It's coming...

Once again, October is almost over which means NaBloPoMo is on my mind.  The thing is, I'm not feeling really secure in my world right now and I don't know if I should unleash that on whoever still stops in here.

So, iffen yer feeling so inclined, drop me a comment of encouragement and I'll add my name to the ring.

Whew.

When life is a bit calmer I'll write. I'm sure I've said that before. The thing is, I avoid writing when things are messed up because I refused to let this become a whine blog, like my last one, filled to the top with negativity, depression and drama. The thing is, the farther I get from my last post, the more I find myself thinking about how funny the story has been - drama included - and wish I had kept up a running commentary of the whole thing!

Examples?

• My last entry found me packing a three bedroom house. Not too big a deal aside from the sheer volume of crap that a family can accumulate over the course of a few years. The challenge was that we were moving into a very small space for a few months. We needed to decide what we could live without for a while and what was truly necessary for survival. Hahaha. That was(n't) so funny.
  
• The small space we were moving into was a 28' trailer (with a pop-out) situated in our neighbours driveway and across the street from where I was packing.
• The trailer was not a winter unit which meant we were wiping condensation off the windows and walls everyday in order to control a potential mildew problem.
  
• In the time we were in the trailer, Wolf and I got the dreaded H1N1 and lived to tell about it. Kitten remained perfectly healthy during this time and revelled in her role as caregiver.
• We ended up in that trailer from October 31st until sometime in the first week of March; I can't precisely remember because February 14th marked the first day of The Great ClusterF**k, and I've been a little crazier ever since.

• The Great ClusterF**k deserves a bullet of its own. (Maybe even an indent, but I don't have that option with blogger and I don't remember any HTML.) It all started with an innocent phone call... (cue flashback) Things were getting lean in the work department. We were driving toward the exit of our local grocery store parking lot when Wolf hollered at me to "follow that gold car!" I did. Thankfully, the driver of the gold car wasn't going far. He pulled into a space one lot over at which point Wolf leapt from the truck to say 'Hi.' The point to this minor stalking was to get a phone number from the driver of the gold car. Apparently, Wolf used to work with gold-car-driver's son and had begun a deal (years ago) to change the roof-ling on the guy's house. In under a week, we were in business together. The plan: He's leasing a house in town and has been renting out his house which is on the lake. We'll move into his house for reduced rent while we work with him and while we renovate his house. His house has a hot tub, a pool and a generator which will run the whole house, water features included, in the event of power outage!
  
• New plan: His house was trashed by the previous renters. We'll move into the place he's leasing in town. It's in "The Properties." (Yes, that is as pretentious as it sounds). The rent will be higher but we'll still work with him and help him renovate his house.
  
• New plan: We'll move into his trailer and stay on the property. He'll stay in his house and break the lease on the house in town. It'll be cheaper for all concerned which'll put more money into the business. Don't worry, the trailer's way bigger than the one we were in; it's 38'!!

It was about that point where I snapped.

• Okay. New plan: We'll take over the lease in town, he'll live in his house.... I stopped listening. I decided that there was nothing beyond This Moment. I planned nothing. I answered no questions. I ventured no opinions. I had no thoughts of my own, beyond my own actions. When Wolf asked, "So, what do you think?" I said, "Just tell me what's happening and I'll do it." It was both ugly and cathartic.

Funny, hey?

At some point I'll tell you about the house and where this adventure has taken us, so far, but now I have to sleep. I have to work in the morning and get Kitten to Cartooning class and Marimba. Thanks be for other homeschooling families and the possibility of impromptu, week-night sleepovers!
Amen!

Opportunities and possibilities.

I've never enjoyed packing. Whichever form it takes, it always includes a tremendous amount of stress. What if I forget something that I desperately need?!! It's gotten to the point where I want to keep special suitcases packed all the time; the overnight bag, the weekender, camping must-haves. Sure, I'd have multiples of everything - contact solution and cases, shampoo and conditioner - but I'd also always have everything I needed.

Or, I could give myself the time I need to prepare.

