Another giant, smothered by depression

I can't say anything poetic about him, just that it feels like losing a favorite uncle. Who knows what he was like off screen. If the moments captured on film were a peek into his real self... Guy was intense. Hope he found his peace.

M wanted to see me..."sometime soon." And in typical fashion I offered my first free night in 2 weeks to him. Then promptly freaked out at having to reclean my kitchen and wash sheets for a 1 hour visit. I couldn't do it. Not for him. I panicked. Dizzy, heart racing. Told him I couldn't do it.

So. He was like, "maybe you don't want to have a relationship with me at all, you just want to please me because I'm nice to you....maybe you just hate Jews."

That was supposed to be a joke. After a few hours I responded "yuck, I hate that you said that," to which he said he was sorry. He had already sent an email apologizing. When he switches from text to email...that's his way of distancing himself.

So fuck all this.

Working from home

"Willow's Gold" sure adds some life to this boring little home.

More photos to come...

Coincidence?

A minute after I saved my last post-privately-he said he missed me. I barely recognize him in this photo but I know I felt him in my heart.

Mysterious Day 7

I read somewhere that day 7-10 or so of a woman's cycle, she is more likely to be calm, confident, poised, at ease with herself, able to communicate clearly. And with respect to evolution, it makes perfect sense since this is also when we are fertile. I'm like a lab-grown pot plant (The Botany of Desire is my bible), I'm effortlessly oozing the chemicals (not THC exactly) which make me desirable to a mate. No mating will occur this time around; nonetheless I'm feeling oddly hopeful. (Perhaps moreso?) Why not. It's summer, a clear and effortless day that falls at the opposing end of the calendar's cruelest, darkest days. And my loyal ovaries, 40 years strong (cough) are doing their damnedest to squeeze out a few more viable seeds in the hopes of reproducing the genes that, if only today, seem worthy of renewing.

The farmer's market is full today. Depending on the wind direction, it smells like soap, or fresh flowers, or grilled cheese, or aerated water gushing in the fountain. Sitting between Picasso and Mirò under a cloudless cobalt ceiling, sunlight dancing on the water. A breeze softly tickling me through my shirt, playing with the wisps of hair on my neck. The war that rages in my head-is paused. I'm on a sandy ancient beach blissfully unaware of a conflict as old as time.

Are you dreaming about me?

More sibling strife

9:30. She shuffles off to the kitchen in her ill fitting thrift store Keen's. Grabs a handful of raw almonds. Shuffles back. Glaring all around for something to react to. Hmm, she says to a curled piece of artwork. Eyes fixed now in my direction. Like a feral cat on the prowl. Back to her corner. Back to her ill fitting reading glasses she gave to and then took from a friend after he died (I'm not kidding). Back to talking a lot about nothing. About how poor she is. About how much of an asshole her dog is. But he's adorable.

It's fun to indulge these thoughts. Especially with Darryl in my ears. Strumming away his cares. Painting me beautiful pictures of his personal vision of Colorado.

It's just sibling rivalry. Deep down I still care about her. I still remember all the strained conversations and expressions of agony she shared when our friendship was strong. She's terrified of everything. This place is the only peace she has. The home, the boyfriend, the pets, the ghost hunting, all pieces of a frightened and desperate journey. Her demons are just right there for all to see.

So today I can forgive the inexplicably loud crunching of almonds (sounds like bones breaking) coming from over in that corner.

Detach

Zoe was still worked up about a difficult ballet lesson last week. It makes her uncomfortable that she isn't picking it up as fast as the others, and she gets upset. So my best advice as I sent her off to Grandma's today-if you start to feel upset, detach. Don't worry. Unplug. (I told her that sometimes Ann is "unplugged" and it helps her get through a tough day.) I'm still learning how to do this. Maybe this little bit of advice will follow Zoe through her most difficult years. She never forgets, that's for sure.

Mornings are the hardest-between 9-12. That's when K shows up and takes the stage. Her low monotone Oh My Gods and unsolicited stories that always come back to either her alcoholic ex husband or that time she was at an Asian restaurant and was served a rancid scallop. The way she asks you how you're doing, barely listens to a word and then launches into a detailed rundown of her previous night's activities, always so disappointing, "But it's fine! It was still fine." The dog pooped in her bed but it's fine. The inspector said the wiring isn't up to code but it's fine. She resembles her chihuahua in her twitchy insecure demeanor. Begging for validation.

Detach.

