my dogs are asleep

on the floor, beside my chair

it's raining outside

I read my last post and was both surprised and delighted at the honesty it is written with.  Here's an update:  Nothing.  

a long breath, inhaled -
nothing, and everything
changes - i stop, pause.

I didn't realize I'd been gone so long from my blog - even though I write haikus every day.  I've even gone so far as to submit one or two for publishing and contests. No dice.

Part of why I'm not posting - and perhaps why I should - is my anxiety.  I'm struggling with the new-normal, no matter what I wrote 3 months ago.  Here's a snap shot: 

Today we decided to go out for the day and began to get ready.  Bob fell in the washroom - which derailed us.  He was hurt, but not significantly.  I had to drag him to the shower, shower him, and then drag him (literally, on a towel) to the bedroom to help him get up (we have a system - he's strong on top and can hold his torso on bed while I grab his legs and swing until he's prone on the bed - from there, he can sit and manoever to his chair).  I then had to wash the floor and move his clothes and go back to making breakfast.  During this, he was deeply frustrated and barking orders at me, my son and his girlfriend were queueing up for the shower, and the dogs were yelping to come in.

By 11, we were in the car and on our way - the stress behind him but not me.  By 11, the kids were off having breakfast somewhere.  My family of origin doesn't speak to Bob, and doesn't speak to me about Bob.   My friends and I have decided I either need a drinking problem or a counsellor to help me get through this - and since the gin and tonic is not taking the sting out of my normal anymore - I'm going to layer on counselling to see if I can make this work.

I don't go to church, because it reminds me of my childhood and I no longer have the energy to chase away my nagging doubts about a religion that seems to be based on favouritism and elitism and whose followers don't seem concerned about a world of hungry people staying hungry.  And enslaved.  And ignored.  I sat through a sermon where I heard that homosexuality, suicide, and abortion were sins and realized that I don't believe that shit anymore and needed to leave.  My interpretation of the Bible is one where Jesus makes room for folks, not closes the door on them - so I'm kinda over big fancy churches and their big fancy arrogance.

On Thursday, I fed a homeless guy that reminded me of my youngest son and I spent the weekend missing him worse than I have in a year.  A child's mental illness is like a death that you can't get over - I keep hoping for the best, preparing for the worse, and hoping that whatever happens doesn't happen on a day I'm dragging my husband from the bathroom to the bedroom on a towel.

her disengagement
with me only, not herself
fuels my resentment


So I'm on facebook this morning, chatting.  And I should know better than to engage this particular person about anything other than herself or her son.  Because when I need some attention, or some care, it just doesn't matter.  I'm not important enough, I'm not whatever enough.

And now I'm livid.

And I have no right to be.  I know this person cares not one flying fig for me, and yet I want them to so badly, that I prostitute my feelings for some attention and then get mad when I don't see value for it.

dogs, sniffing the air,
something has changed - not sure where -
and me, unaware

It's another early Saturday morning and I'm outside on the deck.  It's quiet and not at all lonely.  I rather like being out here with the dogs while everyone else naps.  I'm planning my day - at least in theory - as the dogs sniff the air and investigate all the sounds - cardinals, jays, robins, and doves.  A rooster next door seems to have woken up a bit late and is crowing in answer to Zoomie's occasional barks.

I'm wondering what to do next.

Not today, exactly.  Career-wise, volunteer-wise.  I quit the board a while ago but remained embroiled in an HRTO claim, and I can't quite find something I'm passionate about to work with in that intensity.  Maybe that's good.  Part of me would like to continue in the advocacy space - but with a more focused look - not global poverty broadly, but more specific.  However, the organization I worked with left a very bad taste in my mouth about NGOs and I'm not sure at all where to go from here.  Career-wise, I'm looking at the same - where do I continue to flex to?

I can hear the train
Whistle, and distant rumbling,
Makes me feel lonely

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.