Layers of skin and organs and blood and pain. Layers of joy and pleasure and softness. Layers of hardness and calluses and sun spots and crusty toe nails. Layers of stress and relaxation. Of noticing, of ignoring. Of panicking, of accepting. I hate myself. I love myself. I hate him, her, them, us, our world. I love him. I love her. I love our world. I love my dog. I hate my dog. I love my chair. I hate my chair. Fuck, I hit the corner of my toe again on this chair. Fuck I hit my shin again on this stroller. Yesterday, I’m watching a couple, drinking forty ounces of Miller high life outside the Big Rock Deli. I pull up, think Yum, wish that was me. I’m with Jack, ready to pick up Fiona. Just gotta pick up some lunch. The couple looks at his phone. All of the sudden they jump up in a hurry, get in the SUV with forties half gone in their laps and take off. What are they doing? Where are they going? I feel cool with only one kid right now, but he starts pushing, he starts climbing, he starts trying on sunglasses, touching everything. I feel helpless. I follow him saying no. I follow my children saying no. I have best intentions. I am open and happy. The more I give the more they take. “You’re never satisfied” I say. It’s always something. They take and take. I give and give. I make time to love myself. I make time to take hot baths and put on facial masks and take care of my feet and take yoga classes and do spin workouts and eat right. My stomach still always hurts. My best intentions can’t remove my frailty. My age. My premenopausal symptoms. My disconnection with my body. My painful, swollen, annoying body. I love you body. Thank you body. You are a good body. But I hate you. But I love you. I’m trying. I lay down now. I leave the dishes, I leave the picking up to lay down. I put a pillow under my knees. I rest. I feel guilty. I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t say shouldn’t. I paint. I draw. I feel. I get excited, then exhausted. I get honked at as I’m driving and Jacks saying “I want to go home over and over again” and Fiona’s saying “I want tiny” over and over again. I’m sorry other driver. I’m sorry, maybe I cut you off on accident. I’m sorry. He drives behind me and when I make my left had turn he honks at me one last time to make sure I know how mad I made him. “It’s always the woman drivers” I hear my husband saying in my mind. We try. We try our best. We try to see you. We try to be good drivers with screaming kids in the car. O-Well. I take comfort in the fact that I never honk at people. I give them the benefit of the doubt. I am kind.
Category: Feminism
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Everything is quiet now, except the sound of an airplane, a few construction projects in the neighborhood, trucks fixing a mudslide up the hill, the clank of bottles being dumped into the recycling truck. My dog sleeps peacefully on the floor, dosed with a Tramadol so her leg will heal faster. My babies are at the park with the babysitter, but they’ll be home soon. The sky is bright blue, spring is almost here. It’s been difficult to write lately, partly because I’ve been in a reading FRENZY! Partly because my head is spinning from listening to the news and realizing that my worst nightmares I’ve had about Trump and Pence winning the election are coming true. Today the vice president, Mike Pence spoke at the “March for Life” rally in Washington DC, he is the FIRST vice president to do so. That is significant. The power has shifted in America, and not for the better. The extreme of the extreme are running the country now. It’s frightening. Funding is proposed to be cut from Libraries, the arts, public schools, women’s health, and so many vital programs. We can’t let the west coast topple! I wonder when They’ll come after my right to medical cannabis? We need to topple them but it seems we are losing the fight, losing freedoms fought for, the new government is trying to erase us, erase the arts and erase freedom of speech. If this administration gets into our public education system and does anything to alter the curriculum we are in big trouble.
Went and sat outside, in the sun, drinking my green tea. It’s a spectacular day. I hope my babies take an early nap so I can get to the studio and paint. I have some ideas, the warm sun and bright green plants just inspired me. I need to go in the sun again. Babysitter just brought Jack and Fiona home but they sound quiet, I think they will take an early nap!! They haven’t taken a nap all week, I’ve been putting on Peppa Pig for an hour and going to my studio to paint. It’s worked well. I think the babies are really asleep! Time for my studio! How lucky am I? The first thing I do in my studio is turn the page on all my notebooks, I paint over a whole painting with white, pour wine on my notebooks, add collage onto several surfaces, scratch into the white painting, then I stop myself. Everything’s too wet to work on anymore. It’s been an hour, so I go in to check on Jack and Fiona. I smell something, I go to the crack of the bedroom door, someone’s got a poop. I go in, both babies have poops! I clean the poops and put on Peppa Pig Christmas, now I have another hour. I open a Scrimshaw, eat cheese, chicken, grapes, and nuts. I’m liking it all. I’m lucky. I really am lucky.
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Studio Day. Extremely grateful for studio time. Got a lot done, had fun. Day’s from the first line.
On to the next line. Bang bang bang the guitar. Scream. Paint, try. Try not to eat too much chocolate. Try to RESIST my dogs Tramadol. (She nearly broke her ankle.) Shove the medicine down her throat. Sedated. Feel no pain. They take and take away. I try to come back, float back to the butterflies and the bees, the day to day. I’m so disturbed by what’s happening it’s hard to get a grip on reality. Hard to write. Hard to focus. Spinning. World spinning, crashing.
On to tomorrows line.
Dirty Laundry Blog by Jennifer Hynes 