I've been packing for the past two weeks, now. I should clarify that I started packing two weeks ago, packed for about 3 hours/day for two days, between hour long breaks playing facebook games. Not overly productive, really. Not even remotely enjoyable. It's my typical way of packing. Start early so I feel okay about myself, then leave everything else to three days before d-day. A flurry of stuffing random items into random boxes and labelling them as 'miscellaneous', and - poof - I'm a soggy pile of tears and anxiety with years of living with boxes that I won't open because I don't want to have to organize their contents! Magic!

Yesterday and today have been good packing days. Wolf enlisted help in getting the big pieces of furniture out to the truck and into the storage unit while I've packed and done laundry. We have two weeks before we have to be out of this place so there's not too much pressure. We're keeping all of our necessities packed separately so we can still use them before taking them to our temporary digs. And somehow, for the first time, I'm actually having fun... okay, fun isn't the right word, but when I take a break, I can see what's been done. It gives me the motivation to keep going. It's fun-ish.

Back to it...

Phew!

One whole day without Bejeweled Blitz. My most recent addiction. But I did get more packing and laundry done. Now, I'm going to watch House (and maybe Heroes) then bedtime!

Clean sheets, de-cluttered space, clean shaven hubby and a tepid tea. What more does a girl need?

Obviously not a decent blog entry!

Have a good night.

Steps and Phases

Looking back on my life, I see cycles - ever repeating, morphing with each turn. If I were to define it as a shape, it would resemble a spiral. I live from experience to follow through to lesson to experience - coloured by lesson - to follow through to new lesson.

It’s human nature, I think, to feel discontented with our lives. We want more money or less weight, more time or less work. We wish we hadn’t squandered our youth… Something is missing and we’re aware, on some subconscious level, of that void. This feeling heralds the beginning of my cycle, if cycles had beginnings, and the Dissatisfied Phase is born.

When I start feeling ungratified by my life, I hide in my addictions. If I have no addictions handy or convenient, I’ll create one. This avoidance encourages more unhappiness, which spawns yet more need to hide. Eventually, all of my ‘spare time’ is eaten and I’ve nothing to show for it. Then, all time becomes spare time.

Once the Avoidance Phase is well and truly established, it’s time to move on to the Recognition Phase. I’m really unhappy, tired and hungry. I have coffee for breakfast and snack on cigarettes all morning and afternoon. I eat once… at dinner… if something is made… not by me. I miss my family. I’ve fallen behind in all of my work. Denying and avoiding is no longer an option. So, I stop denying. I don't stop avoiding yet and I don't voice my realization. If I did, I'd have to do something about it. I can be stuck here, in self loathing, for another week or so. It's my own personal, self-created and nurtured hell.

I don't know where the breaking point is but when I hit it, I snap. The silence that has masked my emotional turmoil becomes charged with all of the energy I haven't spent. I can no longer exist within the confines of my dysfunction. Here I am again and I can't stand it any more!!!

I've come to my Action Phase. I speak. Words are power. A word, once spoken, cannot be taken back. A witness cannot un-hear. "I hate this. I'm wasting everything. I dream about change but that's not gonna make the change happen!"
Wolf's reply to this is in the form of a question. "What are you going to do about it?" (It's gently asked, not loaded with anger, resentment or judgment. Seven years is a lot of time to learn how your partner works. He's gotten very good at letting me get to where I'm going in my own time. God, I love that man!)

I once read a great quote: Be the change you want to see in the world. I've always thought the world was messed up. There is next to no community anymore. Heinous behaviour is to be ignored (not my place to do anything) or glorified (pick any hacker flick). My world is messed up, too. My world originates from within my own person. If I want to change the world, I have to start right here, with me. I know this, of course. I've learned it over and over, consciously since I was twenty-four years old.

A couple of years ago, I decided that the word 'should' wasn't going to be a part of my vocabulary. It was just a long four letter word. I replaced it with 'could.'
"I could be doing the dishes.
"I could be catching up on school reporting.
"I could have a shower, because it's been a week and I'm a slime-ball."

It was liberating. It made my active times feel good because I was choosing to be active. It made my lazy, avoidance times feel good because it was my choice.

Last year, when I went back to work, I lost the choice. I mean, I knew I could choose not to work, but that would leave my family homeless and starving. Had I made that choice, Wolf would have gone back to work and might not be here, today. I had a choice, I just didn't like the possible outcomes of taking the 'easy way out.'

