Thursday's child

panic attack.  i am in the middle of one at this very moment.  i cannot get my breath.  my chest hurts.  i cannot stop crying.  i feel like i'm having a heart attack.  maybe it would be for the best if i did.  slamming pain into the chest and then gone like he was.  then all this fear and worry would be over.

i am so very scared and my typing that for you, whoever, to read; it doesn't have the impact that it does for me.  this overwhelming fear that is dragging me down into this abyss.  i've interviewed for two jobs and am waiting to hear back.  i think, i believe, i have a chance at both; one more than the other, but the waiting is killing me.

i need to know i have a job that i can transition into.  i need to survive.

there are all these quotes about finding your happiness inside yourself.  there are all these sayings about living rather than just existing.  living.  existing.  those are so far out of my reach.

i just want to survive.

where is my Dragon when i need him?

"it is darkest before the dawn." screw you whoever said that.  what if there will never be a dawn?  what if there was a child born on a Thursday - and it all came true?  "Thursday's child has far to go."

what if, for some children, dawn never comes.

Brokedown Bunny

i have pneumonia again. and they say i also have high blood pressure that has gone untreated. i am desperately working on health insurance. i think i can get it through work. i talk to my boss tomorrow evening. please cross your fingers. otherwise i will have to find a plan i can afford before the 30 allotment of pills i do have run out.

desperation. depression. fighting against the choking waves of panic that are ebbing around me. i am scared. i find control. then i am scared again. the battle rages.

i am broken down.

"if i lived closer...."

i have written it to others who are having a hard time. it has been written to me.

i do wish there was some kind of leper colony, some kind of widow{er} community center where a widow{er} can go for help, for conversation, for company. somewhere one can go where they understand you without you having to try and talk through the sobs. where people will hold your hand and comfort you when you are afraid or so lonely you want to crawl in a corner and suck on your hair.

alas, the ones who do talk to me are miles and miles away. i write out what i feel and think here and then hit "publish." and i wait. lonely. pathetic. sad little brokedown Bunny.

i do have a new shirt i made for her. small pleasures. i take them where i can find them.

trying it on she found a little smile.

i'll get the insurance somehow. i'll get the pills. my children and i are working on this together. somehow, whatever will be will be. i'll keep crawling. i'll keep working. i'll keep sewing. but oh, Lord, right now, i am such a broken down Bunny. so lost without him to talk to. so lost without him to comfort me. so lost without him to lean on.

"but oh, the things i learned from her // when sorrow walked with me."

i have learned a lot from all this trouble. i have learned so much.

Build-A-Bear ~ the complexities of survival

i got the job at Build-A-Bear. seasonal for now. i hope i can prove myself, that they see i would be valuable to stay on after February.

after they called yesterday afternoon late, i cried. my daughter was still with me {her day off} so i was not alone to weather the storm of emotions that followed. i sobbed. i smiled. i was terrified. again with the "what ifs." i need this job to last. i need it to be at the very least 20 hours a week just to keep my head under the surface of disaster. i know how to breath through a straw.

i am alone.

my son has said he can help me, but in truth, i need to bear {no pun intended} the brunt of this burden on my own. i need to earn enough to squeak by. i start this afternoon and only get 3 hours. Saturday i am at work for only a 2.5 hour day. it may still be training, or work while being overseen so that i am proficient and prepared for Black Friday. and then i need hours. hours and hours. and then i will come home and sew on the commissions.

i got up this morning shaking, trembling. crying and relieved and terrified. i am tired. i keep saying that and i do not know how to explain it. i could but i do not think anyone would understand. it is something i am saving for the Matriarch of Grief and Joy who has given me the gift of her time in trade for the gift of a quilt i am going to make for her.

i wish he were here.

i have this fantasy that i go off to Build-A-Bear and he goes off to Loew's or something macho but not "out of town" job and we have our little apartment and food and our few bills are not a problem. we are not rich., but we do get by. and that we have each other to hold onto and laugh with and love and touch.

i miss kissing him.

i am tired and i do not know if it will get better. i hope it will. i am willing to work long hours and come home and work long hours. i know i will be more tired but maybe it will be enough. maybe being tired is the best i should hope for. maybe it is all i should expect and i am being greedy.
i have this other fantasy. someone with a lot of money comes along and loves my artwork. all of it. photographs. writing. stained glass. embroidery work. quilting. sewing. oil paintings. and they want to be my Patron. they want to sponsor me. pay my bills so that i do not have to worry about anything other than creating. they believe that my artwork is powerful and they are arrogant enough to want to be the one to "find" me and then be my sponsor. big feather in their cap.

foolish dream. foolish old woman. i think it is the fantasy of a love-starved woman who was not approved of during her life. and then when her Dragon finally found her, he was taken from her and she is slipping back into her old sorrows and believing the flashbacks that hit her like a Mac Truck.

i cut off my hair. the man who did it loved the picture i picked out. he fluffed and trimmed. he cut off about 2 inches. he called me a pixie. yeah, because when i look in the mirror at the dark circles under my eyes, at the silent terror in my eyes, and at the hollowed out soul that i know exists inside, i think "pixie!"

i wish my Dragon could be here with me. i wish his voice and touch and smell and the taste of his skin were still available to me. i miss him. i want to talk to him. i am so very grateful for the Build-A-Bear job and i feel greedy praying for enough hours so i can live. i got the job and now i am asking for more. my hand always seems to be out to God, but then, i have no one else to turn to.

i wish my Dragon could be with me here. life is so complex. simple things and yet complex as well. job. enough hours. transportation. not having a car and no bus route to get there.

