Sunday, March 12, 2017

Where am I?

We are rapidly approaching 4 years.  FOUR YEARS.  Sigh.  I have started trying to donate platelets on a regular basis.  Turns out it was me, not Molly, who has a very high platelet count: 420.  Higher than 450 is indication that you have something going on that should be checked out, but in the 400's is very helpful.  They get the amount they need much quicker.  But they have to be careful to not take too much, because only a certain amount can survive.  These are all things I learned on Saturday.

My lessons right now consist of relearning how to be here and now, be a widow, a solo mom, be Sabrina, and not be clawing desperately at the life walls that surround me, begging for a way to not have to face any of the things that I have no choice but to face.

I just took a moment to think about whether or not to talk about how the political situation is affecting me.  I decided, for now, to leave it.  And mention only that my fear about the trajectory of things caused headaches so bad that no medication touched it, I had to have an MRI, they thought I might have shingles, or trigeminal neuralgia, they gave me 4 different prescription medications which did all of nothing so I ended up in the ER.  They gave me a shot of valium, which tickled the pain.  I'm seeing a chiropractor finally, taking ibuprofen and tylenol in alternating doses and hating the drugs big time.  Valium at night if need be, but to be honest, I'd rather drink a little too much wine than screw with a drug like that.  So...

Baby steps.  That's all I've got.  I hid from the pain looking for sexual connections because the power of visceral physical connection hid the pain that made it so I could not breathe.  Breathing is pretty essential for life.  So I did that dumb thing I revert to...and it, of course, didn't work.

But through those silly and understandable efforts and reading The Little Prince to my class, I had a thought that I hope might be a realization to guide me.  It is just this:  I would like someone who can tame me.  I mean, that's what John did.  We didn't have the words for it when it happened.  But I figured it out when we planned our ceremony. I asked my friend to read the part of the Little Prince when the fox and he talk about taming...I want someone willing and wanting to come to me at a certain time each day, so that I begin to look forward to their step approaching.  And I'd love it if someone could be the kind of person that would put up with my strange and potentially difficult to predict desires for compliments and comfort.  And, if that person would also trust in me to arrive for them, hope for me to arrive for them, around the same open their heart, just a tiny bit at a time is we can learn each other...and trust me enough to be annoying around me...the gift of that would fill my heart and soul to a place of joy.  And I would be grateful.

But I can only control me.  Not other people.  So I don't want to swipe left or right.  I guess I would rather be alone?  The man at the Red Cross blood donation center, when I told him it had been almost 4 years, quietly and briefly, without judgement asked me "So, you don't want to be with anyone again?"  That was the first time I've ever gotten that question.  I guess, enough time has passed, and I am not with someone...perhaps it is not about what I want, but what I will allow close to me and to my children.  I have never been a planner that way. I never had a type.  But I look for a heart.  John's heart, oh it sang to me!  Which is funny because he was a HORRIBLE singer!!!  But his heart...yeah.  I always worried I wasn't the right match for him because I am not an athlete and could never keep up with him.  Perhaps, what mattered to him and why we made sense, is my heart...perhaps my heart sang to his, too.

Think I could find a way to put that on a dating profile?

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

reading books I love, putting away dishes, and learning through tears

I forget, sometimes, that I really like chocolate.  I know that sounds odd and potentially arbitrary.  But it's true.  I also forget other things...bigger things...if you can get bigger than chocolate.

We are approaching 4 years.  You'd think that the knock-you-on-your-ass tears were pretty much done.  And by "you'd" I mean "I'd".  But then, once again, I'd be wrong.

They ended pretty abruptly today though.  Almost as quickly as they began.  Beginnings come from odd and somewhat pointless places.  I was putting dishes away.  I just watched the last (latest) (on Netfix) Supernatural and I was sad because I miss being friends with my brother.  And as I was putting dishes away, it occurred to me that I wasn't supposed to do that ALONE every damn time.So this time, it began with small, square dishes.  Most of those damn dishes I bought with John.  He was supposed to wash when I cooked.  That was always the deal.  But now, well, there isn't a deal.  I just do what I can, when I can, so sometimes it sits.  But the small, square dishes with the orange and blue and yellow stripes made me cry.  Because I can touch them and remember dozens and dozens of meals we've had on them.  Without him.  And he was supposed to BE there.

I stopped crying midstream, though.  Because I realized that those tears existed because he tamed me.  I was Real to him and he was Real to me.  And what a gorgeous damn gift it was that we each took the time to break through for each other.  There is NO better gift.  And also, I realized, I have a community of folks that care about me.  I have a chance, every day, to walk into a job where small humans look to me for hope, curiosity, support, encouragement, and love.  Love.  We don't often have access to that in our work lives.  But I do.  I keep hoping to find friendship there, at work, with adults.  It doesn't really happen.  And I find my worst anxiety triggers stepped on almost all the time.  But still...I get to go to work, and share love.  I get to comfort little ones when they cry, even if I don't understand why.  Even when I DO understand why and cannot do a damn thing.  I can be present for them.

And yes, I want the chance to tame and be tamed again.  More than anything.  And that makes tears stream like a stuck drinking fountain.  I think I am done and I walk away and realize, um, yeah, nope.  Left that one open and it's still going.  Heh.  Oops.

And that's okay.  It's good to want that.  I think.  I believe it is...and what I KNOW is that I may not always do the best with my plan book, but I walk in my classroom every day fighting for the chance to love, cheer for, believe in, help, redirect, and listen as much as possible to as many humans as I can.  And when I come home, I do it again, at defcon level 10 for my babies.  Whatever the situation.  And that, that is a blessing.  Even if I do end up on the floor, caressing a photograph with a sparkling smile from long ago...a guy in a blue t-shirt with a monkey on his shoulder and smile lines like sunshine parenthesis, crying so hard I have to bite on a paper towel to dim the sounds and allow the kids to sleep.

I guess if I had a choice, and the choice couldn't include him, I'd choose to bring on the tears.  Because every moment with him made me a better person.  In so many ways.

And also for them