Daily Prompt: Cloaked

via Daily Prompt: Cloaked

Cloaked

In gleaming things,

Slippery friends

And empty flings

The master tends.

Cloaked

With hollow soul

And mind that rends

Fulfills a role

Masked in trends.

Cloaked

With excess bluster

Grinning ear to ear

One can muster

Succumbing to fear

Cloaked

Ballet of blunder

And deception

To hew asunder

With reception

 

 

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Stalled

Everyone needs a hobby, or in my case several. 

With the chaotic mundanity of being a stay at home parent with twin toddlers the doesnt sleep enough, I decided a couple of months ago to try my hand at carving wood pendants.  

In my previous pre-parent life, I carved stone sculptures, and for a tome had done antique furniture repair, so the skill set is similar enough.

A local jewelry maker was selling her inventory out and had a bunch of wood cut into little discs and I bought a handful for a couple bucks, and started experimenting with my dremel. The next thing I knew, I bought the rest (about 100 pieces) and was motoring away at them averaging 4 pendants a day. 

So, what to do with all these little trinkets? I decide early on to maybe try to sell them on etsy or through farmers markets or craft stalls. 

Great! A little micro business i can do from home that is a healthy outlet, that won’t take from other hobbies in the future.

Cue going non stop for 18 hours a day or more with the kids/house/life/carving for almost two months straight (A few days downtime carving for appointments and illness etc. ) and I have a tidy amount of stock. So I’m prepared to open am online store!

And here I sit.

After doing all that hard work, inspired to keep carving, etsy account made, postal information on hand, and all I need to do is take pictures, write a description for each piece, post, shamelessly share it and cross my fingers.. or maybe toes because hands are handy.

The great machine has stalled.

It’s not the first time either… And there’s no answer as to why I do this to myself, but this time I’m admitting and addressing the silliness that it is.

Is it that I don’t like doing fiddly things? I obviously can commit to a point, know full well this isn’t a career and it’s more just for enjoyment with maybe some extra coin on the side. Worst case all my lived ones get pendants for Christmas, and I still got to carve stuff instead of cleaning and cooking and rearing children. 

It’s not like carving stops when I do the store thing, or it’s that much extra responsibility to mail stuff off to customers. So… why?

This is the conundrum of my day, if anyone reads this and has suggestions, I’m open to them 🙂

Codependency 

It’s my birthday but it’s just another day.

Here’s what I’ve learned about codependency, and instead of using ambiguous statements I’m going to use a personal experience.

1. Most birthdays end up being me disappointed that my s/o does nothing for me at all. This birthday, although I’m nowhere near any friends or family other than the kids and the s/o, I’m going to have cake and ice cream and the kids and I are going to have a fun day. I might nap or make art while they sleep but regardless, it’s going to be about enjoying the day.

(Owning my feelings and finding better ways to deal – my happiness is my responsibility)

2. The house needs extra income, my s/o has made it difficult to maintain enough routine to get a part time job and refuses to caregivers the children if I do. That said I also need an outlet so I’ve decided to start making art again with all of the art supplies I’m sitting on, and try selling it. Worst case, it’s cathartic… best case decent money and cathartic, and maybe I can afford a sitter once a week.

3. Refuse to do anything more than I’m supposed to do in my role as a stay at home parent. 

4. Delegate. When stuff needs two people politely say to s/o to do/grab/deal with the thing. If s/o doesn’t, talk to them about it later.

5. No is the magic word. Reframing boundaries.. this is a hard one, and unique to each person. I see posts about how to lay boundaries and there aren’t many clear answers regarding the subject. What it seems to boil down to is separating yourself from the other person and even your relationship to them. Who are you when you’re single? That’s who you need to be in a relationship. Who is that person outsode your relationship? Let them be that. If the relationship doesn’t work by just being, then you aren’t compatible, and that’s okay. 

6. Expectations are lies we tell ourselves about what we deserve. Yes we deserve love and affection and compassion, but we need to find people in our lives that we share those things with, not find a person, give it our all to that person with the expectation that they need to give us anything back. Healthy love is naturally reciprocated, not demanded.

7. Self care. If you need permission to take a walk or have a shower or just sit and relax, here it is. You have permission, so say what you are going to do and just do it.