{the woman at the Charlotte Transit Authority ~ the Bus Lady ~ thought it was strange, too, that she could not get me a bus route that does not have me walking 3/4 of a mile to a bus stop to have me sit on the bus for 40 minutes to make a less than 10 minute drive by car to the Mall where Build-A-Bear is located.}

i am tired of life and i wish he were here with me. but i sit with my quilt of his clothes wrapped around me and i pretend it still smells like him. i dream he is with me. i dream he is coming home soon.
but i got the job at Build-A-Bear. however terrified i am about how many hours and how long will they keep me, i am sobbingly, humbly grateful i got the job.

fear

"no one told me that grief is a lot like fear." ~ C. S. Lewis.

i have both this morning. grief and fear. mine are exclusive from each other. Jan. 1 is my deadline now. he is through and there is nothing i can do. do not tell me what i could do. there are things behind closed doors that i am afraid to make public. accept that i am between a rock and a hard place.

i need the VA to come through. i need a full time job in a city that has closed 16 libraries and are working on a plan to close 12 schools and consolidating others affecting the teachers and staff of 37 schools. how do i find a job when i did not graduate college? i left to care give to my mother who died. then i needed a job first, and one thing followed another.

i am nothing. i have not amounted to anything other than what you see here. i am a mom. i create. i sew. i am tired. i am getting older. i have nothing. i am nothing. i have been betrayed in business dealings and most definitely in my personal life. what is left? nothing. that would be me.

i had so many dreams when i was small. and my dreams were small. i wanted a home and a family. i thought i would be safe married. my husband would protect me from my parents. i would be able to take care of my family and my home. i would have a garden. i would be an artist in and around being a wife and mother. 1950's style dream world that blew up in my face on my wedding night. i was alone with fear and worry and stress and self-worthlessness such as i had not previously known even during my childhood with a volatile mother.

i met a Dragon and we took care of my children and were so poor in the process. we love each other so much. he is everything to me, including protection and another person to help shoulder the pain of merely living. i miss him. i need him more now than i ever have. but he died and i am left alone again with fear and worry and stress and self-worthlessness only i am old and tired and have too many decades built up of feeling like this. my shoulders hurt. my eyes are tired. i sometimes find it hard to get a breath. and what's the point? it hurts anyway.

i need the VA to come through. i call. i write. they say they are working on it. now i have to call them to say, "please, hurry. please. hurry."

i am embroidering a beach on a Memory quilt. i am keeping the young man in my thoughts as my needle goes through the fabric. it must be colorful. it must be peaceful. i want him to look at it, his eyes drawn to the vivid sunset behind the palm trees and be soothed that maybe his dad is there, hanging out, biding his time until the family is reunited; however they believe, however they dream and wish. always how the family wants it.

all i will ever have are the dreams i protect. i am getting far too tired to protect myself anymore. the waves will come and roll me over and over and there is nothing i can do but try to swim to the surface.

what is this anyway? is this life? scratching out an existence in the dirt? i am not alive anymore. there is not even meager happiness. my children are grown. i see my son when he can. i see my daughter once a week. we talk on the phone but i am not involved in their every moment like i was when they were young and still in my care every moment of every day. what kind of life is left for me without him being here to help me, protect me, share with me, keep me warm, listen to me, make me laugh, let me listen to his beautiful voice, hold my hand, touch my hair, love me. i am still so wrapped up in him. and i am so afraid of what is going to happen to me now that he is no longer here to help advocate for me. to help me try to have a life instead of the existence of something akin to a dermestid beetle. i preform a service, like said beetle, but no one wants to take one home and have it sitting on the sofa, or hold a conversation with it. just let it do its job and walk away.

i want to feel safe like i felt when i was in his arms. and since i can never, ever, ever again be in his arms, i just need what most people take for granted. a place to live. food to eat. forget health care. forget the pursuit of happiness. i had it with him and i am not greedy asking for more when i need to make sure i have a place to live and food to eat.

see what i mean about fear? terror? gut-churning panic?

