Month of December 2003

Monday, December 1, 2003
Professor Rogers, my old philosophy professor, called me from Mexico this morning. He retired there about six years ago. He received my letter last week and called then but I was out for the Thanksgiving holiday. We're going to get together at Christmas when he comes up to visit his son and daughter who live in Lafayette. It was very nice to hear from him, though I think his crush on me may be alive and well. When I see him I am going to pick his brains about the Meaning Of It All. Oh, he's also calling again next Monday.

In art class, Lee was very upset. His father's leukemia has flared up. His father may be dying. Lee is a good artist and a role-player. I like the guy.

Stopped at dad's on the way home and looked through more boxes of pictures. Those shoeboxes contain our family's life story. It's all there, starting with Mom and Dad's courtship and wedding, then the babies, the vacations, the adventures, the sports, the prom dates, the grandbabies, the wonderful wonderful times. It's been great, our life. Those pictures in those boxes prove it wasn't all a dream. It wasn't all a dream.

Tuesday, December 2, 2003
Rhiannon has made new plans. She wants to go on a road trip with some people she's just met. They'll travel to LA by car and get their food from soup kitchens. She's talked about it with a lot of people, most of whom say they think it's a bad idea. They've given her plenty of warnings.

She and I talked about all the dangers. I think the trip sounds very different and exciting, which makes me a very poor person to talk her out of it. She said many convincing things, including that she doesn't want to live with regrets and if she doesn't take this opportunity, it will be a regret.

Important for her to know: I love her more than any of her new friends do. I want the best for her, which they don't. Also, I'm very very proud of her. I want to see her reach her star. I don't want her to do anything that is going to get in the way of that.

Rhiannon deleted pages from her livejournal today. I guess she didn't go to work after all. She stayed home and updated her site. Does she suspect I've read it? The entry about why she wants to go roadtripping is gone, as is the one saying she is in love, the one about her Christmastime drug trip and also her very angry entry about her father, reproduced here. Darn it. I should have copied them all

Let's see if I can remember the latest one. She wrote on December 2 that Damien is in love with Annie. Annie is his one true love. He visited her over Thanksgiving break and was so happy when he got back. He feeds off other people's energy, he said, and there's nothing here for him. What a slap in the face that must have been to Rhiannon, the most high-energy person I know. Rhiannon is heartbroken. She loved him unconditionally, the way people want to be loved. Rhiannon did so much for Damien. She made him breakfast. She made his bed. She loved loving him. She knows he didn't love her back. They were friends with benefits. She thought - and still thinks -- that he is the most incredible person ever. He kept the dark away for her.

And I understand that. I still think Joe is wonderful. When he spoke I could bear my troubles. With him the future was bright, shiny, worth living for. With him I didn't envy the dead animals on the side of the road. I still think of him. But men love bitches, don't they? So I can't - won't - debase myself for him. If only Rhiannon wouldn't for Damien.

Fuck you
how dare you
every beginning
every end
and you're dead.

You died a long time ago
you just don't know it.

And she can't save you,
so Throw your own
FUCKING
life Preserver.
(by Rhiannon about Damien)

So anyway, broken-hearted Rhiannon met Clark while waiting at the bus stop. Clark invited her to go on a roadtrip to California with his group. He's a part of the Rainbow Family. She could live the life of the homeless (which she has asked to do before); she could escape her heartbreak; she could have an adventure before she goes to AmeriCorps; she could get away from her dysfunctional home.

She could complete her self-destruction.

Rhiannon is so melodramatic. She feels things deeply. She's happy happy happy or she's in the depths of despair. I'm worried about what she might do when she's in those depths.

I have no idea if I should let go or hold on more tightly. What would be best for her?

Letting go, I think. Letting her take a trip to California with people she doesn't even know. Hippie children. Rainbow kids. They'll be living off of handouts and soup kitchens and odd jobs.

Let her go, Charity. And let go of her.

Thursday, December 4, 2003
Rhiannon brought Clark to meet us. I like the fellow. Don was a complete ass. He embarrassed me and Rhiannon by being critical that the guy doesn't have a job. Yes, really. Don. The man who hasn't contributed financially to his family for eleven months. He was critical that Clark doesn't pull his own weight, doesn't conform to society's standards and doesn't have car insurance. How serendipitous that our car insurance bill came yesterday. I'm giving it to Don to pay.

Rhiannon wanted to leave immediately. She felt she couldn't stand it here one more minute. No you can't, I said, but I don't blame her.

Friday, December 5, 2003
Nan's funeral mass. A wonderful experience, as funerals often are. The family gathers from all around. Those there:
• Connie, daughter of her sister Burton and mother of my old buddy Eden. Connie has five kids by five dads.
• Ronaldo, son of her sister Emma Jean with wife Joyce who cared for Emma Jean until she died.
• Rhonda, grandchild of her sister Emma Jean, a real fireball.
• Christine, granchild of her sister Rosalie, who I hadn't met before.

We talked about all the other family members, of course. There are bunches and bunches. Nan had 8 siblings so there are many cousins and second cousins, some we know and some we don't. Read Nan's obit.

Saturday, December 6, 2003
Took Rhiannon to Boulder to meet up with Clark. She's gone. Afterward I cried about the things I forgot to say.

I said, "Don't forget to write," and "Promise to come back."

My mind was so full of last minute worries that I forgot to say, "I love you." I forgot to say "I'll miss you." I forgot to say "I know this adventure will be a great success."

Monday, December 8, 2003
Rhiannon is gone. Rhiannon is gone and Nan is dead. Nan was a vivacious charming incredible person; not the type that is attracted to people like me. My type is invisible to her type. I don't miss her.

Rhiannon I miss. Rhiannon I cry for. Emanuel Swedenborg said the heaven we go to is the one we choose. I choose Rhiannon's heaven. What can I do to be worthy of Rhiannon's heaven?

Tuesday, December 9, 2003
She lied, you know. She always lied. She could never tell me the truth. That's understandable, I suppose. What teenager ever tells the truth when she is getting involved in sex and drugs and self-mutilation and ditching classes? Rhiannon is self-destructing. Of course she couldn't tell me.

Today's connections: Linda and Sam, both co-workers. Linda's daughter is off at college. Linda still cries every now and then but she's getting better. Sam doesn't have kids but he commiserates with me.

I'm surrounded by love, if I would only let it in.

You know what? All I've ever wanted was the wrong thing. I wanted to be a sweet feminine wife to a strong Christian man. Instead I got Don. I wanted to build a strong family. I worked hard at that and was successful except for one thing: my husband. He didn't want a strong family and refused to build one with me. When I started this, 19 years ago, I hadn't realized that when the kids grow up and leave then you are left with NOTHING. I've been duped. I was wrong all along. Family turns to dust, to sand, to ashes.

As I wrote that Kendall, who is 16, came in. She had just finished her math -- 3 hours worth! -- and needed to decompress. I scratched her back while she talked. After a while I said I needed to go take my bath but she said, "Nooooo! We aren't done talking!" So we talked more.

Perhaps my goal of building a strong family was wrong. Perhaps, like Don said, I should be building strong individuals.

Wednesday, December 10, 2003
I dream about Joe sometimes and I torture myself by driving by his new apartment just up our street. Why do I do that to myself?

Because it gives me strong emotion and emotion is what makes you seem alive. There's more, though. It's because I cherish the hope that he'll come out, will be glad to see me, and we'll be friends forever. I know what I'll say if I see him. "So you live on my street now," I'll say. "The universe has the most incredible sense of humor. What a practical joker it is!"

Art class today was wonderful. It's our last one. I've loved getting to know Cole and Lee and Robert and Emma. Drawing is painful but maybe someday I'll be able to call myself an artist.

Thursday, December 11, 2003
A thought: I stayed with Don so the girls would have some interaction with their father. He's been very difficult and moody, though, and Rhiannon doesn't like to be home because of him. So, if she won't ever come home again because her dad's here then I made a huge mistake by staying. If Rhiannon is gone for good then I no longer have to protect the integrity of the family with my silence. The integrity of the family has been breached. And face it, she's gone for good. Even if she's fine and safe and warm and happy, even if she comes back, she's gone for good. I no longer need to protect the family. Now I protect myself.

I had a good day today. Here's how you tell a good day (if you are me):

• You had an important insight, or
  
• You connected with others, or
  
• You enjoyed the outdoors, or
  
• You were productive and got things done, or
  
• You had some excitement, or
  
• You exhibited self-confidence

Today I connected with others, had an important insight and enjoyed some excitement, as follows:

Connection: Shared my concerns about Rhiannon and discussed the joys and sorrows of being a mother with others at our office Christmas party. It was wonderful connecting with others the way I have been able to lately. Rhiannon's departure has forced me to reach out to others for courage and comfort. I talked with Lynn, Linda, Polly and Amy and found I'm not alone.

