Last night I broke a filling. Or the filling broke on its own. Now I have a hole in my mouth and a new looming dentist bill. Yesterday I decided to take a road trip. Today I am worried about my tooth and paying bills, buying supplies for garden beds, saving for a trip to see Ramona’s dad… all those things that make me a responsible person. Stuck deep in responsibility. I don’t’ want to give up my road trip. Perhaps I should leave my tooth broken open, god knows a tooth with a hole in it would fit in just fine in poverty-induced janky-toothed mouth.
I just decided to go on a road trip. I don’t even feel like I have a choice. At first it was just a two or three day excursion, that turned into the hope for a couple weeks of aimless meandering up the Northwest Coast and back. A few days is nice, but sometimes it takes a few days to even get my mind unstuck and prepped for cleansing and expanding. Exploring the world around me has a mirror effect on my inner life. I explore the internal landscapes of my psyche.
I was practically born on the road, my mom switched towns every couple years and took road trips often. Traveling clears my head, brings me to the place of my rhythm and towards clarity. Whenever I return from a trip, I am open, inspired, and with a new grasp of reality. It helps me to connect better with those whom I am spending time with...without the everyday life interruptions and distractions.
The thing that has been the hardest for me, since I have had my child is being tied down to a place. It is mostly due to finances…money goes towards different things when you have a child and a home. I am still in debt from moving, but I need to go now, to preserve my sanity. I may try to make it all the way to Bellingham, my hometown, but am trying to think of ways to at least make the extra $200 I will need for gas, even considering spare changing along the road. (If anyone reading this has any ideas for earning cash in the next 3 or 4 days let me know.) I am also reaching out to friends and acquaintances for possible places to crash and avoid camping and motel fees. So Mamas, please, let me know if you live North of Petaluma and South of Bellingham and could host my daughter and I, and maybe even our kitten, Dora Maar.
And I will Blog my experience. So stayed tuned.
The adult school called yesterday to let me know that they don’t have any classes for me to teach this year. I felt like the tethers were being cut. At the same time, the insecurity of my whole life situation was bumped up a few notches. Another piece of my life liberated into the dark unknown.
More child-mom independence (including kid having sleep-overs so mom can party)
Our own home
All these on top of a shit load of change last winter...
I feel sad when I don’t get to write a blog post every week or so. I guess I am settling into all the changes that have been going on around me; figuring out what I have to say about them still. I felt like I was living in a pressure cooker, then abruptly tossed out the window. The painful contortions of change transform into a new rhythm. Starting to feel comfortable in my new skin.
The advice I give to my depressed friends is to always remember that things will inevitably change.…rough spots are just that…spots. But I was starting to think that maybe I was full of it. I guess some “rough spots” are more like large salt-water lakes.
Moving is hard. Life as a single parent can be exhausting. Life as a non-single parent can be exhausting. Life as a middleclass nuclear family can be hell. But I am a little exhausted, trying to create a little balance to handle all these new changes, good changes, nonetheless somewhat uncomfortable changes. I am a very lucky girl, when compared with the world majority. It is such a horror that billions of people suffer so much that even the thought of having a creative outlet would scarcely touch the mind. People created horror.
Anyway, the advice I give IS good, but sometimes hard to remember when you have spent the last four score and umpteen days riddled with anxiety, valiantly fighting your depression with mind power and beer.
One change I have added to the mix recently is that I have dedicated myself to being a musician. This is where I am aiming. Playing music has been something I have always wanted to do. It has been a source of excitement, anxiety, frustration, elation, and very much…connection. I played with people about 10 years ago. In a band. Then I fell apart emotionally and socially. I didn’t even listen to music for a few years. I didn’t want to deal with the emotion that inevitable welled up and distracted me from “sanity” when I listened to music. But I kept all my instruments. I helped bring in the last full-moon in a drum circle. Now I have been playing bass. I play guitar, but I want to play bass in a band. So that is what I am going to do. I know that it will work wonders for my self-esteem. I always feel bad that I don’t play music when I am not playing music. I hear a drummer playing music in a nearby home. Maybe I should find where it is coming from and introduce myself. .
We finally found a place to live. Its in a triplex, with two big bedrooms, a big living room for relaxation and music and yard to play in and grow food. It’s not perfect, but it will be a great place to live. There is a garage to store bikes, put a washer and dryer and make a workshop for my creative endeavors. The best part about it is that it means that my life gets to make one great leap forward. It means that I get to create my own space. For some reason this sounds so amazingly satisfying to me. I used to express myself creatively using my own body as a canvas, clothes, hair, make-up…but unfortunately I don’t want to be stared at (I didn’t then either). I stick out already in this subdued town, I don’t need to draw yet more attention to myself. There has been but one year in my entire life where I have had my own home. And even then I spent 3 of those 12 months in Mexico, away from my tiny home…I was also 5 months pregnant and in grad school when I moved in…not in position to be decorating. It took me a month to even get a bed in the tiny third floor apt.
