Never's Remedy

Sera's still writing journal entries we can't read... Wonder if the latest is about the letter I sent her yesterday? After all, she said she wouldn't be posting again for a while and then she posted! ::sighs:: Why does she insist on playing such games.

Mom, I know you didn't really mean the parts about her being a "boy" (refer to poem on angelovebbw's LJ starting "queen of indifference"), but I think it hit an insecure part of her she hadn't faced... or had been hearing about it too much from a certain someone, and it rubbed her raw. She doesn't seem to realize how many people she hurts and disappoints with her simple gestures. She may not intend them, but they don't lose their effect. I doubt she'll ever really understand why you wrote what you did, not unless she learns the kind of maternal love for a child, that need to protect them from all harm, that you do for me.

It took great courage to post this poem to her site, and though I want to post to hers, to console her even now, I am refraining from it. David refers to it as "the moral high ground". I hope it gets us all to a better place.

It isn't easy for me, to wait to see events unfold, to go silently into any night, good or otherwise. As much as I love Sera, I must keep my distance until she's ready to make a legitimate move toward being a parent and a caring friend/lover. Her friends think what they will of me, but I do not protest their entreaties, for all I might say would fall upon deaf ears. So I wait. I watch. I continue to pursue my goals and achieve all that I can... without her for now.

I have my weaknesses. Yes, I miss her. I want her as a partner in my life, as a parent to our daughter, but not by these rules. Not only following her agenda. I have my fears of what she's thinking, what she's doing, and the insult of posting journals I cannot read hits me even harder during these times. She's making her statement very clear, she doesn't want me in her life, and she does not wish to open herself to me. The chasm yawns wider as she keeps her silence.

Again, I offer my thanks to you all, my friends. You have been a great solace in difficult times. Support when I feel vulnerable. I do not like to ask help from others, but there are times when I must. I apologize for the excess strain I may have caused you, but this year has been a great hardship for everyone. It seems everyone leans on one another these days. ::chuckles slightly:: Today I have had excruciating pains in my shins and left knee. I awoke with them and have little clue as to why they afflict me. Yet several times today I was requisitioned for help carrying various items for others who were in sadder shape. We all need a little help right now. Thank you for yours.

...I've been waiting too much, but there are times when I feel there is nothing more I can do, or I don't want to face the little chores and steps I need to take to get to certain minor goals.

Yes, I need a job, really need a great one that pays well enough to support Ana and I without assistance. There are two problems in this: 1) The unemployment rate is horrendous (Washington State has dropped to only the 2nd highest unemployment rate in the country). 2) I don't really want to do the jobs I'm qualified for. I've found some great Administrative Assistant positions, some of them don't require a BA (Ha! If I had a BA in *anything* I wouldn't be looking for this type of job!), and some are actually within my means of transportation. However, I look at the job requirements and the long list of duties and tasks to perform, I know I *can* do them, but I'm loathe to actually be expected to do them.

Expectations and Guilt, two things David and I've talked about a lot lately. He's a great sounding board and he's able to clarify much of my own confusion I can't see through. I have difficulty with expectations, I don't like being *expected* to do things, but I like to do them as a surprise or out of the kindness of my heart. I love to be asked to do things, but when someone makes an expectation I resent it. Then there's the guilt... David says I carry around a lot of guilt, often for things that are too minor to have guilt over, and others which I didn't mean or can't go back and change. He says guilt is holding me back from much of what I'm doing, if I keep thinking about what I've done (or haven't done) and obsessing on it, I'll never be able to move forward to correct my mistakes.