Insight: While driving home, I pondered something I'd read by Paulo Coelho and realized that every day we choose how we will react to the things that happen to us. We choose how we will feel, how we will act and what we will do. It's not our circumstances that make us happy or sad, it's the way we decide to react to them. It's our choice to be happy or sad. It's our choice to take action or to be passive.

Excitement: As I drove down my street I thought, Someday I'll drive down here and Joe will be there. I'll stop and say hello. We'll talk and then we'll be friends again. I knew without a doubt that it would happen someday when the time was right.

So the time was right tonight. He was there, getting out of his car. I stopped and said hello. We talked. He invited me up. I couldn't, I had to go home. "We've had our issues," I said, "but do you want to try to be friends?" He said yes, he liked talking to me. I'll visit him sometime. Apartment F2.

Friday, December 12, 2003
Now begins the agonizing. Should I go? Shouldn't I go? When should I go? Does he really want to be friends? Can I handle friendship or would I always be wanting him to love me, always wanting to be in his arms and his bed, always feeling insecure because I'm not as beautiful as he? I passed a miserable night last night. I couldn't sleep as I was too excited/upset by the thought of seeing Joe. Is there a word for what I feel? (consults thesaurus) Yes, it's agitated.

If I go, I'll go Sunday. I don't want to seem too eager.

Though it's easier to not bother. Way way way easier. I'm going to forget the whole thing. I'm not going at all.

Okay. Guess who called as I wrote that? He wants me to come tonight. Guess what I said? I said I'd come.

LATER: I popped in to Joe's place around 8:00 and stayed for an hour. We watched TV and chatted. His place is a mess. Imagine living with a slob. He said he worshipped me at our old place of employment. His feelings were so strong that he couldn't possibly talk to me. He'd put the radio on stations that he thought I'd like. He thought I was so beautiful, so perfect. When he found I was unhappy in my marriage I fell in his esteem. He even felt hostility toward me for it, because he'd thought Don and I had the perfect union.

He's probably one of those types you read about in old novels, such as Tess of the D'ubervilles, in which the man pressures the woman for sex and after she gives in despises her. She's no longer pure. It's all HER fault.

He was affectionate. He touched me several times in an affectionate way. "What's this?" I said, removing his hand. I said it was presumptuous. Has he forgotten he said we were incompatible; that he had been grasping at straws? I didn't say that but I wish now I had. Things may have turned out different. We might have dealt with issues.

It was wonderful being with him, talking about our feelings for each other and feeling that incredible chemistry we have, him looking at me with those big brown eyes and 100-watt smile. But you know how I feel about him right now? Like I don't trust him. Who knows what mood swing he'll have next? Probably right now he's regretting our talk and the sweet things he said. I bet I don't hear from him for a month. Or six.

Saturday, December 13, 2003
I awoke this morning with a song on my lips. Literally. I was singing before I got out of bed. Here's why I like Joe: because I'm happy when we are together and that happiness spreads to all areas of my life. My troubles become bearable. My entire life improves. I stop being angry at Don. I'm too happy for anger.

In the evening I went to a Christmas concert by the Broomfield Symphony Orchestra then afterwards out with the orchestra for coffee. Beautiful music. Had a good time.

Sunday, December 14, 2003
A nice day, mostly. I woke up filled with longing for Joe (that shows you what a loser I am). As I lay in bed, my sister called to invite me for breakfast and tea. We had a lot of fun talking, playing with her little ones and looking at cookie recipes. She gave me a plate of Christmas cookies and the movie White Christmas. ("Sisters, sisters, never were there such devoted sisters...")

Around 2:00 I called Joe to say I was going to take the dog for a walk around the block and would he like to come. He said no, he was pooped and was just lying down for a nap but thanks for thinking of him. So then I felt embarrassed and stupid, like I'd been too open and aggressive.

Here's what I think: I think he'll run. We've had three special and intimate times now, and after each of the previous two, he's disappeared. I may not hear from him for months.

I spent the evening reading over my diaries of the past two years in which I yearn constantly for Joe. And here I am, going right back to that kind of behavior. I thought I could be just friends with him but I can't. I want him too badly.

Monday, December 15, 2003
Cookie exchange at work today. I contributed two dozen delicious rich moist brownies, made from scratch using only the best ingredients, covered with a frosting made of chocolate and cream, and sprinkled with crushed candy cane. I received many wonderful cookies in exchange, including fruit cake cookies, ginger cookies, and pineapple macademia nut shortbread. Life is delicious.

Life is also melodious. As I work I'm listening to a CD of my cousin Connie MacNamee, who sings professionally in New York, crooning some jazz tunes. She's great and so's the band.

Tuesday, December 16, 2003
I read something funny about Saddam Hussein's capture. When he emerged from his hidey-hole, he said "I'm Saddam Hussein. I am the president of Iraq and I am willing to negotiate." And then the response from U.S. soldiers was, "President Bush sends his regards."

I was very wrong to think that Joe and I could ever be anything to each other. We can't be friends because he comes on to me when we're together, and we can't be lovers because he doesn't call when we're apart. I was wrong to go over to his apartment and I won't do it again.

Meanwhile Don is trying to be friends but I am rebuffing him. There's no possibility of reconciliation between us as long as he doesn't care to get a job.

Wednesday, December 17, 2003
Today's insight: Who we are depends partly on who we're with.

I'm reading Herman Hesse's Siddhartha. What a pompous, arrogant ass that fellow is. It's all about him, isn't it? I've reached the second to last chapter but Siddhartha has yet to learn humility and love. Further, I don't agree that the study and experience of sex is properly a spiritual path. In real life, sex for sex's sake ignores biological realities, spurns nature's sacred cycle, and leads inexorably to the exploitation of women.

Thursday, December 18, 2003
Today was a very emotional day.

First, I still haven't heard from Rhiannon. It's been almost a week. I've done well thus far in trusting that she is fine, but today I am worried. I've got that sick-to-your-stomach feeling right now. Rhiannon, please be okay.

Second, I had lunch with my old philosophy teacher, Professor Rogers, who I hadn't seen in 20 years. He's approximately 80 now, and the years are beginning to tell on him. We had a great time talking and laughing like we used to so long ago. I asked him my question, "What is the meaning of life?" He said that it is not a good question. It should be individualized: "What is the meaning of life for me?" I told him all my troubles. It was wonderful having such a sympathetic listener. He asked if Don and I do this happy back and forth banter that he and I do. (We don't, and didn't even when we were getting along). I feel as though he's given me my happy girlish self back to me, simply because he knew me back when I was. He saved the memory of me, for me, and gave it back as a gift.

Third: I was sick in the evening, though I think it was a reaction to the emotion of the day. I collapsed in fatigue around 6:00 and dreamed of girls with worms crawling in their hair.

Complete change of subject: Did you know there's a word for "throw out of a window?" (Defenestrate)

Friday, December 19, 2003
Perhaps Rhiannon will be like Siddartha, who left home to follow an ascetic path and neither returned nor sent word to his aging father as to his whereabouts or circumstances.

Had a wonderful evening. Michaela and I went to my sister Tess's and hung out with her family. We helped decorate the Christmas tree, read her new Harry Potter analysis which she hopes to have published, played the computer with the kids, read to them and played played played. It was great. Little Michael, who's almost 2, had a lot to say to me, most of it unintelligible, but he sure is a cutie pie.

Saturday, December 19, 2003
Rhiannon called! We were out Christmas shopping but she left a message. She reports that she's not dead yet. She's still in Taos and is having a wonderful time. She's picked up a new puppy named Nick and is off Monday to California to attend a Rainbow Gathering.

Meanwhile, I'm transitioning from being a mom to being a person. Twenty years ago I had my whole life in front of me. I was graduating from college, about to be married, and the world was my oyster. Now what's in store for me? I asked that question of the Tarot and drew the Six of Wands, which signifies victory and acclaim. What an encouraging card! I take it to mean that success will be mine (once I decide what I'm going to do and work hard at it!)

Sunday, December 19, 2003
Happy day. I took our dog to the Bookworm, a used book store. She got to come in and had a great time looking around and meeting people. Afterword I picked up Kendall from her snowboarding trip and then Michaela and I went to Grandpa's to get ready for Christmas. I helped decorate the tree that Don had brought over while Michaela practiced Christmas music with the band. Emily's on piano, Tommy guitar, Michaela and Grandpa violin and Anne Marie cello. I watched and soaked up the beautiful music.

Monday, December 19, 2003
Lunch with my professor again. We did several things together when I was an undergrad, including hikes, lunches and outings. Stupid and naive of me, I know. He had pretty strong feelings for me. Apparently he had a bit of a thing for twenty-year-olds. He married (and divorced) two of them. I am feeling very uncomfortable right now. I shall have to be authentic. I shall have to say that I don't share his feelings and never did. Well, being authentic is something I should have learned long ago. Time to practice it. If there is ONE THING I should develop in this lifetime, it is the courage to be authentic.

He showered me with books. He wants to take me to Spain. Said he wants to work on improving my mind. He is laboring under the impression that I don't do anything but work and go home to make dinner. I must give him a list of the books I've read and the things I've done since I last saw him.

