Bye and Bye

So I actually went out on a 'date' a couple months ago. I'm thinking about it now because I just finished a wonderful Aikido session--new bruises! what fun!--and the school's instructor stopped by to watch and when my class ended informed me that I would have my first examination at the end of March. I never really considered examinations as a possibility. I only go once a week but, I guess I'm improving. To be frank, I am mildly obsessed with it. What has this to do with the date? The person I went out with was in one of my classes. He asked me out for coffee and, after checking with my sitter, I said 'yes.'

We headed to the local Starbucks -- him in his car, me in mine -- and when we entered I started grooving off Bob Dylan's take on 'All Along the Watch Tower.' The fellow I was with immediately started to whinge and complain stating that Dylan had ruined the genre of folk music. 'I like him,' I said. 'Didn't he kind of open up the genre of folk music?' 'You too have been snowed by a mass marketing machine,' he replied. Then we sat down -- he paid for his and was a bit put out that I bought my own but I was thrilled that my magic car had had a couple dollars hidden deep in the ashtray which I thought was a sign that I should be self sufficient and get my own -- and he started to tell me about his life while I started to hum 'Lay Lady Lay.' He talked about his divorce. (I started to think that his ex wife and I would probably get along) His kids. (They weren't really living up to what he felt was their true potential) His schooling. (Sociology...need I say more? Along with philosophy, art history, linguistics...a true Renaissance Man) His personal philosophies/convictions. (I like independent thought. I am also not one to shy away from a good argument. I can indulge in mental masturbation with the best of them. A good argument, however, has to leave some room for dialogue).

It wasn't all about him though. To be fair, he did bring me into the conversation. It went kinda like this:

Him: Do you know what your problem is?
Me: I have so many I feel it quite unfair that you are determined to focus upon only one.
Him: You aren't relaxed enough. You weren't able to knock me down.
Me: Was I supposed to? I thought we were working on the mechanics of the technique. Besides, you act like a big rock. I'm not interested in forcing things.
Him: You should practice opening doors in a relaxed state.
Me: What?
Him: Use your wrists.
Me: Using my wrists to open doors will make me more relaxed?
Him: Try it.
Me: I think that I might just follow what the Senpai is showing us for now.
Him: You should really take advantage of what I can teach you. I have experience.
Me: I see.
Him: You are a guitarist? I love the guitar.
Me: Ok
Him: I bet I can ask you some questions about the guitar that you can't answer
Me: I have no doubt about that.
Him: I think you should know as much about your instrument as possible. How much do you play?
Me: I don't play very much at all anymore.
Him: If I could play I'd never stop.
Me: I guess you'll never know for sure eh?

An uncomfortable silence followed. I started humming 'Everybody Must Get Stoned' and checked the time.

Me: I've got to go. My sitter will be wanting to go home.
Him: Ok. See you next week.

Thus endeth my first post nuptial date. He showed up to class the next week and I did throw him and he ended up elbowing me in the face and stabbing my leg with one of his overgrown toenails. He has not since returned. The dojo is a happy place for me. I'll be ready for the exam. I wonder if I'm ready for another date?

Dear Ms. E de Groot:

I've never written a letter like this before. Frankly, I'm not writing one now. Not really. You will never read this. It really has nothing to do with you anyway. I'm afraid that your role in all this is quite minor. I do, however, feel the need to get a few things off of my chest. But, I ask myself, where to begin? Begin at the beginning? When was that exactly? All I know for sure is how I feel right now. Even that is sketchy. My feelings are in a constant state of flux. At this moment, I am leaning towards anger. I am angry. This is not to be confused with frustration. Nor is it merely hurt masquerading as pique. This is full blown red fueled anger. Anger at being alone. Anger at seeing my children hurt and not being able to do a damned thing about it. Anger at his alienation from reality. Anger at the betrayal of trust. Anger that I thought it possible for him to grow up. Anger with the role alcohol played in all of this. Anger that I went to yet another meeting just yesterday where the idea of technicians drinking too much was viewed with a high regard. Angry that I didn't speak up and out against it.

