Balance

Finding The Lost Me

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True confessions of the unwanted

Today is a word vomit day. I’m really struggling. If that isn’t obvious already, I’m pretty sure it will be if you keep reading. I’m having a hard time separating myself and what I truly am from others opinions of me. And I don’t even know if they’re real opinions… Am I a good mother? Do I matter to people? Do I matter to myself? Am I manipulative and angry and mean? All of the above? Is it self…

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Tiny words

There are moments I suspect I am his only true friend the only one he will tell the embarrassing things to the real things the things that matter He calls me to tell me that he is sad today the man who stands in the shadow of the oak tree with his dog and his blanket the one he gives a water bottle to every day on the way to class that man is gone today, and he is worried what has…

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Breathing a second time, and a third

The difference between malignant and benign is who’s writing the definition. I sort of just learned that. And malignant and cancerous aren’t *exactly* the same thing, I don’t think. I’d almost go so far as to say I know that, based on the hours of reading I’ve done today. Ask me how I almost know. The real question is, “am I going to die?”. Why yes ma’am, you are. Oh. Wait. I meant soon. I…

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New Day, Old Story

Disclaimer: I am naming specific politicians below which is neither a criticism nor an endorsement. Some of them I like, some of them I don’t. I’ve been reading opinions, which is generally a mistake. I don’t particularly care what people think. I appreciate what they know, but what they think is generally irrelevant to my daily life, and more often than not annoying, particularly when they’re…

New Day, Old Story

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Dahlias without light

I’m testing bulb gardens at work. I live in a 9a that climate change is changing to a 9b. Maybe it already happened, two summers ago, but either way, everything is different now. But the other side of that coin is our unpredictable winters where we lose things in a very non-9b way to lovely freezes. So we have 9b summers and maybe 8a winters every couple of years. I dunno. Anyway, I’m testing…

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Are you OK?

That’s a question that I’m never sure how to answer. My honesty compels me. The words sit in my mouth like hot angry bubbles. They’ll burn if I swallow them down, and if I speak them they pop on my lips and blister. Either way, I cry from the pain, the pain of honesty. No, I’m not OK. I haven’t been OK for a long time. Other people are “OK”? That’s a real thing? People are happy? Content?…

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Tremé

In the ten years between 2010 and 2020, the “oldest Black neighborhood in America” went from being roughly 95 Black to being about 55% Black. The white population went from 5% to about 36%. I am white and my family is old New Orleans French, Spanish and maybe passe’ blanc Creole but we aren’t entirely sure. In other words, we are like a lot of locals who can trace our roots back a long ways…

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Off my chest, onto yours

I have this thing that I feel a need to share. I can’t go telling the people I know, beyond family and close friends, because it would be an inappropriate sympathy grab and it isn’t even really my story to tell. It is my son’s. My heart hurts so bad right now though. So he’s autistic and a sensory seeker, so he needs sports, but he’s hypermobile. I have him on a mile-long waiting list at an EDS…

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Not today

Today is not a good day. Nor was yesterday, or the day before. I am lonely. I feel bitter and frightened and alone, and no, that is not redundant. You can be alone without being lonely, and you can be lonely without being alone. My husband is out of a job, and this is the second time in three years. The first time felt scary, but looking back it wasn’t so bad. He got a strong severance package,…

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All the things I don't know about everything

I know how to make it look right, but I don’t know why it works. I know it needs water. Not sure how much, or how often. I couldn’t tell you what a comma splice is. I’m actually pretty sure my grammar isn’t perfect, but I think I avoid major errors. I avoid them mainly because I know what feels wrong. I can barely remember debits and credits, and I do this crap for a living. (Increase an asset…

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Vigil

I dropped my daughter off at school this morning, and as I headed back towards the river, I passed underneath the bridge and through a homeless encampment. It looks like all of the people there got their tents from the same place. They were different colors and slightly different sizes, but they all had the same primary color bottoms and grey swooping overhangs. They were neatly lined up in rows…

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I’m sitting in a fellowship hall of a Methodist church in Riverbend, listening. There’s a horn player practicing outside (alto sax if I’m not mistaken) and about twenty treble voices rehearsing for the children’s chorus in the opera upstairs. The piano plays the same lilting romantic leading tune over and over, punching slightly on the notes the children are supposed to come in on. One other…

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The observable you

Dear Sana, You asked me to tell you what I see — what the outside vision of you is. However, to be honest, I am not sure how to do that. I am not outside. We sit on the same sofa, you borrow my shoes and I wear your earrings. My perspective will not be the same as your doctor’s or your teacher’s or your friend’s. For your sake though, I will try. You are both fragile and indomitable. You grit…

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Navigation for a novice

It’s funny how the story looks different from the inside. I have one child who is autistic and has Hypermobility Spectrum Disorder. I think it may be more than that, but my diagnosis doesn’t count, and at the end of the day, we treat a wide variety of issues as best we can, and worry about diagnosis on another day, I have another child diagnosed OCD with a wide variety of health issues that…

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Truly silenced, but maybe heard

It’s ironic that my last post was about being silenced, about the unheard voice crying out for help. Sana is a musician. She’s only 13, so it is premature to pin hopes on her talent, but she’s got a voice, a big one. She’s been studying classical voice since she was old enough, and before that did Children’s choirs. She plays flute and piano, but singing is her first love. This year she…

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The fear of being silenced

Many years ago, Sana got sick. I think she had mono. I’ve heard the tests most doctor’s offices use are inaccurate. She was tested, and it was negative, but so was flu and strep. She had fever and sore throat and swollen glands and a god-awful post viral inflammation response. She was tiny – six when she first got sick, and it came on suddenly. Her teacher was so scared of her fever that she…

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Child Fears

My daughter had a friend sleep over Friday night, and this sweet girl had an anxiety meltdown when it was time for bed. She wanted her mom. Although I know that it is important for kids to be a part of the decision making process about their lives (and I was very willing to bring her home if necessary), I convinced her to stay. For the sake of making this easier, we can call the child Leah and…

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