8. Destructive self indulgence.

Smoking, binge eating, habitual self damaging habits of whatever kind. I tried to quit smoking and the chaos suddenly got ramped up in my house. The doctor that prescribed champix said, once I got to 5 smokes a day think about those ones. They are the reason I smoke. I smoke to step out of a calm situation to a stressful one. (Morning smoke, post meal smokes, etc.) I also smoke to be indulgent. It’s my little thing that let’s me be selfish, and make up for the “giving” and “sacrifice” that I do. Which is all ego.

9.  You aren’t needed. If you dissappear tomorrow, life will go on. You’ll be missed, your presence desired, but nobody needs you, except you. Tough pill to swallow. Your codependent addict will most likely replace you with another person willing to fill your role, worst case they will go down the path they were headed before you stepped in to take control, best case, that’s rock bottom and they start actually getting coping skills and learn how to be responsible. 

10. The path to hell is paved with good intentions.

You aren’t helping your addict. You’re stunting them further. Your ego is telling you that you know best. You don’t. If you can’t control your life and behavior, you have no right to controlling or being responsible for anyone else’s life (if you have kids, get help if you’re codependent) you can offer friendship, or advice or find sources for help for your addict, but you can’t make them change. Period.

11. You don’t like your situation. You love them, you aren’t ready, you don’t have the resources, the list can go on, but it boils down to you aren’t happy…. do things that make you happy and feel secure. If you want to go to counseling, do it. Ask your addict to come, if they don’t want to, that’s where they are. It isn’t your problem.

12. Love languages work for reasonably functional couples. If your relationship is a train wreck, subtle things like love languages mean nothing. And really still puts the onus of your happiness on your partner and vice versa. 

13. Be a whole human, be loving and compassionate to yourself, all those shitty things you say to yourself daily: catch yourself doing it, and make an effort to apologize to yourself and reframe it. Talk to yourself like you are a 5 year old. 

Desire

Desire

Benevolent inclusive mysterious mischief. 

Glittering in a set of eyes and flashing in a smile. More tangible than any slap and tickle, and more fulfilling than a good compliment.

The sense of desire to do with and be with another person. Free of objectification or animalistic physical release.

It’s an evolving story in a series waiting to be read, imagined about and read again, until the next book comes out. 

It’s a question mark that stirs the mind, gives you cardio, and flusters the loins. 

Desire that is wholly symbiotoc in nature..not selfish, not selfless… 

As I get older I notice my peers, caught up in the mundane grind of daily life and that look appears less often. 

How many people yearn for that sense of desire that has somehow vanished? That spark of creative passion on theory partners face, or any face for that matter?

Life is serious business and so then becomes the sex. Get it done, there is a scheduled sleep to accomplish. The kids will be up in x hours. 

Desire… looking into his or her eyes and almost smelling the spice of life in the air.. passion, creativity, lust, deep seated drive to live and share an experience. Or several hundred.

Gazing on the lips of a naughty grin with wonder, and grinning back with want.

Desire

Inrage

Oh the outrage.
People are outraged over things. Lots of things everywhere. Outrage is what’s in. Rage is in. Inrage.

There are outraged because a t-shirt could be misconstrued that is promoted by a walking dead star.

People are outraged and have created a movement against one particular group that has been doing bad things, but lumping everyone else they don’t agree with into that group, and displaying the same hateful tactics.

People are outraged over mislabeled fish, and chemical stuff and their neighbors dog.

People are outraged for other people who dgaf about the thing that is outrageous.

I’m jumping on the bandwagon.

I’m outraged at hospitals sending home sick babies to take chances with death and forcing parents to give the level of care a fully trained rn does with no training and no help.

I’m outraged that society keeps kicking it’s vulnerable down in order to keep the next in line afloat in order to keep certain other people living in  the lap of luxury.

I’m outraged that the food industry throws away billions of dollars of food away per year because it isn’t saleable and the poverty level is so high. Here and everywhere.

I’m outraged that there is a cure for some cancers that is not licensed meaning nobody owns a patent to it and because big pharmacy can’t make billions and corner the market, people are suffering and dying.