The mythology surrounding booze and theatre is inescapable. There are those who 'play along' -- smile and nod and silently curse the post opening hang over. Others, like xman and many like him, buy into the myth. Hook, line and sinker. There are many reasons and non reasons for this. A need to belong? An unhappy childhood? A predisposition to alcoholism? Whatever the case, the myth exists. People buy into it and are subsequently applauded for it and then simultaneously ridiculed. It's the good 'ol theatre 'hug and stab' that occurs when people come to give you a warm hug just so they can get close enough to stab you in the back. It's ok to drink but if you can't handle it or end up drinking too much too often you too will be ostracized. Blamed for your own inability to be responsible in a world where personal responsibility is avoided at all costs. If we don't speak against it aren't we complicit? Shouldn't we share in the blame when families and personal lives are blown apart?

Funny thing tho' Ms. de Groot, I'm not angry at you. You are acting like I did and many of my friends did at the age of 17. Your love for xman is noted. I'm sure you believe that it's real. Hell, maybe it is. I'm not angry at you. I'm also pretty sure that I don't and won't feel sorry for you either. You may as well go through what we all did. It's a perverse rite of passage. You won't change him. One day, I assure you, you will wish that he could change. You may get hurt from this. Remember. He left his wife. He left his children. He left his family. Not for you. Don't have any illusions about that. He also didn't leave because of me. He left because he needs to drink. He needs to drink and cannot allow anything to be or get in his way. Not me. Not his kids. Not his responsibilities. You, my dear, are for him one of many escapes from reality. His waking wet dream as it were. Did you know that he has been bragging to his friends about being a 'dirty old man' who is dating a 20 year old? Do you wonder why he can't admit to your real age? Reality can be fluid. Although you are, no doubt, wise beyond your years--this too is a very common trait amongst 17 year old girls--this wisdom is missing real life experience. Alcoholism is an unfortunate part of real life. Sanctioned alcoholism is pervasive in the theatre setting as are affairs with people twice one's age. You may as well gain personal experience in each.

Holiday Update

The kids spent the day at xman's today. I went shopping with my mom. It was a good day. When I picked up the kids, their heads smelled like his apartment. This is all part of the new reality. Tomorrow we will go swimming. Yesterday, we went to a movie. It was the first time the kids were in a movie theatre. 'Alvin and the Chipmunks.' Kids loved it. I loved watching the kids lovin' it. Saturday will be the wee one's birthday party. It will have a backwards theme. Sunday will be a day of rest. I hope.

Christmas was lovely. Actually. I'm looking forward to getting back to normal though. A regular schedule and a sense of continuity will be nice. I enjoy time off but too much time off is too much like work. I think I'll do some laundry tomorrow. I have to keep grounded.

A Picture May Be Worth 1000 Words But It Won't Make Up For Lost Time

A wordy title but something I just had to get off my chest. My ex--let him from here on in be known as xman--isn't around much. He's busy. I don't mind for myself. I'm busy too. What with my job and being a single mom and all. When he does call it's beginning to feel more and more like an intrusion. Necessary because of his previous donation of sperm but still an intrusion. I wish I could understand where he's coming from but, as it has been explained to me by one of his friends no less, xman is currently existing in an alternative reality. He's living the dream. The dream in a non existant not real non place.

Yet he wants pictures of the kids. I won't begrudge him pictures. Once I can afford to get some developed I'll be sure to pass some along. These are pictures that I have taken. I've taken these pictures because I've been here. Here with the kids. Taking pictures of the kids. Along with caring for the kids, raising the kids, feeding the kids, holding the kids, talking with the kids, learning from the kids ... get the point?

I'm with the kids. During my most recent conversation with xman his response to my question 'when do you want to see the kids' was: 'I don't know. I have no idea. I'm very busy right now. With work. With trying to get my car fixed. I don't know.'

I guess I should purchase some more film.

Checks and Balances

"I've been talking to some people who you call your friends,
and it seems to me there's a means to an end
They don't care anymore..."

Thank you P. Collins. Thank you Mr. O'C.

