surviving – Quixotic Mama

embracing my failures

i’m not living in the past
i’m not living in the future
i’m in the right now
& it fucking
sucks
it fucking
hurts
like hell
but i’m present
i’m here
embracing
my failures.

i was doing “yoga with adriene” last night. the theme was “embrace.” she asked us, her youtube audience, to embrace something.
being one to often cry during yoga
being one who having a hard day has become more of a given than an exception
being one to spend too much time inside my head
try as i might
all i could come up with was, “i embrace my failures.”

then cried some more because i had nothing better to embrace…cried while i stretched & toned in an effort to stay sane & fit.

i wondered at my embracing failure. it sounded like negative to me at first. like a failure in itself. i had not found anything good to embrace…only bad.
but then i wondered if it might be a good thing to embrace my failures.
right?
what else do you do with them?
hide them?
hidden things tend to fester…at least in my experience.
so maybe my embracing my failures is a step in the right direction after all.

embrace
resolve
turn around
try again….

so while that percolates on that flame of my brain, on another burner i have this noticing of a recurrence of the number six in my daily life. i have never gotten around to studying numerology, but i do notice when the same number keeps popping up. like when the clock shows my birthday…or my brother’s death day….
being a good (though recovering) catholic, i especially notice a triplet of sixes–which recently showed up on the odometer of the car i just bought. and although i do not cross myself…i do feel an impending doom when i see it.
however, being a born again pagan, i thought to myself today, what does numerology say about the number six?

i found this on a google. six as a life path number. basically spelling out all of the character traits that i have that i do battle with on a daily basis. i mean, yes, of course i want to change the world & fight for the little guy…but why can’t i just lay in the grass & drink a beer? or be a traveler with no responsibilities, leaving when things get rough? why can’t that be who i am? why do i have to be the ultra-responsible, high morality, wanna-be savior of mankind?
does mankind even deserve being saved?
can’t i take a vacation?

no. because i have actually shaped my whole fucking world around raising four children to be different. to not be like everyone else. to creating a better tomorrow in the only way i know how. by being a good mom. a strong mom. and i can’t run away from it. i have to stick to it and keep trying no matter how much i feel like i’m failing…even though it seems like i am always failing…i just have to embrace my fucking failures, and i have to keep
fucking
trying.

wow, see that?
i came full circle.

not so bad

if i stop
to take inventory
i’m not doing
so bad
not so bad
if i stop
& take inventory
i see that
i’m actually
kind of
amazing.

if i stop
to see who i am
i see that
i’m not so awful
not so awful
as i’d thought
if i stop
to see who i am
i see that
i’m
actually
quite a good person
after all.

last night i kept myself from being drawn into a fight with dusty. a fight via texting. a fight we have had many times. furious messages flashing back & forth between his smart phone & my dumb one. (his messages flash a bit faster than mine.)
i did respond, with minimal engagement, to let him know i was getting his texts and that my feelings on the matter were indeed final. if i don’t respond, he will become more & more hysterical & paranoid. i can’t have him doing that while he is with our children.
but obvious ploys to evoke a response, i let them slip past me like keanu reeves in the matrix.
so i was actually quite proud of myself for that.
and
though i have an almost full bottle of whiskey, i chose instead to do yoga and have a cup of jasmine tea.
look at that, y’all. it’s like i’m growing up or something.

bonus for anyone who made it this far…i did a rough draft/sneak preview of moses jones page four. very rough…in fact, the final draft might not look anything like this….

scribbles

whenever
i am feeling
suicidal
instead of killing
myself
i fall
in love.

i have been thinking a lot. go figure. it’s my favorite past-time.
this week, i took two of my lambs, my first two lambs, and i learned how to butcher them.
i had so much anxiety leading up to it. dread. serious contemplations on vegetarianism.
then the time came, and i was fine. i was more than fine. i was doing things i never knew i could do.
and it made me think about how emotional detachment has always been part of my damage…but sometimes…sometimes…it really comes in handy.
i started thinking about “dysfunctional life skills.”
the things we learn in order to survive a fucked-up childhood or an abusive relationship. those weird super powers. sometimes they cause us pain…other times they save us.
i want to explore this more.
but right now i am binging on jessica jones
and wondering why i am so attracted to the character kilgrave. is it just because he is played by david tennant? or is it another part of my damage to seek out other darkness? or is it just that i am empathetic to a fault and want to save those other damaged souls?

an empty house leaves too much time to think.

inktober 14th

i am liking doing journal like inkings.
writing & drawing & spilling & splattering.

i’m not sure what i wrote made sense. it was mostly train of thought. randomness. talking to myself.

my approach is kind of that i don’t think anyone is actually paying attention, so i am just seeing what comes out of me. that’s actually pretty much my approach to life. i mean, i feel invisible most the time, so i don’t really worry what anyone thinks of me. you know what they say, there is no such thing as bad publicity.
so on i go.

and my self-portrait is all gunslinger. but no gun.
after i posted it i saw today’s prompt is “fierce.”

i’m fierce.
every day.