now i am quietly waiting for the catastrophe of my personality
to seem beautiful again

 

(meditations on an emergency, frank o’hara)

this is it

I have spent my entire life going through periods of extreme depression.  And, in truth, it’s gotten worse the older I’ve become.  Now that I’m facing my thirty-second birthday on Friday I find myself wanting a real change.

Here’s the thing … I know what I have to do in order to avoid the cycle of depression.  I know all the details, all the minutia that would completely change my emotional state.  And up until this point I haven’t been doing it, I haven’t been taking care of myself,  I haven’t been watching out for my own emotional state.

(Surprisingly this actually has very little to do with J.  It has everything to do with me.)

So here I am, making some goals.  I’m not going to put them down here, because I feel like that sets me up for feelings of failure.  What I am going to do is make MYSELF a promise to start taking better care of me.  I am going to stop taking the short-term easier way out and I am going to take the long-term into account.  I’m done with this struggle and I’m ready to do the damn thing.

So happy birthday, Margaret.  And welcome to your new life.

change

Do you believe that people can change?  Do you believe that it’s possible for someone to put in enough work to actually change?  And, even more than that, do you believe that it’s possible for two people to change the patterns in their relationship that they have set in place from the very beginning?

I like to think that it’s possible.  I like to think that anything is possible if people are willing.  I like to think that with enough determination people can change anything.  I like to think that nothing locks us into our patterns except for ourselves, and that if we want to change we can do it.  And that’s what I’ve been working on for the last couple months.

J and I have been attempting to get back together.  We’ve been taking it very slow, not committing to anything except for the simple fact that we are working on it.  We have been trying to figure out how to better communicate with each other … or have we?

I’m afraid that what it actually comes down to is that *I’ve* been trying to figure out how to better communicate better with J.  When we have a conflict or an argument I have been trying to approach it from a different place, a place of working towards something, instead of simply trying to battle.  I’ve been working on being very careful with what I say, with how I react, being gentle with him.

And in return?  In return I’ve been getting the same.  In return nothing seems to have changed in the way that J interacts with me.  In return because I am being so gentle with him I am ending up taking massive quantities of shit from him.  And you know what?  This is why I left in the first place.  This is what led to years and years of my frustration and exhaustion and horrible self-esteem.  This is why I stopped wanting to try at all.

So what do I do?  Do I seek out a therapist who will hopefully help us communicate better?  Do I decide that, based on almost 11 years of experience, he is incapable of changing how he interacts with me … so I should cut and run?

All I know is that I am tired of finding myself in this position time and time again.

big stuff

I haven’t written here in a long time, but this is big enough that here I am.

So, today was Darwin’s last day at the daycare where he’s been since he was 15 months old. Almost three whole years at the same place, and now he’s moving on. On January 18th he’s going to be starting at the public Montessori school in Cambridge. I just can’t believe what a big guy he is now.

So today we had to say goodbye to everybody at the school. I couldn’t figure out how to say thank you in the right way. Because really, how do you say thank you? How do you say thank you for helping me raise my child? For being the ones who entirely dealt with potty-training? Who taught him his alphabet? How do I say thank you for providing me with a place where I felt comfortable leaving the most precious and beautiful and wonderful thing in my life, for not only keeping him safe but for giving me the peace of mind that I needed to *trust* that you were keeping him safe?

I guess all I can do is to say thank you, First Steps. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you for the love and the trustworthiness and the joy that you’ve brought into our life. You have meant the entire world to us. Thank you.

happiness and groucho marx

I haven’t written much lately, but I want you all to know that I am doing well.  I am now finding myself on the other side of a deep depression, one that you all might have gotten a glimpse of from my posts.  It’s been a tough couple months, a period of anger and sadness and loneliness and soul-searching and finding acceptance and learning to surrender.  But here, on the other side, I am better than I was before.

And a quick note …

Groucho Marx said “any club that would want me as a member … I wouldn’t want to join!”  The same is not true for me.  Any man who doesn’t want me, who doesn’t understand how to fully embrace and enjoy every ounce of who I am, is a fool.  And someday I actually will find a partner who loves me not in spite of my faults but because of them.  Luckily I already have a few people like that in my life, so I know how good it feels.  And even if my life goes by without finding a husband who makes me feel that way, I will always have my friends.

i have the peace

I’ve been sad recently. Like, a lot. But there have been a few wonderful moments and beauty and happiness in there.

The other day I was sitting on the floor looking particularly dejected and Darwin came over to ask me what was going on. Here’s how the conversation went:

D: Mama, why are you sad?

M: My heart is just a little bit broken.

D: I can fix it, Mama! I have the piece!

Of course the poor boy was utterly confused when it had the opposite reaction from what he expected and I burst into tears.

Damn do I love that little boy.

music that’s helping me through …

Part 3 of the story …

I finally heard from him today, and he said he’s not interested. Honestly, and I’m really not just saying this … I am absolutely ok with this. It was the waiting that was killing me, the not-knowing.

Even knowing that I’m never going to see him again doesn’t feel bad. Because of him I allowed my heart to open again and I am open to the possibility of love.

And to think all this happened over the course of one short week. Ah, the beautiful craziness of life.

In other news, did you guys hear that Willie Nelson cut his hair? For me this means that one of my ultimate sex symbols has lost some of his power, but I’ll always love him regardless …

broken ice

Well, I broke the ice last night. I went out on a date. Luckily it was just a short one … a late-night meet up for a drink. The best that I can say is that he wasn’t my type. At all. Seriously.

But now that’s done. Now I know that I am capable of putting myself out there in that way.

The best part was that right before I went out to meet him, I called up my best friend feeling totally nervous and freaking out. I asked her what I should do if he’s better than me? And she answered that I couldn’t think that way. She said “you gave a man that power for ten years and you don’t ever want to it again.” The voice of reason … as always.

And she’s right. I let J make me feel like he was better than me basically every day of our life together. I let him drop my self-esteem until it was virtually nonexistent. I gave him that power over me and I never want to do that again.

thank you, Fiona …

the boys i mean are not refined
they go with girls who buck and bite
they do not give a fuck for luck
they hump them thirteen times a night

one hangs a hat upon her tit
one carves a cross on her behind
they do not give a shit for wit
the boys i mean are not refined

they come with girls who bite and buck
who cannot read and cannot write
who laugh like they would fall apart
and masturbate with dynamite

the boys i mean are not refined
they cannot chat of that and this
they do not give a fart for art
they kill like you would take a piss

they speak whatever’s on their mind
they do whatever’s in their pants
the boys i mean are not refined
they shake the mountains when they dance

— e.e. cummings