I guess a person can learn a lot when she's way past tired. Like that she shouldn't drive. And that she rambles. And that she can still be happy.
This wee baby is SO worth it...
Thursday, April 30, 2009
tired
I forgot how tired feels.
I guess a person can learn a lot when she's way past tired. Like that she shouldn't drive. And that she rambles. And that she can still be happy.
I guess a person can learn a lot when she's way past tired. Like that she shouldn't drive. And that she rambles. And that she can still be happy.
vulnerable. end.
I think my brother thinks I’m way logical. And that he can say whatever thing he wants to me without me getting hurt. I do hold things deep down. I don’t show tears or hurt. I’m not transparent. I have to use words to say what I feel instead of just showing it.
I thought I’d never get married. Boys like vulnerable. A princess in a tower. My tower was disguised as confidence. I didn’t think I wanted to get married. I wanted to be left alone so no one would penetrate my safe fortress. I had heart-wrenching times when my future husband would grab my hand and attempt to pull me out of myself. I didn’t like the light – I wanted my dark and cozy room. I wanted no one to know what was going on in there. I held on tightly to the illusion that I had it all under control. Having someone try to make me leave that safety was excruciating. At one point, I was close to running like Jane Eyre did, through the countryside, sleeping in the fields and starving. North Dakota was one big field, ready to embrace me. Not kidding.
My sister thinks I’m a rock. Or knows that I’m trying to be a rock. We argued a few months ago. She said what was on her mind. I held back, not wanting to screw it up. She said she hated that she could see that I was in a rage, but that I wouldn’t just say what I wanted to say. I wasn’t in a rage. I was filled to the brim with deepest fear. Hating that we were fighting. Hating that I was coming out of my safe little room and having fulfilled what I thought would happen – that I would be awkward and wrong and stupid.
My mom knows I’m vulnerable, but also thinks I’m that logical rock. She shares her deepest fears and hurts with me. She sees on the outside that I can handle it. And then later, remembering that my outside doesn’t always reflect what I’m feeling, she apologizes.
“It’s ok. I’m fine!” Not wanting her to feel like she can’t share with me anymore.
I’m not sure what dad thinks of me exactly. I think if I knew that, I might know myself better. Guessing at what he thinks can be excruciating.
And what do I think of all of them…?
They are diverse, funny, passionate people. Filled with talent and love. All of them. The whole family. It’s considered “broken”, but the pieces that have been added to the family through re-marriage make the put-back-together pottery more beautiful.
I thought I’d never get married. Boys like vulnerable. A princess in a tower. My tower was disguised as confidence. I didn’t think I wanted to get married. I wanted to be left alone so no one would penetrate my safe fortress. I had heart-wrenching times when my future husband would grab my hand and attempt to pull me out of myself. I didn’t like the light – I wanted my dark and cozy room. I wanted no one to know what was going on in there. I held on tightly to the illusion that I had it all under control. Having someone try to make me leave that safety was excruciating. At one point, I was close to running like Jane Eyre did, through the countryside, sleeping in the fields and starving. North Dakota was one big field, ready to embrace me. Not kidding.
My sister thinks I’m a rock. Or knows that I’m trying to be a rock. We argued a few months ago. She said what was on her mind. I held back, not wanting to screw it up. She said she hated that she could see that I was in a rage, but that I wouldn’t just say what I wanted to say. I wasn’t in a rage. I was filled to the brim with deepest fear. Hating that we were fighting. Hating that I was coming out of my safe little room and having fulfilled what I thought would happen – that I would be awkward and wrong and stupid.
My mom knows I’m vulnerable, but also thinks I’m that logical rock. She shares her deepest fears and hurts with me. She sees on the outside that I can handle it. And then later, remembering that my outside doesn’t always reflect what I’m feeling, she apologizes.
“It’s ok. I’m fine!” Not wanting her to feel like she can’t share with me anymore.
I’m not sure what dad thinks of me exactly. I think if I knew that, I might know myself better. Guessing at what he thinks can be excruciating.