I am looking forward to hosting. I look forward to seeing how my home base will change things in my life.
I have been in this town for nearly four years now. That is a lot for me. My last house I was in for 3 and a half years. That is the longest I have ever lived anywhere. I think 2 years is the longest before that, and I am including my entire life, not just my adulthood. Creating a home base is peculiar, but I am embracing it. Something new. It seems that home is the next frontier after choosing a community in which to grow roots.
Everyone is always so interested in my travels, my experience flitting from one place to another. My fearlessness in the face of instability and change, my love for motion. But a being that I have mostly lived in instability I have a novel and eager fascination with scary stability. How will creating home affect me? Not that stillness will ever be my natural, comfortable state, but deepening my roots could definitely open up new opportunities to flourish. A place with furniture…before a few years ago I have always been able to fit everything I own in my car. Everyone thinks that is “awesome,” but at the same time, making hearth and home is also a wonderful thing. Having a soft place for a traveling friend to lay their head, space to create music in the company of friends, a yard full of living food, all that is just as great as being in motion. Home and hearth is such a resource; to myself, my child and my loved ones. How many times have friends given me a soft spot to sleep, company and a warm meal during my adventures. Now I can do the same. I also remember how hard it was as a child to live in constant motion and instability. It meant never cultivating strong relationships, always being new…I love the value that Ramona puts on here relationships and social rituals.
Sometimes, movement and change can be deceptive. When things get boring and tough, just take off to shake things up and get a new perspective. While I love it…while constantly shaking things up and changing the scenery is exciting and makes for great memories and mind-expanding experiences, there is a certain sort of shaking up and changing that only happens when the world around me is quiet. There is a sort of painful inner work that can only happen when I am not being over stimulated by the world around me. There is a certain kind of exquisite creative output that only happens from a place of groundedness.
The anxiety is really starting to overwhelm me. Anxiety turns into depression with me, when it is relentless. I am starting to realize I am not a happy person, like I say I am. I am depressed, and now I admit it, only in a blog. I have always just told myself that I am holding off until things get better, because they are going to get better just around the corner. Maybe things are better and I missed it. Is this as good as it gets? There are good things that have happened to me, maybe I am just not grateful enough. What I remember was making me happy last summer and fall was my ability to take time to myself, to look at art, to make art, to live in the moment, to enjoy life. Now my life seems so thoroughly in a jumble, I don’t even know where to start to pick up and re arrange. I feel like a homeless person, even though I have a place to sleep. Being here overwhelms me most of the time. But happiness doesn’t come from a space, does it? That’s what a wise happy person would tell me, but I can’t help but to long for a living room full of music and art supplies, radical books, all the right smells and tools of ritual. All I want is to build my space, but all I can do is wait…I try not to wait, but I can never shake the feeling of waiting, and sometimes I wonder if all I am waiting for is disappointment. I used to journal, that was helpful. I feel like every start I make ends in a non-event. Back to the same spot. Painfully slow. I want to just pick up and leave, but I can’t do that anymore. I have to provide a safe stable home for my child. I love her more than anything. I hate that I question my ability to be the mother she deserves.
Jeez, I marvel at my ability to plunge into the depths of despair after fleeting happiness just hours ago.
And, is there no way to delete a blog post?
For the first time in my life I want a break from being a mom. I want a week off. I want to explore and groove alone. I don’t want to have a kid to take care of. I just want to be all about me and what I want. Stay out past 11 o'clock for the first time in five years.
Oh and speaking of 5 years, I haven’t even told the world I lost my mama virginity yet...
It was cold, so we spent a long time a little away from the ocean and walked up the mouth of the Russian River, where I then took a cat nap after getting little sleep the night before. Got some great pics though, and this is only one of them...can you believe that body belongs to a 4 year old? Tomorrow is her half birthday. And she towers above all the other four year olds...though she has but one four-year-old friend...so who would know the difference?
I can’t believe how the weather has finally turned so beautiful. It was bound to happen, but when it did it was still amazing, sweet success. Summer has begun, and likewise mine feels like it must be getting closer. My living situation has driven me to the brink of insanity; to bi polar psychosis. The gears are churning at such a painfully slow pace...it’s like in a dream, when you are trying to do something, run, get the attention of your lover as he/she is walking away, and it feels like you are trapped in sand or mud, your movements, even on step or gesture, so slow and labored.