’t including saving him from all pain and aggravation. And I shouldn’t expect him to change who he is. In surrendering to that, I noticed something really amazing.
He always finds what he thought was lost.
July 3, 2012 § 19 Comments
Fish fry afternoon
45 minute walk on inferno cement
to polluted ocean
on flush town border
remember when it was just me and you
tripping on Jules coffee
in our ghetto love nest
with our oven-ette
and three cats?
Diamond district house paint fume war
Feet slap uneven sidewalk
like old tyme moth ball ladies
parasols against the aging sun
save 3 dollars for ice cream sandwiches
and debate the bus ride back to
the center of the lost land
minorities and poverties
in walmart flip-flops and expensive
cars parked in front of
carved from mansions of founding sea fathers
when the ocean was king
not the city
the ocean was king
fishing was king of money
and diamonds were bought with the blood of boats
sweat is also salty
leaving the cast offs now to reclaim
the elemental home as their own
we smelled the ocean every single day,
then the garbage, then the cooking oil
and back in out bed/couch with our bowl/solace
I’d make you dinner and
we’d swear there was nothing
better than two rooms of
our own and freedom
near the ocean.
June 23, 2012 § 1 Comment
I hope he is ok. His routine, left unfulfilled yesterday, for all the world to see. This man, steady as water, as true as sky and tree. That I could upset this flow…I only beg I didn’t hold him too long. I sigh for the love we were allotted, as a gift well received for the work we did to get it.
I hope he is ok. I shouldn’t look, but I did. And will I continue to? I probably will.
I am writing more. Why do I feel like these are letters from somewhere small, where I have gone to heal? No, that’s not right. It’s a place I’ve gone to transform once again. I have to. I have to keep writing and living and raising my girls. I have to be married to my best friend and cultivate my family, because that’s the most important thing. It really is.