And what do I think of all of them…?
They are diverse, funny, passionate people. Filled with talent and love. All of them. The whole family. It’s considered “broken”, but the pieces that have been added to the family through re-marriage make the put-back-together pottery more beautiful.
vulnerable. Part 2.
There has been hurt and swirling passions and drama in my life. Sometimes it’s been acted out by people close to me. Sometimes by me. It all feels the same. The swirling passions of close friends and family are felt deeply by me at times. Sometimes it’s been overwhelming. There have been sleepless nights. Fitful dreams. Anger. Outrage. Hurt. And joy, too. Less remembered, the joy. It sticks in the heart – the hurt. Like thick pins. The hurt doesn’t have to be pulled to the surface to be remembered.
I don’t have any physical qualities inherited from my dad. Except my knuckles. This always makes me smile. I used to stare at my dad – his eyes, ears, nose, mouth, eyebrows – to try and figure out where I matched him. There was nothing I could s
ee. I think I got his internal traits. A little of his awe-inspiring ability to be calm in almost all situations. To chuckle, even, when things go awry. On Father’s Day a few years ago, all of us kids held my dad’s hand during a church-ending prayer, and I noticed our knuckles. Such deep wrinkles that spread far beyond the hinge in both directions. I smiled and my insides grabbed violently onto the sameness. I’ve always wanted to be like my daddy.
I’ve always known I was my mamma’s. I came from her belly.
I have the same restless passion as mom. The same wild hair and the same desire to be wild. A tendency toward hyperbole (but also a rabid desire to reign that in). A lunatic’s tendency to follow what’s “best” rather than step on toes, but here and there, we both get so pushed into corners following that tendency that we eventually act out. For me, I get highlights or whack my hair off. Last year, deathly scared of being a receptionist the rest of my life, I walked off without giving a 2 week notice. That was extreme for “safe” me. And I never felt so very alive.
With the two parental extremes, I can see why, in my confusion and desire to control my environment, I act a little obsessive compulsive.
And also why they got divorced when I was six.
vulnerable. Part 1.
Perfectionism keeps me locked inside. Unable to speak. Fearful. It is most cowardly that I’m afraid of other people. Of their disapproval or, worse, their teasing laughter. In a movie the other day, a husband said to his crying and jealous wife, “We’re not in high school anymore.” She responded seriously through her tears, “We’re never out of high school.” True. How to break free? I am inspired by uncouth women. And old women who speak their minds. And women who lose weight. And women who are content – business women, housewives… it doesn’t matter. The contentment I find in others, however rare, is amazing. I do have moments of bliss. Not uninterrupted, though. There is in my nature a constant pulling and aching. A passion beneath the surface. It goes unfed – me not knowing what to feed it exactly. So I feed my stomach. And dawdle away the time. At times.
Confused at the raging between the passion and the longing to have peace and rest. Wanting to write thrilling stories and feeling mute all at once.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Baby girl!
Two days after my last post... labor began. And 9.5 hours later, a baby was here! Sounds easy, hey?
She's beautiful. Definitely a future knitter and coffee drinker... unless she's not. That'd be good, too. I hope she's totally confident to be totally herself. Always.
It's been nearly 3 weeks now. My days are full of nursing, changing diapers, and being in awe of my tiny girl. The nights are also full of the same. It's hard at first to wake up to feed and change her each time she stirs, but I sit right up, and I'm ready to go. In the dim nightlight-lit room, I sit cross-legged on the bed and watch quietly while she slurps up her meal. She doesn't cry much. Just enough. Sometimes she just wants to be snuggled, which is just fine with me.
What a sweetie.
She's beautiful. Definitely a future knitter and coffee drinker... unless she's not. That'd be good, too. I hope she's totally confident to be totally herself. Always.
It's been nearly 3 weeks now. My days are full of nursing, changing diapers, and being in awe of my tiny girl. The nights are also full of the same. It's hard at first to wake up to feed and change her each time she stirs, but I sit right up, and I'm ready to go. In the dim nightlight-lit room, I sit cross-legged on the bed and watch quietly while she slurps up her meal. She doesn't cry much. Just enough. Sometimes she just wants to be snuggled, which is just fine with me.