And so it goes. Tonight will be the first night that the wee ones will not be residing with me. The house will be empty. They are having a 'sleep over' at J's. I feel at odds. I want them to be with J. He has not spent a whole lot of time with them and that's not good -- for oh so many reasons. Reasons which, to any sane and functional human being are blatantly obvious so I won't go into detail. Those who can't think of any reasons are probably drinking from the same tap as ... well, why name names eh?

I also feel caged. Trapped. On edge. Ready at a moment's notice to jump up and fight. I dropped them off and drove away. I left them smiling. I'll pick them up tomorrow at 1pm. I miss them more than can be imagined. The word 'miss' isn't correct. It would be like having a leg removed and saying "I miss my leg." A part of me is away. I am not whole. People tell me I'll get used to this???? It's not that I fear for the wee ones in any way. I would not have dropped them off. I would not have driven away. They were smiling. They'll have a wonderful time. It will be a holiday. A holiday from reality to a certain extent. A holiday from real life. Much the same as is being had by ... but again, are names important?

I drove off to see a friend. I needed a shoulder. Like a homing pigeon I found someone who I needed to see. He understood. He understands what matters most. The wee ones. He understands that as much as I want to, I can't protect them from everything. That they will need to go through things and figure stuff out for themselves. He understands that I feel rage, and hurt, and sorrow, and fear. My Id is raw and visible.

I'm off balance. Out of whack.

I had an epiphany during my last Aikido class. I realized that it hasn't been control that I have been after. It's balance. When faced with new situations, one immediately attempts to regain a sense of balance. Although I know that balance will return to me I am scrambling right now. Clutching at air. At ideas. At words. At work. At anything that will bring me calm. Slow down my heart. Unclench my fists. Anything that will let me carry on. To carry on not as if nothing has happened. To carry on, instead, in spite of everything that is happening.

In Absentia

Halloween is coming. The boy wants to be a transformer. Optimus Prime to be exact. I think the costume will be a success. Our combined imaginations are working in overdrive. A bit of cardboard, a bit of audio packing foam, poster paint, tinfoil and silver face paint should do the trick. The girl wants to be a butterfly. Good thing I have access to a costume cellar. I found some wings left over from a production of Midsummer's. Today we'll pick up some pumpkins.

I remember loving Halloween. I still do. Going out at night and seeing kids everywhere. The night always holds some magic. It's easy to believe that there are spirits joining in the festivities as we race up another strange driveway unsure of who resides on the other side of the door. I especially like trick or treating in this neighbourhood. The houses are beautiful and I love the chance to peek inside.

It's weird this year tho'. Although J never really was involved with our Halloween preparations or with the night itself, he was present. He was there. I'm not sure how his lack of presence will change things. It probably won't ... except for the fact that it's just one more event that he will be completely removed from. In absentia. The longer this separation goes on the more I am realizing how little my life is actually changing. Is this something I should have forseen? Expected? Was J's footprint really only imprinted on sand?

The Way I See It

Well, the way I see it, if she doesn't matter to you, it really shouldn't matter to you how/when/in what context I bring her up. If anything I say about her bothers you, well, I guess she matters eh?

Not that it really matters either way. It's your own discomfort/guilt that is most telling.

Obsessively Compulsive

Obsessions have been keeping me away. Not serious ones. Little ones. Obsessions that creep into my daily life and have prevented me from writing. President's Choice spinach dip is one. I couldn't get enough of it for a while. That and greek-styled pita bread. I'm over that one after having smelled it one day and being left with the faintest yet still detectable hint of nausea. I had, I fear, over indulged. Another obession? Making sure that there is a bountiful supply of fresh fruit in the house. It is fall harvest time and I am trying to make the most of it. Keeping up with fall television programming is yet another endeavor. I love pretty much all that showcase has to offer. The rest is well...shit. Not all of it but, I think my addiction to the tele has also seen its day. The Bionic Woman is a remake of La Femme Nikita but more 'techno.' Boston Legal has forgotten why it worked in the first place -- that the characters had some depth. The rest is dreck. I'll watch it. But its dreck.

