I have to make some calls
Monday, May 31, 2010
I have to make some calls
Monday, May 24, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Image by christophe dune via FlickrLast week I got distracted with the stuff that I had to do around the house and didn't think much about blogging...Sometimes I do that and it feels good not thinking about "serious" stuff, transforming into a cleaning-cooking-minding the kid machine. But of course it doesn't last forever! The little people that live in my brain won't let me live happily ever after in my SAHM kinda way. No, they will get bored and start pushing me around, making me think...They are like:"Do you enjoy your life, don't you??? Look at you, doing chores like you wouldn't know anything else...Did you get a MA in languages to finish doing this? You were a journalist and the editor in chief of a daily newspaper and now you are cleaning cat sick from the carpet? You had such a glamorous life...and a few good friends...and now, look at you...stuck in the house, friendless, depressed, trying to write a f***ing novel, like anyone would me interesting in your sad, little doings, for goodness sake!" And so it goes, over and over again...until, in desperation, I allow myself to the same gloom that sorrounds me most of the time. No wonder that even Jesus said it would be better to be intellectually challenged, because you'll inherit the Kingdom to come... don't think to much, just live and...oh, who I am kidding? I a the person that will question everything, the restless soul that will disect everything ad nauseatum, until I make myself sick with worry and I end having a panick attack.
I miss my former life, I miss myself the way I was 10 years ago, full of hope and oh, so naive. Bu I also enjoy being at home with Maya (it was a luxury I couldn't afford with my son, as a single parent), watching her grow and develop. I am also content that I have more time to read and write (when Maya is healthy, that is). And sometimes, I also have time for daytime television! I know I am not perfect (God, what an understatement) but I am starting to reach some point in my life where, hopefully, I will be able to me more detached from things that are not good for me and focus on the important ones...I am getting old, so I am supposed to be wiser! Scary, huh? I miss sometimes the inconscience of youth, the "I am here to live forever" motto that every teenager has tattoed on his forehead, the "I can do whatever I want" attitude, the dreams...oh, the dreams that reach the moon with their courage and foolishness...
I was all that and even more...and look at me now, the fallen angel of my lost youth...
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
It has to be the Shopaholic series by Sophie Kinsela. It is more chick lit than socialite, but I am not sure how socialite literature does look, even though I googled it...
I am not much of a party girl, but if I'd go to a party, I would like it to have a winter theme, as I miss winter so very much. And SpongeBob, of course...
6. Living person you admire?
Phew, that was difficult...Felt like a student taking a test...Once again, thank you Sari!
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Thursday, May 6, 2010
watching you sleep
touching your warm cheek
trying to decipher
lurking in room corners.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Image by ╰⊰✿ y o k o ✿⊱╮ via Flickr
I know I am a pain in the ass. I know I have lots of things to be thankful for and even so, I am here, day after day, moaning my heart out. I know and I am sorry I am such a pity excuse of a mother and woman. But this is the way I am built, the way I function.
I guess I could blame it on my childhood. My mother rejected me and I was lucky I had my great aunt to raise me. I didn't know a girl was supposed to have a period and it freaked me out when I had mine. My aunt told me afterwards about menstruation. Nobody ever told me about bees and flowers, about good boys and bad ones, about what happens between a boy and a girl. So I got myself raped at 18 and pregnant at 19...I had a lot of "step fathers", official and un-official ones and two of them actually threw me out of the house...Once when I was a teenager and once when I was 20 years old. My mother never told them off. When I had to visit my hometown I used to stay at the hotel, because I didn't have a place in our family's house...
So, you see, I am broken. The things that happened in my life when I was a kid, a teenager and a young woman caused something to snap deep in my soul and marked me for life. And this flaw of mine makes me be forever afraid that I am not a good enough mother, a good enough person because all I had back then was REJECTION. I used to think nobody loves me, and in a sense, nobody did...
If I needed shoes or clothes and my great aunt didn't buy them for me, my mother always said: "You're a big girl now, you don't need them much as your brothers do..." And so I used to wear borrowed clothes (and I thank my BFF Marieta for helping me out then).
I remember that I used to collect stamps, coins and napkins. I had beautiful collections...thousands of items. And my younger brothers sold them! I am able to laugh now at the memory, but I was devastated when it happened. And it happened because there was nobody to protect me and what was mine. For my mother, my brothers and my sister were everything. I, on the other hand, was a mistake from her youth...and an unpaid babysitter and cleaner.
I didn't have a happy childhood and still, I manage to remember the good things. When I was younger I had this capacity to put all the bad things aside and to move on, to carry on fighting. I think I have to look inside myself to see if I can find this gift again...
So, please, don't judge me too harshly, this is the way I am built. I have to prove myself that I am a good mother, that I achieved something in this life...
I have so many things to say...but I'll stop here because I said enough today. And my baby needs me...
I am linking this post to Shel's blog and weekly meme "Pour Your Heart out Wednesday"
Image by EmoHoernRockZ via Flickr
Last week was a nightmarish one. I feel emotionally and physically drained, like I have nothing left to sustain me, I function on autopilot. To see Maya, again, pale and feverish, lying in bed and not being able to do much to help her...it feels like ants crawling under my skin.
For the last two-three days she has been feeling better (knock wood), the doctor says she's on the mend. But today, at some moment, I touched her forehead (it became a tic for me) and it felt...warm...warmer than usual. In an instant, I felt a wave of panic engulfing me, I felt nauseous with fear. With trembling hands I checked her temperature, but it was OK. I guess my hands were cold or something. But in that scary second, I saw my life flashing before my eyes...I cried with relief afterwards and now my body aches as after a long illness. I know I have to be stronger, more rational...but that's me, my heart on my sleeve and my emotions up to the roof. An old emo, that's me. I'll have to dye my hair black and wear studded belts and leather waistbands. Apart from that, I have all the angst and depression to go with it. But jokes aside, I really have a hard time copying...I really don't know why, Maya is my second child. With my son, though, I was surrounded my friends and family and didn't have this haunting feeling of insecurity...
No friends, no family and my husband's telling me "Meditate". Great! And please don't tell me I need a support group because there are no groups to support me. So, here it goes...ohmmmmmm...nope, doesn't work....ohmmmmmm....ohmmmmmmm....
Love you all.