Dragon, where are you now that i need you so?

~~~~~~~~

addendum ~

i just got off the phone with the VA. they are in the "final stages" of processing. i told her my situation. she was very sympathetic and put me on hold to try and give me a ballpark on timing. 10 - 40 days i will hear. it is in the "checking to make sure the information is correct and approval" stage.

please, pray for me, even if you do not believe it in. i do. i need a miracle, a very, small miracle. and i will not ask for anything else. i just want to survive. no big dreams anymore. no goals. i just want to survive.

dog in a cage

none of this is proofread. i wrote it Saturday and left it. i do have food right now. it's just been a long, long life joyfully interrupted by that brief period of extreme happiness with my Dragon.

oh, and the Burger King Fairy stops by during the dark times.

{my daughter is my daughter all the days of her life.}

God,

yeah, it’s me again. i know i come to You entirely too much but You’re the only one i can really talk to. You’re the only one who knows me, who knows everything about me. You know what i’m thinking so i can do the shorthand-speak, or if i'm crying too hard to talk, i can say, “well, You know,” and i’ll know You really do know.

i feel like a dog in a cage. i saw that show about dogs, You know the one. they filmed a vet clinic that had a death row and they talked about the laws and how long the dogs are kept before their individual trips to that room at the end of the hall. all the dogs were pressed against their bars with eyes that i swear were glazed with awareness and fear. they were staring at the cameraman, at the narrator, at however many it took to film that show and it was so apparent. all those dogs only wanted a chance. not a second chance or a third, just a chance. they want what all of us want, a loving home and enough to eat, or just simply to be set free. it was heartbreaking because no one was there for them. they were just filming a show. no one was coming for those dogs. they were all silently asking in the only way open to them for help, for attention, to be understood and loved, or just to be freed and no one was paying attention. the people talked above their heads instead of looking at their body language ~ their ears, their tails, and especially their eyes.

i feel like that. i feel like a dog in a cage waiting. i feel like i beg with my worn out eyes, my words that seem to come out in a language no one understands, and/or with my stupid voice for attention and for understanding. i carefully walk the plank twice a month begging and subservient in my emails for my stipend. i am waiting quietly and politely for the VA to process my claim. in the meantime, i hurt. i’m terrified. i live in desperation each minute of every day. when will they send me a letter? when will i be allowed to breathe? am i ever going to be free of this incessant fear so i can just grieve for my husband? i feel like i’m stagnating at this point because i’m in this cage waiting and i can’t think about anything except how safe i felt with my Dragon.

how many times have i talked to You while leaning my head against the glass sliders looking out on concrete world of cars, watching people come and go living lives where at least they are free to come and go. i’m a hostage here while i wait on money, and then wait on a ride. i’m waiting on an unknown future that i have no more control over than i had control over my Dragon dying so suddenly. i know what i'd do if had money. i know where i would try to live. God, we both know i know how to be alone. i go for days without actually seeing anyone. if i felt safe, i think i could grieve in a more normal way, but fear keeps me in line. not being in charge of my own life holds me back from feeling safe. how can i go through the grieving process when my stomach eats itself from the stress of not knowing what the stipend-giver and the VA have planned for me?

i get so very hungry sometimes. You know. You’ve seen me. i never say, “i’m starved.” i’ve never starved, but i have been hungry. i get teary when i try to get excited over a plate of Saltines with apple butter on top, a bowl of oatmeal, and some Jell-O. three days, four days of it, it gets old and its really not enough calories. i pretend i’m on “Survivorman” and that this is a windfall, or better, “Man, Woman, Wild” where she’s with her husband and it’s all being filmed. i like that one because she seems to really feel blessed to have him with her, in life, not on the show. well, yes on the show, too, but what i mean is they really seem to love each other. You know what i mean. of course You do. You’re God.

“here’s the daring widow down to her last sleeve of Saltines and a quarter jar of jelly. good girl! she’s learned that out here, far away from help, she must ration her food in order to make it last. and she’s learned one of the cardinal rules of survival. keep your spirits up. she’s putting the crackers on a plate instead of standing at the kitchen counter and eating them while crying. and setting up the stuffed bunny and taking photographs gives her just the break she needs to help her hang onto hope that things will improve.”

sometimes the cupboards are so bare yet i still have to wait on him to make the transfers of funds. i wait and i wait. my neck aches and my joints hurt and i know its lack of food that exacerbates that pain. i’m tired and hungry and suddenly i’m overwhelmed with missing my Dragon.

he died, God. i mean, You know, You were there, too. but my Dragon got to die and i didn’t. he got to go to a place where he doesn’t hurt anymore. he probably doesn’t even remember me. isn’t that how it works? he’s gone on to something better? it would destroy me to learn that he knows how bad it gets for me sometimes. please, i beg You. don’t let him know.

