funk

i've been out of whack today.

too many things happening all at the same time, none of them under control, and a good heaping dose of feeling in the middle. all of this has joined forces to render me funked.

i keep trying to climb out of things, but find myself thwarted... i get the voice-mail. i get the broken connection. i get the blues.

i keep hoping it's hormonal, and that tomorrow when I wake up everything will be 'just fine.' but for now...
not so much.

blu

lost a friend over the weekend
a precious light, too soon snuffed

my heart is heavy
and i'm screaming-at-the-soul angry with him
and i'm tired of knowing too many dead

still too sad for many words.

too much to ask

i want to spend my days at home with my daughter.
i am to the point of totally prepared to embrace the June Cleaver lifestyle.

i don't like the commute
i don't like the office
i don't even overly like the work
the salary - i can't complain about.

i wonder all the time how i could force the company to have me on a purely telecommute basis.

i don't need to be here. people don't really notice whether i am or not. i'm fine with it.

sigh...

I am a Rock...

Recently i've written that I am not a joiner.

I think there's more. Fact is - I'm an arm's-lengther.

I've had more than one friend advise me (just this year) that they feel very much on the periphery of my life. I don't use the term "friend" loosely either. These are people about whom I have used the words LOVE and SISTER and DEAR and CHERISHED.

I've been fortunate, I guess, in that many of my friends prefer not to be bothered with me often. They have business that keeps them too busy for much socializing, and a friendship with me is something of a relief in a world full of people who ALL want their time... all of the time.

Part of my insular life has to do with the weight I give to my nuclear family. As a child and young adult (and not so young adult) my relationship with my parents has been tantamount to breathing - - especially that with my mother. Through those years, and almost as much even now, she was my everything all the time. The only person whose phone calls I have consistently anticipated and enjoyed. The only person who ever REALLY got me and didn't care about the flaws. The Mother kind of person, I suppose. And, as such, the definitive role model for how *I* would be as a mom... and a wife, mostly.

Now that I'm married my focus has shifted somewhat, and while I remain faithful to my mom (and my love for her), my main attention goes to my family... my husband and daughter. I invest my time (those hours that aren't dedicated to earning a living or home and garden keeping) in my relationships with them. In making the kind of bonds that ensure that I will continue to have people who GET me and don't mind my flaws (or even, if my luck holds, who love me because of them). I am DRIVEN to being the mom to my daughter that mine was to me. I am committed to being the best wife my husband could dream of. And when I have a few minutes (usually in the bathroom!) to myself, I think about me.

Lately my thoughts have been focused on my social life, or lack thereof, and my friends. I think about my priorities are where they ought to be (sad fact is that someday my mom will pass away, and my daughter will grow up - - and maybe away from me) and whether or not I'm "setting myself up for a lonely future."*

I think not, though. I have made the promise, with my whole heart, to be a soul mate to my husband. We're working - so very diligently - at making our world together. And since he's 5 years my junior, I figure I won't have to survive him - - or if I do, not for very long on my own.

I am putting all of my heart into being a good mom. A smart and wise mom. A defined mom, who is so obviously committed to motherhood and dedicated to the well-being and loving of my child, that she can't help but know that she means the world to me, and always will. I'm working, I guess, to do honor not only unto my parents, but to my whole family... with all of my heart.

And, I still do have friends who view the length of my arm as something of a cushion of their own. I guess some folk might call them friendly acquaintances, but to me they are dear, and cherished, and loved.

I expect I will find myself working harder at letting the people who need to know that they matter to me... that my concern and caring for them is not just lip service... no matter how invisible (or sedentary) my heartstrings may be. It may mean scheduling a night a month for giving of myself to the people who deserve it... (i'm already wondering how ruffled they will be at being scheduled into my life) or maybe opening myself up, a little more, to the possibility of spontaneity. Or it may mean learning to accept the fact that they will only really view me as a friendly acquaintance.

I'm a work in progress... in all the arenas, under all the hats, in every aspect of my life.
Thank you for sharing the journey with me.

* verbatim the worry of a friend of mine, for me.