Wednesday, December 24, 2003
I haven't felt much like doing Christmas this year, except for the present giving part of it. I haven't decorated or baked or done our usual advent readings. The girls wanted a tree, however, so today Don picked up a good Christmas tree for half off. He and the girls put it up and decorated it. In the evening we went to my father's for our traditional Christmas eve celebrations. A couple of my siblings bowed out, opting to begin their own traditions instead. Karen was upset about the change in tradition. Upon hearing of it, she said, "What? That's crap! Then I'm not going!" I still chuckle about that reaction.

Thursday, December 25, 2003
Christmas.

Monday, December 29, 2003
Our 19th anniversary. We did nothing. Scarcely spoke, even, which isn't unusual because we scarcely speak ever. There are things to talk about but I can't. Too painful.

What if I'd had a crystal ball 19 years ago? What if I'd known: "Marry Don and you spend a few years on welfare. You won't be able to stay home with the children. You will go for years without talking to him beyond 'Good morning.' You will go to church by yourself until you finally give up the faith altogether."

I would have been a bit more forceful that he leave me alone.

Tuesday, December 30, 2003
Rhiannon called this evening from a hospital in Silver City, New Mexico. She's got an ear infection, she's broke and she's ready to come home. She's been ready to come home for a while, but every time they head off to the bus station the car breaks down. Rhiannon has been helping pay for repairs and now she has no money left. Grandpa is going down to Albuquerque on New Year's. I told her I'd come too. We'll pick her up together and make a party of it.

Wednesday, December 31, 2003
Turns out Silver City is at least four hours from Albuquerque. I won't go with Grandpa, I'll go by myself and meet up with Grandpa later. I'll leave VERY EARLY tomorrow as it's a ten hour drive. We'll go out to dinner, maybe take in a movie, stay overnight in a motel, then head back to Albuquerque on Friday.

Month of November 2003

Monday, November 3, 2003
The world must have been a magical place for the Greeks and Romans, with every bit of nature peopled by spiritual beings. They had gods for everything. If you needed help, you entreated the god who had charge of that area. Very much like the Catholic saints. Saints are Catholic versions of the gods of antiquity.

Tuesday, November 4, 2003
I just don't see any reason to be alive, other than getting the kids raised. Once that's done there will be nothing left. I enjoy living, but there's no purpose to it. I enjoy lying here on my bed, watching Michaela play the computer and listening to Kendall's music. That's all nice. But there's no purpose to it. No meaning to life. And there's no one to talk to about my feelings. Don is not a thinker. He does very little wondering.

I realized, when walking the dog, that even though there's no reason to live, I didn't want to kill myself. I may be sad, but I enjoy life enough to want to keep living it.

But why is it that I feel most alive when I'm in the depths of despair? Why do I feel most important, if only to myself, when I contemplate suicide? I keep going back there and back there because that intensity of emotion is the only thing that makes me feel worthwhile.

Wednesday, November 5, 2003
I received a compliment today. I had popped into Rhiannon's place of employment to ask her a question I'd forgotten to ask earlier and to which I needed an answer. I went up to the counter and she said, "Hi Momma." A customer asked in surprise if I was her mother. I look like her sister, the customer said. Wasn't that nice? And may I remind you that Rhiannon is 17.

A good day at art class. One of the students brought pics of his tour in Italy. It was a perfect segue to my Leaning Tower of Pisa joke. I'm always happy when I get to tell that joke. My latest work, Still Life with Drapes, is coming along well. You know what? Drawing feels good because when you're concentrating you enter the Zone.

Friday, November 7, 2003
Rhiannon has asked permission to sleep over at a boy's dorm. She'll be 18 tomorrow and feels this is a step in her growing up. Stop snickering. She doesn't mean having sex, she means having trust -- trust from me that she won't be doing things that are bad.

We had a good talk last night about why one shouldn't have sex outside of marriage. STD's, pregnancy, emotional entanglements, etc. Since we aren't a religious family any more, I can't use the "God says not to" argument. It's a handy argument but it is not one that takes much brain power. As a matter of fact all it does is throw the responsibility for thinking onto someone else. If I can't think of any reasons not to other than that one, then perhaps it doesn't matter.

I gave permission, with the stipulation that she sleep in the dorm's guest room. Stay up as long as you want, Rhiannon, but sleep in the guest room.

Kendall's friend Dana will be spending the weekend with us. We should have a nice time.

I'm looking forward to watching McLaughlin Group and Colorado State of Mind tonight. Those are grown-up shows and, at 43, it's time for me to be a grown-up and take an interest in grown-up things.

Saturday, November 8, 2003
Rhiannon's 18th birthday! It's been a fantastic 18 years. I'm so lucky to be her mom. She wanted to take us out for cheesecake on the Pearl Street Mall. We went to BJ's first for pizza, jalapeno poppers and potato skins, then were so stuffed we skipped the cheesecake. Don didn't come. He was tired from working on my Dad's house. Excursions that include him are usually painful affairs so it was fine with me that he stayed home.

Sunday, November 9, 2003
Went to Cave of the Winds with family, including Don, who was able to sustain a good mood for the entirety of the trip even though he had to change my oil before we left. It was pretty dirty and let me tell you, I'm lucky he didn't blow his top and spend ten minutes calling me incompetent. When we got home he napped and watched TV for the remainder of the day. If there's anybody that gets plenty of sleep, it's him. I went grocery shopping, made cookies with little Sarah, did laundry, made dinner and did some uncluttering.

Monday, November 10, 2003
I was overcome with discouragement at art class today after talking to one of my classmates. He mentioned that he has no time for a social life anymore because he is taking two night classes. He usually likes to go out with friends. It was the contrast between us that discouraged me. I have no social life because I have no friends. Nor do I have time for friends. I go home every night so I can be a mom to my kids. Friends have not been a priority. That's why I have none. They haven't been a priority. On the other hand, I have great kids. Kendall and I had a lot of fun goofing off with the dog. Growing a good family has been a priority for me and I am happy to report success.

I'm also happy to report that Still Life with Drapes is looking very impressive. It's predecessor, Cupcakes, is okay.

Wednesday, November 12, 2003
An excellent day, god only knows why. All kinds of things went wrong. First, the Check Site Links utlity in Dreamweaver went wacko. It replaced the content every single page in my 250 page site with the content of the currently open file. Every single page. Two weeks work destroyed in ten minutes. It was -- and is -- nightmarish, unbelievable and surreal. What gives this story a happy ending is that I had a backup.

Second, I popped in to Rhiannon's live journal to see what she's been up to that she tells the world but doesn't tell me. Found out that she's experimented with drugs and alcohol. Her friends got her drunk for her 18th birthday. There was this angry entry about her father, which I copied here.

Third, my Still Life with Drapes, a work with charcoal and chalk which I worked on for hours and which had turned out very well, was ruined when I sprayed it with fixative. The fixative darkened everything by several shades and removed the subtle differences between highlights and shadows. I had been particularly proud of the reflections on the bottle. All gone. There's one bright spot -- the teacher asked me to leave this picture and my Cupcakes picture so she could photograph them to use in her slideshow of examples.

Friday, November 14, 2003
Today I feel really lucky and full and wonderful. I've had a nice talk with my sister Tessa about friendship. She doesn't do the friendship thing very well either, which surprises me because she's a happy little thing. We didn't commiserate, though. She's not a "poor me" kind of person the way I am. We just talked about our issues and personalities matter of factly. She has more children than I and they are younger therefore she has even less time for friendship than I do. She rationalizes it by saying that friends can drag you down. Silly Tessa. Here's something really cool about her: she's writing a book called A Christian Perspective on Harry Potter, in which she defends the HP books.

I'm happy about my plans for the weekend. I'm going to watch McLaughlin Group and Colorado State of Mind. I'm going to make a garb dress for Rhiannon of white brocade and blue satin. I'm going to watch Memento and take notes in the hope of figuring out its secrets. I'm going to work in my Intensive Journal.

Weekend, November 15-16, 2003
Very busy and productive. Got the dress cut out, both fashion fabric and lining. Didn't sew and fit the bodice which I had planned to do Saturday. I worked hard refinishing the entertainment center. Many coats were required and so it's still not done. Didn't watch the TV shows as originally planned because Don was watching a movie with the girls, a good thing. Didn't watch Memento because I hardly had a moment to sit and relax. I did manage to get out of the house, first to a gem and mineral show with the family and then to the movies with Rhiannon where we saw Master and Commander: the Far Side of the World. Did some more Intensive Journal study, plus laundry, meal planning and groceries. Didn't draw. Did meditate.

Oh my gosh, guess who lives on my street? More accurately, guess whose red Saab is continually parked in front of an apartment building on my street and whose brown van is parked out back? Joe's. No kidding. He had mentioned moving to Lafayette to be near his daughter. I haven't seen him yet so there's a chance I'm wrong about him living here. Suppose it's true -- I can't believe it! First he lives in our old house, now he lives on our street. The universe must be playing a cruel joke on him. Ha ha!

