The mystery which binds me still

MAN I am so low right now: trial continuance. This is an unholy marathon. I really thought October 1 was going to be the drop dead date, the end, like it or not. Due to some joukery-pawkery, proceedings march on. I’m trying to stay positive. The house closed properly, and that is ace. It’s been paint chips ahoy around here. Life keeps happening; it’s never one serving at a time. Of course Franny is having the hardest time deciding on colors for her room. This is a nice problem to have, but this is also a kid who can spend five minutes in front of a juice case trying to decide what to drink.

Last weekend we picked about twenty pounds of blackberries. I’ll try to get pictures up soon. This is really a matter of me not wanting to cross the room, honestly. I’m just going to meld into my couch and become a fungus. I always tell Franny that things will look better in the morning and now I am trying to tell myself that. I don’t really believe that being embroiled deeply in a struggle with someone else can ruin you. I don’t think this hate will warp me into a ringwraith or some shit. If it wasn’t this, I would spend my time hating something else. JUST SAYING. Life will go on. I do ask myself, though: why this struggle? I ask myself a lot how much of this is for her and how much is about me. I cannot say.

How do you know when you’ve paid enough for your crimes? Is there some kind of crime/retribution break-even point? Is that something you feel? I remember almost to the day when I stopped feeling afraid of Franny’s dad. It was in 2008 and it was a nice spring evening. I only feel a little sick now if I have to speak to him. I know that is partly him and partly my own deep shame. I can’t figure out if what I did to get to where I am currently is paid up or not. I also have kind of a surreal feeling of “how did I get here” and “I shouldn’t be here.” How did a bum like me get a family and a house and a dumb dog? I will tell you the truth and that is when I was younger I was certain I would be dead by now. I shed that feeling a long time ago, but I could not fathom what me at 35 was going to be like. I guess I’ll find out next month.

4 thoughts on “The mystery which binds me still

  1. I think you are great, and I admire you. Funny too, and interesting. You are a great mum.

    Just saying.

    You deserve the good things you have. Including all the friends who wish you well.

  2. I’m a long-time anon reader. I have to poke my head up to say this: You are fighting a tough fight, one that has buried and ruined other people with less strength. So keep fighting for the right thing for your kids and it will all work out. I say this because I am close to the end of a journey to change careers, gain employment in this awful economy, moved 2,000 miles for work, kept my family together with spit and duct tape…and my god I never thought all the shit would ever end. But it does end and you get to be a brand new person with lots of wisdom and lots of peace. You can do this!

  3. Hi Lisa, thanks for poking in. It’s nice to hear that other people are in your boat as well with their own burdens to carry. *presses face against glass of your blog*

    Thanks, AntMac. This morning is better. Yay for sleep!

  4. I thought I was the only one with both a strong belief that I’d be dead before 35 (I still have a few years and there are still mail trucks), and the constant thought of HOW DID I GET HERE? But I sincerely want to be the crazy senile old lady that carries cat food in her purse and trips the children with her cane. I have the crazy part down already. Also, because I know how you love rambling comments on your blog, I am beginning to think the How Did I Get Here is required and comes built into the software.

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