February 1, 1998
I predict that I won't get much time to write tomorrow. Kirsti/Inanna & her partner & I get to meet for lunch. I'm quite excited, scared, nervous, Et Cetera.
1 year ago tomorrow (February 2, 1997) my grandmother died. I didn't find out until a month later, and when I did I was in shock. I cried ... hard. It initially surprised me that I felt such intense grief over her loss, but after much reflection I realised how deeply I loved her. In honour of her 1-year passing, I'd like to reprint something that I wrote about 8 months ago. It is extremely significant for me; especially as I feel at this moment that I can find no other words.
Black Silk, Shelter Me (for Mama)
I had that dream again last night.
In this dream, you are alive and happy. When I touch you I feel warmth and soft flesh, I feel your pulse beneath your skin. Your wrinkles are pliable, they bend with the movements of your face. I laugh and bury my cheeks in your neck; I let you swallow me up with your affection.
I wake up, the tears forming puddles in my ears. Rolling over, I clutch the baby in my belly with a fierce passion--"I wish you could have known the woman I loved ..." I feel her kick, watch the skin on my stomach twitch with the movements of her little feet and elbows, I think of the life that I give her through each mouthful, each breath, each moment I shelter her from the agony of this harsh, unyielding world.
How do I tell this little being that she has no maternal relatives? How do I explain the nights of abuse--the restraining order for my safety--the incredible void where love should be? How do I console myself--as I sit in the darkness of the mid-night, rocking slowly and remembering?
I remember you--and in your death you become larger than you could ever have been in life. You become my savior, my protector, the one who blissfully ignored what what was going on, yet gave me solace in spite of it. The one who fed me when the pain was too much; the one who stuffed my hand full of Nutter Butters and ice cream so I could eat my sadness away.
As I let my body sink back into the bed, let the sweet relief of childhood fantasy wash over my weary soul, I cannot help but whimper at the tugging I feel in my heart. My husband, hearing my cry, rolls over and wraps his arms around me. He has heard this noise before.
"It was only a dream, honey."
"I know," I say quietly, my shoulders heaving with sobs.
I know.
My heart is full of such sadness.
I am overflowing with tears ...
February 3, 1998
O h I had a lovely time. Kirsti & Terry are 2 of the most wonderful people I have ever met and I ache inside to have to be without them.
We had a fabulous time and it was so good for me. For the first time in a very long while, I was paid attention to as a separate individual other than my child, I was a person--a worthwhile and noticeable person--and I existed beyond the realm of "Jordan's mom."
We had a wonderful afternoon. We met for mexican food & spent 2 hours eating and talking--sitting on the patio in the sun (I got shade), drinking daquiris and margaritas, telling stories and holding hands and smiling.
Then we went and listenened to a lovely band and Kirsti read us a chapter out of "the House of Pooh." And we walked around and I got the best back massage of my life, and it was all very comfortable and safe and utterly perfect.
It was a little glimpse into the reminded reality that I am a being that is loveable, that can be loveable, that can exist on her own merit, with her own friends.
It's difficult to explain, but I have felt myself fading away. Not just in the therapeutic sense that I hashed out with Spug yesterday morning, but also in the plain ordinary sense of I have a daughter. And she is new and fresh and beautiful, and I am constantly explaining, updating and deferring to her. And I have forgotten that I am anything apart from her presence. I have forgotten who I was before she was born.
Yesterday helped remind me. And I am forever grateful to my very dear friends Kirsti & Terry who helped me receive back a little slice of myself, who love me for me, and who brought me a day of joy and comfort and happiness. Thank you, my friends. Thank you more than you'll ever know. :*
February 4, 1998
My daughter is going to be an amazingly difficult human being. If her present temperment is anything like her future self, we are in for a bumpy 18+ years. (overwhelming sigh)
okay ...
I've been thinking about the nature of online relationships--particularly because of my glorious encounter with kirsti & terry--re-evaluating all those that I have had, and those I have had the privilege of "meeting" in person.
I have never had a bad experience. Without exception, I have liked everyone I have ever met from off the net.
