Old Poetry To Remind Me I Was Unhappy Too

I don't do pictures that would put a face to my words, but I thought I'd share old poetry.  Two old poems.  The more recent one is at least four years old because I'm 38 now.  The older one was while I was still breastfeeding, so at least 8 years ago. My Release

Stress came in waves Like sheets of plastic suffocating Like flames of sickness licking my flesh from the insides Like sex without love messy fluids and sweat and no real pleasure or release pain in waves, waiting for joy which never comes Like reek of sweat sickly musk masked by refuse of small comforts Comfort sought after in foods chocolate and icecream, rice pudding and doughnuts chips and dip or salsa iced tea and soda and sugar and waste Eating beyond sustenance, and into blankets of numbness Comfort in the nothing the nothing of sleep the nothing of television Hiding from the bright spring air and in the dark dampness of the hollow of my blankets windows shut and unforgiving musky in my stench of unbathed loathing damp in the overflow of morning feedings Awake and wired late at night while twitching in unforgiving darkness, while the angels of my flesh and desire slumber next to me snoring in sweet nothingness while early morning taunts me And in the dire bleakness of my power outtage, wishing for momentary release in window surfing or a mind to reach out to A moment of vulnerability and my stress is relieved.

And again, I want to go outside. Again, there is a garden to sow Again, there is much to be done, and at last, I'm ready to do it.

Poem for my 34^th Birthday

Can I still remember my last name?

The girl that I once was

I know her now

Though she barely knew herself

I think of her and wonder

How did she survive the life

She forced us to live

Then I remember she didn’t

I’m here and she’s a memory

A fond one that has evolved from

Faded recollections

The woman in her wake loves attention as much as she did

But will live without it.

She craves solitude and hardly gets it

But complaining is for the girl that died away

How I Spread Autism and Cancer Awareness

 

The sun is barely peeking over the hilltop before me and my inbox ping tells me someone was thinking of me - loves me - thinks of me when they rise.  In my excitement for words and encouragement, I see it's a meme.  It's a meme for cancer awareness.  It's a cute meme for cancer awareness that looks nothing like the cancers I've seen.

The awareness is what gets to me.  I have an autism awareness magnet on my car.  It was important to my kids, but it wasn't my thing.  Yes, I have kids with autism, and it's important for others to learn about, but I've been spending years making people autism aware at restaurants with tantrums and meltdowns over textures and sitting in boredom.

We've had grocery trips where the casual shopper suggests a spanking might help, and I informed her you can't spank away a disability and frankly I was bothered by her violent streak. Her compassionate suggestion to help get my kids in line turned into blatant curiosity which turned into verbal diarrhea because people rarely know where their thoughts become weapons, and the science she saw on television just insulted the gene pools of two families without the excuse of a nameless face because she was looking at mine. I remembered a good friend telling me, "we can't be angry at someone's ignorance.  We have to give them our pity." I was so enraged I wanted to deliver that pity with a right hook. Instead I plastered on what I hoped was a smile and tried my best to inform her that it doesn't matter how autism ended up in my home, it's my job to see my kids through life in a way that will release whole adults, unbroken by the world.  I've made family aware of autism when the meltdowns and self inflicted head punching meant we had to leave early for holidays to find respite at home where the holidays are in submission to first Thomas the Tank Engine and now Minecraft.  I loved watching traffic from my last job because the little cars reminded me of Hot Wheels lined up but not played with.

I'm still becoming autism aware when in my hope to be "the world's best mom" as proclaimed by a stranger in Target, I walked in with a Playstation 4 and was greeted with a meltdown instead.  I should have known that Playstation 4 doesn't support Mario and Dad has a Wii U, why can't we?  Dad promised him two houses mean two of everything and my literal kid took that literally.  Kid1 and Kid3 love it as it collects dust because they don't actually want to play it or sell it, and being job free means telling kid2 the new 3DS he wants will have to wait even longer.