Monday, November 17, 2003
Good art class. We did figure drawing today with a real nude model. She was about 50 and her body wasn't terribly attractive in the conventional sense. Her breasts were flat and her stomach protruded. I suppose I'll look like that some day. I wonder if I've got the guts to be an artists model. I should try it!

I feel so funny right now. I wish I could put my finger on what's wrong. I feel like there's something I really want to do, or really want to have, something that would make this moment perfect, but I don't know what it is.

Tueday, November 18, 2003
Had a huge list of things to do after work, but Michaela asked me to help her build her web site so of course I did. She designed it herself and built the graphics too. I showed her how to export the graphics from Photoshop and how to build a table in Dreamweaver to put them all together. We had a nice time and it looks good. She hasn't yet decided where to post the site.

I finally sewed together and fitted the bodice of Rhiannon's Christmas present garb. Did I tell you it's white brocade lined with sky blue and trimmed with gold? That thing is going to be so BEAUTIFUL when it is done!

Thursday, November 20, 2003
I was in grave danger of descending into one of my dark moods this evening after a unsatisfactory interaction with a co-worker. I did okay conversation-wise, but felt powerless and uncentered and so of course I came across that way. It felt awful. I was beginning to despair and pity myself when Kendall and Michaela showed up at my office. From then on for the rest of the evening I had things other than myself to occupy my mind. 1) Kendall needed me to take her to the university library get books on Charles I at the university library. 2) We popped in to see Rhiannon at work and found she had neither showed up nor called. 3) Michaela needed help with her sewing project incuding a bit of redesigning the pattern. 4) I went to my father's to talk and pay bills. 5) Rhiannon finally came home and explained her day.

Sunday, November 23, 2003
Rhiannon was gone all Saturday, what with work and hanging out with friends. She called in the evening to ask permission to sleep over at Beeman's. He wouldn't be there, apparently, but he gave her his key. I said okay. She promised to come home in the morning. Well, she didn't show up till the last bus came through, leaving me to worry about her all day. I had no idea what to do so I consulted my Love and Logic parenting book. They reminded me that we are raising our kids to go out on their own and when they feel they are ready, we need to let them go. So when Rhiannon got home, I told her I just couldn't go on like this, having to worry about her all day. I thought it would be best if she got her own place.

I've actually been wanting her to get her own place for a while now, but didn't think it was a workable idea because she's leaving for AmeriCorps in January. So we'll see. Maybe we can find one for her for two months.

Monday, November 24, 2003
Big argument with Don this morning. It was a wide ranging argument that started when I told him I thought Rhiannon should move out. He was upset that I didn't consult him, that I never consult him, I shut him out. My point of view is that 1) he's generally unavailable so I can't ask him and 2) when he is around and I ask him for an opinion he says "I don't know." Then we moved on to how I never help him when he asks me. That's true, I don't. I'm already supporting his sorry ass and that's all I want to do for him. Besides, he has told me clearly and forcefully how unhappy he has been with my work in the past and this has destroyed all desire on my part to do any work for him in the future. Then we discussed money. He says that money is all I care about; it's all I've ever cared about; I don't care about him; his role was to provide spermatzoa and money. Hmmmmm. I suppose that is one way of looking at it. I'd say, rather, that his role was to be a loving father and husband and provider so I could stay home with the kids. He also said I was rude to his friends and have a very bad attitude about pot. It's true. I'm not very warm to his friends when they phone. They call and ask for David, I say curtly, "I'll get him" and that's that. And I think pot-smoking is a dirty filthy habit.

And I'm starting to act like him. I'm starting to be mean to him, the way he has been to me. He used to say, sometimes, "I should be nicer to you." Now I can say that to him.

I think I'd like him to leave. Divorce is going to be incredibly painful but I'd rather have that than live with someone who despises me as much as Don does.

I'm going down, down into the depths of despair. I feel it coming. I look into the future and what do I see? Loneliness and isolation. Don despises me. My children will grow up and will go on to their own troubles. They won't have any time or compassion for mine. My father will die and then there will be no one who cares for me.

I've loved being a mom but will it have been worth it? I gave up my life to raise three kids that I love very much. Raising them was life for me. Life and breath and sunshine and sweetness. There won't be anything when they are gone.

Tueday, November 25, 2003
What an emotional rollercoaster yesterday was! Don and I haven't discussed our argument. We never do. We just ignore them until they go away, cowards that we are. He said in the argument I don't accept him the way he is (I don't like it that he is a non-religious unemployed pot head) but you know what? He misrepresented himself when he was courting me. He was a Christian then, wore ties and wasn't getting high. I had no idea he was a doper or that he'd drop the church and take up his habit later.

But that's okay. I'm an atheist now, which is a good thing. I never would have left the faith if it weren't for Don's mistreatment of me. So you see, all things DO work for the good . . . (That's an ironic joke of sorts. It's from scripture, the full text of which read "All things work for the good of them that are called to His service.")

Art class yesterday was great. I had lots of fun joking and talking with my classmates and I made good progress on Nude Reclining with Rocks.

Saturday, November 29, 2003
I saw Joe while I was out walking the dog. He drove by in his red Saab just as I emerged from an alley. We saw one another but didn't make any sign of recognition. Asshole. Slimeball. I knew he lived on my street.

Month of October 2003

Wednesday, October 1, 2003
We had an Oktoberfest party at work and I had a very nice time talking with the other people at our table. I held my own and had things to say. Makes a nice change!

Today was a good day, a happy day. On days like this I feel like I've got things figured out and I wonder how I ever could have been down.

Kendall and Rhiannon rode with me into town this morning. It's so funny the way they tease each other. They do it like boys do, calling each other names as a sign of affection. "You're stupid." "You're ugly." "You smell bad." After these simple ones they get creative. They are both happy and it's very amusing to listen to. I don't allow them to tease Michaela this way though. She does not think it is funny. She takes it personally and gets angry and hurt. They aren't allowed to say those things to me, either.

Don's been working the past few days. Apparently he's got a job up at Bill's. He's not working so that he can help meet the family's expenses, however. He's working so he can pay his own bills. He has to pay his fuel bill and for storage for the many many car parts that he owns. I wish he cared whether his kids had enough to eat. I'm angry every day and I'll always be angry. It angers me that he lives at home like an overgrown teenager with no responsiblities to anyone but himself.

Thursday, October 2, 2003
Nice day. I enjoy life. Now, how can I ratchet the excitement level up a couple notches? To do that, I need someone to do things with. Life is exciting with Rhiannon because she enjoys life and likes having fun. I can't have fun with my husband; he's pretty much a stick in the mud. Around me, anyway. He does like hanging with his friends. Tonight he stayed up at Bill's for three hours after work; came home at 9:00 happy. When he walks in the house with a smile on his face it usually means he's stoned. He's generally not too happy otherwise.

Rhiannon and I watched Spanish for Gringos, a fun little beginning Spanish video. Kendall heard us laughing and shouting and came out to join the fun. Afterward, Rhiannon and I recited poetry at one another. She won 'cause she's got Dr. Seuss's The Lorax memorized while I could only think of "In Flanders Fields" and the beginnings of "Xanadu" and "The Cremation of Sam McGee."

I did not push myself to talk to people at work today. I stayed in my cubbie.

Saturday, October 4, 2003
I woke up this morning thinking 'Man, life sucks when you don't have any friends.' It'd be great to go hang out somewhere, go explore the area, but who do I do it with? I have always had a hard time making friends because I'm shy. The friends that I have made I haven't kept up with. I got busy being a mom and I let other relationships go. Now here I am, the kids almost grown, ready to enter the world of adults again but I've got no one.

Sometimes I think 'I can do this, I can make new friends.' Other times I think it is hopeless. Like I said, I've never been good at it. I don't really know how.

On a different note, I took Kendall, Michaela and Michaela's friend Annie to an SCA lampworking workshop. We had the best time. Lampwork is working with glass over a flame. You heat up the end of a glass cane till it's molten then fashion it into something. We made beads by wrapping the glass around a metal rod. Michaela loved it and wants to buy a lampworking kit, on special now for $99 at Hobby Lobby. She'll sell handmade beaded bracelets to her friends. I think it's a great idea.

Sunday, October 5, 2003
Rhiannon went with me to Albertson's when we went to pick up her prescription. The store was having a special on Celestial Seasonings tea -- ten boxes for ten dollars. Rhiannon went crazy throwing box after box into our cart. We bought around 20 boxes. She loves that tea.

Later we went to Grandpa's. He had a birthday gift to give Michaela so we had a small informal belated birthday celebration for her. We also watched the Monk show we had taped on Friday. What a great show that is.

