Alone again

Trish came to visit me. She was here for three days and we had a wonderful time. We walked all over A2 because the weather was beautiful, finally and we spent hours talking about everything. We saw Elaine Stritch at the Hilberry in Detroit and later that same day at UMS we saw Trojan Women directed by Anne Bogart. WE ate and drank and talked our way though the weekend and I was able to give her support and listen and be present for her current struggle. And she did the same for me. I felt connected and then she left. And I filled myself with 12 episodes of The Killing. I was lonely when she left. I am still in a funk and yesterday the last thing I wanted to do was go to work but I did and I hated being there. At some point I could feel the hostility rising in me so I walked down the hall to an empty conference room and meditated for just a few minutes and I was better. It does help me become present and not discharge but hold what I am feeling and deal. The best part of her visit was my sense o belonging to her. She knows me, remembers parts of my herstory and has affection for and admires me. I do not have that here and now. I have to travel home to Bflo to get it. I have to explain myself here and I hate that. Like I am always pushing to have folks know me. Other...is that what I am talking about? Or something else?

It will be May 1 tomorrow almost half a year GONE. When I think that in a few more months I will be sixty I feel like ok at best you have ten years left....and then I am gone. What are you going to do with it? What have I done and or contributed to the world? I try to practice gratitude to be grateful for what I have had do have or what lessons I have learned but it is difficult for me. I remain full of shame and regret, Maybe that is just my irish. Don't get your irish up is the saying but I think it gets me down.

Different

It was a different kind of weekend for me. I started the 48 hour cleanse. The preparation for all the meals kept me busier in the kitchen than the bathroom. Mostly raw vegetables, there was much peeling and chopping and clean up for every meal. Used food processor and juicer both days and everything except breakfast was raw food. I didn't like the broth at all. I will look for a better broth option for next time. And I liked it so I will do it again. I loved dinner which was a cut up apple and sauerkraut. Lunch was a smoothie. And the pineapple kale drink is quite tasty. So I was so busy in the kitchen I never really cleaned the apartment. I did some laundry and dealt with cat litter. Still need to find a dry cleaner to take the comforter to before Trish gets here. I am starting to feel overwhelmed between work duties and home prep for Trish. So I tell myself. Relax, deep breaths, stay present you got this...it is not too much...I remember how that vulnerable little girl who taught me about myself, is ok and safe now....I am here for her. I am grateful for her survival instinct that kept me going that kept me alive long enough to reach 60 this year, a wiser woman for her tenacity. And we will have a great week. I can hold this charge and use the energy to do good work, stay present and thrive this week as best I can.

one sip

On my first sip of coffee this morning I declare out loud "oh my god."  It tastes and smells so good. I love my morning cup of coffee. It feels like coming home to some special place that maybe I only have in my imagination, but it matters not. It works every morning on every first sip. Yesterday I started a 48 hour weekend cleanse. I maintained the instructions to the letter all day. But this morning day two still suffering from a headache that started yesterday and with low energy, I have decided to break it. Instead of quinoa which I do not enjoy I am having oatmeal with prunes as a replacement and I AM HAVING MY MORNING CUP OF COFFEE. So attached I am to my coffee. The grand attraction to the brew started with my dad who would go anywhere for a "good cup of coffee" I have many fond memories having coffee with my Dad. In those days he didn't make it at home. Part of the experience was the reward of jumping in the car and going out for coffee. He always seemed so relaxed and pleased when he had a cup of coffee in front of him. He was a man on the go, never stopping. But when he had coffee he sat down and would talk about what was on his mind, usually politics and history. Most of the places we went to he knew the waitresses and the customers so it had a very strong social component. And he wasn't shy about sending it back and saying "fresh pot please" If a restaurant didn't fulfill the basic requirement of good coffee we didn't go there. In his retirement years in his 80's his docs kept telling him, despite the fact that he had low blood pressure, Bob you have to stop drinking coffee Its no good for you. His response was to buy really dark roast coffee, make  it strong and have a smaller cup of coffee so he could report back that he was cutting down on his coffee and then to me declaring, "they don't understand, it takes away all my aches and pains."  The other connection is the book A Tree Grows In Brooklyn which my father gave me to read the summer before seventh grade, when I was 11 yrs old. The summer before he had given me all the Mark Twain books we had in the house. This began my relationship with books. After "Tree" he gave The Red Pony by Steinbeck and then more Steinbeck. My Dad gave me the shoes to walk my journey through books with those summer reading lists...and among other things the appreciation of a good cup of coffee so when you had nothing at all you could still have something.