What a sweetie.
Friday, February 20, 2009
blogging trouble
Blogging. *sigh*
What the heck.
My emotions are having a hard time with this blog thing.
There are so many things I'd love to write freely about, but people will read it! I mean, maybe only one or two people will read it, but still...!
And to just write about safe things like knitting or the weather... that's just... not really open and honest - the way writing should be.
I'll figure it all out one of these days.
What the heck.
My emotions are having a hard time with this blog thing.
There are so many things I'd love to write freely about, but people will read it! I mean, maybe only one or two people will read it, but still...!
And to just write about safe things like knitting or the weather... that's just... not really open and honest - the way writing should be.
I'll figure it all out one of these days.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
lack of sleep, coldness, knitting at church, and cake
Last night was my first really sleepless night since my belly has gotten this big-ly pregnant. I think I might have dozed off at about 4am. I wanted to sleep in, but I also wanted to go to church. So, I got up at 9ish and didn't dress nicely - it being the Sunday before Christmas, I'd usually pretty up. Jeans with the crazy stretchy waistband, and a long sleeve comfy chocolate brown tee. Pony tail.
I started my car 2o minutes before leaving - it whined in protest because it is below zero degrees today. Ouch to the lungs when breathing.
I sat in the nursing mother's room at the back of church. The glider rocker is far more comfy than the church chairs. And besides, I wanted to knit. I actually was able to soak in the sermon better with my hands at work. In college, one professor said that doodling in your note's margins can actually help students retain the lecture and focus better. I guess that's what knitting does for me. Jeremy was running sound in the little room next to me, so I wasn't neglecting him while he sat among the other peeps or anything.
It was good to see all the people. Especially B- and C-. Hugs all around!
After church, I went through the drivethru at DQ to get the 2-for-2.22 burger thing for our football-day lunch. And, as I approached the little speaker, I found that my window was completely frozen shut. Awesome. Hmmm... what to do. I pulled forward and just had to keep opening and closing the door enough for my arm to reach through. The coldness outside swept into the car each time I opened the door. My arm froze off and then thawed each of the 3 times I had to reach out.
It's 6:00pm now, and I'm getting ready to venture out again. Jer is over at the church to help the youth do a little play. He's the dad. : ) I guess he only has like 4 lines, but I want to go see him - and the youth too, but mostly to see him. And eat cake. There's going to be cake.
I started my car 2o minutes before leaving - it whined in protest because it is below zero degrees today. Ouch to the lungs when breathing.
I sat in the nursing mother's room at the back of church. The glider rocker is far more comfy than the church chairs. And besides, I wanted to knit. I actually was able to soak in the sermon better with my hands at work. In college, one professor said that doodling in your note's margins can actually help students retain the lecture and focus better. I guess that's what knitting does for me. Jeremy was running sound in the little room next to me, so I wasn't neglecting him while he sat among the other peeps or anything.
It was good to see all the people. Especially B- and C-. Hugs all around!
After church, I went through the drivethru at DQ to get the 2-for-2.22 burger thing for our football-day lunch. And, as I approached the little speaker, I found that my window was completely frozen shut. Awesome. Hmmm... what to do. I pulled forward and just had to keep opening and closing the door enough for my arm to reach through. The coldness outside swept into the car each time I opened the door. My arm froze off and then thawed each of the 3 times I had to reach out.
It's 6:00pm now, and I'm getting ready to venture out again. Jer is over at the church to help the youth do a little play. He's the dad. : ) I guess he only has like 4 lines, but I want to go see him - and the youth too, but mostly to see him. And eat cake. There's going to be cake.
The hat
Well, here's the slouch hat...! I'm not sure if I LOVE it, but it turned out pretty close to what I thought it would. Now to make a matching scarflet....