Back home, I finished my drawing homework while Don watched the Cubs/Braves game. He said," Do you know that 42% of women are sexually dysfunctional?" I said I wondered how many men are abusive. Then he talked about how women won't give sex unless they are given things, like diamond rings and vacation cruises. They have what men need, he said, but they won't give it unless men spend money on them. I wonder what he's talking about. Does he mean he's met someone but she's holding out on him? Or is he referring to me? We're not having sex but it is not diamond rings I want. It is financial contribution to the family. Currently his contribution is zero dollars a month. Meanwhile he thinks all I care about is money. What a clueless idiot. What I care about is keeping a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs. It is impossible for me to be sexually attracted to a man who would let the bank take away our house.

We're not having sex because 1) his eyes glaze over when I put more than two sentences together, 2) he despises me for my weaknesses, 3) every now and then he blows up and tells me how awful I am, and 4) he flat out refuses to provide for his family. Oh, and also 5) he doesn't like our children all that much. They annoy him.

I suppose I should have taken him aside to talk but talks are so painful these days that I avoid them.

Anyway, the kids and I stayed up late reading poetry to one another and talking. I cried while reading Amy Lowell's Patterns. I cry whenever anything's the least bit sentimental. My kids are probably very tired of it, poor dears. Have I mentioned that they are great kids and I am crazy about them? If only they'd keep their rooms clean.

Monday, October 6, 2003
I popped in to see Rhiannon at the thrift store where she works and she told me the most encouraging story. Apparently, the other day when I went over to pick up her giant potted plant, some gentleman saw me, thought I was hot and asked who I was and if I had a boyfriend. Cool, huh? It's so nice to know someone was attracted to me. No messing around for me, though; I'm married. (Joe was a fluke that won't happen again.)

I am having the worst time remembering to put up my parking permit. I have received six tickets so far this year. My employer will forgive three a year then we're on our own. In addition to being forgetful, I've been very lax about getting the tickets taken care of and so today they towed my car. It was tremendously inconvenient and expensive too: $130 for the towing/impound fee and $80 for the tickets. I think I'll cancel the permit and start taking the bus. The bus pass is a free employee benefit while the permit costs $35/month. It will take me six months to make back the money I spent today. I only wish there were someone to blame besides myself.

Don was mostly helpful during this crisis. He drove me up to Parking Services. Once there he lost his temper and called me a bitch because -- I'm not really sure why. I called him an asshole and reminded him of the time he told the bank officer to fuck off.

Rhiannon came home at eleven -- her curfew -- and she and I and Kendall sat on my bed chatting about the day while I scratched their backs. Decompressing, I call it.

Tuesday, October 7, 2003
Went up to SCA fighter practice to pick up our lampwork beads. I just don't think the SCA is for me. More and more I am coming to think it's ridiculous to dress up and pretend to be someone you're not. I wouldn't be embarrassed to be seen doing other things I enjoy -- ice skating, dancing, playing the violin, horseback riding -- but I am definitely embarrassed to be seen dressed in garb.

It's kind of funny I feel this way. I was so excited about it at the beginning: excited about making garb, excited about cooking medieval food, excited about learning songs to sing in bardic circle. And look how many times I've taken the kids camping this year -- three! And I never took them camping before.

Thursday, October 9, 2003
Don did some work around the house today for a change. He did a bit of laundry, washed some of the dishes and mowed the lawn. Now that I'm writing I see it wasn't that much. I do that much every Saturday. Well, okay, I don't mow the lawn. But I do groceries and laundry and oversee chores and take the kids clothes shopping and make lunches and dinners.

Just half a year ago I was crazy in love with Joe. I wanted him so badly. When he spoke, my troubles were bearable. But now I'm disgusted. I feel like I was lied to and you know what? I also lied to myself.

Friday, October 10, 2003
Hey, that cute guy from the down the hall just walked by my office. He's a doll and it gives me a mild thrill to see him. Unfortunately he only works Fridays now so I don't get that thrill much.

Saturday, October 11, 2003
I always stuggle to keep the dark away. It's always right there, just below the surface, ready to seep through.

Maybe I should let it.

What is life all about? I don't want to get older and older and then die without knowing.

Sunday, October 12, 2003
Very very difficult day. Don and I had a painful fight.

Apparently everything I do is tremendously annoying. I don't know how the guy can stand me. I start things and don't finish them. I haven't hemmed the curtains and that angers him. I don't wipe out the sink when I've finished washing dishes. I do things that don't matter like making garb for the SCA. I like fiction and he thinks it's ridiculous. I'm doing a horrible job with the kids.

He doesn't like talking to me; I don't know what to say to him; I'm too quiet. I'm too flighty. Nothing about me is good. I'm dumb and stupid. I don't belong in society. I can't keep the house neat. I'll never get anywhere in life. I don't have any friends, I don't know how to have friends. And a person who doesn't have friends is a hopeless loser. That's me. A hopeless loser. But I don't like people anyway so what does it matter. They scare me. Deep down I'm afraid of people.

And the kids. They don't keep their rooms neat or do anything constructive and of course that reflects on me as a mother. I'm a failure as a mother. The one thing I love most in the world I'm failing at.

You know what? I don't think that life has any meaning. There's only one purpose at all that I can see and that is loving relationships. And since I don't have those and never will because I'm not capable of them then there is no reason for me to live, is there? I think I'll end it all when the girls have grown and gone. They won't need me anymore; they probably won't even love me anymore. They will probably despise me for my faults the way their daddy does. Like I did with my mother. I resented her because she didn't love me.

He said he was going to leave as soon as he had the money. He said I don't care about him. He said I never loved him. Not true. What is true is that I have been in self-preservation mode these past five or six years, brought about by his verbal abuse, heavy criticism and financial abandonment. He probably doesn't think those things are bad enough for me to be upset about. He thinks I should forgive and forget.

Tuesday, October 14, 2003
Don and I are being civil, even friendly, toward one another. I think our fight scared us both. We haven't talked about the issues raised. We never do. That's our pattern and a very unhealthy one it is.

Wednesday, October 15, 2003
Boy was I wrong. We're not better. He has been being nice but it's not because he doesn't want us to break up. I went down to talk to him last night, something I usually don't do because I'm prefer to avoid confrontation, especially confrontation that is likely to be very painful for me, the way talks with Don usually are.

He was honest. And right. He said we don't have the same goals so why should we stay together. Good point. I have to admit I thought that myself. Then we went on to discuss some of the ways I have failed and how our problems are all my fault. Pretty standard stuff. That's generally what our talks consist of. He's not interested in my side.

Also, he said I'm supposed to tell him to back off when he starts having one of his tantrums instead of letting him rant on and on about how much he doesn't like me. So when he rips me to shreds, that's my fault too.

He's right about the goals thing. We don't have the same goals. He wouldn't tell me what his are, but I know right now that they don't interest me and I don't want to work by his side helping him reach them. Neither do my goals interest him. Further, we have little in common and don't enjoy the same things.

So how did we get together in the first place? Because he took it into his head that he wanted me. He pursued me relentlessly until I gave in. Twice he suggested we go steady but I turned him down because I didn't think we were right for each other. He kept after me until I was convinced that he loved me and that we could work through our differences.

Now, 20 years later, my dreams of a strong spiritually-centered family are shriveled and dead.

Thursday, October 16, 2003
God, I am so angry. I am angry at Don's ridiculous persistance and inability to take no for an answer. It has ruined my life. Here I am, 20 years later, having to rebuild because he wouldn't go away when I told him to. 20 years lost.

Today is a really really bad day for me. Lots of tears. No reason to live. Thoughts of suicide. I am a complete non-entity so it doesn't really matter. No wonder I have such difficulties with social issues. There's no one here.

Parent/teacher conferences this evening. Kendall is doing well with A's in most of her classes. Michaela is doing poorly. D's and F's in most of hers. She has many missing assignments. Her teachers said she'd be getting A's if not for that. I've made up a list of the missing stuff. She has one week to get it completed then she loses all computer privileges.

After a difficult and emotional day, the evening turned out well. I saw several people I knew at parent/teacher conferences -- Carly's mom, Laurel's parents, Alice Thomason. I enjoyed catching up with them and I learned an important lesson -- it feels so good to have known people for a long time. As the years go by, we should be accumulating friends. I'll say that again so it sinks into my anti-social brain: As the years go by, we should be accumulating friends.

I'll tell you a secret, after which you can despise me for being such a loser: I want people to like me but I'm afraid of them and I don't have any friends. That's my deepest darkest secret that I don't tell anybody. I want people to like me but I'm afraid of them and I don't have any friends. I wish I had a husband that was sympathetic to me and helped me overcome my difficulties, not a mean one like the one I have now.

Saturday and Sunday, October 18-19, 2003
I began work on the High School Steppingstone Period in my Intensive Journal. I am so thankful that I saved my journals from that time. I've been re-reading them and am surprised that things are different than I remember. I remember myself as being a shy timid little mouse who scarcely spoke to anyone. The truth is not nearly so awful. I actually did have friends and I did have some excitement. Yes, I was too shy to talk to Dennis and Mike and that's too bad, especially considering the crushes I had on them and they on me. But I had friends in the form of Kendra and Gro and Carleen and Carrie. I was probably too self-conscious and low in self-esteem to be a really good friend to them, but I wasn't completely lonely and out in the cold.

