|Emmy tries on my new shirt.|
The thrift store, which is next to a Costco, was packed. Why cannot I not remember to NOT go to these places on weekends? It's a huge store, though, so that wasn't really a problem. I was judicious in my purchases as I was foolishly using credit, only buying a book (a great cookbook I had never even heard of called A New Way to Cook by Sally Schneider … thus far, it seems like a welcome addition to my small cache of cookbooks), a beautiful blue-and-white checked linen shirt (planning for spring and summer?) and a huge wool scarf that I took apart. It was good wool and perfect for a reknitting project.
By the time I was out of the thrift store, it was seriously snowing. By the time, I got out of the Stop and Shop, the storm was peaking. I just love the snow though. I love the transformation beyond our control. It's beautiful and quiet. And you can drive slowly and carefully. However, I was rear-ended at a stop light. The young, very pregnant, woman who hit me was extremely upset. She wasn't going very fast and only clipped the rear bumper and taillight before she slid into a soft bank of snow.
I didn't think I was upset although it means a big pain in the ass and distraction for me. Research on a place to do the repairs and logistics of getting it fixed. Oh well, no one was hurt. The car wasn't trashed. The woman and her husband (who showed up as she called him immediately) seem very responsible, so, I guess I will breathe deeply and get on to the next.
It is snowing lightly again now. If it were raining it would be a drizzle, but I don't know the snow term for this … maybe flurries? Although it is coming down pretty steadily. Emmylou thinks she should be on the damned table, so we play another round of bad kitty.
Yes, nattering. Being so alone is mostly good, if somewhat lonely at times. It is calm enough, maybe particularly after the emotional storms with B2, for confusing elements of my existence to fall into place. While working with C&J, one of the things I mentioned, (and perhaps I mentioned it here before, too), was a profound sense of not having "a place." I mean this in more than a geographical location. I am unsure of and confused about where I am, who I am, what I am, and the ancillary wtf and what to do questions too.
Besides being a delusional Romantic with a strong and wide streak of denial, I think my uncomfortable upbringing in Boys' Town left me with certain inabilities to understand myself or answer those questions. The pin-ups and porno my dad had around didn't concern me or apply to me or … somehow I had to divorce or disassociate myself from those images, those judgments, … but then, what to take its place? I existed outside of the house rules, the home environment. I wasn't to perceive things nor ask about or for things my father didn't want to talk about or give to me.
I wasn't a boy so I didn't get certain privileges that brothers got (although they would swear I was a little princess) like getting to leave with my dad when pesky relatives came to visit my mom (my father hated my mother's family with the exception of Harold, another Navy man), or getting my father's hand-me-down technology toys (walkie-talkies, transistor radios, tape recorders, for example).
So part of me was invisible, and I didn't matter much, so I was a bit free to operate outside of parental control. I got myself into a good university despite my father's refusal to help. I pursued my interests. I lived where I wanted to, which was far away from my childhood home.
So, all of this to say, that I have been thinking about this, my early experiences, and seeing how they tie in with a number of critical issues in my life: some ill-advised and thoughtless financial and career decisions, depression, some inability to care passionately about myself and what happens to me, some deadly blind-spots, and host of other things that might have brought me to my current state.
This little missal is but a draft. I'm just giving a snapshot of what I've been mentally and emotionally up to in my weeks of relative silence. Part of this, too, was precipitated by a long letter from my friend PEM who had been out of touch for quite a while. Herewith, a snippet:
I only started reading your last two blogs, but I realized immediately that our lives have once again merged into an amazingly similar pattern. The poem you posted so perfectly captured how heart-broken I have become. "Normal" human relationships have caused endless sorrow, so I find myself seeking out the "things" I love in order to feel as if I have a reason to live. On most days, I am successful. I immerse myself in my cooking and baking, my gardening (in season), reading, and my scrapbooking (my winter sport). But some days, I just want to go to the garage and turn on the gas. How did I get here - sick, sad, and alone???
Well, how did I get here? I've been attempting to answer. Thanks for listening. Now, to make that parsnip-mushroom-barley soup and get to that mountain of ironing.