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.