Sera hasn't called, she hasn't written, and I wonder why I even bother putting the choice to her. It's a big choice she's leaving up to me regarding our daughter, and because I haven't seen her in person long enough to talk with her in the last three or four weeks, I can't even tell her what the decision is which she needs to make. I resolved myself not to call for some time, and then I finally caved this weekend. I called her at work, she told me how very much she missed me and Ana, and she was going to call. She didn't. I called her the next day at work, she said she'd call, and she wanted to come over Sunday night, she just had to check her schedule. She didn't call, and I didn't bother to on Sunday. What's the point? If she's determined to avoid me and to disappoint Ana, then she'll never know what happens, and I won't allow this cycle of disappointment to continue. It's either Ana or no Ana, Raven or no Raven, it can't be whenever the mood hits her, change of plans at the spur of the moment, and skipping out on Christmas after six months of planning because she's afraid. Yet how will she know this? Does she even read this journal? I can't allow her to do this to Ana, I can't allow Ana to grow up with so much disappointment and resentment directed towards Sera. But I won't tell this to Sera on the phone, only in person. She hasn't posted since December, I have no idea what's going on in her life.

It's a world of frustrations, but somehow I keep smiling. Had to take Ana to the doctor's yesterday, only to find out she's healthy. Probably having trouble at daycare because of emotional issues, not physical. She didn't require I carry her most of the way back. The rain had left us, the clouds were gone, it was blue sky and white sun. Ana walked by my side for four long blocks. Such a wonder. She's been "shh"-ing me, and she's become possessive of her toys, tells everyone who tries to play with her favorites "no" very firmly and takes the toy from them. Another mimcry of me, mixed with her determination to have her way. So cute. This morning she woke up, pulled her big rag doll I got her for Christmas out from under the covers, sat it up and gave it a big hug. She then turned it to face her, talked with it, tickled it, and played peek-a-boo. The smiles and giggles were a blessing this morning.

This is the joy of parenthood, the reward for the hard work, but I'm still waiting for a miracle to come ... to help us free ourselves from State obligation, from fear, from frustration, and to build our foundations for the future.

Sera needs to post more to her journal, ::winks:: and I'm looking forward to our little Christmas gathering.

Trying not to lose my mind thinking about Ana in daycare, she cried and wailed, reaching out for me when I left her there. I'm thinking about keeping her there for a full day, so she doesn't expect me to pick her up early tomorrow. Maybe it's better that way. I'm required to search for work 30 hours a week, and here I am at the library, looking for work online. (Qwest DSL is screwing up at the WorkFirst office, joy!)

I feel myself being propelled toward the next phase of my progress, to the next major hurdles that lie in waiting for me to attempt to jump over them. I hope I don't trip... I can't use the word "hope" anymore without a pained thought of Sera, and her new Primary, Hope. No, I'm not jealous, not in anyway I see jealousy, but I am envious of the time and attention she is able to claim from Sera, the security... the bragging rights.

I hate to admit it, but Sera and I really did need our time of separation, just as much as we now need to take things slowly right now, to grow, to mature, to reach personal goals before we're ready to reunite in a more dedicated way. Love, adoration, caring, we have those between us. But we both have old patterns to do away with and new foundations to build (yay for 2002, year of the Horse! can't wait until Feb. 2nd). It will all work out for the best in the end, even in the interim it isn't so bad. Still, I don't like to wait, and if I *just* wait, our goals will never be achieved, the destination I can see in the distance will never arrive unless we're both doing what we must in order to get there.

I continue to write, though much of the "damned book" is being placed on the backburner. I'm writing some scenes which are necessary, but I can no longer continue to write it from start to finish knowing my mistakes across the last eight months. It wouldn't bother me if I had a computer, I could just go into the file, rearrange the text and fix the continuity, but I can't do that in a notebook. So I write little scenes, full of resentment for all the months wasted in writing it out of order, confused, missing important turning points. ::Sighs:: This too shall pass.

I wrote my Christmas letter, though most of those I mail will arrive late (thanks, JCPenney portrait studio!), I'm handing out those that I can on Christmas Eve and Christmas to save on postage and grief. Perhaps now I should look for those jobs, eh? ::smirks:: See? This is me looking for jobs...