It pisses me off because so many parents are paranoid-terrified about letting their kids go online because they are afraid of the psychos, the evil indecency, the pornography, etcetera, and the media enhances those types of encounters.
We have all heard about the slaughtering,rape,harrassment of 14-year-old innocents by big bad online Perverts, but a story of benevolence and friendship is overlooked.
well, I guess I take that back...
I did see one talk show (Jenny Jones, I think--this was during my pregnant slug/couch potato period and all the hosts merged into one chattering obnoxious blob) where they united online lovers in person. But that was dumb--because they portrayed the people as obsessed computer geeks with no life. And nearly all the couples were into role playing, and they came across as people who were weird, into fantasy, and could never "score" in the "Real World."
And that infuriates me.
As a survivor, I do some of my best connecting on the net. I don't have that fear of touch, of looking into somebody's eyes, the physical closeness that comes in relationship. Yet intimacy, something I value and which often needs no faces, is totally possible online. Even more so because we don't have the physical stuff getting in the way. When I'm chatting with someone online I don't worry about that big zit under my chin and the exhaustion on my face from having a newborn in the house. I can be myself--truly vulnerable and honest--and enjoy the reality that someone likes me for just who I am.
Yes, it can/does go the other way...where people cheat and lie and make up personnas. (Have you noticed how many blonde women with long legs, who are 6 feet tall and under 100 lbs there are on the net? yuck!) You do have to be careful.
But I have met lots of friends online in person, and because I love them for who they are inside, because I know them as they are without all the masks and physical stuff, I love how they look in "real life." It doesn't matter what their bodies look like, where they live (except that its usually too far away), what kind of clothes they wear. They are my friends. And their hearts and souls are more beautiful than anything else in the whole world.
And that's what I wish everybody could understand, and what the media would report.
sometimes the beauty is easy
sometimes you don't have to try at all
sometimes you can hear the wind
blow in a handshake
sometimes there's poetry
written right
on the bathroom wall
"Good,Bad,Ugly" by Ani Difranco
February 5, 1998
Nyah-nyah!
I getta mini-vacation, I getta mini-vacation!
Tomorrow I turn 29 (eeek gads!) and we got a hotel and we're going to drop the bit off at G&C's and then spend the evening together without her and sleep a full 8 unbroken hours (!) and sleep in as late as we want on Saturday, and have a small reminder of what life was like less than 4 months ago.
I'm very happy, I can hardly stand the anticipation.
Lewis puked all over Hubbs' slippers this morning. He does that puke thing a lot. He refuses to chew his food, and he eats too much. Then he hunkers down and vomits up everything he just inhaled. We tried giving him petromalt and it didn't do any good--fortunately it was too gooey or he would have thrown that up, also. He stopped for about 9 weeks and we were happy and started being careless about leaving the food open as a self-serve deli and he started overeating and throwing up again. oh joy
So he did it this morning, and of course--afterward he was hungry because he'd just emptied the entire contents of his stomach. So he followed me around the house meowing and meowing and giving me these pitiful looks and trying to be adorable and cute--pulling every trick he knows to get me to feed him again.
I decided to wait until Hubbs came home for lunch.
Our 3 cats are the biggest pain on the planet. Well, actually, 2 of them for certain. Last night Lewis kept jumping on me on his way to snuggle with Hubbs. Finally he jumped on my stomach and it hurt and I got very angry. I don't understand why he can't jump on Hubbs' stomach, being as thats the side of the bed he's headed for. But it hurt and it scared me and I was grumpy and I insisted that Hubbs get out of bed and chase him around the house with a squirt bottle.
I can't prove it, because the fan was on in our bedroom, but I swear I heard lots of clattering and clunking and even a hiss or two. Hubbs is very good with the squirt bottle, and I think Lewis got the message.
I discovered a new alter in therapy on Monday and I'm a bit disconcerted that he exists, especially since he's named after my primary perpetrator (dear old dad).
I'm trying to be gentle and understanding and loving but he's a bit of a pest. And Spug says he's a young kid and he's misguided and misinformed, and I know that I'm supposed to be merciful, but it is fucking hard. I don't do well with being incessantly attacked. And especially not by someone who idolizes my father.
