Tag Archives: Reflection

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Mom

I’ve been thinking about Mom and dreaming about her a lot lately. I’m reasonably sure that I know why.

I feel like that I’m having time to be and breathe. I’m sure, too, that given that it’s Easter this weekend, I am thinking about holidays without family.

Sunday, I have an invitation to friends, and I know that I’ve written here that I don’t say no to those, but I have been eating yogurt, eggs and canned soup and don’t want to be around yummy food and alcohol. I also don’t want to talk about the hole in my mouth with people whom I don’t really know. I’ve known this colleague for 24-years this fall, but she’s an extrovert’s extrovert, so loves to entertain and make small talk. LA always invites me to these things–she’s really close with this colleague–and I did go to the Blues BBQ (live band) and also Christmas Eve. I am not going to Easter. In fact, I’ll do yard work which is a lot like my Dad!

My Dad worked for the City and County. He’d dropped out of a Civil Engineering Program because my Mom had me and they had very little money and mice in the housing provided near campus via the GI bill. That was a contention. As was my ever being born. I had colic and my father always said that he was going to leave me screaming in the snow. Mom said that once I could imitate opera voices on the radio at about 4-months of age, I stopped screaming.

(I have said to my son ad nauseum, “You didn’t ask to be born. I will make sure that you have medical and dental care until you’re 26. I will also write a check for any tuition bill that you produce for me.” He has about 7k left in his ESA, so I’m going to set up a trust for 150k that I manage until he’s 30. I’m doing that in June. Trust me, this digression is topical.)

My Mom wanted kids. She said that my brother and I were the best things in her life.

She was sarcastic, a little mean, definitely depressed, and not quick with hugs or kisses, but always said, “I love you.” And she did love us.

We had no money. I really mean that too. My parents, both Boomers, were the last of the people who can buy a house on one salary. My Mom contributed off and on to living expenses, but never had a full-time teaching job likely because of her physical disability. She subbed for 4-5 years and would often come home with a migraine.

Today, I’m thinking about my Mom, the status of her teeth, her heavy smoking until she was in her 60s, and how much healthier and luckier than I am when compared to my Mom.

I was out in the backyard this morning giving my neighbor’s dogs and mine pieces of elk jerky, and my neighbor came out and asked about the hole. So, I have this screw and hole in my mouth right now. My neighbor will get her hole and screw in two-weeks.

We’ve been trying to figure out how her process is so much longer than mine. Her tooth broke eight-months ago. We figured it out today.

My Mom made sure that we went to the dentist every 6-months. She made sure that the weird tooth that came in sideways was addressed with a retainer. I have great teeth. So, it was easy for the dentist to drill it, pack it, help me make an appointment with a talented specialist, and I will see him five-days before I get a tooth colored crown. My parents were poor for sure–lower middle class, I guess–but we got good dental care.

My Mom didn’t support me going to graduate school. My Mom was mostly horrified about what others thought of her having a lesbian daughter. My Mom’s ashes that I have left could ignite given that I don’t want one partner and would never live with anyone ever again. However, my Mom loved and took care of me.

Tell me about your Mom. I don’t know you, so don’t worry, I am not impersonating Freud. Freud is mostly only good for defense mechanisms.

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Ranking

“Open” was wonderful. (I’m on a memoir kick right now, as I’d read “A Serial Killer’s Daughter” and am currently reading “The Snipers We Couldn’t See.” I did read “Lessons in Chemistry” last month too, but it was just my quick jaunt into fiction for a moment in time.) This particular memoir covers multiple years of a primary relationship which had iterations of monogamy, poly-mono, swinging and also some ranked relationships with some friendship between a few of the metamours.

I can recommend this memoir absolutely. Rachel Krantz’s narrative is vulnerable and raw. I think, too, that I could relate to being a secondary partner by reading her reflections. I’m absolutely going to listen to her podcast today. 