Somehow, I've gotten mired again (*sigh*) in choosing not to engage in my life. I still believe that I needed to take 'should' out of my lexicon. It was imperative that I take responsibility for my own actions/inaction. I do think I kind of twisted the whole thing to suit my needs at the time, and now it's time to straighten out the kinks.

This is step one in my journey to recovery.

Reconnection.

Le sigh...

I haven't written in a long time and I do so want to write. This is absolutely not the time to be doing so as I have to work in less than an hour but my brain is melting and my heart hurts so much. My world has opened up in front of me and there are so many possible avenues. I can see it clearly and it's just beyond my reach.

I have always been a jack of all trades and master of none. I like it that way. I get bored do easily and want to move on to the next thing to keep my brain from atrophying. This is generally not the best way to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads.

My heart lives in creativity. My soul needs to create.

With the departure of my favourite co-worker - the one who kept me looking forward to each week of work - I have new responsibilities. Creating purchase orders. Just one more thing outside of my comfort zone, in a department with too low an employee to customer ratio. One more thing there isn't enough time to get done. One more reason to feel like my job is killing me.

I spent my weekend, again, in the Big-City. My days off have become days of driving. With hubby medically unable to drive and working down island (oh yeah, he's working again... for the past couple of weeks) I have become chauffeur extraordinaire. I use my down time in drawing and thinking. This weekend, though, I was an interior designer... and I liked it. Picking colours and tiles and counter-tops and, and, and... It was fun. I was bouncy and bubbly.

And now I have to go back in to ten dollars an hour and ungrateful customers... and no favourite co-worker.

On news, theme songs and living two lives…

Well hello there.

I never wanted this to become another defunct blog. Just thought I’d put that out there. I keep telling myself that I’ll write regularly when things settle down. The problem with that thought process is that things never really settle down. It’s all just various levels of busy.

Our latest busy-ness is in the form of another long term house guest. He arrived a week ago, yesterday, and so far it’s been relatively good. We have the consistent challenges - you know, the ones which present regardless of the visitor. Things like privacy, changes in routine, toilet seat tension and extra expenses. With this particular guest there are a few more things to think about.

This guest is a long standing friend of Wolf’s. This guest, who always had turbulent mood swings, has very recently been diagnosed with Bipolar disorder. This guest has spent a couple of weeks, twice, (from February to March of this year) in the hospital for suicide attempts. This guest flew out to the island about two weeks after his latest attempt.

….

….

I find myself stuck. There is no more to say about it besides my own stress about the whole thing. He is medicated. He is not yet level. Oh, and in August, his girlfriend will arrive, too. They met in the hospital.

On a lighter and more intriguing note, the members of my little family each have their own theme songs. Since she was about three years old, Kitten’s been singing The Imperial March while she plays. Wolf, who has recently rented all of the movies, fills our ears with the theme to Superman. Mine? Like, since I was a kid? Embarrassingly enough, my background music is the Mexican Hat Dance. Ole!

There. Now you know.


My work week. My weekend. I’ve often felt like I was two people. Nothing to be concerned about, mind you, just the me-that’s-at-my-best and the me-that's-falling-apart. Now, I have Work me. The cool thing is that work me tends to supersede falling apart me, more or less. I mean, I have I’m-really-sick-of-this-shit-but-will-keep-gritting-my-teeth-and-smiling Work me, but the point is the smile remains. Mostly.

Weekdays are for work. That’s all I have room for. Work and a little bit of family because my hours are so crappy. Weekends are for art, but art takes so much time. It takes time for me to settle into the zone, to see what my next step should be. I can still work when I’m low. I struggle with art, even the idea of art, when I’m low. I hate that I have to allot so much time to my work life when I find it almost completely unsatisfying and my paycheque sucks. I hate that I exchange eighty hours for $630. I hate that, without Wolf’s income (which is up in August), we would have about $136 left over after paying rent. Per month.

And I’m not overly keen on having become ‘just like everyone else.’


I’ve had a tough week. I’m ready for my big break. Hey Universe, are you listening?