Monday, October 20, 2003
Except for the lesson, art class today was excellent. The teacher did a very poor job of explaining negative space but luckily I have had that lesson before. The examples she showed did nothing to clarify the concept and her critique of our work at the end also praised pen and ink work and the use of value. I'm happy to report that my work, a white basket with flowers against a black background, was praised as a good example of positive and negative space.

Tuesday, October 21, 2003
I am having the most wonderful time reading my old journals. I wasn't so scared and friendless as I thought. I feel strong and happy.

I'm constantly angry with Don because he won't get a steady job. Michaela needs glasses -- that will cost several hundred dollars. Christmas is coming up -- several hundred more dollars. College expenses are right around the corner. I'm angry all the time.

Thursday, October 23, 2003
A bit of a mix-up this evening with picking up Kendall from school. Tonight was the school's Art and Music Extravaganza. Kendall was there showcasing her current art project -- a bowl of fruit with faces. Don agreed to pick her up at 8:45. She called me after school to ask if she could sleep over at a friend's instead of coming home. She wouldn't need a ride home after all. I couldn't get ahold of Don to relay this info; he had disappeared for the evening. I ended up having to go up to the school myself to head him off. I hung around for about 45 minutes walking the halls, looking outside, listening to the program and talking to Kendall. He never showed so we finally left, she to her friend's and me home. What's weird is that he came home at 10:30 and said he'd been waiting up there for her for an hour and a half. Turns out he never came inside. He spent the time hiking around on the trails outside the school. He figured Kendall would look through the parking lot for his car and thereby know he had arrived. How does that make sense as a way to pick someone up?

My latest negative space project, Sunset with Aspens, turned out pretty good. I masked out the aspens then covered the paper thickly with crayon, using an iron to set the wax. (Note to self: use a very low setting next time since crayon melts so quickly.)

Sad news: my paternal grandmother Nanna is dying. She's in a hospital down in Dade County, Florida, with her daughter my aunt. She has fluid build-up in her lungs and is expected to go at any time. She'll be buried here in Colorado next to my mother. My father is flying down today.

Friday, October 24, 2003
You know, I really like my job. I enjoy working on HTML. It's not really difficult or technical so I betray my lack of ambition in confessing my enjoyment of it but there it is. I do enjoy it.

SCA monthly revel tonight. I wasn't going to go, as I've decided not to do SCA anymore. However, Briana called and asked me to be the liaison for the conference room. No one else could do it; I was their last hope. So of course I said yes. Kendall came with me and together we worked on her Halloween costume. She's making a big bunny suit. I went over and made conversation with a few people, but the only one to come over to talk to us was our baron. Those people just aren't friendly. Kendall made an interesting comment -- she said they seemed like the immature kids at high school.

Saturday, October 25, 2003
Don did a lot of chores around the house today. Pretty unusual. He probably felt he was doing me a favor rather than doing his job. We're getting along okay. We still don't talk, so things probably seem better than they really are.

Sunday, October 26, 2003
I'm having a wonderful time working in my Intensive Journal. Today's realization was somewhat depressing, unfortunately. I realized I haven't changed much since high school. Sure, I'm more competent in several areas, but deep down I'm still the same person. I'm still afraid, still lonely yet reluctant to connect, still kinda lazy, still watching the excitement happen instead of making it happen. I desperately need to change, but how?

Wednesday, October 29, 2003
I've decided to contact my old philosophy professor. Perhaps he can tell me What It's All About. I hope he is doing well.

I think I would like a divorce. Life with Don is bleak.

Art class was good. I'm doing well in there, both artistically and socially. People listen when I talk. I told a short story, favorably received, about the time I saw Michelangelo's Pieta.

Month of September 2003

Tuesday, September 9.
Took Rhiannon to the Bookworm and then to fighter practice where I helped her get in armor. I don't really like the other players in our shire. Only a few of them are very warm or welcoming. Most of them look at me like I don't exist.

Back at home, watched a neat show about the making and destruction of the World Trade Center towers. Quite moving.

Wednesday, September 10.
Did well in drawing class today. The teacher help up my variable line width drawing for all to admire. Also found out that my perspective drawing was posted in a display case in the hallway. My hope is renewed. Maybe I will be a good drawer after all.

Saturday, September 13.
Crown Tournament today. We (Rhiannon and I) didn't go to the tourney but did go to the feast, where we had a wonderful time. Our favorite bard won the competition with two excellent pieces, the first a spoken poem about a stable-boy's ill-fated hunt for a white stag and the second a rousing rendition of her kingdom war song. She's the one who wrote the Guenevere song I admire so much. Rhiannon looked beautiful in the court dress I made for her. We met some new people and talked to one of the bards of Unser Hafen and his wife, who were very kind and lent us paper plates as we had left the house without our feast gear. Also met Faran who has recently moved here from another kingdom. Afterward we helped clean up, a good way to get one's face recognized. I'm never sure from one event to the next if I want to continue in the SCA. I'm having a nice time meeting new people but a difficult time getting in with the local group itself, partly my own fault as I'm not good as making friends.

Saturday, September 20, 2003
Very very difficult day. One of my dark moods overtook me. In the morning I went to an SCA event. Rhiannon couldn't come with me as she had to work. I dropped off the food I had made, thought I'd chat with Rowan but she wouldn't make eye contact. I visited with a new member for a bit, then looked around for someone I knew, spotted Brianna sitting with someone so went over and sat down. She said hi but kept her back to me the rest of the time. I tried to open conversation by talking about a medieval project I was working on but was unable to generate interest. I guess I just don't know what to say to these people. It's always a struggle and I always wonder if I'm going to have anyone to talk to. I left almost immediately as I don't see any reason to put myself through torture.

I left David in charge of overseeing chores while I went to the event. Kendall and Michaela reported that he had a hissy fit. I can only imagine. I've seen those before. He did a lot of criticizing me, so they said. Be that as it may, he got a lot done and the house looks pretty good. Too bad he usually never does housework.

Sunday, September 21. Michaela's 14th birthday!
A good productive day. A much better day than yesterday, which was one of my dark days. I completed my two drawings which are due tomorrow. I watched a Joseph Campbell Power of Myth production on PBS. I walked the dog and took R and K to the library. I made a Black Forest cake for Michaela's b-day. Michaela is a great kid and I'm glad I have her.

Monday, September 22.
You know, I don't think I'm destined for true love. Ain't never gonna happen. I do not have and cannot get the qualities necessary to get my needs met. And if that's not enough to destroy one's faith in a loving God, I don't know what is.

I want to unload everything, become lighter and lighter, live on less and less, until I and all I have finally become transparent. What did the antagonist say as he died in Cowboy BeBop, the Movie? "I wanted to get out of this world of dreams. I kept searching for the door that would lead me out. Now I understand there never was a door." And Electra said, "Of all the days that I have lived, only those I spent with you seem real."

Drawing class in the evening. Had an enjoyable time and it pulled me out of my funky mood. We critiqued our work today. I'm proud of my two pics and am happy to report that they had a good reception from the class. We got out of class early so I popped in to say hi to Dad. We paid some bills and visited. I enjoy my private time at his house.

Friday, September 26, 2003
A bleak weekend stretches ahead of me. I've got things to do but somehow none of them seem interesting. I'd almost rather the weekend was over so I could be back at work. I'm learning some new skills there and I'd rather keep working on them than hang around here.

Life sucks. There's no point to it. I've heard all the explanations and none of them excite me: "We're here to glorify God," "We're here to be the best we can be;" "Just enjoy each moment."

Monday, September 29, 2003.
The weekend's over and it wasn't so bad. On Saturday Don brought me breakfast in bed, after which he ranted about the uselessness of recreation then disappeared all day up to his friend Bill's. The girls and I bustled about getting our chores done. In the evening I took Rhiannon and Kendall out for Chinese while Michaela had friends over for an informal birthday party/sleepover. Sunday Rhiannon and I cooked breakfast for them all. It was a lot of fun. Later R and I took the dog out to play at the dog park. We had a wonderful time throwing the ball for her while trying to keep it away from the other dogs. I needed to work on my drawing but was a bit reluctant to because I knew Don would be critical. He doesn't like things that aren't work-related. This from someone who 1) watched T.V. for hours on Sunday and 2) hasn't contributed financially to the family for almost a year.

Now I'm at work, starting my Photoshop work while drinking chamomile tea and listening to Harry Belafonte. At this moment life is good.

BTW, while reading Real Web Project Management I bumped into a much better job title for myself than web production assistant. I am an HTML developer and, apparently, am in constant demand in any Web company or department. Woohoo!

Month of August 2003

Sunday, August 3, 2003.
I painted the west wall again. I don't like it again. It's a bright spring green. I like it much more than the turquoise I had before, but I think this green may be too intense.