I am grooving off of Aikido. It's starting to make sense. The instructor's approach to teaching works for me. Bits and pieces of a whole are offered up each week. I come home after practicing a new technique a hundred times or so. I'm a bit battered and bruised in that 'oh so good I used and abused my body and could take it' way. Slowly the different techniques are beginning to make sense as parts of a greater whole. The teaching approach is spherical rather than linear. Plural rather than singular. Repetition appeals to me right now. I'm beginning to know and experience my body in new ways. I actually feel more connected than I have ever been. Strange.

Little tasks make up my work day. Daily chores make up my home life. Things are getting done. Life is continuing.

When I Was Seventeen . . .

. . . it was a very good year.

Well, that's how the song goes anyway. Although I think back to my teenaged years with some fondness, I am quite happy to be where I am. My kids are brilliant. I know who I am. Life, for the most part, is fantastic.

My neighbour's son is 17. He has his graduated license and the pride in his being when he pulls the car around to pick up his parents is very evident. He's a good kid and looking forward to university. His grown up life is in its infancy. My ex's new 'best friend' is also seventeen. I had the privilege of seeing them together today as I was walking down the street with the wee ones. The kids were happy to see daddy. He was 'at work' using his ears (listening to a band that was inside while he sat outside) and, by the look of things his drinking arm was getting a good work out too. The 'best friend' avoided eye contact. Something to hide sweetie? (when I say sweetie I really mean 'stupid kid' in case any of you were wondering). The connection between the two of them is beyond me. Really, I find it to be a bit icky but, to each their own I guess. It's all too normal. Man has mid life crisis and leaves home, wife and kids in order to hang out with sweet young thing who is just beginning to get her sea legs when it comes to relationships and has no idea what real responsibilities entail which suits man just fine cuz he wants to hide away from his own. Where's the originality?

38 Might Not Be My Year

Ok. So I spent my 38th birthday at a funeral for the father of a dear friend. The month that followed was a blur of me being stupid busy, J being stupid busy and neither of us being able to communicate without snapping at each other. You all know where that led. J left me after letting me know that he was no longer in love with me and hadn't been for a while. Must have been a relief for him to jump out of that particular emotional closet. Well now, as I type, I am reminiscing about my day. For the first time in my life, I walked a picket line. Yup. The union that I'm a part of is on strike and it looks like this might take a while. So now as I walk for 4 hours everyday--back and forth across the same stretch of road, occasionally switching direction to relieve the monotony--I wonder...what else will there be? Its not that I'm trying in any way to tempt fate or anger higher beings. Its just that as I'm walking this particular street corner--and my strike pay is far less then your average hooker I'd imagine--I am beginning to take this personally. I count my blessings, and I have many to count: beautiful and healthy children, pretty good personal health, an unextinguished sense of humour (bizarre as it might be) ... but, blessings aside. Can I say without courting further personal chaos that the past few months have frankly sucked? I'm sure that things could get worse so I won't even ask. I'm hoping that they will get better. At least I didn't get a parking ticket today having had to park off campus in a 2 hour lot. At least there was coffee made available. At least my shift allows me the time to drop off and pick up my children from school. At least I seem to be able to count on the very least. At least.

Choices

It's not that I'm complaining or anything but... After I put the kids to bed and settle down for the evening the choices of reading or television or cleaning or other chores and tasks that I haven't gotten to yet for whatever reason ... Well, these choices are starting to feel like I'm just putting in time. I begin to wonder and explore within myself why I am doing anything at all. I sit and stare into space and contemplate lonliness. My lonliness. I can't call anyone cuz what is there to say really? 'Hello, can you come over...I'm lonely.' Unfortunately, I really don't have people around me who are even close to being in the same boat. They have their own lives to live. I hear the kids giggling upstairs and I do my requisite 'get to bed you bums' but even as the words escape my lips I wonder if they will be the last words I utter out loud for the day. It's not that I had a lot of conversations with J. Especially during this past year. It's just that at least there was another big person around. Someone to share this space. Someone who I thought cared. To find out that he didn't...that he was probably just putting in time with me, well...
So I sit. And I think. And I feel. And I hope for a chance at more human contact tomorrow. And I count my blessings. And I breathe deeply until the rising panic subsides. I'll be ok. I can do this. What choice do I have?