New 'do to do to you, Ann

Departures

I took him to the airport for his 20 hour journey to Israel. Somehow I was still wiping tears when I got back to Mt Prospect. He's going to an actual war zone. Missiles in the sky, for real. Last thing I said was "IloveyouIhadsomuchfunwithyouyesterday" and didn't give him a chance to say "I love you" back. But I heard it clearly in the early hours of the day when he thought I was asleep. Feels so childish to still have hang ups around those words. We spent a good part of my therapy session talking about whether I even mean it when I say those words. I only said it to my ex husband the first couple of years. Then the infatuation wore off, and I still said it, only it felt like I was telling a pet hamster, or some poor thing that needed to be told to calm its fears. It's possible I've never felt real love. I was just raised on mindless tv and Hollywood movies that taught me the words to say to make glamorous moments out of what would otherwise be emptiness. Maybe I say it because it calms my fears. The last photo booth photo we took...he said "you look sad!" I can't explain it, I thought I felt pretty good. Wish we did one more. It's too late now.

We had two hours to kill between wedding events. We went to the mall. Ate ice cream. Talked. Laughed. I told him I'm not ready to move in with anyone. Would be so much easier to sort this out if I didn't love our time together.

One year later I stood up to creepy train dude

It had to be over a year ago when I had an odd encounter with a man, Indian, probably 50, who sidled too close to me on the double seat on the train. He did it so slowly, with each scheduled stop pushing his elbow more into my space, until I noticed him look around at the last stop before the train expressed ahead, and then he let his legs wander next to mine, touching, blocking me in. By this time I was so flustered and confused that someone would think this acceptable, that I jerked myself up out of my seat and glared and could only say "MOVE." I wanted to tell an engineer but I felt violated and was too nervous to form words.

Today I was sitting in a window seat, preoccupied with shopping on my phone, when I got the feeling it was happening again. I looked at him and the words came a little more easily this time. "Oh my God, it's you again. Can you stop touching me with your arm? It's creepy and it's not the first time." He pulled back but acted dumb like he didn't understand. So I said louder, "It's creepy, stop touching me like that! Fuck." It felt so goooooood!!!!!

So was I traumatized by all those years if commuting on the subway among the pants-shitters and ass grinders, with nowhere to go, no other option for transit? Indeed, I was a scared kid, afraid to lose my job, my boyfriend, and my studio apartment. I had a cat to feed, after all, so I just had to fight my way through. Take what they gave me. Endure.

Look at me now. I dumped a husband, waved goodbye to in-law pampering, raised a kid alone, bought my own home, ran a 10 mile race, climbed some mountains and shit. I'm still alive, just like the old classic rock song by Pearl Jam.

And yet, every day I walk in this door, going on 13 years, I become that stupid scared girl again.

Powerless.

Dad says a car ran into a light pole earlier today, and maybe that's why power is out in my building.

So...wine? Candle? Book? Ok.

No.

I don't want to give up my single mom life. Not yet. Not in exchange for living among 3-4 other people with different dietary needs and sports and clubs and friends. I'm so not ready.

I like my life. My little home. My big fluffy bed. My girl. My cats. My filthy, nearly empty fridge. My Christmas decorations and music. Bacon on Saturday mornings. TV on Friday nights.

And I still think I might fall in love someday. On my own schedule.

Cy Twombly and Tommy Ramone...is there a third?

Random title. But when I woke up to Michael singing a Ramones song...why? Because Tommy Ramone just died...I realized we are similarly morbid, Michael and me.

So. Checking in. 1st day back to work after vacay is always cool and delightful, sharing tales of faraway states, unusual lodging, foods I ate or refused to eat, or in this case, drugs.

It just feels good right now. Stress is low. Money is due but money is coming in. It all feels manageable. Photos are still fresh in my photo stream. Sort of like I'm still there, wishing my coffee had that rich taste like that morning in Boulder. A wonderful sadness of wishing I was still suspended in time in a new and beautiful place. And yet the feeling that anything is possible, that I'm still slightly suspended.

Correction: Cy Twombly has been dead for 2 years. Someone reposted an old obit, and I neglected to fact check. Guess I'm looking for 2 other celebrities to pass on now...

Nederland, CO 80302

Almost packed!

Cant get over my uneasiness about being indoors on such a ridiculously beautiful day. But alas, someone has to pack. A reward will come later, possibly a short run to get my legs ready for the mountains.

Oh and by the way

Two cousins expecting in January. One is half Black. How do you like that? A half Black DeAngelis! The other is half Japanese/Hawaiian. Not bad, you rebellious cousins, you.