Cancer ripped through my grandfather and he didn't win.  His pride and protection would belie the pain in his body when I would call and he'd in turn call out for his Mrs. to talk to me.  Later I would lose my husband's grandfather.  There was a powerful moment where we sat side by side toward the end of his life.  He was on oxygen and struggled to speak.  He told me how amazed he was that his generation would do what they did, and his granddaughter with dark skin would sit next to his fair skin and blue eyes and we'd openly share love and respect.  This granddaughter healed a life born to regulated bigotry and gave him great grandsons whose bloodlines held his Heinz 57 and my blood line that is both Thai and Black and if you ask my dad, Choctaw, Sephardic, French, and Mexican too. I have a heritage which includes the many slave owners and illicit affairs that would mix my features until I look Samoan or Indian. I type this and still mourn the loss of the only grandfather I was able to visit when I wanted because we weren't separated by states and his love for me resonates like his loss was just last week.

The face of cancer has also been worn by my sister and grandmother, but they fought and won.  I've had friends lose hair and fight sickness and they not only survived, but they are thriving.  They are healthy now, but they've faced death and emerged with an appreciation for life that is a wonder to witness.  My oldest has a friend with a Dad who is sick right now. When he asked about cancer, these are the faces I tell him about.  This is the awareness I share.

We live out awareness in the ways we share who we are and in the reflections of our lives and how we let our struggles color our smiles. We face each day in bravery and see grace where we look for it and the peace that we allow in our hearts gives us patience.

The Education of a Reluctant Student

I liked leaving high school more than I liked being in it.  I graduated with honors because it was never hard.  I was in theater arts and play production.  I hung out with football players and I was fairly popular.  Years later I would see people that remembered me and I couldn't place them. It was an empty existence.  It was so empty that when I left school, I didn't have contact information for most of the people I looked forward to seeing in class, because I never looked for them when I was home.  Facebook has rekindled many friendships, but I'm the same person, so hanging out offline is a major accomplishment if I ever do it. I started in college because my parents wanted me there. They had dreams for me and taught me going to college after high school was like brushing your teeth.  It's not optional. It's what you do.

I was rebellious though.  I was afraid of the SAT test and refused to take it.  I went straight to Glendale Community College instead.  Actually, in the fall of 1996 my Dad went there, registered for my classes and bought my books that first semester.  I started registering, buying books funded by my parents, dropping classes and getting cash back.  I did this for years and they never stopped believing in me or supporting me. By 2004 I wanted to get through it.  I picked up the college catalog and my transcripts, and started marking off classes to see if I had taken enough to get an AA.  I had taken enough for my Certificate in Communications and a few classes later in 2005 I got my AA in General Education Transfer Studies.  I think it was a blanket term for those of us that loved taking classes but still couldn't declare a major because indecision was a skill in Junior College but  I was excited to transfer.

I transferred into Cal State L.A. as a Geology major. I had taken a few classes and did really well in them. I loved the science. I used to daydream about camping along an active volcano, donning a heat suit and scaling the inside for measurements.  It may sound crazy but I really wanted to be a volcanologist.  I've always had a love of minerals and crystals.  Eventually I thought earthquakes would be a safer, more mom like job. I was struggling though.  My professors were amazing, but college level algebra was kicking my butt.  I got through it, but my reality set in.  I was already Mom to two autistic sons, and a third was on the way.  I would get home from class, and if the nausea of cooking didn't leave me dry heaving, I was exhausted from growing a human and studying didn't happen.  I couldn't go on field trips where we would spend a few days studying the earth because I couldn't leave my family behind. Geology is the study of the earth and I couldn't do that from our apartment in North Hollywood. I ended up taking a break for a few years and in that time, I made peace with math not being my superpower.  Every time I thought about the chemistry, calculus and physics required (all math), I would put it off another year.

Finishing school became important to me again.  I had kids and I wanted to be the example they deserved. Coming to terms with my math deficiency was hard, but I did it. I decided what I loved was reading and writing.  My love of reading started when I was 9 or 10.  My oldest sister used to read grocery store novels and I would pick up anything she put down, warping my sense of love and romance for the rest of my life.  Don't buy into the lace and heavy sighs.  It's a formula and just as damaging to relationships as porn.

