Not What Should be, What Is

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Categories: Age, Angst, Daily blather

clothes purge

Clothes purge

We are going through every single thing that has come into our possession, over the years of our daughter’s life, our married life and what we carried with us into that partnership.

All along I’ve been pretty good at going through general things and tossing out what wasn’t working or grown out of but the last few years, as we’ve dealt with health issues, bullying and other difficulties it’s gotten harder to let go of some things.

And then came the decision to move. And with that a chance to let go of things that no longer serve, help, contribute to happiness and comfort. For all of us. Not just things, but also situations and some relationships.

This  bit wasn’t easy to do, because I have kept clothes that were pretty but I couldn’t wear for awhile now. The symbolism was there, but I couldn’t see it until I started letting go. I’m a fierce bargain hunter and like finding nice things inexpensively. I want to look good, but not at expense.  I’ve also been up and down the scale because of illness and injury the last five years. And sadness too. Letting go of some of these clothes feels a bit like failure, but also maybe like I don’t have to keep all the reminders of where I’m not and instead be where I am. I used to only get rid of the clothes that had holes or were obviously worn out. Today I collected nice things to give to my friends that will benefit them (hopefully)and stop hurting me. I also gave away the clothes that allowed me to blend in, to become background.

I need the room to be who I am.



Almost but Never Babies

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Categories: Angst, Everything old is new again, House, miscarriage, Moving, Tags: , ,

I have had a hard time letting go of some of my daughter’s things from her baby and toddlerhood.

I’ve kept so much –filed away school papers, accident reports from Montessori and Community PreSchool, little scribbles that look kind of like happy dust mites.

It’s been so very hard to look at them, though comforting to know they are there.

Mainly because of the many miscarriages we had trying for another child. I knew I would never have those moments with another little being and held onto her tiny things to the point of keeping many more scribbles and school papers than I needed. I just put them in a folder and felt my heart hurt.




I love being her mother. And I have more love and patience inside my heart that really wants to help small people.

I have not been able to take joy in many baby’s births for some time, only within the last year. Each picture I saw was an icepick through my heart. Because I knew a second child was never going to be possible, that time is over.

Because I was angry at how my estranged family treated me at the time. No words of comfort, no visits, nothing.

Because I really wanted to revel in the experience this time–I was so fearful the first time, so worried I’d not know how to be a good parent or she wouldn’t be healthy.

But I’ve had to go through all the saved things as we prepare to move. I opened the saved papers and folders. And I will open them again when we unpack. And I put aside only those things that I could attach meaning to. The funny incident report from school that had everyone except us in an uproar. The first drawings of her family where none of us had bodies, just circles with heads and big smiles. The hearts with I love you mommy written in block letters and the picture of what we would look like if we were our cats and they were our people.

And I have a lot of pictures of her. And I have her…we have her. We have her now. There is plenty of time to remember her babyhood when we are older. I need to be here for her now, not regretting what didn’t come to be.

I’m making room –I don’t need the boiling anger, the debilitating regret or the fear that stops me from finding out how I can use this love inside me. Because once I make that step, I will have let go of my ‘almost but never’ babies. The ones the tears still fall for sometimes.

But I’m making room. I’m ready to be ready. It is the next chapter starting soon.

This post made possible by my friend Paula and the book Breathing Room by Rosenfeld and Green


There’s got to be a pony in here somewhere!


Categories: Daily blather, Moving, Tags: , , ,

From the old joke about two kids, one with a room full of the most amazing new toys and another with a room full of manure. The first kid is crying bitterly surrounded by a pile of  new gadgets and games….

Why are you crying?” the father asked.

“Because my friends will be jealous, I’ll have to read all of these instructions before I can do anything with this stuff, I’ll constantly need batteries, and my toys will eventually get broken,” answered the pessimist twin.

Passing the optimist twin’s room, the father found him dancing for joy in the pile of manure. “What are you so happy about?” he asked.

To which his optimist twin replied, “With all this manure, there’s got to be a pony in here somewhere!”

So.. that’s what I’m working on doing with this move. When I came awake at 3:45 this morning thinking about a garage full of stuff we have to get rid of and began to get wound up, I took a deep breath and started thinking about how nice it will be to have less stuff. How nice it will be to look for a new house (after renting for awhile). How nice it will be to plan out the decorating in much more detail this time. How nice it will be to replace the curtains we’ve had for over 13 years with new ones (possibly) or at least replace some furniture that is that old and older.  That will be fun.

smilingchaosThere are things that won’t be…but I am going to try very hard to think about the things that will be part of the adventure. Instead of slogging through packing boxes each day in a rush to get things done, I’m going to enjoy the process of culling the dross from the gold. I’m going to think about how to keep the memory rather than the thing.

That’s my intention. I know there will be stress. We are trying very hard to have one last family/kid oriented Halloween party, especially since the kids don’t have to get up for school the next day! And that is always our biggest joy. Seeing the Bean and her friends dressed up and loaded with candy. And answering the door to our spooky house dressed up and loading up other kids with candy.