Small Offensive Victories

I finally did it. It's a small thing really. But huge. Really huge. Last night I rolled over and slept in the middle of the bed. Yup. No longer hugging the side I ventured out into the vast emptiness beside me...and it was good. Sooooo good. I woke up refreshed. Nothing ached. The bed no longer feels empty. It's just the right size for me and the occasional night time visit from a wee one and the cats, of course. I'm looking forward to bed as I write this. I can hardly wait for when I get around to switching over to flannel sheets...the sign that winter is approaching.

I fixed a drip in my bathtub. I'm not a wuss when it comes to home repair but plumbing has never been something I've dabbled in. Well, I figured out how to turn off the water and I opened the sucker up. All it needed was a washer replacement and voila! One other thing I can handle on my own thank you very much.

Today the kids had a dental appointment and S had an eye doctor appointment. We went out for lunch and did some school supply shopping as well. All in all a good and full day.

I'm very disappointed with the Canadian War Museum's decision to change its panal display describing the controversy surrounding the bombing campaign of the allied forces in Germany during World War II. Sigh. I guess historical facts don't matter as much as not offending folks.

Speaking of being non offensive, the ubiquitous 'support our troops' propaganda is getting to be a bit much. Seriously. I can't really think that there is anyone who does not 'support' the men and women who are risking their lives in our country's name. But. The question arises (well, it doesn't arise which is part of the problem) that the mode/method for this 'support' is never defined. What does 'support our troops' actually mean? Its hard to argue against such an innocuous statement but its also hard to stomach when one gets the feeling that this statement is both meaningless and chock full of meaning for those 'in the know.' The similarities to the 'choose life' campaign are great. Who wouldn't 'choose life'? Except...whose life. Under what circumstances...etc. etc. The biggest problem with pat sayings and social mantras is that one cannot dissect them and examine them and tease out from them meanings not readily apparent on the surface. To do that is to admit that one does not accept what is being said. One might, oh the horror, possibly cause offense. And to not accept it means that one is against it. If you're not with us, you're against us. And if you are one of 'them' and not one of 'us' you may as well take the train out of Dodge.

What a scary world to live in. And to think, we're the lucky ones who live in a democracy.

Click

It happened last Sunday. It was quick. Almost immediate. I stopped hurting. I don't know if it was something he said. Or did. Or was it me? I just stopped. A switch inside me clicked off. I haven't really trusted this new feeling. This feeling of peace. Of possibility. I saw my therapist. Funny how quickly I've taken ownership this being our second solo session. She said that what I was experiencing was not unheard of. She described it in terms of my having closed a door to my heart. According to her, the worst is now over. That's a blessing. I would not want to revisit these past few weeks. Brutal. Raw. I told her that I felt a bit guilty that my suffering didn't seem to match what I had lost. She explained that I had probably been grieving for quite a while but not really acknowledging my feelings as grief. Interesting. So now I'm moving forward. Getting things done. Trying not to be too impatient. I'm not in any hurry. There's time. My days are full. A routine is becoming established. I'm feeling stronger then I have felt in a long time.
'A' lost two teeth today so I get to meet the tooth fairy. I think I've solved my childcare dilemma. I'm looking forward to getting a bit of canning done on the weekend. I'm thinking of mixing peaches and pears. I'm coming back.

Title less

Saw some friends in unexpected places yesterday. Well timed. My baby sitter cancelled for today so I had her come in last night. Yes. I actually got out!! Here's my chinese horoscope for today:

August 16, 2007Small financial problems will disturb you and compel you to postpone your wild desires for spendings. Your religious and philosophical convictions will suddenly be strongly shaken; doubt will settle down in your mind; you'll be seized by a kind of metaphysical anguish which may last for some time. Perturbations in your affective life. You'll feel an almost pathological fear of losing the object of your love; this fear will give rise to crises of jealousy which will irritate your mate very much.

Interesting eh?

Now off to work and on my spare moments make more plans for Summer Party 2007!

And So It Begins

I got the phone bill today from my work cell. All my loving conversations with J while I was in Chicago. Only $150.

I received a message from J's mom that she is busy this week and can't babysit. She wishes me luck in finding one. I wanted the opportunity to actually go out with a friend of mine who is in town from Hong Kong.

