My Girlchild turned 13 recently and boy is she proving to be quite the little wise woman. We went on a mini-road trip this weekend and the Manchild went to a pal’s house after it, leaving she and I to amuse ourselves, and each other. We watched a movie, dyed her hair, cut her hair, got me a new outfit eventually for my impending interview(s), went yard sale-ing (which allowed me to check something off of my list of things I want to do from age nineteen…I bought a typewriter), etc.
But late at night, we talked. She asked questions about my previous life as a Girlchild which led to discussions around my previous life as a Childmother and my evolution out of that into Grownass Womanmother. In my infinite wisdom, I found it helpful to share journals that I have had for what feels like millenia. I wish I had my diaries from when I was her age, but I burned them in an act of rebellion against particular patriarchy. So what we have to work with is journals from age 19 on and poetry from age 12 on. It is a blessing, I never realized.
Mind you some passages involving her father we decided to skip as to not traumatize her 🙂 There are just some things you don’t want to think of your parents thinking.
I was even able to inspire her to start journaling in the hopes that she could share them with her own child or even me someday.
The most amazing part was the wisdom she shared with me at the end of the evening.
She told me, (slightly paraphrasing of course, as I didn’t transcribe her exactly…)
“You seem like you are always doing amazing things when you are single and then you get with these people and then you start trying to fix them, instead of fixing you and following your path. You always take care of other people instead of you. Why do you do that? Why don’t you just fix you and do the amazing things that you start when you don’t have men to fix?”
That is a good question, Womanchild, that is a good damn question.
Out of the mouths of babes, I guess.
but…….only when it comes to my blog.
Seriously…Sorry friends…been doing the job-search-grad-school-hippy-hippy-shake (no really, its a thing) and then this week I’ve been in trainings….next week I am going to the ocean for a conference…it’s rough I tell ya, rough.
BUT every time I think the Universe is done throwing me curve balls, I get another one….this time it was an ok one though.
Facebook has this magical effed up skill of knowing who I have thought about or talked about recently and then WHAMO…they pop up on my radar.
Some people I am like:
I had almost forgot they existed!
And then others, I have a real soft spot for….
…sometimes I have “known” these people for 25 years…Oh my dear sweet ancient alien baby space monkey Jebus….25 years? Really?
I don’t always know anything about them except what has trickled through the rumor mill over the years….
What I remember from childhood is often very different from the people they have become…and yet, they are still those same people in my head.
Memory is a bittersweet thing.
But still, I wish them so much happiness it makes my chest hurt. Huh.
It really is all about love and energy. Even if you don’t know it.
I’ve been through some emotional roller coasters lately and the one concrete thing I have realized is that loving others makes me feel good, but they don’t have to love me back for me to get that benefit.
I just finally got around to watching the finale of Spartacus.
It wasn’t the finale of Spartacus.
I already turned off my Starz.
Alas. Woe. #firstworldproblems
This is what I do when I have no canvas.
So I have this bad habit of starting sentences with adverbs. Oh well. 🙂
Anyway, I had company this weekend who asked me why I have pictures hanging everywhere of my ex-partner….They wondered if it was an indication that I am still holding out hope to get back together or I am not over them or whatnot. I said no, I just really haven’t had the time to deal with it considering grad school and blah blah blah….
But since they said that, now all I can think of is the task. My eyes go to the pictures of them immediately as I walk by my framed pictures and mosaics…. It’s a pain in the ass. It requires an emotional dissonance and dissociation I am not totally prepared for and yet, I know it needs to be done.
It’s not like I am doing anything better today.
Facebook and Pinterest and homework and the last episode of Spartacus can wait I suppose.
I hate endings.
But I love beginnings. It’s a balance I suppose.
It’s that inevitable part of ending graduation….that time every one without a trust fund dreads……JOB SEARCH….
I have redone my resume 34,384,574,857,045 times with 2,384,973,048 different people telling me I need to redo it. But luckily, I have a pretty awesome BGBF who loves me enough to have worked mine over like racehorse on his weekend and whipped it into sexy shape. All on one snazzy page. HUZZAH.
So today I filled out 15 applications, including cover letters and endless inane questions asking me to provide rationale, answers, education, and experience with the name of the organizations I worked at during those experiences to prove I know how to blow my nose and tie my shoes and encourage others to do the same, in an appropriate manner.
Holy Moly. I hope I get a job.
Don’t they understand I am an indentured servant? I have a house worth of loans! I am owned by the man!
I will work! I have to work! Let me work! PLEASE……
Not that I am desperate….yet…..
I was even asked in an application if I am an “expert in determining precipitating events.”
Um, no. Is that even an actual expertise? I know what one is but…..I’m not training to be on “Criminal Minds”….
What did I get into!
Wish me luck lovers.
Mama needs to pay off these shoes….
The trouble with me
is that I am always hopeful.
Every time I am proven wrong
I look disappointment in the eye
and say “Next time!”
Next time will be better,
Next time will be perfect,
Next time I’ll know better,
Next time it will work.
I always have it figured out,
before next time arrives.
I do the work.
I work on me.
I know what went wrong.
I know what signs to watch for.
My eyes are open…
open wider than my heart…
And then I remember,
if only in dreams,
How it feels,
What I want,
What I need,
What I can provide…
I am in love.
In love with the idea…
In love with the potential…
In love with the way you make me feel.
In loving you I love myself.
I see you
Through a looking glass, darkly…
That’s the trouble with me.
I thank you for that.