Chill. Really chill.

2,014 minus 1,988 equals how many years back I just time traveled

Rolled out of the old Emerson garage today, me and my fellow biker chick, and we headed down the block toward Ye Olde Town Library. "Let's slow down for the stroller..." Wwwwaaaait a second. Jason Raymond. The first boy I ever kissed. Walking toward me with a kidlet in a stroller. Aaaaaaand we are clear for meltdown, Zoe. Integrity of training wheels in question...emotions running high; frustration, tears, panic. Uh, come on Zoe, umm, got a little situation here, what? I, uh, let's get going, your training wheels are not coming loose, let's just go, okaaaaaayyyyy. Very smooth. As per the usual.

That's all. I mean I grew up here. It's not that surprising. Maybe the timing, er...no, it's a nice day, he's off for the summer, he lives a couple blocks from here. Big deal.

...

I'd have check my 8th grade diary to be absolutely positive, but there's a super high chance that the kiss happened on or very close to this day, right after 4th of July, during the afternoon showing of Beetlejuice at the Prospect Theater on Main St., in 1988. On the spot where condos now stand. Steps from where I was standing today.

After the movie I never saw him again until winter 2010 at a school reunion. Wrote about it the whole summer before high school. I couldn't understand why he never called me. And naturally since he didn't call, it meant I was undesirable. Girls didn't call boys in those days. Not nice girls, anyway.

So that's 2 sightings. Who's counting.

Easing up

The more I study this photo, the more I am grateful for this weird mixed up life. Not only do I get to travel downtown with this little gal, we have this wonderful arrangement with her grandparents that allows her to spend a couple hours/week trying out dance classes at the premier dance academy in the heart of Chicago. And at the end of the day, every day, I am blessed (truly, I'm not saying this with any sarcasm) to be the parent of this amazing creature who is gorgeous, brilliant, graceful, kind, tenacious, witty, and whose face reflects the qualities of every family member I love, even those who have passed on. It's not often I get the time and space I need to fully appreciate the moment while I'm in it. Luckily I had a photo-and now a sketch-to elongate this moment.

Working on not working

Maybe it's the floor-shaking vibrations of machinery on two sides, men in hard hats both tearing down and building up, that has me thinking of fastidious tasks to accomplish today, the first of two unscheduled days on this extended vacation. I'm buzzing from espresso and raren to go. Already ripped out some unnecessary cushioning on my balcony chairs. Thinking about breaking down the dirty old gas grill taking up valuable space. Got my muscles flexed and I'm ready to put on real shoes and start fixing up this place. Lately I've been wondering if 2 trips to Starbucks in one day is unreasonable.

Ah, blissful times

How is it possible that I didn't leave my home yesterday? I was technically outdoors, yes, but upon walking back from the coffee shop just now I realized how good it felt to touch the earth, and that I hadn't done it since like Saturday evening.

So it was Saturday evening and Z had put on a movie for us (claiming I had missed a certain scene so it was time for me to catch up). And I got that drowsy, drunken feeling all cuddled up on the couch under a blanket, and just rode it to slumberland. Till Z started yanking on my arms and insisting it was time to go try out our new headlamps on a night bike ride. It was only 7 pm or something...and spitting rain...but for once this kid was insisting on physical exercise outdoors so how could I say no. First she said "only to Louis St." To which I said, how about a little more. We got about a mile away to the Walgreens, locked up the bikes, and went in to waste some cash. When I unlocked the bikes I sort of clumsily dropped hers down the curb...and about then I must've knocked the training wheel loose. She got on, and started to wobble over to that side, and then did a nice slow motion tumble into the grass (thankfully not in traffic on Mt. Prospect Ave). Through panicked tears and gasps, she decided she was **done** and that we would walk the bikes home. Tried reasoning with her. But she scowled and stomped (I felt like I was watching an old home movie of myself at age 7--or 40) and ignored me the whole way home, wincing and fighting tears each time her shins got battered by bike pedals. Childhood sucks sometimes. More than adulthood.

Here she is blissfully coasting downhill before the cruel world turned on her.

Taking "my time"

On a day such as this (what is it, the 6th? Of July?)....when the air is soft and forgiving, my skin glowing from sun, why is it that I can't just be here and enjoy the day and the earth and the flow of all that is good. I keep checking my device for reassurance in the form of pleas for my company. And thinking of ways to dodge them if they appear.