You know. For all those nights when J went out and assumed I'd stay in. For all those times when I told J that I never understood how he couldn't 'get it' that even when he felt caged he had 100% more freedom to do what he wanted when he wanted to do it then I did. For all those times when he said 'hell, why should I come home when you'd be asleep anyway' not bothering to think that it might be nice to be woken up in order to reconnect. For all those times when J assumed that I'd take care of any possible crises on my own and through his absence he'd force me to shoulder the responsibilities. For all those mornings when I'd be the one waking up to take care of the kids cuz J was tired from the night before. For that time in our past when J was insecure about me and calling all the time and my reaction was to do my best to never ever put him through that again because I knew from personal experience how hard that was to take. For being called a cunt and a bitch and me excusing it because I 'knew' he didn't really mean it.

For all those times.

I'm beginning to feel a wee bit pissed off.

Time

When did I become that person? When did it become ok to make me wait? I'm not talking about time to heal or time to sort things out. I'm not even talking about things that 'happen' such as meeting so and so and losing track of time at the pub. I'm talking about waiting in a real sense. I'm talking about having to wait because someone else is late. And the real reason for their being late is that I have become a person, to them, not worthy of having my time respected. Even now, I do my damnedest to be where I've told people I will be. When someone tells me that they have told so and so that they would meet them at a specific time I will have to say 'go' even though my needs may not yet have been met. I do my best to respect other people and their time. When did I let this slide for me? When did I begin to accept that perhaps my time wasn't as valuable as theirs? Perhaps I should join a growing majority and say fuck it. My time is my own and if you choose not to show up, I'm outta here. But I'm not like that. And I can't just pick up and go. I need to depend on a babysitter...who may or may not show up on time. I think, however, that my time does deserve to be respected. And if you want me in your life, you'll need to show up at the right time.

Strange

Strange. I feel that I have been plucked out from the world I once new and have been placed in a maze. A maze with sharp corners and the occasional tender caress. A maze that is not only confusing and infuriating but strangely exciting as well. J is leaving for 2 months. I will be alone. But I have been alone. So what really will change? I want him to know how much the kids will miss him. I will miss him. But I have to stop trying to get him to be responsible. That has to come from himself.

Its Not a Poem

I miss you
More than I thought I would
And missing you feels different
More different than expected
My days haven't changed much
I carry on
I do what I do
But I'm conscious of an emptiness
A hole inside of me
I imagine that its dark
And moist
And hollow
The damp warmth is created out from unshed tears
Choked back
Swallowed
An attempt to fill the hole
Left behind when you left.

My Chinese Horoscope today -- Earth Rooster

August 8, 2007You must take energetic measures to stop a drain which may seriously unbalance your budget. There'll be risks of brutal rupture in many couples, be they under formation or already solidly formed; to prevent such an event, try to be understanding and tolerant. Your professional activities will seem to you outrageously routine, and you'll be seized by a strong desire to slam the door; try however to moderate your anger, for its consequences might be much more negative than they appear.


Damn! But ain't it accurate eh?

The Past Lives On

Today was remarkably normal. Got up. Got the kids ready. Went back to work. Caught up on stuff. Broke down only once. Actually went home at one point. I needed some papers that were in my briefcase. Papers from my Chicago trip. Going through that hurt. And then I recovered. I went to the councillor. Seems I'm actually doin' ok. Will not be going next week. Will see how it goes the week after. Got some advice. Was told that I was functioning very well. Surprisingly well. Came home. Played. Walked the neighbour's dog (am pseudo dog sitting). Made dinner. Leftovers. Ready to do it all again tomorrow. Got some new baby pictures from one of my staff. Wish I could be in that mindframe. My dad reminded me of my great aunt -- Ita. She was one of 3 from the village that my dad grew up in who returned from a Siberian labour camp. One of those that returned went mad and was put in an asylum. Another returned as a corpse. I met Ita when I was 10. I went to Finland and remember hugging her. She was strong. I also remember that she had my picture on her wall. My dad said that he saw a lot of her in me. Just the right thing to say at the right time. My dad is pretty special. So am I.