Monday, September 1, 2008

my mind is on the blink

I'm missing completing my holiday-weekend internet vacation by three hours, but it's done its job. I feel a little more grounded. I've done solid, centering things. I spoke with my co-ministers about my anxieties and depression and generally massive sense of being lost and utterly overwhelmed.

Highlights from that Saturday morning visit include:
  • A spazzy Daisy asking for green tea when I was dying for coffee because it seems like if you're at your UU minister's adorable East End townhouse asking for counseling you're supposed to drink some green tea.
  • The question gently asked, "Who are you, besides Molly's mother?" and met with a shaking, sobbing "I. Have. No-o-o-o-o-ooo idea..."
  • Their observation that I haven't grieved my mom really and the suggestion that I write her a goodbye letter.
Saturday evening I sat down to compose the goodbye letter. I wrote four pages of things, but the actual "letter" page was mostly I am not ready to do this. I really didn't know I wasn't going to be able to do it until I tried and my whole self rejected it outright. Writing by hand was good, good medicine. I need to make room to do it more. Another revelation was that I can be primarily a writer if I wish, as opposed to a tortured, barely-ever-working visual artist. I write a hundred thousand times more purely on paper. I finally grokked Neil Gaiman's opting for fountain pens over word processors. I thought of NaNoWriMo, but I don't need the pressure.

Sunday I baked my first completely-from scratch pie: a savory tomato and mozzarella quiche-like thing of great deliciousness. (Happened on a pie-crust hack flipping through TV shows recently; I'll share soon.) Today I baked white bread, and brownies, but this last was from a mix. The bread was gorgeous and yummy, and when it was about five minutes out of the oven, Miss Mollybird took a break from her alphabet soup (her favorite pot and lid filled with her letter magnets) to find a tiny plastic knife from her tea set and anihilate the crust of the bread.

Tonight, Papaw had a toddler jones, so Bu took Bird up to their place. He's at a friend's place practicing acoustic guitar. He officially abandoned the bass this weekend and borrowed an Epiphane guitar from his grandfather. Epiphane is my favorite word. I asked him to learn "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" to
serenade me for our fourth anniversary. In three weeks... :)

Also this weekend:
  • Girl's night out with excellent boobs and souster bonding.
  • An awful jagged gash in my knee from an utterly inexplicable maneuver during a goofy makeout session against the kitchen countertop. I think I cut it on a cabinet door handle.
  • A great salad with sesame ginger dressing- a vegan lunch inspired by a night of Bad, Bad Feelings in My Belly resulting from ice cream. There will henceforth be no ice cream and significantly less dairy.
  • A strange dream in which the Birdy became Hayden Pannetierre (how you spell?) and was a cloistered teenage avatar of the Maiden Goddess. Again, I vow no more ice cream before bed.
The air is thick and syrupy with some sort of allergen. The babyhas been a hellbeast in the evenings with runny nose and medicinerefusal. I've had record sneezing that prompted many "Bess Oo, Mama"s.I'm descending into a Benadryl stupor now, so it's time for Angel inbed on Hulu. It's funnier with Wesley, but I miss Doyle.


  1. This post both made me get misty and laugh out loud. You really are a writer. You have a great ability to share with people how you can feel things simultaneously (I can too!). I'm sorry you are feeling lost in the "mom" role. You are so many things at once and so many things yet to be discovered.

    On a side note, I got 12,000ish words written for Nanowrimo last year because I decided to write lesbian erotica. Works wonders for motivation.

  2. Sometimes I'm embarrassed to admit that I've never had any problem separating myself (for short periods of time) from motherhood. Maybe it's just because we've always had family around who gave us frequent breaks, including overnight stays for the kids.

    So either you should be my role model or I should be yours. Actually, I'm sure the truth lies somewhere in between -- there's probably something each of us could learn from the other.

    And ice cream is just worth the trouble. Plain. And. Simple.

  3. And I know you know it, but when you're ready, you'll be able to write the letter to your mother. Just be open to being ready. I'm sorry you have to go through this process, though.

  4. On the topic of NaNoWriMo: It's a good thing to attempt, because sometimes it really does give you that push that you need, but don't stress over it if you honestly can't get anything out. There's always next year.

    Icecream is occasionally worth the trouble. I'm slightly lactose intolerant so it gives me wicked indigestion/nightmares if I eat it too often, but sometimes it really is a spirit boost. :D


  5. I wrote that letter many times. Different times. I still write it in some ways.
    It does need to be said, and done. But pen to paper is best.

    I had some therapy after Vivian was born to find ME again. Worked, when I let it.