Wednesday, August 6, 2003.
I'm having a wonderful time hanging around the house. I wish I could be home with the kids during the summer. Maria came over for a bit of dinner and to see my new wall. She agrees that it is too bright. I need to tone it down a bit. I've chosen bad colors twice now and am not confident in my ability to choose a good color the third time. I'll have Maria choose. Something like celery.I'm going to have to redo it again.

Thursday, August 7, 2003.
It's 4:50a.m. I've been up since 3:00 a.m. and I slept only fitfully before that. I was waiting for Kendall to get home. She was supposed to be in at midnight. She came in at 3:00. She says she WAS home at midnight but sat out in the car with Graham talking. Hmmmmm. Well, I'm going to have to ground her. I can't keep late nights like these.

I'm feeling dreary again. My life sucks. It has no point. It's bleak and dreary. I need help. I need purpose. I need social interaction. The girls all have better lives than me. Why shouldn't they? They've got friends which I don't have and no responsibilities which I do have. I've given up everything so I could raise them. Has it been worth it? It's been wonderful, no doubt about that. But when it's all over I'll be left with nothing. They will leave to find their own way.

It's me that's the problem. There's nothing there when one looks at me. No sense of self. No personality. No person. I'm Eleanor Rigby. I'm going to die alone in my room.

It doesn't help that my marriage is in such a shambles. It's because of Don that my future looks bleak. But I've got some ideas about that. I could, for example, just get over it that Don is an addict who can't support us or even contribute anything. Accept the fact that my husband is an overgrown teenager and always will be. The resentment has been gnawing away at me for four years. Maybe I should just let it go. After all, there is a lot that is good about the way things are. I have more power, for one. So what if I have a spouse with whom I don't want to retire, a spouse who bores me, a spouse I can't talk to? Things could be worse.

I am so glad that Joe is out of the picture. I am recovering quite nicely. Boy, I sure had it bad. I used to think about him all the time. He was always there behind every thought. Now he's fading away. He had many good qualities, which is why I liked him, and I was willing to overlook his bad points. Pothead. Swinging lifestyle. Complainer. Unhappy with job but won't work for what he really wants. Passive/aggressive. On meds for depression. Children from other relationships. I remind myself that if we were a couple I'd have to engage in sodomy. That thought removes any regret from my mind.

Just spent hours working on a T-tunic the Period Way (visit web site). I used a lovely sage green rayon. Nice drape, soft to touch. There wasn't enough material to make the skirt as full as it ought to be but it looks pretty good. Sadly, I can't get the darn thing on. It's too tight to go over my shoulders. Here I thought I was doing so well. I may be able to save the dress by opening the sides seams and adding lace-ups. Maybe. My failures at sewing are why I continue to shop at eBay and the Salvation Army. Also finished The DaVinci Code tonight. It ends like the Mists of Avalon ends -- the sacred feminine lives!

Friday, August 8, 2003.
Watched CowBoy Bebop: The Movie. Quote: "I wanted to get out of this world of dreams. I kept searching for the door that would lead me out. Now I understand there never was a door."

I feel that way too. I'm trapped in this life, in this dimension, in this three-dimensional space where there is nothing for me. Bleak past. Bleak future. Small and timid, unimportant, invisible, my moments like sand slipping through my fingers.

And Electra says, "Of all the days I've lived, only the time I spent with you seemed real."

On a more practical note, I opened up the sides of the green tunic. Now it works. I'll add lace-ups there. I began work on a white brocade tunic for Michaela. I went to the old house with Dad and helped clean up. He wants to open it for renting by September.

Saturday, August 9, 2003.
Went down to Cave of the Winds in Manitou Springs with Don, Kendall and Michaela. We took the Lantern Tour in which one walks around with only a lantern for light. It was a bit tough for me as I'm a little claustrophobic. It's good for me to do things that are hard so I resisted the impulse to run screaming back to the surface. Everything went well until the guide had us blow out our lanterns and walk around in the dark. I became fairly upset. I didn't scream or anything, thank god, but I did get panicky. I'd like to do the tour again and redeem myself.

I realized something. Advice givers say, "To have a friend, be a friend." But the truth is, people don't like you because you like them. They like you because you are utterly yourself. The more self-confidence you have, the stronger your sense of self, the less you need other people, the more personal respect you have for yourself, then the more others like you. The less you care about their feelings for you, the more they like you. People don't like desperate, needy, lonely people. They like people who are complete and happy and have something to give.

Sunday, August 10, 2003.
I do a lot of ripping out seams and doing things over when I do garb sewing. I learning something new every time. In spite of it all, Michaela's tunic is quite beautifully. I'm proud of it. And of my sage green tunic. I'm planning a beautiful black one with beaded trim and a beaded underdress to wear for Crown Tournament. I'm excited to get to work on it.

Friday, August 15, 2003.
I had a wonderful visit with Lorraine. She's been in town for two weeks and has been busy busy busy visiting friends. I confess I haven't tried very hard to see her. The day before she left we met up at Mike's and were able to visit in person. She answered a question I'd had without me even asking it. She said she needed counseling because she was very unhappy with the way her life had turned out. I had been wondering how she felt about her life because her's has been similar to mine only the bad parts have been worse. She's been through a divorce, she's had to move away from Boulder and Kevin's in jail. It's Mike's fault. It's Mike's fault she left and it's Mike's fault that Kevin hasn't been turned around.

It's really neat knowing someone as long as I've known Lorraine. We've had our babies together and seen them grow up.

Saturday, August 16, 2003.
A nice day, but I didn't get done the things I wanted to get done. Instead, we all, Don included, went to the old house to help clean up and move furniture. That took several hours, after which we were all too tired for our own chores. Rhiannon wanted to treat us to jalapeno poppers at BJ's on Pearl Street so the girls and I went then walked on Pearl and bought ice cream. It was a nice change.

Sunday, August 17, 2003.
Sailed today, probably for the last time ever. Three years ago I wanted to become a sailor. For three summers I took lessons and went out sailing on the Sunfish and the keelboats. Now that I've tried it I've changed my mind. I don't like having no control over the power source. You never know if you'll have too much wind or not enough.

I hadn't sailed this summer up until today because whenever I wanted to go the air was still. This morning I awoke to the sound of wind in the branches so off to the reservoir I went. It turned out to be a little more than I could handle. I also forgot almost everything I ever knew. I couldn't get the boat out of irons once she got in. After a long, pathetic and losing struggle to get the boat under control, I found myself blown back to where the canoes are moored. I hopped out, wrapped up the sail and tied the boat to the floating dock. Thank goodness no one I know was there to see me.

I've discovered that sailing is not that exciting except when the wind is trying to knock you over. Yes, it's beautiful out there. Yes, there's a certain romance to it all. It's not a very active sport, though, and after sitting all day I'd rather do something that gets my body moving.

Went to Dad's in the afternoon. Maria is very unhappy that she won't be able to purchase the old house.

Made K and M weed for half an hour. Don thought it was a waste of time. He favors letting the place go wild. We didn't weed at all the entire summer but now the dead stuff needs to be removed. In my opinion.

Tuesday, August 19, 2003.
Sometimes I think my life sticks and my future is bleak. Sometimes I'm happy and feel filled to overflowing with contentment. I felt both ways tonight.

Thursday and Friday, August 20 and 21, 2003.
First day of school for Michaela and Kendall. Neither is happy about it. When I dropped Michaela off she said, "There's Amber. God, I hate her." It was very funny. Kendall is worried that classes may be too difficult, especially Latin. Friday evening was a Caer Galen revel. I had a wonderful time. I wore my blue tunic embroidered all over with white birds and flowers. I talked with several people including a new family with teens. Tonight's project was painting our blazon on small wooden shields. I brought home an extra and Michaela painted hers.

Saturday, August 23, 2003.
Busy busy busy. A very productive day. A happy day, too.

Sunday, August 24, 2003.
Rhiannon and Michaela helped set up the tents Dad gave us. We have two tents now - our own encampment! I made cupcakes for Pat's birthday. People tend to overlook her because she's quiet, like me. In the evening I went to Broomfield to celebrate Dad's birthday. A nice gathering as usual.

Monday, August 25, 2003.
Joe called. Thank goodness I was out. He left a message, "I just wanted you to know I don't hate you because you're a Republican." So, am I supposed to call back to find out why he does hate me? I could tell him why I hate him -- because he's a liar and a slimeball. I've been a complete idiot about him but don't intend to be so any longer.

First day of drawing class at Front Range. I'm excited about this but can I really fit something else in? I'm got family, work, mythology group, ice skating and SCA.

Thursday, August 28, 2003.
It happened again today, that sense of being trapped in eternity, smothered by the passage of time. I was thinking of the heroine of Ursula K. LeGuin's Always Coming Home. Her father and mother were of two incompatible cultures. Her father sent a message to her mother as his civilization was collapsing. "Tell your mother . . . " What was it?

LeGuin's stuff always moves me deeply. She often writes of the exile.