when he finally transfers the money, i have to wait for a ride, or walk over and get only what i can carry back which i just can’t do anymore. my foot hurts and i’m afraid i’ll get over there and can’t get back. and when i get food, i’m like a jittery, crazy person trying to fix me something to eat. i talk to the dogs. i hear myself saying crap like, “mommy’s going to have real food tonight! we get to have a real meal!” and then, in my jittery anticipation of getting to really eat, i do something stupid like put the mini meatloaves in the frig instead of the oven and 30 minutes later wonder why i can’t smell them cooking, and then i have to go find them and stick them in the oven. and wait longer. and i cry.

i know i’ve been trained with a harsh hand. like a whipped dog, i do what i’m told. i’ve been crushed into this person that i don’t feel like i was meant to be. i died inside a long time ago, but i still feel part of me inside. i dream these wonderful, beautiful dreams of things i can never have. i dream i have a home with a bit of a yard to take care of. i dream i have a garden with flowers and vegetables and herbs. i can see myself sponge painting walls to make them look older than they are. i’d have old wood floors with dhurrie rugs and comfortable old furniture. and i dream i have my things back. everything i had to leave in New England is back. all my clothes are in the closet. i have all my furniture back. i don’t have to spell out to you what i’ve lost. i just dream of having a place that i can take care of and where i can create a small life for myself. it will be my home and i’ll get to a point where i won’t hate myself anymore because i won’t have to beg for food and lights and a roof over my head. and then i can work through my grief over the fact that not all Dragons live forever. at least not with me.

i work hard. i sew non-stop. i wake to take my dogs out and then i get to work. when i get to eat a lunch or something, i stop sewing, but i sit at the computer and work on the photos so that maybe someone will buy one, or some. i set aside what i’m working on between 11 PM and 1 AM to go to bed. i get into bed and my body starts to spasm. i lie there and twitch and jerk with the pains that grab at me. my back aches. my hands throb and my fingers click and pop. my foot feels like knives are stabbing it. it feels like raptors are ripping it apart and it all scares me. is it just the stress? i know my foot is screwed but is there something else wrong, too? and what if there is? would I call 911? no. i don’t have the money. it would piss off the kennel keeper, too. i’m a dog on death row. no one fights for those dogs. few try to save them. they are beyond redemption. but are they beyond absolution?

God, please forgive me but i feel despondent. i thought all the presentations were behind me. remember those every Saturday morning? remember how blank his eyes would get? i did everything he told me to do but he always found fault. my priest told me i needed to leave him. he told me it would be all right. it was hell. he was bullshit about losing his money. not me. not the marriage. not the children. his money. i gave up 20 years of my rights to anything earned so he wouldn’t do the things he said he would. i was scared and no one was helping me. he closed it all down and took the money that day, before the children even got home from school. i told him at 9 AM after the kids went to school and my card was declined at the grocery store at 2:30 PM. what i did get to have, i did not get. i have to wait for it. i’d learned the lesson that there are some who are blessed with safer lives than i’ve been allowed to live. whatever You’re teaching me now that my Dragon has died, humbleness, humility, disgrace, shame, humiliation, let me take the test. i think i can pass. can i have a chance at something different for the end here?

i’m hurting and scared. i’m frightened and tired. God, i miss him. You gave me my Dragon and then he died. why would You bother to do that? why would You show me what it’s like to be loved? because of the way things played out that only You and me and Dragon know about, You know, yeah, because of all that, our life together was so financially hard. we lived on nothing, giving it all to my children to save them, to protect them. but we had love. for a little while, someone loved me. You did allow me to have that brief time where i saw someone looking at me with love in his eyes. i have never been loved like that. i have never been encouraged like that or allowed to be myself without worrying about the repercussions. i was in such awe of him. to love someone like me he had to be flawed. but he wasn’t. he was perfect. i love him so much. You blessed me with my Dragon for those few years out of my life and i am on my knees in gratitude. how do i thank You for letting me taste what it is like to be liked, appreciated, and loved?

how many people get to be themselves without worry of being slapped or screamed at or verbally stripped of all dignity in front of friends, in front of their children? how many people are encouraged to speak their minds, or can buy the large box of crayons at the grocery store, or get to ask to stop at the farm stand for a peck of newly picked apples and not get in terrible trouble? my Dragon gave me all that. he was shocked when i’d ask permission for the smallest things. he cried that one time, when i told him what had happened to me, but he didn’t turn away from me. he held me while i cried, too. he kissed me and told me he would never leave me. he said he would never let anything bad happen to me ever again. he said he wanted to allowed me the time to heal so that i could learn to fly. he wanted me to be free and he knew, he just knew that i had so much life inside me to give. he said he would always fly beside me and make sure that i didn’t fall. he loved me in spite of what had been done to me. he was gently giving me the gift of myself. i was slowly coming to believe in the power of his love for me when he died. i had gotten within sight of believing it would all be all right only to watch it fade away while i watched the light fade from his eyes.

