Monday, April 21, 2014

Sexism

I whisper to him
my thoughts and theories
on humanity and growing older,  
he smiles; his attention goes straight to my breasts.
But far be it from me to be offended:
the guy I've bared my soul to
is my hungry seven-month-old son.
Not too keen on moments of clarity.
I avoid them as best I can
because what's the use in me being here 
anymore if I have the world all figured out.

Knee-Jerk Reactions

Them: "There's always tomorrow!"
Me: "Not always, actually. You could die on your way home. Or your mother could die on your way home the way mine did when I was driving home from theater rehearsal my senior year of high school."

Them: "I just got a promotion!"
Me: "Sucks because it's kind of rule-of-thumb that when something great happens in one aspect of your life, something terrible happens in another. Like how we were out eating at some food trucks to celebrate my husband's new position when we got a phone call saying our nephew had died."

Them: "I just found out I'm pregnant!"
Me: "Don't get your hopes up just yet. There's a 40% chance you'll have a miscarriage. Like I did. Did I ever tell you how I had to bend over, grab my ankles, and push the rotting placenta out into the toilet like I was giving birth? The umbilical cord didn't plop out so easily, though. I had to reach around and yank it out of me because it was just dangling from my vagina and wouldn't fall out no matter how hard I pushed. It's like it was caught on something. The baby had already fallen out way before that. My husband tried telling me that thing that looked like a blood- covered gummy bear wasn't our baby - the baby that had been decomposing inside me for over a month - but I knew. I knew it was. I sat on the bathroom floor hugging the toilet, crying, begging him not to flush it. It just seemed so inhumane, to whoosh his tiny corpse away into a sewer. But there was no other way. How my child must have felt watching us do that from up in heaven..."



Friday, March 14, 2014

Meandering Mother


Opening Up

I just got an epiphany. I have a bunch of causes I've been longing to advocate for. But I guess doing it anonymously isn't very effective. My book was supposed to be a jumping off point for such things, but honestly once it came out I sort of panicked. Everyone began asking where the ideas came from and how I could write about them so personally. And I didn't want to answer any of that. In fact, there are some people in my life who have asked me never to divulge some of the truths behind my writing. That makes it hard to take a stand for those aforementioned causes. But I've never been the type to back down, so I've become ashamed of myself for doing so when it comes to this stuff - stuff that exists to silence and shame women. So I'm gradually going to come around, step out from behind the shadows of my fiction, and speak more specifically about shit. And my blog is a good place to get that ball rolling. So stay tuned for that, I guess.

Friday, January 24, 2014

Midday Meditation



My children and I have survived another day of me being a mother of two. As a reward (I'm assuming) the universe has them both napping at the exact same time today. So I ignored the dishes, ignored the dog vomit that had mysteriously appeared on the kitchen floor while I was upstairs nursing and reading little ones to sleep, then poured myself a drink, turned on my yoga-meditation app and 15 minutes later realized, after all these years, it isn't my kids I'm tired of by the end of the week - it's me. 

Because there's a relentless, nagging voice in the back of my mind that criticizes every parenting decision I make, tells me I'm a failure for not managing to keep the house spotless, makes me feel like a wimp for needing more sleep, blames me for every tear that drops from my children's eyes, says I'm a bitch for wanting time to meditate or write, gives me a guilt trip for choosing not to have a job right now, questions my motives for putting them to sleep at night, and constantly reminds me it will ultimately be my fault any time they get hurt.

Sure, it's normal for kids to drive their parents crazy but they're here driving me crazy each week because I chose to bring them into this world. So it always seems stupid to me to vent about them even when I'm at a breaking point. But always being so hard on myself is taking a toll on me. And I don't really have any other sort of conclusion to add here. Just that I get tired of myself and this mind of mine and I had to get that off my chest.