Talking to God

I've been talking to God lately. Ish. Maybe it's better to say that I talk "at" God. It's a brief conversation usually that goes like this:

"I miss you, God, but I'm still mad at you."

Short and pointed. 

Weird thing is, I figure He understands. 

I figure Mary understands even more. 

I am pissed as Hell. This is not what I signed up for.  I pinned hopes and dreams.  I loved with my whole damn being. Without reservation. Without thought to how much it would hurt. And I would do it AGAIN.  But shit, piss, fuck, damn it HURTS. 

THIS IS NOT WHAT I WANT!

I don't want the sympathy. 

I don't want the anger. 

I don't want the pain. 

I don't want tears and panic and anxiety and depression. 

I just want two, COUNT THEM--TWO, precious daughters with me. 

I don't understand--I will never understand--why. I don't want to even try to understand, because I HAVE BEEN CHEATED. 

Katie Light

I took this photo this morning. Maybe soon I'll be back to more words and less pictures, but this is another photo post. 

I'm looking at that pretty purple light. It's easily explained as a reflection of light off the lens. That's scientific. 

But I didn't notice it when I shot the photo on my iPhone. And the longer I looked at it, the more I decided that it's Katie Light. 

I was standing at the door out onto my roof taking a photo of the snow. 

(Seriously, it's been 50 days of measurable snowfall this winter.  It's March 25th.  I digress.)

I wasn't taking a photo of the morning light. I was wishing I was taking a photo of spring instead of snow. I've said that I feel like I live at Winterfell.  

And then here's this beautiful streak of purple light in my photo. 

Katie is with me. 

Kintsukuroi

It's the art of fixing broken pottery by using gold to fill the cracks. 

In this way you can take something that is broken and make it even more beautiful than before. 

This randomly popped up for me on an unrelated search, and I like it. 

Maybe this is something I can do with broken pottery shards. 

Maybe this is something I can do with my heart. 

Portraits of grief

#selfie

Only one child

How does one cross the chasm from having two children to having, in practical terms, one?

I have two children, but only one living. 

I have two daughters, but only one is with me. 

How will I ever reconcile that?

March 11th

I'm just thinking about March 11th. 

13 years ago I was wild with anticipation, ready for the baby to be born. Katie was so ready to see and kiss her baby sister. 

Today Libby is bracing herself to have her first birthday without Sister. I'm bracing myself for that and the 6 month mark that comes on Thursday. 

The Dells

Couple things. 

I'm at the water park. I keep looking at girls that are 15. Maybe 16. I wonder about them, their lives, loves, boyfriends, grades in school. Such brilliant, beautiful girls. They don't even know how brilliant or beautiful they are. 

They're wearing bikinis that make them uncomfortable, one hand on their tummy to hide any bulge. They toss their hair up casually in a bun that's just a bit too done to be casual. They try not to look at the boys, letting their eyes slide over any male, studiously avoiding eye contact. 

Beautiful girls. They've already figured out what makes boys tick. They don't know what to do with it, though. 

Brilliant girls who haven't figured out what makes them tick inside, though. Unsure. Towels wrapped, but strategically. Standing, looking at the moms with the mom belly and the toddler. Worried that will be them. Afraid no one will ever love them enough.  

I miss my beautiful, brilliant girl. 

It's been a while

Thing have been busy as life goes forward in fits and jerks. "It's like you're always stuck in second gear."  That should make me smile. Maybe it does a little. 

Divorced now. Check. Trying to move on. Check. I know I made the right decision. He proved it yet again last week as we were trying to get the final stuff done. 

I am selfish. I have to be. I can't waste my scarce emotional energy. I choose to only be around people who help recharge my energy. If someone is draining it, I cannot be around them. I know enough to know that I'm too emotionally fragile for such shit. I feel like a leach saying it, but I need you for the emotional recharging. Your love. The cards you send. Letting me sit with you quietly. Reminding me that you loved her, too. Letting me cry if I do. Feeding me. Oh such love goes so far to help me feel (something closer) to whole. 

Then I can share my energy with Libby when she needs it. She has more energy than I do as a rule, but when she's drained, it's GONE. It's hard to manage for her. It's hard to manage for me. That's when I draw on those reserves you've given me. 

Lots of things have made me think and cry lately. 

I almost had a conversation with Katie that didn't tear me up inside. 

I had an art therapist tell me that it is okay to break stuff if I feel like it. She also told me that I should also take the stuff I break and create something new. I don't know what to think about that. 

I keep putting one foot in front of the other.