now i am back to being the dog in the cage. i wait for handouts. i wait for tiny bits of freedom, like going for groceries or to the library. i am waiting for the VA to give me something and i worry what that something will amount to. will it be enough to open the cage door? will anyone see me try to escape death row? how many dogs were euthanized today anyway? and why do we come up with words to disguise what we do to each other and to other beings? we kill dogs because their existence has become inconvenient. i am now inconvenient for some people. i am a burden. “why are you still here?” he wanted to know why i am still alive. “useless.” “you look a hundred years old.” “you’re sad for him but you never were sad about the divorce.” “why are you still here?”

i read that you never really know what a death will make you do. you try to reach past what’s possible, struggle to fit the pieces together even though they are far to broken to bother with anymore. i am sitting in my cage trying to fit the few pieces of my life that are left together again. my Dragon would want me to try. so i’m trying to hang on, but i don’t know how long i have. since my Dragon died so suddenly, i wore his boxers and one of this t-shirts to bed. since the widow who lived downstairs died alone in her apartment and was not found until the next morning, i wear shorts and his t-shirt to bed.

“now i lay me down to sleep. i pray the Lord my soul to keep. if i should die before i wake, i pray the Lord my soul to take.

don’t let me die in the bath alone, unable to reach my little cell phone. please don’t let me die undressed. let me get my pants on, and pull a shirt across my breast.”

my current weariness at the futility of my life makes me wonder how much longer i can go on like this before i drop in my tracks. i’m shattered. i’m trying to put me back together again but the pieces i have left are damaged from my life before my Dragon. there are so many pieces that are just gone. i’m no longer a complete person. and now that my beloved Dragon has died, well, i’m not flying anymore. i never even had time to get off the ground. and if so much of me is lost out there, how will i ever be allowed to go Home? i don’t look like who i was supposed to be, do i? or will You know me no matter what?

i’m so scared all the time. the stress is killing me. i know that. my life is being shortened with each panic attack. each time i check emails for him saying that he’s transferred the funds so i can pay bills and i get to eat, and it’s not there yet, i sob in fear. i feel my life’s clock ticking down. how will i be found? will i be given Last Rites? if they forget, does it matter to You? my intention was there.

God, where do You plan on me going? Heaven? Purgatory? Hell? the thought of being thrown down there where all hope lives and dies over and over frightens me more than being hungry. will i be allowed to see my Dragon? can i, please? i would work for You. i can do a lot of things. i know how to take care of horses and cows. i can work a field and put up and keep up a barbed wire fence. i can drive a tractor for hours under a baking sun. i can grow flowers. i can paint and sew. i can carve wood and throw pottery, make stained glass windows, and draw. i can clean and i know the Dewey Decimal System like the back of my hand, like each scar on my body, like every pain that vibrates through my body. i would work so very hard for the privilege of being allowed to be with my Dragon in Heaven.

please, God. i need a break. i see myself like a dog in a cage on death row. i had love and i can hold the memory of it close so i’m not asking for anything like that. i can’t go through explaining the scars again anyway. i’m too old and it would be too hard to talk about all that. and You know and i know that only a Dragon of man can love a woman like me.

so what am i asking for? i’m asking for forgiveness for all my sins. i want my Dragon to be forgiven so that he’s in Heaven. i want him to have peace and joy and light. i want to try and find a way to get my things back out of storage. i want my clothes. i want to sit in his favorite chair. i want to get rid of stuff, organize the rest of it for my children, and to just touch it again, see it all again before You let me die.

i’m asking for the cage door to be unlocked. please, please let the VA come through for me with enough that i can run. i think if i can wave just enough cash at the fear, i can start to work on the grief of losing the only man i will ever love, the only person who loved me, the only person who could keep me safe. maybe if, like a dog in a cage, i could get a reprieve, i could reconcile myself to the fact that i got to be loved for 8 years and that’s all. i’m not greedy. out of an entire lifetime, eight is plenty. eight out of well, you know how old i am and how old i’ll be when i die so You can do the math, but it’s enough. he loved me so much and that is such a rare thing, for someone to be able to love me, that i humbly accept only 8 years.

please, God. i just need the cage door left open. please, make a little commotion that distracts anyone from looking at me. just give me the chance to run.

in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit,

Amen

Saturday night @ 11 PM

Sunday morning at 4 AM

i took Sunday off from other work ~ Sunday night at 9:30 PM

it still isn't finished but at least it's square.

Baz Luhrmann nailed it

"The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday." ~ Baz Luhrmann

i have been drifting along in open water to where ever the currents take me. i work very hard. i am looking for part-time and/or full-time work but it has been hard for me. i have no vehicle. i take the bus to job interviews, if i get one. i have one pair of pants that i wear over and over to these. mostly i am put in the pile of "when we have an opening we'll revisit your resume."

on top of this, the city is imposing new budget cuts. they are closing 16 branches of the library which puts 200 employees out of work starting June 1st. the rest of the cuts affect the schools and parks and recreation putting another 228 people out of work. also the local county VA is fighting to keep its doors open. it was a place where i was in line for free grief counseling. i need to talk about this depression. i need to talk about my life and what has happened and is happening. that will not be happening now. i am still on my own with this.