Gotta fill up my day. Gotta wash this, gotta fold that, gotta paint and move and read and rest (don't forget rest, for God's sake). Plan and think and finish and start, improve and throw away and mend and tear up and deodorize and sanitize.

No, I have so much to do.

But-I want a hug. I want to breathe with you. And listen. And hear. And hug some more.

I'm getting so good at saying no. The part I can't handle is the silence afterward.

Celebrating our nation or whatever

Not pictured: Susan's mama bear freak out as the post-beer, post-fireworks, crowd-weary, hypervigilant, and stomach-achey side of me came raging out into sight. Guess I just get home sick.

Alright, here are the real highlights.

8th birthday party planning begins

And I felt like the Facebook gods were sending me a message (uh, duh, that's how the fascists in social media keep us hooked)...

GROUPON wants you to enjoy a party for up to 30 at its Niles location for 53% off!

Yes! Yes, I do want that! Oh wait, what's this....? Oh.

9 weeks in a cast. Torn ACL. Shit. Oh well, back to swimming in anxiety about how to celebrate Z's bday.

Tiny dancer

Calendar of events

So let's look at the calendar and see if we can make something work. If we can't then I need to know so I can make other plans.

Sure.

Or maybe I can stop making so many plans and just enjoy this lovely condo that I pay so much money to live in, and spend time with these sweet cats of which I took ownership and whom I care for daily. I'm just saying.

Thinking about finally buying some damn paint for my walls. Originally planned on doing a 4 seasons theme. Seems like a good time to follow through. What with 13 days off work and all. Okay?

Check in

I'm going to make a conscious effort to use this blog as a tool for checking in with myself. Seeing as how my work keeps getting busier, and social life and housekeeping never end, I have found that it's very much in my interest to have an intervention with myself as often as I can. To show myself some kindness, take some of the load off for a bit, put the worries and thoughts in a little container so they don't go all over and make a mess.

Lunch with Phil

About once a month I have lunch with a very trusted friend named Phil. Professionally, he is a strategy advisor of sorts. To me he is a life coach, a motivator. We talk mostly about me, about how I'm going through this rough patch in life, about how I'm going to overcome some major obstacles to get to a better place. He's Buddhist. He encourages me to follow my heart, rather than material or superficial things. He drew me a Venn diagram the first time we met...to illustrate that I exist in one circle, my ideal career in another, and that intersecting area, that's where I need to be. Lately I've been so caught up in the challenges he's assigned (such as "Try to meet 5 new people every week") and failing miserably. I ignored his email request to meet up this month, until he stubbornly asked a second time. All morning I worried about how I would disappoint him. So I decided to make that the focus of our conversation today. And to my surprise, my honesty paid off. I needed him to know that I've been feeling overwhelmed by all my responsibilities, to the point that I'm at a standstill. We touched on some very painful issues, and we talked about how I can solve them. We role played (he played my dad and I told him the thing that I've been too scared to say: "I still need your support, but you need to back off on my parenting choices"). I cried. He told me he still feels the same pressure, and that his own dad had just passed away...and that he misses him very much. Well, that put a whole different spin on the conversation. And it showed me that this fear never goes away. I left feeling so grateful for the opportunity to be candid. For the chance to open up without performance anxiety or fear of criticism. Everything felt a little more manageable after that.

Four decades

My fourth decade ended at midnight in the dark, appropriately, at the center of a circle of unbroken and unceasing love and kindness. My blood slow dancing and hiccups clumsily erupting in the aftermath of an $8 bottle of prosecco, and my baby, now so grown, hugging my shoulders heavily, her surrogate siblings looking on and asking for the 100th time why we don't just sleep over. Such a terribly* peaceful haze of love and acceptance it nearly suffocated me.

In the waning orange rays of a June sunset, the clouds seemed so full and light and radiant. They swelled as the air cooled, and burst, the vapor transforming into tiny droplets, then larger ones, too heavy to be suspended in the atmosphere above us. Brave tears filling up lower lids, a quivering lip, a tipping point. Clouds engorged, filled to critical mass with ether and wishes and prayers and purgatorial ghosts and red balloons and angels and demons and fairy dust and ultraviolet and magenta and gold. Spasms of lightning and unrestrained growls of thunder woke me like a fevery child, demanding I hear its cries. Then, all at once, the fever broke. Lulled back to slumber by the whisper of breaths nearby. My heart surrounded by a pillow of peace, shielded from the ticking of clocks and the light of the day that marks my 5th decade.