There was a special Nolan idea about the coffee. It was their one great luxury. .you could help yourself to a cup of coffee anytime you felt like it. Sometimes when you had nothing at all and it was raining and you were alone in the flat, it was wonderful to know that you could have something even though it was only a cup of black and bitter coffee.



get in where I fit in

last that I was
in where I fit in
with Sister Spit
with Ali and Michelle and a room full of my tribe
and I was connected
to memories and power
with a sense of belonging
the loss of identity was erased
and I was present and connected
magic moments
I will carry with me today
as I put one foot in front of another
and move again through a world
that can feel hostile and cold
except today I know who I am
re-connected to the charge of community

Wayfinding a life book cover by book cover

I came to the city not knowing as much as I would. I came to the city not knowing who I would become but I came fearless thinking I already did. All I really knew then was how to find a way. A way through to some sort of authentic existence I could survive and even thrive in. I was 24, a single mom with a less than two year old baby girl. I came determined to make a life for us. I came for jobs and for daycare and for community. I found all three. Joy came on Saturday afternoons as baby girl grew up from day care to kindergarten to grade school.  After errands and housecleaning and laundry and grocery shopping and a week of work -none of which drained me- sheltered in my young body-resilient to fatigue-I had energy to find my way through words and stories. Stories I found in books on shelves in bookstores. An explorer without a compass or a guide I still found a way to find me and more. Now I see it the same as how  I found my way through the woods on the other side of the fields surrounding the red farmhouse I was always escaping. I, at age 5, already knew every piece of thirty acres of land. I could find my way to the creek, and back without anyone ever showing me the way. Now I was finding my way through the shelves of books on Elmwood Avenue. Starting down near Bryant St there was the bookstore across from Hello World, and then off to the women's bookstore, and then the bookstore on the second floor above the yarn shop. If time allowed and the baby girl wasn't too tired we went all the way over to Main St and the old Talking Leaves. I found everything there, I found the world I wanted to live in. No one told me who to read. I decided. I would read the first few paragraphs and I would read the book cover notes on the back. If an author was recommending I would then go find that author's book and read the first few paragraphs of their book to decide which book I wanted. I had little money. But I bought books and read books and drank good coffee in deference to clothes or furniture or toys for the baby. I bought her books too. Back home spread out on top of the freshly laundered sheets and quilt we would spread out our newly acquired treasures and read and nap together. Satisfied by another Saturday full of exploration and adventure one book jacket at a time.

Railer

I can rail away in the car while driving. I have these imagined battles with adversaries and of course I always win against the perceived injustice. usually putting the offender on notice not to mess with me. My sharp tongue and hostility discharged inside the car. I play the scene out and out-loud and I can really rail. A railer.
1. to utter bitter complaint or vehement denunciation (often followed by at or against):to rail at fate.
2. to bring force. 

Yes, that is what I do. I rail at or against folks who I feel will harm me or people whom I believe have harmed me. People who are living to a standard I can respect is where it lands. I often meet it with force or I practice the force with which I will meet it. Each time I discharge

 Leaving some of the negative influence behind me and eventually I get to a calmer more reasonable place. Maybe I am discharging from my past or from my snake brain. And sometimes I rail at my fate. I have railed against my family members with old complaints like my mother or brother or former lover.

Sometimes in a calm mood I will tell myself or some imagined audience a story. Sometimes the stories are true and sometimes they are made up.

It feels safe inside the tomb/womb of the car. I can say anything and it is safe. As the sole audience and performer I am not at risk and yet I am not really being vulnerable. I have my shields up and my sword out. But I may be in battle only with myself or parts of myself. It harms no one. Passengers in nearby cars most like now believe I am speaking on the phone speaker or are of no consequence to me because they remain anonymous drive-bys. Is this because no matter where I am I never feel safe? Is it that I never feel my hostility can be exploded or discharged anywhere but here where it harms no one? That might be it. I never railed against one brother that abused me, but did rail against the other. One brother was kind and gentle in his approach to abuse me, he coerced me into his needs for affection and sexual discharge and the other was loud and angry and mean. My sister left when I was five, leaving me behind. None behaving in an expected or accepted way. None doing what should be done but doing what should never be done to another.  I think I am feeling that rage that isolation and fear and I get angry and defend myself....not against what is happening but what happened then. 50 years later I am railing still.

Opinions of others

Staff 360 evaluation happening at work. I always struggle with this process.

Makes me uncomfortable to fill them out on my co-workers. I never say what I really want to say...A is transparent and a princess and self absorbed, B is lacking sincerity and is too cavalier and does not respect boundaries, C has  narrow life experience and makes his judgments poor D always pushes her responsibilities off on others to keep her job easy. I do not write down what I think. I put the filter on and diplomatically only focus on the positive on everyone. Why is that? Something in me is not approaching the process properly. I can actually feel that. There may be things in the process that are corrupt, but I am taking it personally .. maybe more than I should...I am not looking at the process objectively...maybe if I could look at the process objectively I might be able to see where my actual discomfort originates.
That acknowledgment is progress...Historically My first reaction is defensive...these people are not qualified to judge me...it was not a request that originated from me. I then I immediately dismiss them and their opinions. The coin flips and I tell myself This is a way to learn about yourself. Then I reject it. And then I tell myself others you respect,  respect this process. And so I go back and forth.