"Is integrity a realistic idea in the real world? I believe it is the only thing that will endure. Anything less is simply attempting to build a society, or a city, or a life on a foundation of illusion" from an Amazon.com review of her book City of Illusions.

This evening I made a tunic for Zack who is coming with us this weekend. Also finished Michaela's white tunic and worked a bit on my sage green one. And bought a few more camping items at WalMart.

Friday, August 29, 2003.
It was "Tell your mother not to wait, not to wait for me."

We had planned to leave today for the Heroes and Legends SCA event but rain prevented us. Rhiannon, Zack and I went to see Pirates of the Caribbean instead. Michaela was going to come but she got left behind by mistake -- her own. She thought we were leaving to walk the dog instead of leaving for the movie. The movie was quite enjoyable and showed Orlando Bloom to be a handsome heartthrob. He's worth the price of admission.

Saturday, August 30, 2003.
Heroes and Legends! Tons of fun. We brought Zack Seaman and our dog with us. Got into camp about 12:30, pitched out tents, put on our garb, went to watch the fighters. It was a bit of a chilly day with rain in the evening. My sleeping bag alone of all the bags got wet.

Sunday, August 31, 2003.
Much nicer today with enough sun to dry the wet things. Walked around looking at things and talking to people. Put on mundane clothing and went for a hike. Mortality settled over me again, suffocating. It was a difficult day. Took the kids into town for ice cream in the evening. Later went to Bardic Circle with Rhiannon. We stayed from beginning to end, 3.5 hours. It was wonderful. Bardic makes it all worthwhile.

July 2001

Tuesday, July 8, 2003
I couldn't go to work today; I was crying too much. I cried for a while in the parking lot, then decided I'd better take the day off. I didn't go home; I went to the library where I used the Internet to e-mail in sick. Now I'm sitting by the window, looking at the creek, reading and writing. I'm much better at the moment. Not crying, anyway.

I was crying because I can't overcome the faults that keep me from true happiness; because I love Joe and he doesn't love me, because I'll never be able to build the close spiritually-centered family I wanted, because I'm small and insignificant and don't matter to anybody, because I want so much for things to matter but nothing does, because life with Don is a struggle, because no one is strong enough to listen to me.

What I want is to be loved. I want is a small circle of people who love me. But I can't get it. I don't have the ability to get it.

I'm going crazy. Life means nothing. I'm going crazy because I do not speak the truth. I'm going crazy because I have to bear things alone.

Wednesday, July 9, 2003
I'm still going mad. There's nothing to live for anymore. I can't start a new relationship with anyone because it would just be a repeat of my marriage with Don -- criticism, despising me, refusal to be counted upon.

Here's a quote from The Hours: (speaking of an old hotel, which used to be nice because in days past . . .) "hopes were nutured here, that upon entering the lobby people were expected to feel as if they were moving in an orderly fashion into a future that held something worth having."

I wish I had a future like that -- one worth having. I don't see it from here. The future contains nothing worth having, only my father's death, Joe's death, my death.

I cannot keep the darkness away. I cannot be strong any longer.

No. I refuse to descend into madness. I won't go down that way. Somehow I must find hope. Somehow I must find love. I need a teacher. I need community. I ask the universe, I ask the infinite, for the things I need.

Thursday, July 10, 2003
Today was a pretty good day. I did get a little weepy but was able to overcome it. I was happy mostly. I talked to Lorraine and my sister Regan on the phone. I am happiest when I have talked to people. Talked to my dad, too, about the Chewelah trip. I don't want to go this year. I want Don to go and take the kids so I can be alone for a week. I never talk to Don anymore. There's nothing to say to him. Joe didn't call. He said he would but he didn't. It's the same as always. He doesn't need to talk to me, doesn't need to hear my voice, doesn't want to get involved. Charity, you need to move on.

Weekend, July 11-13, 2003
I took Friday off and drove down to Albuquerque with Kendall to pick up Michaela. It's a very long drive but was pleasant to spend the time with Kendall.

Michaela spent the week down in Albuquerque with her cousins, the oldest of whom is 10. Even though she's a lot older, she loves playing with them. I think she really likes being the older sister for a change. At home she's the youngest. All her life her sisters have been bigger and smarter and more capable than she. Down in Albuquerque she gets to be the biggest and smartest. She spent the night over at one of Rosalie's friends, whose mom later told me she was worshipped like a goddess by the younger girls.

I've been thinking of placing more trust in Divine Love that things will all work out, but am unsure if that makes any sense. 1) Is there such a thing as Divine Love and 2) Can one trust it to do what's best? After all, I turned from faith because of what Divine Love has done to me. It gave me Don, who has insulted me and hurt me and stopped supporting the family and whose eyes glaze over when I talk. Why should I go back to trusting Divine Love? Who holds God accountable?

Saturday was a nice day. Regan took us swimming at a friend's beautiful hacienda, composed of several impressive adobe houses and a garden they made bloom in the midst of the desert. The pool is surrounded with a hedge of roses. Two of Regan's friends came too. I did my best to chat with them and fit in with the group, but I'm not very good at it and I've been getting worse lately. We all went out for an early dinner where another of Regan's friends joined us. I felt very much in the way. I'm sure Regan would rather have been visiting with her friends who she hasn't seen in a while than with me. I tried my best to be cheery and make conversation during swimming but I just couldn't do it during dinner. The tears came on again. Luckily baby Cathy was being fussy. I was able to leave the table and walk around with her.

It's going to be really hard for me when the girls are grown. I can be their mom but I don't think I can be their friend. They'll figure me out. They'll realize I have nothing to offer anybody. They won't be interested in me. They'll leave.

Monday, July 21, 2003
Lovely day. Went to Dad's in the evening, had sausages with Dad and Don. Made a fruit cream tart in the medieval fashion.

Talked to Joe in the afternoon. He called and had time to talk. It was a wonderful talk, wonderful because it was long and about important things. I wish I was as beautiful as he is. He had been angry at me, he said, because I won't leave Don. I explained why: because I don't want the girls to come from a broken home. Because if I did they'd never see him at all. What about my happiness, he asked. Shouldn't I be modeling a good relationship for them? Don't I think they notice that things are not right between their father and me? Yes of course they notice. I wish I could give them the perfect home, a home with a loving father and mother, but there are things I can't model for them. They are going to have to forgive me for that. I cried a little. If he noticed, I hope he didn't mind.

Tuesday, July 22, 2003
Lovely day. SCA get together in the evening: pavilions, potluck, fighting and socializing. Most of us in garb. I wore a simple flowing black dress with a gold belt. I met a Spanish lady from Navarre and had a fun and interesting talk with her. Note to self: memorize the provinces and read some Spanish history, inc. Ornament of the World.

Afterward I went swimming at the Y. My purpose is to release endomorphins thru exercise, helping me to feel better and helping me cope with my strong feelings for Joe.

Friday, July 25, 2003
Joe finally told me the truth -- "I've misrepresented my position. . . been grasping at straws . . . don't necessarily think we're compatible."

I wept a few tears but pep talked myself out of feeling blue. I feel foolish for feeling so strongly for so long, especially because his bad points make him a very poor choice for a partner.

The truth is, he's right. We're not compatible. I never want to do him from behind with a strapped-on dildo. I don't want to engage in wife-swapping. I don't want to be part of a menage a trois. So you see, with me he'd always be unhappy. In addition he's a complainer, a pothead, a smoker, unhappy with his job and his life, and can't get along with his bosses. He has had many sexual partners and has two children by two women. He's mildly bipolar, is on meds for depression and describes himself as passive/aggressive.

So why did I love him? Because he's smart and funny. He smiled when I smiled and turned pink when he saw me. Because he's adventurous and knowledgeable and uses words of three and four syllables. Because he said when he first met me it took his breath away. Because he said he would have come and talked to me more but couldn't due to the strength of his feeling. I loved him because I sensed a deep similarity between the two of us; I felt that in our depths we were exactly the same, so much so that if I called him by thought he'd hear me.

It was a wonderful experience, being rejected. I'm filled with admiration that he had the courage. I'm amazed at the truth revealed -- that rejection is sometimes necessary. Sometimes it's the best thing for all concerned, the kindest thing that can be done. It is truthful, it is honest, it is authentic. It snapped me to my senses.

I went to a medieval party in the evening. These are wonderful and great practice for me becoming more social. Kendall came too. She bid on and won a purse and an embroidered cloth so she was pretty happy.

Weekend, July 26-27, 2003
On Saturday I went to the school district surplus sale with Maria and Raul. We all had a great time. I got some excellent books on the Middle Ages and a coin book for Don that he really likes. I also painted the west wall of the front room turquoise. It is a lovely color but I'm not happy with it. I think I'll try a golden yellow. On Sunday I ice-skated, sewed a bit of garb and had Maria over to see the wall. She really likes it. Rhiannon is at camp and Michaela is in Minnesota so Kendall is an only child. It's lots of fun having her.