Jun 12, 2006beating the bad karma away
a lot has been happening lately, and I want to thank you all for your kind emails. my husband has recently been diagnosed with chronic hepatitis B and our family is now running a fearful marathon of blood tests and vaccinations. this is also slowing down the closing process. and jeopardizing it. and someone attacked and insulted me on one of the blogs I'm writing for, which has led me to seriously question myself and eventually quit the job.
yesterday morning I curled up in bed with my heart broken and begged the universe for a brief pause in my life. trying to still my body and thoughts, like hushing the gentle oscillation of water to sink in the calmness of a warm bath. but I could not stop crying. I dragged myself out of soft, comforting cotton and stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a while. I could hardly recognize myself. and I hated that.
I knew that as soon as I'd see them an overwhelming sense of safety would quiet my tormented heart. my refuge from the storm. my girls. greeting my sadness and fear with a meatball sandwich, fun stories and unconditional support. the grass under my body, blooming roses and the Cathedral of Notre-Dame enclosing our trivial conversations and Converse Chuck Taylors with unique beauty. soothing the howling winds pounding in my soul. and reminding me that yes, life is difficult. but I am strong. and I'll get through it.
I hope you like the new design.
while lying beneath a pile of cardboard boxes, papers and other junk and because I love you all so much
"be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a foreign tongue. do not seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. and the point is, to live everything. live the questions now. perharps you will find them gradually, without noticing it, and live along some distant day into the answer."
- Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a young poet
6 years later
we're still ping-ponging in and out of happy marriage. we know exactly how we argue. we know each other too well. we rarely watch television together, we buy our own gifts and we retreat to opposite sides of the bed and sleep touching buttocks. and it does not mean anything. 6 years later he writes "I love you" in pink lipstick on the bathroom mirror and it's the most romantic thing. 6 years later I still shiver every time he grabs my neck or cups my face in his two hands.
overheard in momsterland
me: "good morning sweetie"
husband: "what time is it?"
me: "almost 11 o'clock"
husband: "what? who dropped the boys at school this morning then?"
me: "I let them walk by themselves"
celebrating the me yet to come
you would not believe the things I resent doing now that I know I'll be moving out in 3 months. and I have just figured out that life in a diminutive domain requires adjustments and lots of stress. and probably a subscription to Elle Decor magazine. because I also suck at feng shuing.
my world lately is like a jigsaw puzzle that needs assembling. you know, the 3000 pieces ones. yet my sons' spirits glow on almost every surface, distilling "I love you Mommy" and providing a getaway for my soul to renew. and the little steps I take every day are hopefully leading me to a better version of myself. consistently more peaceful. words, prayers and thoughts resonating in consonance. reading more, writing more. taking daily walks to achieve alignment. firmly believing that a healthy body is more valuable than a flat tummy. and counting my blessings.
"he who is drowned is not troubled by the rain"
today I took Sean to see a child therapist and unravelled the little dramas of my own childhood while trying to compose myself and not burst into tears. as much as I love my son, I found it slightly unpleasant to jostle memories and crowd an entire room with some raw wounds that still need salving. but now I know why he's been carrying and sleeping with all those boxes full of stuffed animals and toys from McDonald's Happy Meals. and amidst the feeble explanations now spring glimpses of little hopes for us to harvest. a life flooded with hugging and acceptance. an inviting home where our family and friends would feel enlightened. and new shoes.
now officially obsessing over a new kitchen
I hung up the phone and scooped my son up in my arms. he laughed out loud. the sound of pure, undiluted joy, every pore of his body drenching in bliss. you'd think I'd jump. or dance. or cry. but I did not. instead my stomach churned and my head spun as I searched for decent ways to deserve the unspeakable gladness God's granted.
thank you all for your wonderful support. you can now uncross your fingers.
we got the house.
the unquestionable evidence that I suck at waiting
it's insane sometimes. how the little things, simple things can draw an impenetrable veil over my life or light the spark of a better day. how my sons' eyes widen with theatrical glee everytime we grocery shop for yogurts. and strawberries. how I hold onto something that is not even in my control. how I love to fall asleep with my glasses and the television on. and how the laundry piling up in my bedroom has a sheen of desperation.
I know growth comes in spurts. but today I want to be hopeful and stop being afraid. I want to be patient. but I don't know how. I feel defenceless, my flimsy shields all gone, unable to put one foot in front of the other.
and God I hate ironing.