broken hearted, I,
wonder if I made you up -
lose myself in thought.


I clicked on a link today and ended up examining my life.  The unexamined life is not much of one, they say, but I'm here to testify that the examined one ain't no paradise, either.  The link was to a music video and I gave it a listen, realizing that the person who loved the song is not someone I emotionally connect with.  And yet I believed I was.

It's weird to be in your late 40s and realizing you got so many things wrong.

no always means no
not just for sex, truth be told,
step up your sock game.


I walked into our bedroom and said "no".  Bob started arguing.  I said "no" and threatened not to accompany him on his bike ride.  More arguments, attempted convincing, but a stoic wife who stood her ground.

It is May 21 and he had on nut cracker dress socks with striped shorts and a beer t-shirt. NOT happening. I  don't care that no one will see us, I don't care that they are long and suited for biking, I don't care that he doesn't care.  I care, and Christmas socks - for any reason - are off limits in May.

wind, blowing ripples,
across skin soaked in warm sun -
summer has begun

I mowed the grass last night, earbuds in and listening to Jars of Clay. My faith crisis is slowly being soothed through channels I did not expect. 

Yesterday was a bad day for me. My heart broke as my husband struggled with some new symptoms and turned his frustration to me, not that his reaction broke my heart but that his neurosurgeon's voice overlayed the symptons, whispering, "this is best case - it gets worse from here".   I took out the garbage and filled the recycling, and put the lawn tools away, trying to calm myself that other people's worse is not my worse, and that I can manage this.

Quite frankly, though, I wish I had a family that rallied.

musical mem'ry
healing myself with bass lines
hurt evaporates

An update - I'm still having a bit of a crisis of faith, but am doing fine with the Bob-stuff.  I just needed a day or two or a week to wrap my head around things and realize the world is not quite over yet.  Thankfully, my work is stressful and busy and I can focus my thoughts on it instead of an uncertain future that I'm freaking about.

I listen to albums by Jars of Clay, Third Eye Blind, and Lo Fidelity Allstars - all favourites from a dire time of my life that remind me that although things are bad, I exist and come through them.  There's a certain peace in remembering that although it seems bad now that you come through things and laugh later.   The Jars of Clay album has seen me through my major faith crises, and helps me focus on truth instead of the crap surrounding the truth.

Onwards.

my crisis of faith
escaping into music
holding on to truth

It's not a good time for me to be having a crisis of faith.  Is there ever a good time?  If there is, now is not it.  My husband didn't get great news at his MS appointment this week.  On the surface, it was okay news - he's plateauing, not getting any worse, symptoms are not worsening.  Once you look a little deeper, though, you see the meaning of this - best case scenario, we only go down from here.

It's been a long couple of months.  He's falling a lot.  He can't play guitar.  He's tired, he's in pain, and his personality and mood are reflecting that.  We were both hoping this was a dip, and not "best case scenario".  We knew this was coming - but we're not even 50 yet. 

I have to be strong and jokey for him.  I have to be positive.  Same as at work.  And so, I am, and just cry to and from work when I'm not carpooling.  It's probably not the best system, but it's working for me.  It's letting me function at home and at work. 

And, during this, I'm not sure I belong in a faith community any more.  I'm so tired of "christian" meaning anti-gay, anti-women's-rights, and being assholes about things like suicide.  I'm exhausted trying to be patient while the faith community changes - waiting for it to remember that the message of Jesus was hope, love, and grace and not to run an exclusive club for people that like bad music and being better than everyone else.

I used to talk about these things to my father, but that's no longer an option.  My parents won't even ask after Bob anymore, and aren't really there for me.   When I was younger, I used to take a pile of plates and through them off an overpass when I was stressed. That's not really an option at 47.

 up and ready at
the crack of ridiculous
heading into work


Saturday.  Six a.m.  I've showered and dressed.  Fed the dogs.  Blogged!  Now waiting to dry and straighten my hair before a day of work.

But wait, I'm corporate.

Yes, but I support the field so if the field does something on a weekend that I need to see, audit, or participate in, I'm there.  Complaining loudly, but there.  My dogs can't figure out why I'm awake this early and they're already fed..  they're hoping for a trip to the dog park.  We're both going to be disappointed.

i left church, crying,
saddened for others, not me,
not sure where to go

Sunday sucked, and it still bothers me.  My usually nice and accepting church morphed into a fire-and-brimstone-pretty-much-pentecostal shitshow with one poorly chosen guest speaker.  Bob would say that's harsh, but he didn't grow up like I did.  I have no patience for someone standing up, yelling, and telling me what's sin and what I should believe and how if I don't have the same passion for legalism that they have then I'm clearly not a Christian.

Because frankly, I'm okay with that.

If Christianity is being a righteous know-it-all and turning the message of grace into a stick to be beaten with, I'm probably not a Christian.  That, and I also say "fuck" a lot, although I'm trying not to.  It'd be easier, though, if I had less stress or didn't have sin shoved down my throat in some crazy display of Christ's love.

Just sayin'.