Pockets of Joy

Within darkness there exists a place of lights. Here,
Stitched upon the folds of some comfortable everyday attire. 
There are busy moments when they live forgotten but ever present
Resting at home against my skin. And with as little as a breath
I can shift my focus to reside along side them 
Anytime of day. They are;
Movement,
My daughter's smile,
Music,
Many creatures of the world,
Quiet conversations with friends, family,
Memories shared,
Fruit,
Peanut butter,
Home,
Books, Stories, Poetry,
And the living creation of imagination.

Prompt from Journal activity on Day 1 of Karin Dimitrovova —> https://go.karindimitrovova.com online program Reset.

Fraud or Failure

That’s my feeling at the end of the week. My last post called ‘Mondays’ has been swirling through my mind since these fingers clicked the screen. Mourning lifting? Nope. Writing? Not until this moment. Get a week ahead on school work? HA! I’m down to the wire again on Calculus. I have one more homework assignment due by tomorrow at eleven pm, then a chapter of notes to write for my open book quiz Wednesday. One more discussion board post due for LEB (legal environment of business) with 3 pages of summary due Tue, and a 4 chapter exam. I’m behind on house chores and by now there is NyQuil swirling in my bloodstream telling me to hit the publish button sooooonnnnn….. So tomorrow can come and I can do more of the things.

What did I accomplish? I started a new workout split this week. I’ve got the bones down in my notes. For lifting days – Legs, Chest/Back, Biceps/Triceps. 2 days with jump rope, 1 with trampoline play, and 1 day of full body mobility. I’ve been sore most of the week and have a feeling I will not be able to lift my arms tomorrow. So far I’ve had a rest day between each of the lift days. I’m hoping another session of mobility work plus mat core/leg work tomorrow. Hoping maybe all I can accomplish at this moment. School work, child, and husband like to put kinks in my ‘plans.’

I’ll leave you with a touch of the argument I had with the seven year old this morning-

Her - "Are we going anywhere today?"
Me - "No. I've got homework and chores."
Her - "But!!!!" Begins whiny voice... "I want to go to the park!"
Me - "I took you to gymnastics Monday. Your father took you to the park Tuesday. Wednesday I took you to Parkour and the park! Thursday we had a group meetup at another park, then an AHG meeting. Friday we took a hike to the ruins with your friend and then you had a two hour pajama party in the evening... I think it's a good day to stay home... Wait. I have to make a trip to the store. Do you want to go with me?"
Her - "Ugh. The store is boring." Folds arms and pouts. 

Yeah. Appreciation overload. It’s a reward for being a mom.

Mondays

Get a bad rep from the party people. And the nine-to-fivers in slavery. In the past I subscribed to it’s melodrama. Tethered mainstream societal opinion to my moods and let the current take me under 10,000 leagues.

Monday’s are a whole new week (cue the Aladdin carpet ride music for my Disney peeps.) A whole new day to adjust navigation and get back on course towards ones goals, wishes, hopes, and dreams. An opportunity to unsubscribe to all those email lists that clutter the inbox as opposed to just pressing delete!…. Or taking action on their lingering suggestions. Whatever works.

I guess this is the part of the post where I’m supposed to list all the things I want to do better this week. Starting small ; track all foods, weightlifting in the AM, extra cardio before sunset (jump or jog,) school work + work ahead (goal 2wks in one,) and write, write, write. Those are my top self discipline priorities. There are so many unmentionables, little upkeep tasks that I’m not going to track or focus on at the moment. Or I just don’t want to talk to you about it. 😘😁

Are there any changes you would like to make?

Now get outta my blog and slay your week. Monday’s are awesome sauce.

“I’m a little stress ball

Short and stout. Here is my anger and watch me SHOUT.”

Tomorrow is my daughter’s 7th birthday celebration and I’ve been a nervous wreck. I go through this every year. There are multiple special occasions and “holidays” where routine is ditched for some type of senseless disorder (normies call em parties.) And all I really feel like doing is sleeping through the chaos. And then I feel guilty, feel selfish, for feeling feelings and all the things… This post is apparently all about me. You were warned.

I took two anxiety naps. I was exhausted, useless, and needed to lay down. I prayed. My lungs felt swollen, like the walls were dripping mucus and chest muscles were tight and constricting. I could feel my blood pressure pounding through the veins.

At times when I allow myself a mental check of my body it says we need to puke out all the organs from the groin up to my throat. It’s being ridiculous and over dramatic so I ignore the messages.