I applied to the college when enrollment was high and was accepted in 5 quarters which was the fall of  2010. At the time, I didn't know I would be in my third trimester with my second surrogacy. If I didn't enroll, I might have had to wait another year to go back.  I figured I would try 8 units, and if anything I could get an incomplete.  I didn't realize how much I would love it though.  In September I greeted both professors right after class and explained I was determined to get through their classes, but I let them know I was due in October and I had no idea how it would work out.  One professor didn't notice how knocked up I was.  She was a great professor and loved to geek out on the British novels with their sighs and carriage rides and hints at naughtiness.  The other professor knew I was about to go into labor from my waddle. He was a grandfather and very kind.  I missed two class sessions. It was my fifth birth and while I was able to get around, childbirth makes you leak.  Everywhere.  Staying home for a week was a prudent decision.  In the end I earned a B and a C+.

The next quarter I was encouraged to apply for scholarships.  I didn't have the grades for it with my earlier years of not caring, and I banged out an essay in 20 minutes. I wrote about being a mom and wife while being a student.  I wrote about being expected to take care of house and home and school was treated like it was my hobby and I didn't feel supported at home.  I ended up earning six scholarships in 2 years.  One was a fellowship that was inadvertently given to me. It seemed odd that an undergrad would receive a fellowship.  I talked to the office handling that. They gave me the correct scholarship, but let me keep the fellowship for my honesty.  Apply for everything.  The worst answer you can get won't affect anything but will give you practice in writing an essay. The best answer is free money and the prestige of Honor's Convocations.

My most memorable Convocation happened during my last surrogacy.  It was a gnarly pregnancy because twins were hard for me to carry.  The hormones made my heart race. The morning sickness was off the charts.  I was on and off bed rest so often that I ended up taking a year off of school.  That was emotionally hard.  After giving birth in the middle of a quarter I couldn't understand why I couldn't handle going to class while still at the start and middle of a pregnancy.  I went back for the Convocation.  Of course they had us stand in line for too long to make an entrance.  I was overheating and dehydrated. I ended up feeling weak and faint and puking in the middle of it.  I think I even nailed the poor woman in front of me.  For the second ceremony for the College of Arts and letters I was feeling better until I ended up sitting next to a woman that was wearing way too much perfume. It was a night of memories that make me laugh now.  For my very last Convocation, I couldn't find anyone willing to go with me and I skipped it, but the department mailed my certificate to me.

Here's a hint, natural body scents on a clean body can smell amazing. Perfumes and colognes should compliment your natural scent and be used so sparingly that others are encouraged to get close enough to smell them.  That was a public service announcement and my free little nugget.  It's pure gold so take it and love it like your own. I used to wear Red Jeans by Versace and I love most women's scents by Givenchy, but I typically only wear deodorant. 

I can understand Chaucer and explicate Shakespeare, but my love of minerals and nature keep me grounded.  I love jewelry stores for the research, but one day I want to go on a rock hounding trip. I would love to dig up a vug and find my own treasures.  I don't know if I'd polish them.  Honestly I'd be happy finding quartz.  One day I might start back in school to retake some math classes and raise my GPA.  I always thought I'd go back to school.  I don't know if it will be law school or if I'd go back and attempt that Rock Doctor goal.  Suddenly single has so much potential that I nearly gave up on.

Today I have Mom duties.  My first born is now 14 and has his first invitation to his IEP.  It's his triennial so it's a big one. My second child has an amendment IEP.  I never did housework last night, so that is one of my goals this afternoon, but perhaps after a nap.  Stress had me up at 4 and by 5:30 I decided to stay up. Stress also has me breaking out all over the place like a teenager. If I have teenage skin, I should have teenage boobs too, right?  I'll contact my temp agency and hope she's moved mountains and if she hasn't, I'll start submitting resumes again.  I'm waiting until after my nap because job hunting is emotionally draining. After this last job, the bar was raised significantly and I don't know that I could settle as easily as I was trying to before.  Tomorrow morning I plan to walk along the LA River because it's here and it is full of amazing and just enough trash to feel like the LA I grew up in.