I am, slowly....
the FatLady wrote the other day that she felt I had been stuck and was now moving... but I wasn't stuck.
I had been mowed over, plowed down, blown to bits. Body parts from here to Katmandu. But I am ultimately invincible, unbreakable... my spirit will never surrender, never back down. I will always come back... even if it takes awhile. Like Claire, from Heroes, or like the Terminator (which I bought the other day and haven't had a chance to watch it), the pieces of myself will always find each other and put themselves back together.
I have no choice.
Quitting is never an option for me... no matter how badly I want to.
I finally got the mountain of laundry done today. It had gotten so bad... piles of clean laundry spilling out of the basket, dirty piles mounting on the floor... all in my room. It felt so overwhelming, along with the bags of stuff discarded from my closet. I got all the laundry done and mostly put away, and switched out all the summer shoes with my winter ones in boxes up at the top of the closet. I got rid of a few more things... I got the dishes mostly done.
I've been feeling better, more like me. There is still that awful sadness, there are still patches that haven't healed. But I've been realizing, as the days go on that I cannot save anyone but me, particularly if they don't want to be saved. I am unashamed of loving... and I will love freely and once it's given I won't ever take it back... because that is who I am. Sometimes I have to see the distress in others and do what I can, but accept the fact that not everyone will heal like I can.
It's hard to see people fall away... you know I don't like letting go of people. But sometimes they are dead weight and must be let go. And sometimes they simply must continue on their journey alone... and I cannot be part of that. My job is in the seeing and the informing, but I can't control the outcome.
Upstairs Neighbor had asked me to print out some pictures for her from her trip to South Africa... and I had fallen down on the job, printing out only some of them. Truthfully, she must have had 200 or so, maybe more--and it wasn't hard to do but required babysitting. It also required some tweaking of the printer profile which I hadn't gotten right the first time and so the prints came out a little red. Perfectionist me wasn't too happy about that. Today she came and asked for the CD of pictures back... she was going to take them to Staples. I felt so bad.... I handed over the CD but I broke down and cried, right in front of her. I hate falling down on people and I told her truthfully I have a hard enough time these days keeping up with things I need to do for me. I feel so overwhelmed. I told her how sorry I was.
For the past year I've been trying to give her cheer as she struggled with missing Mr. Kip, and sometimes all I could do was tell her just keep moving. So it was odd today for her to turn around and tell it to me... just keep moving. I looked at her and saw the strength in her... and I was happy that she was able to give some of that back to me... it meant that she herself was coming back, realizing the power in herself.
She went shopping but when she came back she brought back the CD... Staples was going to charge her too much to print the pictures. Or so she said. But I took the CD back... found a good paper profile from the Kodak paper website, got the color perfect and printed out 118 pictures for her. It felt good.
It's the little things that bring me back together.
Today was also the 30th birthday of a kid I've watched grow up. When I first got to the Rock he was about 17... had dreadlocks (except that his father is GermanJewish and his mother is from India... that kind of hair can only be but so dreadlocked) and skateboarded up and down the main drag of the Rock for hours at a time. People said he was a punk. Didn't like his hair. One day he shaved it all off. Eventually he got into the carpenters union. Today he turned 30...
He's dating the Crazy Nicaraguan chick I'm friends with. She threw together a surprise party for him at his father's gallery, gathering his close friends, having another friend cook all the food. She doesn't really know most of his friends and asked me to come be there for her, so I did. Even though it was mighty strange to be standing there with all these kids who used to stand outside the bar I hung out in because they were too young to get in. Strange to see them calmer, older, cleaner, starting lives with girlfriends and wives... but wonderful, too.
Last Thursday evening, my Sun performed with his violin ensemble at the small recital hall at Carnegie Hall... but I want to post about that separately with pictures... but it was awesome. I was so proud of him... and he was so proud of himself. But I want to give him his own "air".
I don't know what my future holds. I can never see my own future, and when I think I do it turns out to be something else entirely. For the time being, I think I've given up on the Ride or Die mission. I don't think it will happen for me. I don't think it's my fate anymore. I wish things were different... had I had a say in my destiny my life would not be this way. I would have had another child. People always seem so surprised when I say that... but from the minute the Sun was born I wanted another.
But when I was a kid, and played the Eric and Johnny game with the Professor (in which we had a company/organization that was essentially out to save the world) I never had more than one child. The Professor always had several... but I only ever had one. And I wonder about that sometimes... if my child's heart knew what my future would be. Although I was married in the game so I don't know. But lately I'm resigning myself to the fact that there may not be a Ride or Die for me, or another baby so I need to move to plan B... clean up my life enough to become a foster mom. Maybe that's what it's all about...
There's another odd thing brewing in my life but that also deserves a separate post. But I need to go lay down for a few hours.