It has been a very long time that sadness has walked with me, as if an intimate companion whose arm is inextricably linked with mine. Sometimes the link is loose, letting me pull away a bit from the pall of gloom to take a few quick, clean breaths. But the grip tightens soon enough and pulls me back into disinterest and colourlessness.
I hate being like this. I hate feeling damaged, angry, indifferent, or whatever else whacks me in the solar plexus knocking the wind out of me, but I have not been able to shake it by myself, so last week started seeing a therapist. I had seen one previously to help me deal with marital breakdown and infidelity but did not keep it up. I think this will take a while.
I have been given one small exercise so far to help me put my anger with L (former spouse) behind me. I am to write down what I am angry about, get it out of my head and onto paper, then let it go. Some may be big things, some may be little...no matter, I just have to write it down. I'm thinking there will be some long-repressed angry moments that will see light.
During my session today, my therapist...we'll call him G, said one small phrase that pulled me up short, like a quick, sharp slap on the cheek. Four short words that I know, already, will have a profound effect on me. "He doesn't matter anymore."
He said a few more words before I stopped him and went back to those four. I repeated them then cried as I realized that after 25 years of L being one of the people who had mattered the most to me in my life, it couldn't/wouldn't be like that ever again.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
heed the words of your mechanic
'Once a cheat always a cheat' he said to me 3 and a half years ago. I should have listened.
Friday, September 12, 2008
big hoopy earrings and slutty pink lipstick
In a recent conversation with the group of folks I work with, our boss divulged that he has a thing for big hoopy earrings.
We are a group of 8, and all get along very well. We talk, we joke and laugh, we get hammered on wickedly strong margaritas at a house party and end up crashing wherever we stumble to, we work well together and can rely on each other. So it was only to be expected that upon hearing of our boss' little fetish we had to see how uncomfortable in an office situation we could make him.
Of the group of 8, there are only 2 women, and we 2 women decided that one Friday we would wear big hoopy earrings to the office. And let me tell you these were BIG hoopy earrings. And he noticed immediately - with a grin and a little blush - as he realized exactly what we were doing.
The morning went on as normal, as normal as can be expected with huge metal loops banging into the side of your face every time you turn your head.
At lunch we all decided to go find a great patio downtown since it was a fabulously warm and sunny late summer afternoon. Just before leaving the office I put on some lip gloss and headed out. [I forgot to mention earlier that I had decided to wear a black t-shirt that had come to me ellicitly during the wedding reception of one of the guys in our work group.]
As we arrived on the patio I happened to say that I felt somewhat awkward with my attire (I had not intended to be seen out in public with the earrings and t-shirt). To which my boss said he thought the "...big hoopy earrings and slutty pink lipstick..." were quite alright. Huh, I never thought it was actually "slutty pink lipstick", but thanks for that V.
We are a group of 8, and all get along very well. We talk, we joke and laugh, we get hammered on wickedly strong margaritas at a house party and end up crashing wherever we stumble to, we work well together and can rely on each other. So it was only to be expected that upon hearing of our boss' little fetish we had to see how uncomfortable in an office situation we could make him.
Of the group of 8, there are only 2 women, and we 2 women decided that one Friday we would wear big hoopy earrings to the office. And let me tell you these were BIG hoopy earrings. And he noticed immediately - with a grin and a little blush - as he realized exactly what we were doing.
The morning went on as normal, as normal as can be expected with huge metal loops banging into the side of your face every time you turn your head.
At lunch we all decided to go find a great patio downtown since it was a fabulously warm and sunny late summer afternoon. Just before leaving the office I put on some lip gloss and headed out. [I forgot to mention earlier that I had decided to wear a black t-shirt that had come to me ellicitly during the wedding reception of one of the guys in our work group.]
As we arrived on the patio I happened to say that I felt somewhat awkward with my attire (I had not intended to be seen out in public with the earrings and t-shirt). To which my boss said he thought the "...big hoopy earrings and slutty pink lipstick..." were quite alright. Huh, I never thought it was actually "slutty pink lipstick", but thanks for that V.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
afraid of the echo...
THE DAY I SAW THE EMPEROR'S CLAY SOLDIERS
The day I saw the emperor's clay soldiers
I thought I understood the end of things-
blank faces staring back from 2,000 years.
A farmer found them; I found the farmer
in my father, grandfather, lost since
the Depression days of hominy pots.
My lost fathers are clay now too,
contained, kept from me by a wine-velvet
rope sagging between brass stanchions.
If I reach across, will the alarm sound,
lights flash, uniformed guards push me back?
I thought I understood the end of things.
The day I saw the emperor's clay soldiers
I wanted to be the electrician who
installs lights above the exhibits.
I know my father's best side, or knew,
though it makes me dizzy to remember.
I've never understood the end of things.
We're hollow men too, my father and I.
We never talked, even when we had
the chance-maybe afraid of the echo.
But 2,000 years is a long time
to wait, even for still, curt clay soldiers
who surely understand the end of things.
I came back a faithful soldier, stayed
until the museum closed, every day.
Then the exhibit left, and someone changed
the angle of those lights, not me,
and I lost sight of the emperor's clay soldiers.
That empty stand meant the end of things.
-Jonathan Musgrove
The Atlantic, April 2008
The day I saw the emperor's clay soldiers
I thought I understood the end of things-
blank faces staring back from 2,000 years.
A farmer found them; I found the farmer
in my father, grandfather, lost since
the Depression days of hominy pots.
My lost fathers are clay now too,
contained, kept from me by a wine-velvet
rope sagging between brass stanchions.
If I reach across, will the alarm sound,
lights flash, uniformed guards push me back?
I thought I understood the end of things.
The day I saw the emperor's clay soldiers
I wanted to be the electrician who
installs lights above the exhibits.
I know my father's best side, or knew,
though it makes me dizzy to remember.
I've never understood the end of things.
We're hollow men too, my father and I.
We never talked, even when we had
the chance-maybe afraid of the echo.
But 2,000 years is a long time
to wait, even for still, curt clay soldiers
who surely understand the end of things.
I came back a faithful soldier, stayed
until the museum closed, every day.
Then the exhibit left, and someone changed
the angle of those lights, not me,
and I lost sight of the emperor's clay soldiers.
That empty stand meant the end of things.
-Jonathan Musgrove
The Atlantic, April 2008
Friday, September 07, 2007
Friday, August 10, 2007
Friday, June 29, 2007
a trip
I will be away next week , whitewater rafting down the Middle Fork Salmon river in Idaho. It is supposed to be spectacular and I am so very excited about it.
There is much I have wanted to tell you of things that have happened over the past several weeks, but procrastination has gotten the better of me. However, I have decided that upon the return from my trip I will rid the constipation that has effected my putting pen to paper, so to speak.
Back soon.
There is much I have wanted to tell you of things that have happened over the past several weeks, but procrastination has gotten the better of me. However, I have decided that upon the return from my trip I will rid the constipation that has effected my putting pen to paper, so to speak.
Back soon.
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