and then this morning i get an email from my ex that yanks the choke chain. he is overburdened and deadwood has to be cut. i am deadwood. my children and i are scratching in the dirt. i called the VA told them my situation. they were very sympathetic. the man put in a message up the chain to try and push my application on through. i am altering my resume yet again. i presently have 5 versions of it to fit any and all potential jobs i could apply for. and my daughter is taking me on my next day off to apply for food stamps.

i did get an email from a widow who wants 2 quilts and some sock animals. i am relieved and humbled for that. she is not on Facebook and knows i live in the United States. fortunately, she was not involved in all that, nor does she care about it. she found me through this blog and my creative one that corresponds. and then, in turn, my business site. knowing i have her quilt orders and sock animals coming has not lessened the panic but it has helped me from jumping off the balcony which would serve no purpose as i would only hurt my ankle and make life even more difficult.

right now, i am panicking. we'll figure this out but when you first get the heel of the palm in the chest, you cannot get your breath.

when i was little, i wanted to find love and be married. i wanted to get away from my parents whom i did not feel safe with. i was married for 20 years trying to make it work, trying to stay safe, until i was allowed to be free. then i met my Dragon and i was safe with him. we had food. we had a roof. we took care of my children. we had a hard scrabble existence but we shared in it. he protected me but now he is gone. i am alone and vulnerable and i am so very scared and tired. everything is magnified when you are scared.

i am worried about going to San Diego. correction. terrified. i have no idea what to expect. i know. if you go with goodness in your heart and great expectations, then you will receive it. i have tried that and it can so quickly turn at the drop of a word. what frame of mind do i adopt? are any of the people who emailed going? i am keeping as low a profile on FB as i can and yet still be part of the Cloud Project, still talk to my son through the chat thing, and my constant friend. back when this was all going on i allowed him to network in to my computer and check my emails for a while. if the names coincided with people on my list of friends, he left them alone. the ones that came through from outside, he opened and read. he would speak of them to me before deleting without my having to face the venom. there were 3 that were vicious, bordering on bad enough that he sent them along to whoever is in charge of Cyber Bad Stuff. i do not know the government initials that handles that nor what was contained in the letters. he patiently took on this drama over for me and he put a stop to it. he no longer networks in. my Dragon would be happy that i had this buffer because to tell you, i did not know how to handle it. and facing it was too much with everything else i worry about.

i am working very hard for Camp Widow. i am sewing constantly. well, not at this moment, but i do have to take breaks. the arthritis gloves get hot and my hands get stiff. i have been blessed with being given a booth or table, however it is laid out, in San Diego and i will set up and sit and wait and see what happens. but after all that happened, i do not know what to expect. how will it go? do these people travel in packs like piranha? these are rhetorical questions that there are no answers to. it will either be okay, or it will not. no one can anticipate what people will do. slammed and slammed again, i have no idea but i will be ready for anything. the tension of it is bringing me down though. one local widow here who knew about all this asked me if i was going with my suit of armor. i joked back that my chain mail was all ready, but the reality is i do not have any armor. my Dragon was my armor. and i was his. but he is gone and i am as unsafe as i have ever been; as unsafe as i was living with my parents, and as unsafe as i was for 20 years. i wish my Dragon had not had to leave me.

i need something to start breaking for me. it has been a long life and i am so tired. i am so scared. this is all on me, me and my children. they are making me so proud and so grateful coming together as they have today to work on this.

it's funny. growing up i never ever dreamed big. all i ever wanted was to love and be loved. i wanted a little home and a family. i never wanted the fancy place in a fancy neighborhood with lots of money and a high social profile. i wanted a studio to work in, to be together and deal with life as it came, but always together. when my Dragon and i found each other, i could see us getting old together. that is not going to happen anymore but i feel i have aged 20 years.

and now today. the email that i never thought would come has arrived. dear, God, even after all this time, after all that's happened to me, and after all the penance i have done, all that will ever happen for me is to continue to crawl through this life.

i am trying to figure out how to disable the comments because there really is nothing anyone can say. hopefully i can i do it. or i will fail and it will be open. i do not know. i only wrote this to be found, much like Lt. Cap. Dimitri Kolesnikov's message to his wife before he died in the Russian sub, the Kursk. he knew he would never see an answer to his letter just as i know there is no answer to what is happening in my life. it is more about knowing that someone may read it, and maybe think about who was here, and what happened. it is more about using the freedom to write from the darkest fear and loneliness, and to break the silence that either death can impose or the hardships that come our way to change even the way with breathe.

