a place

 a place for me.  a place for us.  a place for them.  but for now, i  am needing to see it as a place for me.  it used to be that a group of ladies gathered here.  a group of men still do.  that group was born out of a preschool.  a preschool where a dad asked all the other dads in the community of that school if they'd like to join together in a dad's group.  a handful did.  and they've been meeting for years now.  in that space there...our studio space.  that dad and i were talking once, and we both agreed it would be neat if the wives/partners of all those dads met as a group.  for so many reasons.  for community.  for healing.  you know.  i asked them if they were interested. all but one woman was.  so we came together.  and i reached out to two other women whose partners were not in the dad's group already, but were in my semi-daily life.  they both joined in.  those ladies and i met together for over two years.  it was so cool.  we grew and stretched and cried and shook and laughed and loved.  blah blah blah.  eventually, both of those extra two women's husbands joined the dad's group.   and then another man joined the dad's group, invited by my husband, cuz he was a new neighbor, and it was a kind thing to do, invite him.  then one day, another mom from the preschool asked me if she could join the womens' group. i thought for sure.   i told the group another mom wanted to join.  they said no.  they turned her away.  a woman in need.  in the community.  someone had an issue with her, and instead of choosing to work it out, just said 'no, i don't want her in this group.'  that was rough for me and that woman.  then the newest member of the dads' group, the neighbor, his wife asked me if she could join the women's group.  i brought the question to them, thinking, this is a no brainer.  her husband is in the dad's group.  of course she can come.   they said no again.  they didn't even know this woman, and they said no, again.  this time, because one just didn't want to be exposed to a new person.  i understand the discomfort of meeting new people, but oh my.  turning people away is intense.   you know there are two sides to every story.  and i am not going into all details here.  but this is my side.  i find it shocking that the women in that group made a vote like that.  twice.   so i came to feel that if they really felt this way, that closed and unwilling to work with themselves and these other women, that i couldn't stay in the group in my integrity.  i told them.  and they still said no, we're not opening it to those women.  they told me they hoped i could find what i was looking for  in another group someday.  SHOCKING.  sad.  so i left.  i am not as angry as i was.  but i am still weirded out and shocked when i put it down and realize they all really stood by those decisions.  i feel ok.  i feel in integrity.  i feel lonely.   i also may feel that i am better than them, which is not a good feeling.  i don't want to feel better than others.  i'm working through that so that i can be in even more integrity with moving through these emotions.  i am not better.  i simply have different standards i guess.  almost like believing in a different religion perhaps.

i am not better than them.  i am not better than them.  i have my opinions, they have theirs.  they spoke up for themselves.  i spoke up for myself.  i am in a clearer space without having to feel like i am swallowing my unsaid words.  or without feeling like i am in a group of people who can't hear me, or just don't want what i want.   they are in a clearer space without me provoking them to open up.  and i am not better.  i want to believe that.

but....  i don't.

i am right!!!!

and....

they suck!

i just want to say that.

they suck!!!!!!

ok.  i'm done now with that story.  i read recently in my book that is channeled from the pleadians, that when we tell our wounded stories over and over and over  again, it is not helpful, that it actually makes us feel stuck.  it's wound worshiping.   they said we can tell them once, twice, maybe three times, and then to move on.  i say, of course, that it all depends on what kind of ear we are telling our stories to, that determines if we feel freer afterwards, or like we just want to find a better ear to tell it to.  and it depends on the story, and how deeply it fucked us up.   but writing our stories out, writing. it. out., that has so often been helpful to me.  i feel better now.  i do.  and now i somehow have to find forgiveness.  i am still working on that part.  i really want to forgive and not feel like running the other way when i see one of these women now.  i want to stand right in their presence, in my presence, and be fine.  but it's hard to be fine with someone who hurt you.  it's hard.  it's doable, but it's pretty hard.  so i'm doing some hard work here.  yippee!  i'm serious!  yippee!  david's dad said yippee a lot.  alright. now, all of a sudden,  i actually feel ready to see one of them and be real and not kill or cry or hide,  but be real and one with my feelings at the same time.

that space.  that place though.  i am wanting to reclaim it.  i have some stuff to make.  and some yoga to do.  and dancing.  and reading.  we are putting in some new lights.  the lights have been nonexistent in that space for as long as we've lived there.  just a couple floor lamps.  new lights.  i remember when we had to have the roof on the house rebuilt.  i was so glad.  the metaphor of a new fresh roof over our heads, taking away the old rotting one, was so powerful for me.  now, i am excited for the metaphor of new lights.  new lights in my creative space.  i am into that.

what do i want to make?  i have a desire to make the kids some quilts.  and myself a dress or two.  the girls sweaters are almost done.  so close to done i am getting panicky.  finishing a project as large as this was, for me it was large, my first knit sweaters (!),  is scary for some reason.  remember that goal i had of finishing them by nov. 1st?  hmm.  funny.  this knitting has become like some kind of security blanket.  ha.  that is funny.  but they do cover my lap like a blanket now when i knit on them.   i'm already planning the blog post for them.  wondering what words can go with these sweaters?  they haven't come to me yet.  no theme in mind.  maybe no words want to be with them.  but it's funny that i'm already trying to write it in my mind.  i pulled the steamer out of the shed, knowing it will be time to block them soon.   aaaaaaaa.  so strange this feeling of finishing.



that place.  i love that place.  that studio.  and i miss it.  i seem to go over there only to water plants once a week.  i want to figure out how to go over there more.  how to start the next project. the quilts project.   the next phase that i am feeling i am on the heels of.  i may be wrong.  but i am feeling it out.  and i do eventually want company again.   i am feeling so isolated and lonely these days.  i've been asked to do stuff with friends, and none of it feels quite right for me right now.  for some reason or another.  so i just sit with my self.  my good old self.  my good old grungy grubby lonely self.  it seems to be what i need most of all, in this week, and probably the next few.  feel a little pain, and then i'm thinking i will grow a bloom.  or two or three.  just sitting and feeling the pain right now is oddly what i am drawn to do, even though almost all of me wants to run from it.  the lonely blues.  appropriate, right?  who doesn't feel lonely sometimes.  but boy is that flower a gorgeous thing.   i have some amazing friends.  and we hardly ever see each other.  getting schedules to align is too hard.  i do have a date to tea and a movie tomorrow night with a friend.  that will be fun, most likely.  if one of us doesn't cancel.

now all of a sudden i feel like looking at winter pictures.  or the actual winter outside these walls.  and inside these walls.  the winter in my soul right now.  winter winter.  splinter splinter.

and speaking of places.  look at this cutie home, of one of my best high school friend's.  dang.  it makes me laugh at how different our homes are in some ways.  but i was inspired by hers.  pretty awesome details.  those old trophies painted white.  i keep thinking about those.