When I was with Motor Cycle Woman, who I just can’t call the drunk anymore, I became her secondary partner. I was fine with it too. What I wasn’t fine with was feeling energy from her primary all the time and I think it was mostly due to me knowing so many things about her primary. We never met and I never actually saw her–not even a picture. Motor Cycle Woman used me like a therapist really. She was seeing all kinds of women for months and then settled on me and her primary. 

I know that Motor Cycle Woman eventually subbed her out and made me primary. That was when she went back to monogamy too. Likely the only reason she did that was because at the time I wanted an escalator relationship and she moved 6 states away. She was only poly for 2-3 years. I do struggle generally with people who say that it’s just lifestyle. From my experience it’s like sexuality and is wiring. 

I had a good conversation with her last November or December, and then when I talked to her again in the dead of winter I was on speaker in her and her wife’s car and the conversation sucked. I wonder how she views her intimate relationships now, but I won’t find out because I have no contact with her. I can assume some though as when I changed my FB profile picture she did the thumbs up like it along with 65 other people. I guess although I’m pushing 50, a black cocktail dress and heels is still sexy.

The year is coming to a close. I’m thinking about my next decade. Half a century.

I think that the women who I know currently would consider me secondary or very loosely tertiary like a satellite or comet. One may not consider me at all at present because we had one very good conversation and haven’t seen each other again although we were drawn to each other. I want to be really careful as I enter into relationships so as to avoid completely the therapeutic component. Meeting metamours would help. I think that I’d just listen and not encourage or make comments at all. Then, I’d like to say what I know from my recent experiences and perspective. I don’t think my experiences with non-ethical non-monogamy in high school and college are part of the current conversation. There are elements of primacy and rank that I’d like to talk through.

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The Oven Mitt

I was born in the city that I live in; however, my Dad was in a Civil Engineering program 25-miles away so I was first taken as a newborn to married student housing. We moved when I was 13-months, and then we moved all the time literally. This particular move was because my Dad dropped out of the program. I was always thinly blamed for that, which is so stupid. I didn’t ask to be born.

I guess that I had wicked colic. My Mom never much of an eater, and she said that I just basically screamed all the time; but given that my Mom really only liked coffee and cigarettes, I’m sure that my food wasn’t nourishing. I was weaned at 3-months. My Mom was obsessed with me. She held me while I slept. I eventually slept in 16-hour stretches. I guess until I could move around, I was dissociative 🙂 May have had something to do with the fact that my Dad wanted to leave me to die in the snow when I was screaming. My Mom told me that. He decided against it and when I was 5-months, I wasn’t colicky anymore.

On the fourth of July in 1981, I climbed up the hill behind the four-plex that we were renting at the time and got comfortable. That was the only time in my life that I have ever been stung by a bee. When bees sting you, they die and the barb stays. I’d been stung on the wrist and my arm looked like Popeye that night. I love bees. I know that if I hadn’t probably almost squished it in the clover where it was working, it wouldn’t have stung me. My arm was HUGE and we had to keep mixing a paste of meat tenderizer for it. My Mom did that many times and then I started doing it. I was 7-years-old when I got my first sting.

I do not love wasps. I do not love hornets. I have a complete disdain for yellow jacket wasps.

I have to complete all the conditions of probate. I have to file estate taxes by next June. I have to obtain a Personal Representatives Deed. Since 2014 these are many types of tasks that I have had to do. It’s well different than fighting with doctors who wouldn’t let my Mom get surgery, wouldn’t let my Dad take Seroquel, etc. He couldn’t even have one shot of whiskey. Not one. He asked the Medicaid Physician to kill him in November of 2019 and the rounding doctor said he wasn’t terminal. He told my Dad to pray. My Dad told him that he was an atheist. The doctor said, “Pray for death.” Did it work? He got COVID 5-months later.

My son and I went to the house to use weed whackers, but because the soil is so good the prickly lettuce was like bamboo. The Russian thistle could mostly be pulled, but some really had thick stalks. We borrowed hand shears and a bypass lopper from a neighbor. This neighbor wants to buy the house. That would be great. We could stop doing yard work then because I could sell it for 20k less.