I’m outraged for all of the people in my life that are suffering from anxiety and depression because we live in a sick society that has a very uncertain fiscal and technological future. A society that has marginalized all things not fitting that system that is failing. A society that despises age and reminders of death, and puts sparkles on the trials of parent hood. 

I’m outraged at being lied to day in and day out just to sell me crap that will last just past the warranty that I didn’t need on the first place, so I can throw it into our overflowing landfills.

I’m outraged that I get more solid information from comedians than from the news. — that said I’m outraged that I have to agree with Trump.

I’m outraged because Americans are so desperate for security from the above unknowingly, have elected someone like trump because they don’t know what else to do.

We Canadians did it too. And we paid the price for it. So did our environment.

I’m outraged that what we keep asking for isn’t being done and our leaders are shirking their duties. For the sake of the next term promise.

I’m sick of entitlement. People that believe they are entitled to exorbitant wealth, objects, rights, other people’s decisions, access to other people’s bodies, freedom, life, or liberty. 

We aren’t entitled. But we are sharing this space, and seem to be pissing it up a wall between America and Mexico.  Have have a very uncertain future, and we as a global community have to take a step back and address what’s actually happening. We need to make provisions for what is already changing and prepare for what is most likely certain. 

There are two ways to lead. 

A common enemy (the enemy isn’t who you think it is)

A common goal (the goal is pretty simple)

Scratching the abyss

This is going to be a heavy post about addiction and suicide. 

For those people struggling with addiction, I have no answers. All new studies point to having love and a fulfilling life to prevent addiction, but once in the throes of addiction that community becomes a foreign place to an addict. 

As an outsider loving people who have spiraled through the event horizon of addiction, it’s a terrifying experience to behold.

After watching a person spiral in and shoot out over and over, one’s mind can go to really dark places. 

Tonight was a dark night in my mind. The differences between addiction and suicide hit me tonight.

Suicide is swift and final. There may be things left undone, unsaid or unexplained, but loved ones can grieve, and in time move forward. 
Addiction always teeters on the edge of finality holding on to a tiny thread of hope. The death of an addict is usually a slow and painful process.

One grieves a loved one that slides down the rabbit hole out of sight, but gets a glimmer of hope when the addict reaches up and cries for help.

The grief is paused. 

Then the addict slides down again.

Over and over the cycle goes until the addict destroys themselves partially or entirely. But up until the end, there is hope.

I don’t know how an addict feels during the cycle, and I refuse to ask for justification. It’s needless. I can’t force sobriety, or a fulfilling life. None of us can, it’s entirely up to an addict to make that decision.

Addiction is a sad part of society, and hopefully we can help our communities find a solution to help all who struggle with it.

I found happiness once

Years ago, I found happiness and actually had it hang around for six months or so.

Like actual happiness, I would wake up at peace and look forward to my days, there was joy every day of the week. I slept well at night and honestly can’t remember anything wrong happening at that point in my life.

It’s taken me 11 years to figure out what it was that made me so happy. Yes I had quite my job to chase my dreams to be an artist, and I got up when I was rested and wasn’t governed by clocks, or any other societal norms.

Over the years I tried and failed miserably to recreate that situation in a more stable and financially stable manner, and be truly happy again.

But I’ve come to realize that the art was a byproduct of what was actually making me happy.

I did art in a park downtown and there was always a stream of people that paraded by. In that stream there would be a random that would plop themselves down on my painting blanket and let me listen to them.

They would share a piece of life with me and I would actively listen to them and cultivate this spark, and as the conversation unfolded somehow one of the paintings I was working on would come to life. It would evolve from a bunch of colours and lines into something tangibly interesting.

I was happy because I had a fluid audience to listen to and communities with. Each fleeting micro-relationship special and entirely unique. And I thrived on experiencing the beauty and mutual vulnerability of it all. It was raw, natural and didn’t follow most social rules.

I had women and men alike, people in poverty and Versace wearers, Bikers  (yes leathers and Harleys) and the most prim and proper devout religious individuals. All hanging out on my little painting blanket, sharing life and just existing as they actually were… deep down inside, without judgement or criticism.

Obviously this lifestyle probably wouldn’t make most people happy, but it was perfect for me at that point, and I wonder if I can find a way to incorporate it back into my life now.