Thursday, May 26, 2016

That Dam Burst

Last night I cried and cried and although that is so not fair to my husband, sometimes it must be done and today I feel subdued but better. I just cleaned out my baking pans cabinet and tidied it up. It had gotten to that point where if you pulled out a cookie sheet, the whole mess fell at or on your feet and why are the tops of feet so very, very sensitive?
I don't know but that won't be happening this week at least. Just as with earbud wires and necklaces, there are specific demons which fuck that shit up while you're not looking. This is all somehow related to the parallel universe which lurks in purses (and sometimes refrigerators) where items disappear and then reappear, sometimes months later.
I also hemmed that dress I pinned yesterday and that turned out to be a quick and easy thing.

I will be meeting up with Jessie and August and Lily and Gibson and Maggie and Owen at Japanica later on. Perhaps Mr. Moon, as well. Owen has early release day today and tomorrow and so we can go to his favorite restaurant. After tomorrow, he will be done with kindergarten and will be moving on to first grade. And Gibson will be in Pre-K next year and I can't wait to see how that goes.

I am not walking today. Walking seems too violent, too hot, too hard.
I feel as if last night's crying has left me with the nervous system of a newborn. I think it would be nice if someone swaddled me tightly and rocked me to sleep. Don't we all wish for that sometimes? I am listening to Amy Tan's The Bonesetter's Daughter, and as in all of her books that I have read, there is a complicated relationship between mother and daughter. It may not be the best thing I could be listening to right now. The mother, throughout her daughter's life tells her, "Maybe I die soon," which is her method of demanding behavior she deems suitable. And is probably a symptom of deep depression.
I am quite aware of this method of mothering, this symptom of depression. It does not make for sane children. The last time I spoke to my mother she told me once again that she just wanted to die.
And then she did.

Mr. Moon and I are going to Apalachicola this weekend for two nights. I am glad of that. We need some time alone. You would think that by our age and in our stage of life and marriage that it is not as necessary for a couple to go away together but, at least in our case, it is important. It is good to let the everyday things go by the wayside for a little while. To recreate that time when all you needed was each other. To remember why and where this love came to be which has led to so much life.
And more love.

I feel emptied, I feel quiet, I feel tender and still and vulnerable.
That's okay. That's good.
The calm after the storm.
And soon time to kiss my babies.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. I'm glad you were able to cry. And you're right, today should probably be quiet, with you emotionally and spiritually swaddled in all the care beaming across the miles to you, from me, from so many. Rest, dear Mary. Take it slow.

    And just ready last night's post and your definition of doing nothing is most people's definition of a full day of work. So, not that kind of rest today, okay? Instead, wrap yourself in a comforter and read or watch trashy TV. That is my prescription. I love you.

  2. My damn dam burst this morning. I've had weeks of sadness and angst, and have mostly muddled my way through. Then early this morning I had a dentist appointment. Have I ever mentioned my unnatural fear of dentists? I have to take a Valium as I walk in to get my teeth cleaned! Today I had two cavities filled (one on each side on the bottom) and a tooth on the bottom (right in the middle) pulled and capped. I walked out with my tongue and whole bottom of my face numb. Then I had my 'I didn't die' moment and sat sobbing in my car for ten minutes. The staff know it's my norm, but still opened the door twice to check on me. Now I feel empty, and in need of a long nap.

  3. Crying is so important. Last week I sat in my bed and let go, for myself, for all the ones I love, for this beautiful beleaguered planet.

    XXXX Beth

    Go kiss those babies.

  4. I feel the same, with no Apalachicola.
    It's 10:10 and I'm already crying.
    I'll go to the library, I think I'll feel better.
    I'm glad you feel better.

  5. Your u needed that my baby. I'm glad you have today with the kids but I wish you could just have today for you to continue in your quietness. I love you.

  6. I have the same cupboard of metal pans that fall and shatter the silence every time I open the door...I avoid it. Crying is the BEST! Be very gentle with yourself and listen to happy rabbit stories or something other than Amy Tan!!!

  7. Oh, god, all the crying.

    Well... maybe we should do it more.

    I'm glad you're feeling a little purged. Good plan on not walking.

    Good plan on time away too.

  8. It wrings you out that crying, leaves you filling empty and tired. But maybe the emptying is a good thing? Maybe. I don't know. It just gets to be too much and it has to come out one way or another.

  9. Angella- I should have taken your advice but I HAD to go to lunch and then of course we HAD to go to the bookstore and, and, and...
    By the time I got home, I HAD to go lay down and go to sleep for awhile.
    But it was worth it. Those baby kisses, those boy-snuggles.

    Catrina- Oh, you poor dear! I hear you. I do, I do. And that after-cry. Yes. We sometimes just have to empty ourselves out. Oh, sweetie! I hope you feel better now.
    It's over.

    Beth Coyote- Deep breath in, deep breath out. That's what reading your words made me do. Thank you. And I did kiss those babies. You better believe it.

    Liv- I am generally at peace in the library. Oh, how I hope you found some there too!
    Thank you.

    Joanne- There has been chaos but it was good chaos and there has been peace, too. I'm okay. Thank you, you good, kind woman!

    Linda Sue- I think we all have that cupboard. It's a dastardly place, isn't it? But mine is tidy for this moment which helps a little, I think. I have been most gentle with myself. Trust me. Thank you.

    Jo- Yes. Very purged. Which is so good sometimes. We SHOULD just let ourselves cry more often. Why don't we?

    Birdie- Yes m'am. Empty and tired. I feel as if I had run a marathon yesterday but it's not a bad feeling. And it does get too be too much. We HAVE to try and let some of it go however we can.

  10. Crying in England too. Filthy evil medical people making my life a living hell. So glad we are all crying and getting it out. Glad you have the Many Moon family folk. Maggi xxx

  11. Crying can be therapeutic, for sure. I can see the need to just clean out your emotional system! No wonder you felt better afterwards.

    Your description of the reasons for taking a break away is very apt. I'm not sure I've ever thought of it that way before -- "to recreate that time when all you needed was each other." Perfect!

  12. well, crying can be a good release so I hope all that pent up anxiety and hopelessness was thoroughly washed out.


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