It has come! The leaves are budding out, the birds are flitting and chirping, the garden is waking up, and the GREEN! Finally! Spring is in full force. I’ve washed and retired the heavy winter coats and completed the bi-annual “swapping of the wardrobes” for all three of us. It’s cherry blossom season here, and they’re glorious. The air smells fresh, and it was even warm enough this past week to walk barefoot in the yard.
Spring always brings me a sense of relief. We survived the long winter. The tulips are up, and the peas, too. The radishes are awake, and the carrots and beets are coming along. Got some onions going, and a few early brassicas and salad greens. Promises of easier times. I’m sure that’s an ancestral memory; I live 4 blocks from a grocery store, have dozens of meal delivery options at any time, and don’t need to hunt or preserve food to survive. Yet despite the modernity of my little life, that visceral reaction to warming weather holds true. Spring always seems to say “things are going to be easier now.” May it be so for all of us.
Court last week was an interesting experience. The system is SO broken. The judge didn’t even really seem to understand why we were there, and scheduled us for all sorts of things we weren’t even requesting. I’d tried to warn ex this could happen, but… Thankfully, my county has a business interest in keeping things from going to litigation, and the judge sent us to a “facilitator” to see if we could work things out on our own. That was easy. Ex had very little to say, so I did most of the heavy lifting. It’s tradition at this point, and I am willing to do it in the service of my kids (though he can decide to be collaborative and helpful at any point). We now have a visitation schedule that will hopefully allow my daughters an easy(ish) reintegration period and a chance at having a functional(ish) relationship with their dad. Dude better not screw it up (again). My kids deserve better.
I want someone to make me a t-shirt that says “I survived a court hearing that should’ve been an email.” Size XL, if you please. And that’s exactly what it feels like: I survived. Physically, I am quite well. Emotionally, I feel like I’m just getting over some wicked strain of feelings flu. I feel depleted, and vulnerable to whatever other emo cooties might be going around. Of course, now there’s the process of the actual visits to manage. I really hope ex is actually interested in doing this, and doing it well, for the childrens‘ sakes. I suspect that wasn’t even the heart of this recent filing, and it concerns me. Not much I can do about it other than try to make good boundaries to protect the kids, hope for the best and then see what happens.
I’m a bit grudgey because I had to miss Wool Wash Wednesday to go deal with this (unnecessarily messy) mess. I have routines for a reason. They insure all that needs doing gets done, which is a full-time job in and of itself as a single mom and business owner, but they also help to keep me grounded. As I wrote last week, the wool will keep. I’m excited to start processing a new fleece and get back into project making mode.
For now, I am allowing myself a bit of down time and space for extra self-care. I need to recuperate from the battle I just won, because I know there will be more to come. It’s a perpetual threat. It will continue to be until/unless he actively decides to rebuild trust (and he’s going the opposite direction currently, so I’ve little faith that he’s even interested in doing that work). I have no control over that mess as it’s not mine to control. So I return to my own work. To the daily carding for #the100DayProject. To prepwork for the classes I’ll be teaching soon. To the weekly woolwashing, and the slow but steady progress toward the realization of my business endeavors and creative dreams. And along the way, the daily life of mothering.
You know, my real job (because parenting is WORK).
I needed softness this week. Not sure if it was the time change, the full moon, the retrograde, or simply the realities of being a single mother going through a contentious divorce from someone who, well, let’s just say the divorce is merited. Times like these push the worst of my perfectionist buttons. Not only am I struggling in general, I’m facing deliberate headgames and nonsense from an ex who knows just where to cut at me, and, what’s worse, I’m beating myself up for not being perfect through all the chaos.
I can’t help the struggles. Struggles come and go, and that’s how I become stronger. As tempting as the idea can seem sometimes, I can’t really imagine a life without challenges. The older I get, the less I shy away from facing things that scare me, stress me, or push me to level up in some way. This is a tall order as a person with anxiety, but it’s usually worth the risk. The headgames, well, we’re getting a divorce. He’ll keep doing his stuff, and I’ll keep using it to validate all the reasons why a divorce is so very necessary, and has been for a very long time, though I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want a divorce, but I’m starting to understand that it’s the best possible option for me and my children. Living in known toxicity was so draining for all of us; we understand this in terms of chemicals and lead in the water, but leaden emotional connections are just as damaging. We’re so much happier already. I will that would continue, and that we’d keep moving away from unnecessary mess and drama toward a fulfilling, meaningful life. Maybe someday he’ll choose to join us there, but that’s none of my business anymore and I’m done giving him eleventy chances to be decent.
The part of this I can control is that internal monologue that adds a bonus “…and it’s because you suck.” to everything. Side effect of several relationships where I allowed others to blameshift sole responsibility for shared suck onto me. I’m not a perfect person, not by a long stretch, but I’m a decent human. I learn, I change, I put in good work, and I’m committed to evolving and improving until I die (and hopefully that’s some time off still). Part of that has got to be growing a stronger sense of self-worth so I don’t join Team KateHate when people around me try to project their mess onto me. This has been a recurring theme for years now, and I’m still working on it. It’s hard to be soft. It’s hard to be gentle with myself when I fuck up, especially when my mistake(s) get twisted into a narrative that says I’m the only cause of a problem (I am responsible only for my piece). I’m fairly good at seeing my own mistakes and taking responsibility for them, and I need to learn how to do that without shaming and guilting myself for being a human and making mistakes.
And so, this week, I tried to practice softness. To ask for what I needed in a way that respected what I was going through. I had to push back a couple projects, call off a social event, and spend extra time wrangling my tangled brain, and I tried not to give myself guilt and grief for taking the time I needed. I give to EVERYONE, even people who never reciprocate, and it’s time I showed myself the same generosity. I deserve to take gentle, loving care of me, too.
For this week’s wool washing, I picked a “treat fleece” I’d been hoarding. It’s a squishy little BFL, and beautiful, and I’ve been saving it because it’s special. I needed something special just for me, so I decided to open it up and start processing it. It did not disappoint! I have a project in mind for this one, and it’s all for me. Not for work, not for others, not for sale, just for me. I so rarely give that to myself, and I deserve the same care I show others. While I work through this fleece, I’m going to look at all the weird obstacles to self-care that my brain likes to throw in my way, and see what I can do about softening them. There’s a related story about how sobriety has made this so much easier, but I’ll get to that another day. For now, have some fleece progress pics.