The whole thing is Monopoly money anyway. 75k goes to my ex-wife and I have to ensure that I don’t do anything which will result in my having to pay capital gains taxes. Luckily, the final estate appraisal fee can come out of the estate account. There is very little money in there and I’ve already paid $6787.03 out of my pocket, and don’t want to pay anything again. Oddly, that is about what my debt is for the the next 19-months. Almost to the penny. I thought of it as the retainer for the lawyer, new engine mounts for my vehicle, and the trees and irrigation system, but it was really about what I was short this year. I know it didn’t help to be paying maintenance.

The subcontractors who work for the company that gets their piece of the Monopoly money pile at closing are actual shitty people. New things were Cheeto shrapnel, Monster cans and a divided lime. The latter was on the mailbox. When I moved it, a yellow jacket decided to sting me. I think he wanted the lime for a food home. I was able to do 3-hours of yard work, and it certainly hurt. However, yesterday my hand was disappearing. I went back and forth to Urgent Care because my insurance had changed and I initially had forgotten my cellphone. Anyway, it got so gross last night even through two Prednisone. I know that I’m not technically allergic to stings, but I do get weird reactions. I hope that I can bowl on Wednesday. The oven mitt that my hand has become reminded me of my first sting, and how these subcontractors are really unprofessional and sloppy.

Fat, red, swollen hand is difficult to use. Last night it was also past the wrist and 2/3 of the way up my forearm
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Dignity

I’m going to be selling a house. I make three more payments to my ex-wife and then the buyers send her a very large check–because she can figure out how to pay taxes on that–and the chapter closes. It has already closed with my ex-husband. My son walked across the stage and graduated from high school. I don’t have any reason to talk directly to my ex-husband. He hit a concrete pillar and ruined his bumper last week and was kinda stranded at home after work on Father’s Day so I had my son take him leftovers, which I had to drop off because my son is still only on a learner’s permit, but I didn’t say anything to him per se.

He’s a terrible driver. He wrecked a car that his parents bought him outright on the day that he found out that I was pregnant and accused me of taking prenatal vitamins–I hadn’t been–and was found at fault being rear-ended at a light on a really nice car with a sunroof and leather interior that I had bought, but he had made the final two payments at the end of the loan. He’s just a different person than I am. He’s not a bad guy, but if you’d imagine Mr. Peanut and Peter Pan having a child, that would be my ex-husband.

My ex-wife deals with significant physical and mental health stuff and it colors the way in which she interacts in the world. When I fell in love with her she would have a few bad days here and there, and then it turned into no good days and being unable to track a 3-5 word sentence that I was saying. She didn’t really want to interact with me, and it seemed bizarre that she had said that she and I would “maintain a connection, and maybe ‘who knows?’ when my son is out and doing his own thing.” That was insulting. I also thought that because she had so many complaints about me and how I lead my life that the most compassionate thing to do after we divorced is to have zero contact with her. She finally figured that one out and doesn’t email me. I do have loan assumption paperwork that I’ll do tomorrow so her name is no longer on the house loan. It’s ironic that either of them ever had their names on a Title–I removed my ex-husband when I refinanced–because they’ve never contributed to this mortgage. I have my house paid off in 6-years, regardless of the loan, mine is the only name on the title, and then no more doing this rather exhausting career. I want to work outside. I volunteer outside and want to be working part-time doing service for real, tangible and meaningful things.

I had two Caretakers in the house while all the legal processes were settling. One was not a good person. She would complain about water bills and the like and didn’t realize that when you don’t pay rent, you don’t complain about monthly bills. She wound up moving out early and didn’t pay property taxes and the other Caretaker who is a good person had to call me and ask me for over $500. I couldn’t believe that her “friend” did that. Moved out early and then stuck her with a bill. I’m really good with gut level reactions to people and never trusted the other Caretaker. My ex-wife would tell me that I was the one with the problem and raise her voice. I have to admit that I would have never thought that she would stick the other Caretaker with a bill, and she did so right after the other Caretaker’s brother had died.