Saturday, December 20, 2008
My bday
Last week was my birthday. 28.
On Friday, my mom took me and my Jer, and my 7-yr-old brother out for dinner.
Me and mom had a small argument - not something too fun on a birthday. But then, it got better on the way home when my little brother threw up all over the place! Poor kid. I've never heard anyone throw up so much. Seriously. And the smell was awesome.
Gross, I know, but you weren't there to really get the full effect.
We stopped at a gas station, stripped off his clothes and shoes in the freezing weather, and bundled him up in a woman's black and pink polka-dot robe my mom had in the trunk. Mom and Jer cleaned up, trying to beat the weather as it first froze a smear of ... "hurl" to the window. I sat inside with the miserable boy until the cleaning was done.
So, that was it. My birthday!
Jer did try to make up for it a little a couple days later by taking me to Taco Bell. Yummy and cheap! Thanks, Jer!
On Friday, my mom took me and my Jer, and my 7-yr-old brother out for dinner.
Me and mom had a small argument - not something too fun on a birthday. But then, it got better on the way home when my little brother threw up all over the place! Poor kid. I've never heard anyone throw up so much. Seriously. And the smell was awesome.
Gross, I know, but you weren't there to really get the full effect.
We stopped at a gas station, stripped off his clothes and shoes in the freezing weather, and bundled him up in a woman's black and pink polka-dot robe my mom had in the trunk. Mom and Jer cleaned up, trying to beat the weather as it first froze a smear of ... "hurl" to the window. I sat inside with the miserable boy until the cleaning was done.
So, that was it. My birthday!
Jer did try to make up for it a little a couple days later by taking me to Taco Bell. Yummy and cheap! Thanks, Jer!
slouchy hat day and Ted Dekker
A blog. I get all nervous and writer's-blocky when I think about blogging. Hopefully as I practice, I'll become more free and open. So, here goes!
I keep seeing these awesome slouchy beret-type (but slouchier) hats for sale and on people's heads.
I decided that I need one.
So, today I took myself and my 7-month-pregnant belly out in the snow and bought some yarn. There's a fabulous yarn shop in town called The Knitting Room. I love it there. LOVE. But I rarely buy anything - too much money. Instead I drive the extra 10 minutes and go to WalMart or Joann's. Someday, when I'm rich, I will only buy beautiful alpaca wool, Noro, Debbie Bliss... it'll be great being a millionaire.
Back to the hat... I'll be done in a couple days. We'll see how it goes... If my head is the right shape for such a hat.
The other thing I'm finishing is Ted Dekker's new book - Sinner. Excellent. I'm finishing tonight, and can't wait to see the ending Dekker spins. It's not much of a "spin" though. So far, much of what's happening in the book could happen. Limiting freedom of speech for political correctness - passing laws quickly in the face of national crisis; laws that americans wouldn't have agreed to in times of peace. Wait, we've done that. It's really an awesome book - like all his others! And a lot more exciting than it sounds.
I keep seeing these awesome slouchy beret-type (but slouchier) hats for sale and on people's heads.
I decided that I need one.
So, today I took myself and my 7-month-pregnant belly out in the snow and bought some yarn. There's a fabulous yarn shop in town called The Knitting Room. I love it there. LOVE. But I rarely buy anything - too much money. Instead I drive the extra 10 minutes and go to WalMart or Joann's. Someday, when I'm rich, I will only buy beautiful alpaca wool, Noro, Debbie Bliss... it'll be great being a millionaire.
Back to the hat... I'll be done in a couple days. We'll see how it goes... If my head is the right shape for such a hat.
The other thing I'm finishing is Ted Dekker's new book - Sinner. Excellent. I'm finishing tonight, and can't wait to see the ending Dekker spins. It's not much of a "spin" though. So far, much of what's happening in the book could happen. Limiting freedom of speech for political correctness - passing laws quickly in the face of national crisis; laws that americans wouldn't have agreed to in times of peace. Wait, we've done that. It's really an awesome book - like all his others! And a lot more exciting than it sounds.
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