I like that you’re broken

Broken like me

I’ve had a surreal week/month.

The Gymgirl/Mouse came by on Friday to keep me company. Friday was the 24th of May.

She made it clear it was just a one-off. But I was happy to see her, regardless.

Her: Headed to you now.
Me: Great, see you soon.

I’d originally earmarked the day to go to Bethesda Fountain by myself but she was gracious enough to keep me company.

We sat by the water and marveled at turtles and fish going by as we ate. And drank. A lot.

After drinks and a full meal at the Loeb Boathouse, she said:

Her: I’m still hungry. (thinking) Since we both broke our diets, we should go to Chinatown and get dumplings.
Me: I’m down.

So off we went.

Before you knew it, we had a table fulla complex carbohydrates after eating just minutes earlier.

Gotta say, I wasn’t going to spend Friday with anyone but I always set her apart. It ended up being a really nice day, all things considered.

I was hoping to see her again before the weekend ended but she’s been non-responsive.

Then again, she wrote something once where she said that she speaks through silence. I’m trying to figure out if she’s trying to say something or if she’s just saying, I don’t wanna talk to you.

Generally default to the latter but everything’s weird these days.

Anywho, it’s late and I just took apart my washing machine (I’ll explain some other time) so I’ve gotta take care of that and crash.

I’ll tell you more about the weekend tomorrow.

Or the day after that…

Oh, the boy’s been at Alison’s parents home but he’s coming home by the time you read this.

I’m super excited. I skyped with him earlier.

Me: Hey there! I’ve missed…
Him: (loudly) ♪♫♬ I like that you’re broken..♪♫♬
Me: ?
Him: (continues to sing loudly)… ♪♫♬ broken like me, maybe… ♪♫♬
Me: (laughs) Well, the song choice is not inappropriate…

 

Location: home, in front of a disassembled washing machine and broken locks
Mood: accepting
Music: I could be lonely with you

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My Bobby Pin Monster

Being hit all the time

Have you ever been hit in the solar plexus?

When I was a kid, got hit there a buncha times. What happens when you get hit there is that your diaphragm spasms and you can’t breathe at all.

You get lightheaded and double over, fall to your knees, and/or pass out.

Find myself regularly feeling something similar for a variety of reasons.

When I got those emails from my neighbor, for example, I had that feeling.

Just got it last night while (still) trying to clean up.

Alison used to joke with me that I’d never just put things back where I found them when I took them out.

I’d retort that I was always finding her long hair as well as random bobby pins everywhere.

There’s a table we have that still has Christmas decorations on it. Finally found the strength to start cleaning it when I found two bobby pins behind a basket.

And I felt that same hit in my solar plexus I felt as a kid and had to sit down. I haven’t seen her hair anywhere in over a year.

This was probably the last time I’d ever find bobby pins from her ever again.

So much for cleaning any more that day.

I can’t handle all the unexpected hits all the time.

Can’t handle being hit all the time. It’s slow torture.

 

April 2014…

Her: Is that a jar of peanut butter next to the bed?
Me: … No?
Her: Why is there a jar of peanut butter in the bedroom?!
Me: It’s probably the same creature that sheds bobby pins all over the place.
Her: (laughing) Great, we have a peanut-butter eating monster made up of bobby pins somewhere in the house.

\’

Location: in front of a donut and rum, the breakfast of champions
Mood: struggling still
Music: taken more hits than a world war blitz

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Mother’s Day 2017

Thank you Mrs. McCarthy


Went to yet another hospital ER room this past weekend – and it wasn’t even for Alison. One of my other two atomic bombs went off again.

This was on top of another indescribable weekend. There’s not much to do but bear it.

I’d like to say that this was Alison’s second Mother’s Day as a mother but it really wasn’t. She barely registered anything.

Bought her this card months ago, hoping to give it to her. Never got a chance to. Doesn’t make it any less true though.

Alison is nothing if not extra-ordinary. Sometimes, though, I wish she was just ordinary. Perhaps then, she’d be able to stay with me.

I’d give anything if she could just stay.

Speaking of extra-ordinary – I haven’t really mentioned it because I try to keep as much of the lives of those around me as private as possible – I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you that, during the past 18 months, Alison’s mother has been here with me almost every single day and night to take care of her and the kid.

She came here with four days worth of clothes right when Alison gave birth so that she could help out for the first few days. And then everything went to hell.

And she just stayed. There is no way that I could have possibly taken care of Alison and Nate without her. And she has been far stronger than I, which humbles me.

Whereas my pain is deep, I cannot imagine the pain of a mother watching his/her child go through what Alison has gone through. Wouldn’t want to. But she has, somehow. Stoically.

Alison’s parents are a major reason I married her.

Cause, when you marry someone, you don’t just marry them, you marry their family. And these are people I’m truly honored to call family.

Despite my losing so much money and being as old and broken as I am, they have never been anything but wonderful to me.

While this may reflect badly on their own parenting skills, I’ll take what I can get.

When Alison and I got married, I promised them that she would be safe. Part of why I’m so heartbroken is because I feel I’ve failed them. Yet they never say anything negative about anything I’ve done, even though I constantly doubt every decision I’ve made.

Alison’s mother asked if I would keep them in Nate’s life in the future, a question I found very strange.

Me: Are you serious? You’re the only family he’s known for the past 18 months.
Her mother: Things change over time.
Me: (shaking head) I want Nate to know his mother. By knowing you two, he’ll know her. That’s what she’d want. That’s what I want.

\’

Location: at the foot of her bed
Mood: so very broken
Music: I’m fragile. I try not to be

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