So the next couple of weeks will be intense, but I’m going to find a way to enjoy the process not just rush for completion.

(This post needs a thank you to my friend Paula for letting me know about the book Breathing Room. It is really helping me during this process!)

iberlin“Life is 10 percent what you make it
and 90 percent how you take it.”
― >Irving Berlin


Today’s post brought to you by the letters E, M and O


Categories: Angst, Daily blather, Moving, regret, Tags: , , ,

Oh the mope.

I am freaked about moving. So much to do and the house is so messy. And the mounds of things to do look insurmountable. I know the solution is just to keep moving forward a bit at a time. It’s been slowed by that flu turning into bronchitis. And we have so much crap. I am feeling the tiniest bit good about downsizing and getting rid of all the extra. I am saddened at the fact that E is saddened about moving. But we gotta.

I am seeing people already letting go of us . I don’t really ever let friends go in my heart but I also don’t follow that up with enough interaction. I try but I’m one of those extroverted introverts (when you know me and I know you, I loosen up but I’m also easily socially overwhelmed). I know also we are not the most outgoing joiner type people to be friends with, so some of the feelings I have towards others are not as reciprocated. I’ll have to try harder this next place. I hope I can. I hope we can.

I’m thinking about the end of my life –as other people I know get very old and now that I’m old

artist unknown

artist unknown

enough to really feel it. I will be able to say I tried my best and I was as kind as I could be and I have done right by Em. I have at least broken that cycle and her childhood is a happy one.

I’m spending time on regrets as I do this time each year. I do regret where it stands with my estranged family but I don’t see a way to fix that. This entire last blowup would have to be my fault and while parts of it are, a lot of it isn’t. The ugly words and behavior well, it appears that we have all reached an impasse. I’m trying my best to let that go with as many good wished towards them as  I can. I hope they are doing the same.

And the leaving of what has almost, nearly  become home. We never fully settled in and I think that says something. I’m still trying to figure out what though. I hope that doesn’t mean I/we aren’t to be fully settled anywhere. But…I did feel settled in SF so…maybe this was a 9 year sojourn. Both J and I never intended to stay here forever, so now is just a good a time as any, though I would like one more year for the kiddo’s sake. But –maybe right before high school is better than at high school.

I’m trying not to look at the whole process either because purging and staging and sprucing the entire house and then finding movers, a new place across the country AND driving there (something I’m not good at) with the cats singing Klingon opera the entire way…oh gotta stop, hyperventilating. For now I will pack some more books.


And so it begins…

Categories: Daily blather, Ghosts, Moving

My heart is a little tender tonight. I’ve just begun the packing process and aside from finding enough boxes for all those books and spooky dolls and Romulan Ale (thank you Kathy) there’s also the need to let go of things.  Things and stuff. I have the memories so the actual things are not

So many books!

So many books!

necessary right? Purging the books is hard but made somehow easier by the kindle and tablets we carry with us everywhere. They aren’t as pretty though, and I miss the covers. And the smell.  I miss bookstores and libraries and that thrill you get from bringing home a stack from either place. Shopping in the kindle  store isn’t the same by a long shot. We just have *so many* books and moving them across the country again is expensive. Even if we media mail or maybe palletize them.  And I’m not sure Em will fully share my taste in books. I hope she will which why there are so many still that we’ll take.

Books aside, harder still has been letting go of cards and letters, notebooks and papers. Love letters from O or R or M or even S and smutty stories I wrote way back when I thought I might be another Anais Nin.  Christmas cards and letters from friends here to me when I was so young, mohawked and living in San Francisco. And all those notebooks on Shakespeare, Chaucer and Marie  de France. That other life when I thought there might be a way to be a Medieval Lit professor. All  those papers. All those A’s. And that unreachable dream.  And many years later most of them are relegated to the trash heap. All that work, all those memories.

Business cards from my first tech job, one of the best ones  and from the pinnacle as an IT Director for a very cool start up right in SOMA. I’ll save one or two of each.  All those accomplishments, all those memories. Keep the cards, let go of the cabling design and sub netting  calculations added to a quickly sketched map of a new office that I designed.  That server closet was pristine.

I feel a bit adrift, a bit like I’m not sure who I am. I’m not who I wanted to be or who I was. This time in my life has been envisioned so many different ways.

This place, this liminal place I find myself isn’t bad, isn’t wrong. In so many ways it is good and content. It is and is not disappointing.

Tomorrow I’ll be able to see the adventure again, tonight I see dreams piled up in yellowing notebooks and tattered christmas cards .


Ransome Notes

Categories: Angst, bite me, Daily blather, Ghosts, Tags: , ,

I wish I felt like I could say what I need to say.

I’m working up to it.

Flickr creative commons by  Miss Cartier

Flickr creative commons by Miss Cartier

It has been an enlightening last year. And the next two are going to be even more interesting.



Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don’t believe you.
You don’t care a bit. You don’t care a bit.

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