I wish I had a clever name for this, this blue funk that happens just after a mild rush toward selfness. I get this feeling of AH, things are Coming Together, and that is often followed by a time of increased tenderness, increased feelings of loneliness, of otherness, of oddness... of being outside myself a little...
as if, in the act of centering, i slingshot myself out again into the wild dark.
so, a night of crappy sleep, and crazy dreams, and a wintery sunny morning where i let myself get too cold as if discomfort was what I deserve.
what the heck?
So yes. here i am. bundled up after a very hot shower...
contemplating cookies.
30 March 2016
29 March 2016
two dots and stitch fix
so today I got my first stitch fix box.
I am not sure if I will do it again or not.
in case you've never heard of it, it's a curated set of 5 pieces of clothes chosen for you to try and (they hope) buy. you can do it once or on subscription. you put in sizes, answer questions, maybe offer a pinterest board for them to see to calibrate your style... and you cough up $20 for styling that can be applied to your purchase.
So for me, this was a $20 exercise in trying on a new way of exploring options outside of my usual usualness.... trying new kinds of clothes on my new kind of body. and I was hopeful that I would learn some things about what feels good right now.
I sent 4 things back but I netted one pair of black pants. nothing earth shaking there-- no fashion break throughs, no new ideas, no wild deviations...
but wow.... the surprising delight of right fit.
hm
right fit.
and also I learned how cool it is to say nope nope nope nope to all that did not fit. I spent zero energy trying to imagine how to make anything work, what alterations would be needed. just a fabulous unclingy nope and back into the box things went.
yesterday, coincidentally, i tried on my businessy clothes. all of them. and have about 7 things left. I realized that this is my body right now. this is my life right now. things need to fit.
The rest went into a donation bag to be someone else's right fit.
**
Two dots
the two dots thing is similar in that I have never been a game player. I actually *hate* games. I do not like to play, do not like winning or losing. I just do not like them.
I started with flow a few years ago and realized there was satisfaction in problem solving. in competing against myself. in trying and learning and trying and learning
two dots: I fail and fail and fail and fail and fail and fail
and I am not a lesser human being.
I am not a failure.
I am simply not winning the frikken game.
Sometimes I do. then, in the way of life, the next level is harder and I begin again and at first and for a long while I fail and fail and fail...
and even though I fail and fail and fail and fail and fail, I am still not a lesser being.
How cool is that?
I am not sure if I will do it again or not.
in case you've never heard of it, it's a curated set of 5 pieces of clothes chosen for you to try and (they hope) buy. you can do it once or on subscription. you put in sizes, answer questions, maybe offer a pinterest board for them to see to calibrate your style... and you cough up $20 for styling that can be applied to your purchase.
So for me, this was a $20 exercise in trying on a new way of exploring options outside of my usual usualness.... trying new kinds of clothes on my new kind of body. and I was hopeful that I would learn some things about what feels good right now.
I sent 4 things back but I netted one pair of black pants. nothing earth shaking there-- no fashion break throughs, no new ideas, no wild deviations...
but wow.... the surprising delight of right fit.
hm
right fit.
and also I learned how cool it is to say nope nope nope nope to all that did not fit. I spent zero energy trying to imagine how to make anything work, what alterations would be needed. just a fabulous unclingy nope and back into the box things went.
yesterday, coincidentally, i tried on my businessy clothes. all of them. and have about 7 things left. I realized that this is my body right now. this is my life right now. things need to fit.
The rest went into a donation bag to be someone else's right fit.
**
Two dots
the two dots thing is similar in that I have never been a game player. I actually *hate* games. I do not like to play, do not like winning or losing. I just do not like them.
I started with flow a few years ago and realized there was satisfaction in problem solving. in competing against myself. in trying and learning and trying and learning
two dots: I fail and fail and fail and fail and fail and fail
and I am not a lesser human being.
I am not a failure.
I am simply not winning the frikken game.
Sometimes I do. then, in the way of life, the next level is harder and I begin again and at first and for a long while I fail and fail and fail...
and even though I fail and fail and fail and fail and fail, I am still not a lesser being.
How cool is that?
24 March 2016
Ah ha!
Hello loves,
So thanks almost entirely to a note from beloved Shelagh, I *finally* figured it out.
It's so obvious now, of course.
The past few years I've been working out in the world (imagine jazz hands) workshopping, and also doing a bunch of inner work that includes acknowledging that this time in my life, as in so many lives, is a time of reinvention, reassessment, and realization-- here we are, halfway through (in the best scenarios), and feeling (more than) a little bit lost.
So, that is what this is all about; me talking about alllllllllll that.
Welcoming all of you who feel the same way or want to know what it feels like to be seeking at a time in life when so many of us expected, on some level, to be found. To be stable. To be settled. To feel grown up and capable.
Being an older mom to a younger kid makes me grandparent aged in the group I brush shoulders with... the grandparents picking up Della's friends are my age, not the parents, and there is a rather acute loneliness in that too.
So this? This is a small bloggy reinvention, after a deep reassessment -- that the things I need to talk about here are the things I need to talk about.
Connection. Sanity. Loneliness. Delight.
There will be always talk of Della and parenting and life after infertility and the ache of all of that.
There will always be talk of my past, including all of the all of it. Love, loss, fuckedupness.
There will always be profanity, not for shock, but for the sincere expression of whateveritis I am trying to express.
There will always be room for all of me, and therefore, room for all of you.
For those here looking for infertility stories, there are plenty! Check the archives and also the My Story tab. We beat the odds because we are beyond lucky. And I know it.
And to all of you, LOVE. Love and love and love and love and love.
Let's do this thing.
So thanks almost entirely to a note from beloved Shelagh, I *finally* figured it out.
It's so obvious now, of course.
The past few years I've been working out in the world (imagine jazz hands) workshopping, and also doing a bunch of inner work that includes acknowledging that this time in my life, as in so many lives, is a time of reinvention, reassessment, and realization-- here we are, halfway through (in the best scenarios), and feeling (more than) a little bit lost.
So, that is what this is all about; me talking about alllllllllll that.
Welcoming all of you who feel the same way or want to know what it feels like to be seeking at a time in life when so many of us expected, on some level, to be found. To be stable. To be settled. To feel grown up and capable.
Being an older mom to a younger kid makes me grandparent aged in the group I brush shoulders with... the grandparents picking up Della's friends are my age, not the parents, and there is a rather acute loneliness in that too.
So this? This is a small bloggy reinvention, after a deep reassessment -- that the things I need to talk about here are the things I need to talk about.
Connection. Sanity. Loneliness. Delight.
There will be always talk of Della and parenting and life after infertility and the ache of all of that.
There will always be talk of my past, including all of the all of it. Love, loss, fuckedupness.
There will always be profanity, not for shock, but for the sincere expression of whateveritis I am trying to express.
There will always be room for all of me, and therefore, room for all of you.
For those here looking for infertility stories, there are plenty! Check the archives and also the My Story tab. We beat the odds because we are beyond lucky. And I know it.
And to all of you, LOVE. Love and love and love and love and love.
Let's do this thing.
01 March 2016
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