The subcontractors who are doing work on the house have done some truly hideous things to her. They painted her furniture, they shattered one of her tables, they let out her indoor cat. They even shredded one of her shirts, dabbed the pieces in paint and threw those on her comforter. Oh, and they tore up two cushions on a sofa sleeper in the house. Because I don’t really need the money and have a strong sense of justice, I sent an email saying that given a clause in the contract to having a “Right to Remedy” that if they didn’t clean all the paint and compensate her for her sheets, a comforter, a shirt, a table and either replace the sofa sleeper or repair the cushions that work on the house is indefinitely suspended. Looking at those pictures of the destruction evoked “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” and had she not found her cat in some bushes up the street and he’d have died, I don’t know what I would have done. I was nauseated and teary talking to her.

All people deserve dignity. All people have rights to being treated kindly, and being respected. You don’t have to go out of your way to chat with a gossipy colleague, but you must see that person as a person.

My mother who was given to trite sayings, as she was Midwestern, would say, “You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.” I have found that if the latter is coming out of your mouth, that is just a good person with whom to have limited interaction. My father, who was an East Coaster, but lived in Germany and Morocco during and then shortly after Vietnam actually ended, always did whatever he could for other people. I like to think that I’ve become a person who is a blend of those approaches, and believe that all people have dignity.

Image by Engin Akyurt from Pixabay
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Timeline

This entry represents how much I’ve shifted with desire in relationships. After much reading and much discussion in groups, I realize that I don’t ever want to break up with anyone again. I want to do my very best to communicate directly and negotiate adding and reducing relationship factors. An example is adding emotional intimacy and subtracting financial arrangements. I know that I won’t marry or cohabit ever again.

2012

I want to focus on what I want and what I’m looking for, but will start with a preface that it doesn’t mean that it’s not in my current relationship.  We are just new…  Eight-days shy of 7-months and both equally independent and busy.  I’d rather reflect on I want and as everyone seems to say these days, “Put it out into the universe,” which I think comes from that somewhat Eastern movement on the law of attraction and what one is interested in for focus. So, at least for today, I will blog about what I value.

  • That’s stupid.  Be what you want.  You’ll attract people who you want to spend time with, and don’t count dates.  There could be shitty dates and exciting dates.  I’m glad that I’ve not seen or heard from the CEO in YEARS.  Who cares that I spent 7-months exclusively dating her?  Shame on me for trying to force a long-term relationship with someone so mean.

I love being outside and feeling the sun on my skin.  I love the way that water sounds when it is unsettled either from the tide or when it is disturbed by a motor and laps against an embankment.  I also like the noise water makes when it is rushing when the table in a river is up. Being on top of a mountain and feeling the wind cover your body while you look literally at the world makes you feel small and like you don’t really have a single problem.  When you come down and laugh full of natural endocannabinoids from your summit and have a burger and a beer, you have never felt so happy. Snowshoeing up to a glacier lake and working your legs give me a whole feeling too, and again, I love afterward to share a meal with someone who I love and can laugh with about anything.

  • Yep, those things are still very, very good.  I have gaiters now too and know how to self-arrest with an ice axe, so I should bundle up and go soon.  Not solo though.  That’s stupid.  Love is expansive.  I love lots of people.

I love to cook when I come home, and if my day has been awful, I also open a beer and drink while I prepare a meal.  I love to throw dinner parties and hear my friends laughing in my kitchen and enjoy pieces of their conversations. Music is my soundtrack and I break out into song with good friends or make references to song lyrics all the time.  I want to get back into practicing guitar and can’t wait until my son picks up an instrument!  He is dancing now, and although I can’t, I love to watch him dance because his energy takes on a life of its own and he is expressing himself.  In a woman, I find dancing sensual and appealing because you can see things in her that you didn’t see before, and I love novelty.

  • Still love to cook.  Don’t have the need for a large dinner party, but my birthday party when I turned 48 was fun with my neighbors, my old work husband and his wife and my son.  I do need to practice guitar.  Teenagers don’t do anything.  At least he is dating a cheerleader now, so maybe he’ll dance again.  Been thinking about taking some dance lessons, actually.  I continue to have a thing for dancers and athletes.