The house is about as presentable as it’s going to get. I can’t help the fact that dogs, cats, a husband, and kid all live here. I love them more than tidy neat and clean.

Who else is gonna lay his heavy head on my leg at night and anchor me to earth? The dryer? Ha! Not even the TV can cuddle like a 70lb lab who just triple checked the kitchen for crumbs before coming to bed. Not even the TV…

I started with the intent to craft a serious blog post but it looks like my sarcasm levels are too high this night. My dog deserves cuddles back. I know he’s just going to wait for me to pass out so he can raid the litter box for kitty caramels. Seems the writing has a mind of it’s own and Not everyone can be in trouble all the time.

These Words

The first words I wrote today I cannot revisit. The words pull
On ripped stitches from an old wound.

Avoidance
Is not the way to crawl out from a darkness
Where the soul sleeps; Slumbering through
Overwhelming Sorrow and 
Creative Disability.

I chose to write these instead.

Poem found while clearing clutter. Dated October 1. 2017.

The Hollow

 It began simply as any other moment. Empty
 Space ready to be filled. Lungs paused on the inhalation-
 An Invitation to feed oxygen into my voice. Spirit
 Wove attraction; ethereal particles spinning in
 Cyclone to the magnet of my EYE. A calm scene- serene 
 Syllables effortlessly escape. Endless rehearsals
 Render all motion as automatic as professionals play.
  
 The message in me has dulled from countless repetition. But
 Audience gathers seeds of the story and feeds it a life. A kerosene
 Wick soaked through transference of parallel memory.
 ‘I went out the hazel wood, Because a fire
 Was in my head’ and there we extinguished
 The blaze of emotion HE bled from our smiles. 

Written from a prompt given from Dverse challenge on 2/15/2020

Thief of Hearts

It’s valentines day. But don’t tell my husband; he doesn’t know. We don’t practice a “festive” relationship. Holiday’s are for the child. The child who is recovering from a cold and can’t participate in the ritual of card exchange because of a pandemic and ‘distance education.’

While the child and I napped this uninformed man made me a sandwich. A homemade-gourmet adorned with roast beef, provolone, mayo, horseradish mustard, and perfectly sliced tomatoes. My vegetable slicing skills are premature (tomato is a fruit) so his sliced tomatoes are an extra special treat. Then he placed the sandwich in the fridge and walked away.

I was beginning to stir (can husbands even whisper quietly?) He exited the house out through the patio door and our yellow lab made a beeline for the kitchen. “Bailey!!!!” I yelled but the dog ignored my calls. I entered to the sight of his head in the fridge. I arrived in time to save half of my sandwich from the jaws of my greedy thief of a dog. He had ripped the child-lock off the door with sheer force…

If the way to my Heart today was through my stomach- the dog ate it.

Cleaner of Messes

Found on the meme-sphere Facebook

It’s just another one of my titles. And like a video game character I’m wearing it today. “Cleaner of Messes” floats above my head as I grumpily navigate another unlearned learning opportunity the 7 year old created.

Wouldn’t it be easier if kids listened, the first 20 times?

Btw – if you haven’t been reading this post with a sarcastic voice, start over.

I set the keyboard to my daughter’s computer out on the poarch to dry. And I’m off to look for a backup in my she-shed. Well see if I can fight the gravitational pull of awesome shedness to get back to productive College-Student-Momness.

I doubt it. Something else may arise. Like random child snack hunger. Or maybe a meltdown.

On the bright side- she makes avoiding Calculus homework easier.

1

I could fall in the shade of lost time. Criss-cross applesauce. 
Headphones here with the electronic beats of a tech built heart. 
TockTicks of repetitious design climb to a stall... Fear... Fade... She’s

Denied a syncopated symphony. The noise of delay and
False starts weave her tale of decay. Vacant horizons
Where the dream of castles shatter amongst 
Spontaneous Disarray. 

Another Ending

I left a two-week notice note on the desk when I left the gym this evening. I wanted to speak and have a conversation but the owners were busy. Which isn’t really unusual.

I’ve been done with it all for a few weeks. I crave organization, consistency, and equality. Rules and order.

Wouldn’t it be nice to be Noticed?

Wouldn’t it be nice to be Appreciated?

Be Heard?

It’s not a big dent in the scheme of my future plans but I can’t help but feel that I failed at something.

When a woven net of dreams, inspiration, and hope brings spoils of a tin can and shabby old boot to the surface of reality.

It’s a second strike in this city.

I’ll need to gather my threads and untangle debris. Cast this tired old soul out on another calm morning and try again.

Maybe one day I’ll find where I fit and make some friends.