there is no reason for reaching out to people who may or may not be there, or who may or may not care, but it is one of those things that defines us, and at least to me, proves that each human has a soul. if this life is filled with fear, terror, and pain, then maybe the soul can find true peace after it is freed from the body. i can only hope.

is this living or merely existing?

i'm not sure if i'm actually living or merely existing now. i feel like i'm drifting in a ven diagram of three overlapping circles. one circle is fear ~ financial and health. another circle is loneliness and hesitation to call anyone to simply talk, to let someone know i'm out here. the third circle is one of shock and numbness from the toll life has taken so far. fifty-one and i'm alone, without money, and hope is slim. all these circles overlap each other in that slice that is grief. it is the largest by far and the heaviest to sit in. i try to move out of this diagram but there is no map. it's a labyrinth of twists and sudden walls. i can't see over it and i can't find a way under it. i'm walking and walking but i get clubbed in the knees almost every day.

i am short of money, again. i am rationing food, again. my ex has decided i need to learn a lesson so he won't make another payment of the money he owes me until the first of the month. i've done it before. i can do it again, but i'm so tired. i'm tired of living. it's so hard. without the strength of my Dragon, i feel myself sliding down to my knees all the time.

it's ironic how much i want and how little i think i deserve. i want a small home, a townhouse maybe with a small enclosed courtyard for my two little dogs to play in. i want a small car so i can drive myself to the store. i want my quilts to sell, my sock animals to sell, my photographs to sell. i want my novels to be accepted for publication. i want to provide for myself so i don't have to make 5 days of food stretch for 14 days, or until he decides he will lower himself to make a payment.

i'm scared all the time. it goes up into a state of panic every other day or so, but i wrestle it down. i draw on my memories of my Dragon's stories of what he went through as a Marine. i draw on his strength from what i know he endured and transform it into my own strength.

there's no other option but to keep going for as long as life lets me. it's been taking these big bear swipes at me for what seems like forever. i want something good to happen financially, just once. i wished it could have happened while my Dragon lived. he deserved so much more than he got. he deserved a long, quiet, peaceful retirement. if you are a person of faith, it can be argued that he got it. that he's in Heaven right now with no physical pain and a soul at peace from the horrors of this life. i just wish he could have gotten some peaceful time with me here in this life. it's such a beautiful world. mountains. ocean. clouds. sunsets. the smell of bar-be-que. the sight of your daughter trying on her wedding dress. the sound of your son on the phone laughing.

i miss him. he's so handsome. his smile is so contagious. he laughs with all that he is. i could go on but it wouldn't matter to anyone but me. let me just say that to stand next to him was a powerful feeling for me. i cherish him so much. i just wish he were still here with me. i sit in this little apartment and wish for all the world that he were here for me to talk to.

going through each day in fear, loneliness, hesitation to let anyone who knows me how bad it really is, all the shocked numbness that he's dead, and all this heavy, oppressive grief is not really a life. i get up and i breathe, sort of. i dedicate myself to work all day, long hours to try and get it all done so i can have some more money to try to get a foothold, only to have to be realistic and know i'll never catch a break. he was my break. being in his arms was my one break from the tragedy that is my life. he protected me. he carried me at times. he made me laugh. he loved me and there was nothing that felt greater. having his full attention on me made me feel whole. i felt alive.

i answered my own question. is this living or merely existing? he's gone. the one person who cared every minute of every day what i thought, what i felt; who sought me out and wanted my love, he died. so i'm not really alive. i'm existing right now, and for as long as this fear lasts, of dealing with the ex and his payback for the divorce by using his weapon of financial oppression, i can't grieve fully. i can't live. it's so hard and so lonely without him. my mantra isn't working anymore. i'll have to make up another one.

money. i need some. i'm supposed to get a thumb splint. i'll get food before i'll get that. new glasses. you have to shake your head and laugh sometimes, but it's a bitter laugh, hollow if it's audible. i'm out of Aleve. even cutting them in half i didn't make them last. damn. things i can only write about. could never say out loud.

i haven't been able to stay at the widow's meetings the last two times. if i speak, i don't think i'd be allowed to say it all. and if i got cut off, i'd be so embarrassed. i'd hang my head and weep. they'd think it was for him, but it would be for me.

no, i'm not living anymore. i died, i think, when he died. i saw my future without him and knew what it would be like. not pessimism. it was survival skills kicking in. i was being realistic. and it's played out exactly like i thought.

i miss him. i need him. there's so little left for me to work with. i'm tired and in physical pain. if i could just get some food and some Aleve in me. and that stupid splint. i tried it on. God, such relief.

well, pity party needs to end. i need to get back to work. it's only 10 PM. i can get in at least two more hours before i completely play out.

if you got this far, thanks for reading. i'll be okay. okay is better than not okay. i'm the Dragon's wife, after all. he never gave up. neither will i. i want him to smile at me.

i was ill last night so i need him to come back to me.

i want him back. that's all. that's the only thing that will work.

