Things that go awry, misbehaviors, quick tempers (what? me? NEVER *weirdo sugar sweet smile*), wild long hair snagged on bra clasps, mud stomped into carpets, puppy and giant boy prints on the glass door every.single.g-damned.day (breathe, breathe, breathe), my mother’s perpetually multiplying piles of mess, cleaning up dishes a zillion times each day, somehow miscalculating the entry to my mouth and ending up hot tea burn staining my comfy long shirt & thighs (pantsless of course bc blip reasons)… these are a few of our blip-orite things.
Anything not meeting our standard of “liking it,” is summarily dismissed as being a “blip” thing during this COVID19 situation. Like Happy’s blip beard. You know, Iron Man’s bestie and number 2 work wife? Yeah, we Marveled up all over the place these past months. Don’t judge me. Blip you. Blip off.
(no clean segue)
Part of my serpentine path keeps pulling me towards things I do not like about myself. Much of which I wish I could blip away or blame on a blip instead of facing it and letting it go. At the onset of our physical distancing here, another woman was brutally murdered by her husband. Thankfully her son was spared. She was not someone I knew well other than seeing her through the community of mommies and she lived nearby.
This hit me hard, as it did many of you, especially those of you, my sweet supportive irl friends, who knew this family personally. I am trying not to succumb to the bizarre seductive comfort of depression or addiction to suffering. I hope that isn’t what this is. I hope it’s recognition and processing. I have no idea honestly. It is next to impossible for me to distinguish between my imagination/disassociation and leaning in to move forward. And so I write…
Domestic Violence is terrifying. Truly. For many of us, we do not even know we are in a bad situation until it is too late. We see ourselves as strong loving women (or men) who are resilient and up to the task of loving a man (or woman) who is troubled and merely needing proper support or care. We are pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps to rise to the challenge of this work to help them, because we are unparalleled problem solvers and are convinced that we are motivated by our deep love for them. Our identity and worthiness is completely tied into this narrative because we are smart/clever and we would know if we were in over our heads – right? We typically do not know. We cannot begin to comprehend the danger we are in even when it is pointed out to us directly from a place of healthy love or plain solid facts.
I spent the first few weeks of COVID19 physical distancing with my throat so tight I could only force my voice out in whispers. My sweet SonHerisme was left to ferally rewild for the most part as I could only handle the very bare basics of interaction and chores (thank you woods surrounding us for keeping him occupied, curious and safe). There were many blip behaviors during this time. I had to work my way back out of the muck the only way provided to me – through my child’s crisis and need for me. He is a miracle. I am on better footing today. #carryonsingleparentwarriors
Since the initial writing of “When you run my 5K,” I have wanted to speak it out loud. I gifted myself a microphone in either 2017 or 2018 to do this (my memory is spotty about many things, including microphone purchases – see ptsd brain). I finally opened the microphone this past week and recorded my story. I was also prompted by Glennon Doyle’s call for sharing stories through her new book Untamed. Full disclosure: I have not finished her book. While I am able to read nonfiction (NOT fiction, for reasons), her words are so raw and powerful regarding her journey, I can only digest her stories in small increments. She, like some of you, is a very live-out-loud person. My sensitive brain only allows that in small doses (live-out-louders who know me irl, you know who you are and you know that I love you). I am not a g-damned cheetah (see Untamed). I am something else wild, but not that. Also, my heart broke for that cheetah, the cheetah’s they brought to the outdoor symphony concert by the river one year, and all caged/performance animals not in their natural habitat.
Note: please do not ask me to go to the zoo with you or to take your sweet small people to the zoo. I will do it because your kid(s) is (are) adorable, you asked me to (you too have an adorable face), and I do not want sad faces on any babies. But, I will be miserable and will subsequently physically and mentally grieve for those animals for days. I blame this partly on my anthropomorphic projection tendencies combined with brain sensitivity and vivid imagination plus developing boundaries. Fair warning: paybacks will manifest in the form of limitless ice cream plus your sweet small person’s choice of tacky souvenir. You’re welcome. Yes, I have taken my child to the zoo because he too is super adorable and asks to go. Yes, it is ALWAYS painful. Also, yes, he has a future therapy fund. Again, you’re welcome.
Now comes the prompt (if you are so inclined) for you to revisit, or visit, my initial post for this blog through this link. Please be patient with my voice. My throat tightened up the more I read. It continues to be difficult for me to confront that reality. Necessary to face the truth of course, but nonetheless difficult.
I missed so much during this heightened terrifying time, it feels like I blipped to another universe outside of general living while surrounding life kept going. I have finally caught up on Marvel movies, yet I have missed so many other important things and I am sorry if you are a part of what I missed. I am trying to reconnect personally and with general life.
There was another domestic violence murder on the other side of town about a week after physical distancing began. A smattering of other local domestic violence incidents have also been steadily reported. A dear friend of mine is gearing up for a nasty court battle, once the courts are reopened, due to domestic violence with child protective services involved. There are many, too many, more that we will not hear about until it is too late or at all while the violence continues. Domestic violence is rarely a blip. It usually comes in waves and cycles through repeatedly until the victims are able to accept and receive intense help and support, or death.
If you are called to do so, please consider donating your time to your local domestic violence shelter. They usually have a list of needed donation items or finances for legal services etc.
Please check on your neighbors.
Please keep yourself safe and healthy – you are needed here.
As always, thank you for giving a piece of your time to my musings. You are beyond bliptastic 🙂
Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo