I find that all blogs are about one or more of those three things. In most blogs that I read (a precious few), each writer describes their life in a very real way--using their real names, posting pictures of the kids, identifying hometown names. They use this medium somewhat as a dear diary recap of the days and years, in which to look back later and watch the kids grow up. Needless to say, I do not do this in the least, and never will.
That's particularly funny to me, since I'm supposed to be of the generation in which online privacy has no value and online piracy is a norm. For the most part, I'm locked up pretty tight in here and I don't disclose the name of my neighborhood in DC, or where I'm from, what it is I do, what my last name is, etc unless I email you directly. I know all too well what can come up on a google search, and I don't want the whole wide world privvy to my thoughts.
That being said, I've based this blog solely on my emotions and/or epiphanies or my epiphanies that then lead to said emotions. It amazes me that anyone reads my blog at all, since I rarely comment on anyone else's, I don't invest much time in this, and it can't be all that exciting to tune in and hear on an alternating basis how blessed I am, how lucky I am vs how lonely I am or how overwhelmed I am with sadness or grief. Most of the blogs I read are full of phenomenal writing, and I feel lucky those people even stop by here for a glance.
So I guess on this day before Thanksgiving, I'm thankful that YOU are here, if you do read this brain dump of emotions and bit of my life.
I'm going through a rough patch. I'm still on the crutches, and it's working on my psyche as I round into week NINE and still in pain with every step I take. It's making me falter emotionally, triggers woe-is-me emotions, and it makes me feel weak instead of strong in a very literal sense.
Today, I'm okay. I expect I'm always going to go through periods of loneliness, the holidays will always be a trigger, etc, because I am starting to think that I need to fully expect my life to remain the way it is for the foreseeable future. I'll have a family, someday, because I'll create one either through single parent adoption or other means, but I'm not sure a family will come to me naturally. I'm not sure I will end up with a partner, in any sense of the word. My life has been spent alone, in alot ofways. I grew up every other week in two different families of five, taking my suitcase back and forth. I lived together yet separately, with my large and jumbled family -- and maybe I'm just destined to do that for the rest of it as well.
I can lash out and get angry, and at the same time feel so petty and small for being that way because I KNOW damn well people love me. For fucks sake, I had a total of six friends drive or fly all the way to DC just to fix me sandwiches and help me to and from the shower. All four of my parents were there, and I wasn't alone for seven straight weeks. Does that sound like a recipe for someone to be wiping away tears because no one loves her? I sound like a child, and sometimes, I frankly feel like one. All my ages are still wrapped up inside me, like the rings of a tree, and sometimes the six year old ring comes out to the front to take over, and remembers that her parents have transitioned into new families, and while they took me along for the ride, it was sink or swim, baby, these are your new sisters and brothers and aunts and uncles and cousins and....
And. So, I sit here on my father's couch. I'm working from Kentucky this week, as he drove 10 hours on Saturday to fetch me from DC, and we drove back together on Sunday, so that I could spend Thanksgiving at home. Naturally, my two families are holding Thanksgiving dinners at the exact same time, so I have to choose. I have to be at Mom's, wanting to be at Dad's, or be at Dad's, wanting to be at Mom's. My contribution to the table this year is a side dish of hot, steaming guilt.
I was texting with Mom yesterday and said that I felt horrible about having to choose--that it made me feel like I was having to pick who I loved best, or something. It's been a long time since I've had to actively choose an event over another; typically, we all work together to try to squeeze one another in to a time that works best for everyone. But sometimes, shit just happens. She showed up at my dad's doorstep with a large unsweet iced tea from McDonalds (my all-time favorite), and my childhood bear that I call Muffin, since she decided I was being a little too hard on myself and needed some comfort.
Tonight, I'm going to my sister's house. I have seen her youngest son only once in his four-month old life, and I can't wait to see him and her two daughters. My other sister's son is spending the night, so I'll be running around after a five year old, two four year olds, and a four month old. Or rather...sitting, and whacking them with my crutches if they act up ;) I can't wait to crawl into bed with my two sweet nieces, snuggle up with them and just sleep.
I'm home. Wherever that is and whatever that means. I'm starting to feel like whoever stated the phrase "Wherever you go, there you are" is a damn genius.
Here I am. There you are.
Thanks for being here.