i took the pictures last night of Mr. Scootie Wootums, Poetry Man and Lord of the Dance and Miss Carmen Sophia the Wild Gypsy Girl as i lay on the floor. i went there before i fell there. i got to feeling so ill last night and i got scared. i have an inner ear thing that can crop up without warning and make the room spin. i get dizzy and that makes me queazy and i have a hard time moving. but dogs have to be taken out and i have to get to bed somehow. i was terrified at 11:15 PM of going out with two Scotties on a coupler but they were good "kids," even when the three deer meandered past.

i am so tired today. and lost. i feel cut adrift in a world i don't know. so, i want him back.

fantasy versus reality

i've had a terrible day. major set-back. been knocked completely off my feet. it involves the ex and an email he wrote to me today that i cannot go into. suffice to say i'm shattered, again. i was starting to find my footing with how it's going to be for me from now on here alone. small apartment. working by sewing for a living. believing that my little Memory Quilts were going to make a difference. and i'd be gaining his help piece mail, but he's jerked the rug out from under me. i read the email 3 times. all i could do was fall onto the bed, curl up with a pillow to my stomach, and sob myself into a terrorized nap, wail for my Dragon to come back and save me, fall further than the mattress into the deepest despair. i want my Dragon to come get me.

but he can't.

fantasy: my Dragon is with me, here. we're surviving a little better than we ever did because the kids are out of college and paying their own way, for the most part. he's working. i'm here sewing for a living. we are together. small dreams. i've never asked for a lot. i only wanted a small home, children, and a man who loves me and whom i love dearly.

we'd have done my daughter's wedding together. he would have been at my side. when the ex proclaimed publicly that he had no words for his father of the bride toast, my Dragon would have stepped up and her shocked embarrassment would have turned to smiles. our Dragon rescues her by showing his devotion.

if anyone got too close, maybe to say something to me, my Dragon would have stepped up to prove that he would be there to hear it all, watching them with that look that only a dragon can give. everyone would have seen and known that i was under his protection. i was his. i belonged to someone great and powerful. maybe not a financial giant, but in the world of claws and evil, in the world where women can get trampled and abused, he was The Dragon, and i belonged to him. his hand would have strayed, often, irreverently, to my tush.

we would have come home together and enjoyed the company of my son and his girl. we would have stood side-by-side the next morning watching them drive away and i would have turned to embrace him. he would have held me tight and whispered in my ear as i cried on his shoulder, "he'll be back for Thanksgiving. we'll have them both for Thanksgiving. come on back inside, baby. let me love you."

reality: i live alone. precariously fragile, suffering over the death of my love, my friend, my soul mate, my husband. i beg the ex for the money he owes me with no recourse if he chooses to withhold it. i work hard sewing, pretending that i and my work is worth something, when all the ex says is, "charge more and i won't have to help you with the bills." even if i was paying for all my own bills right now, he'd still owe me the money.

i'm exhausted. i'm tired. i do wish sometimes that it had been me. the wedding was harder than i even imagined it would be. too many snippy girl complaints that don't mean anything to anyone but me, but yes, things were said. my feelings got hurt. i ignored the jabs. i kept my head down and was very correct in my social behavior. yes, they knew i was hurt. yes, there was laughter. i had no Dragon to turn to, to turn in his arms and feel loved. i was alone.

when the ex told the family and guests waiting at the cake cutting that he didn't have anything to say as father of the bride, i reached into my pocket and brought out my prepared toast, my poem i wrote to her, my backup little speech just in case. and yes, her shocked embarrassment was transformed into smiles as i made a jest at my own expense to distract the unpleasantness surrounding her father's arrogance.

i came home and my son has returned to Florida and i'm alone. and now the email has come that i wish with all my heart i could talk to my daughter about, but she'll be on her honeymoon until Saturday. i'm scared and afraid and terrified. did i mention i am frightened?

i wish he were here. i want him to come back to me and make it all better. he would know what to do. my Dragon would be able to keep the demons at bay. when i was crying on the bed earlier i thought to myself, "it's like he died all over again." the ex makes me see in as many ways as possible how vulnerable i am, how alone i am.

i need him so much now and i can't have him. i can't even call him on the phone to hear his voice or the heavy breathing heavy he'd affect to make me laugh. i need him and i don't know how i'll make it without him. splitting headache from all the crying. my neck is tight and stiff from bending over a quilt i'm hand stitching the borders to and embroidering tonight.

fantasy versus reality. fantasy all the way. i wish i could just crawl under the covers and dream the rest of my life away. dream myself back into his arms. stroke his beard and touch the crinkles beside his eyes. i don't want to be awake. i want to be asleep and then wake up to find i'm with him.

but i have to face this. this is what life has decided i need to endure. why, i don't know. i don't think i'm a bad person. if i was, i think life would be working out better for me. the bad people i know seem to have it all while i get a day like today where i get punched (metaphorically) in the stomach and end up chewing on my hair in the corner. or a night like i did on 9 February when my Dragon stopped breathing forever.

"i'd rather be dreaming than living. living's just too hard to do....."