Adventure is critical for me, and it can be simple adventures like the good memory that I have holding hands crunching through the snow and then naked hot tubbing under the stars–it’s like a pleasant surprise to have romantic things like that unfold and is the ultimate expression of one’s chemistry with another person.   I love to travel and see new places.  I love meals that are well prepared and looking at art.  It would be really cool to see a new city and rent a bike and race around on it to discover tons of it quickly and then be able go back on foot holding a woman’s hand and feel the air on our faces while we look over the scenery that we took in quickly and now want to take in more fully, and at a slower rate.  It could be a preview from the bike with a return on foot because walking and hiking are some things that I also value.

  • I can add to that walking on the beach and getting frisky.  That was fun too.  I went all over Mount Desert Island in June on a rented bike and it was phenomenal.  Gonna do that next June around the whole rim at Crater Lake, and I want to boat to Wizard Island.

I taught myself how to ride a bike when I was eight, and I still feel youthful when I ride my pos Mt Bike down the street, trails or on a singletrack. I can race it as hard as I want or just glide down hills.  I love the wind rushing on my face and going for hours.  I feel strong and alive when I watch the clouds and the afternoon wane on while I’m on my bike.

  • I bike to work everyday except for Mondays.  I have to drive on Mondays.  I have a police bike now and a road bike.  I donated that POS.  I LOVE cycling. I just bought my own mountain bike and want to get good at non-technical hill riding.

Quality of light is important for me too.  The moon casts a beautiful sheen across lakes, and the angle of the sun on a woman’s face at different times of day shows her beauty outdoors.  Seems that I value being outside, using my body, cooking and eating, and connecting and laughing–all of these things are made better if you share them with a beautiful woman.  I think that I do attract these things, so I must be lucky.

  • Still have fortuitous circumstances unfold in the dark. The climber held me on a climber under moonlight when I told her that my ex-partner is either dying or waiting for a transplant and that my son and I will have to motor to NC at some point because of that.

When I think of my son, I value that he is thriving, feeling well, and learning a lot.  Love of nature, being well and whole, and learning as much as he can from mentors should be his focus until he is ready to leave our house.  When one is balanced, he can give unto others, which is probably the only “Christian” value that makes sense to me.  In addition to being glad that he is enjoying sports, getting excellent grades in music, I am most grateful that he is regarded as the most kind and appreciative of diversity by his current teacher.  I hope that if I am lucky enough to add children to our family with a partner, that this virtual child is able to feel well, be outside, learn and truly share.

  • I don’t want any more children.  I hope that my son will be ok when he’s 25.  I drug test him weekly–it was hot today–and he gets a flip phone going as soon as the GPS that he has to carry that I’ll be subscribing to as a service is here and working.  Children are an active or psychic burden until they have a working brain.

I’m thinking that these desires and wants are what I value most, and my partner could make it more powerful.  When I imagine this partner, I am outside with her and we are having one night away.  It wouldn’t have to occur much, but I would value it when it did. She and I could maybe have a meal on a deck near Clear Creek in Buena Vista and have to sit very close together so that we would be able to hear each other and then we could hold hands while the sun sets. She’d make me laugh a lot and I would be taken in completely by her eyes.  We could leave the doors to the deck open so when we made love you could hear that deafening roar of the water in the bg.  That kind of connection while in nature is important to me and my meaning, as is going back to our kids and enjoying them after we had a night away like this one, because I think that meaning too, comes from raising a family together and meeting the challenges of parenting together as a concerted team.

  • I don’t want a partner.  I don’t want financial entanglements.  I am a complete sucker for green, hazel and blue eyes.  I love to laugh and will look forward to some fun sex when the time is right.  I don’t want to raise my son with anyone.  I want him to stabilize and get his act together.  My parents were not a concerted team, and I can’t think of an example of that with any of my friends.  I’m lucky that mine will be out of the house in July of 2024.  Then I can re-read this entry and see what’s shifted.  Love of parts of Colorado will never shift.