"Back in the days when Phil Colins had... Well, no, Phil Colins never had hair."
-96.5, the Point advert.

Sera was a big help and comfort today as we gathered some of my winter clothes and brought them over here. Though we had little time together before she left for work, I again felt the sensation of warmth.

Oh yes, I hope and pray I will again meet Corinne, whom Sera and I encountered both in the library and by the bus stop today. A lovely nanny with little black braids and wire-rimmed glasses who asked my name and talked with us a while. Sera speculates Corinne was interested in me, as I was in her ... ::sighs wistfully::

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Below was to be posted 12-01-01

Such passion, such determination, yet sometimes I feel so numb.

Recent dream (upon waking 11-30-01):

I spoke French, a teacher with blonde hair who had just moved into a cheap motel. One of my contacts brought me a man in need of help; his son ailed or did not meet his usual standard of “himself.” After a time, they convinced me to see the young boy.

He played in strange ways: winding himself up along the wall by twisting into a very large piece of smooth, red cloth, or would dive into feather-light balls and balloons wrapped inside a ring of this cloth. It took little time for me to help the boy, despite an initial confusion, though now I do not comprehend what help I gave, nor to what end (even less could I put it into words).
I know to many I appeared attractive, yet I had little interest in those who approached me as I stood out in a large parking lot. The building to which the lot belonged held a great gathering of people – a social event such as a concert or convention to which I briefly attended.
I finished my conversation with the father of the boy, and declined his advances, then proceeded to return to the building. The even winded down and I found myself amidst a dying party’s clutter. Balloons, streamers, and old plastic cups littered the floor. Seating myself at a folding circular table, I sipped at a drink I recently poured. Those people still in the main room/gallery watched a film on a very large screen that pertained to the gathering itself and held secrets of deep spirituality and the hidden meanings of life.
Someone sat to my right, as I had turned my back, and the chair with it, to the table to better view the film. It took a moment for me to notice this new addition to my table, but I finally turned to see my mother in a chair, leaning on the table almost as if she reclined on a dais on her side.
In my hands, I had unknowingly gathered a few of my favorite, though tight, clothes – a slip, a dress, maybe a short skirt as well. The actual items did not matter so much as their meaning. They were crumpled in my hand, held in a tight ball, and yet some material had burst out over the sides and hung limp around my hand.
I sat casually holding these clothes in one hand, my drink in the other, and turned slightly to focus my attention on my new companion – my mother. She explained in a melancholic tone that she had reached a turning point – a point of no return, and she had to make a decision. She wanted to remain large and maintain her abundance of flesh, but if she chose that she could never go back. The other choice was to lose the weight, yet gain other things.
I watched as she gave a sad glance at the clothing in my hand. She motioned to it and said, “at least I will be able to wear those again.” She had made her decision.

It took time for me to understand this dream’s meaning, but after I realized the mother in my dream stood as a representation of that part of myself as I see as her, or rather influenced by here (perhaps even “hers”), the meaning became clear. First though, I must explain I have always seen myself as half my mother and half my father – each is a complete opposite of the other. When I am with one, that is the parent whom people say I resemble. Add to that a childhood in which, growing up, I was mistaken for my mother’s sister many times, the odd occurrence of (since puberty) always being almost exactly half my mother’s weight. When she gains, I gain, when I lose, she will tell me she too has lost. Even when we live so far away as we do now (she in Germany, I, in the U.S.), she tells me of her fluctuations when I thought I had broken away from that particular connection.
My feelings of low self-worth led me to believe I could never be more than half my mother, never live up to her greatness – it’s only in the last two years I’ve been able to acknowledge that feeling (thanks, Sera!). I was shocked to discover once that I got higher scores on a particular (unofficial) I.Q. test than she. Literally stunned. My mother finds it difficult to live up to her father and his accomplishments and I’m worried about not even matching hers. Do you have any idea how hard it is to be the daughter trying to live up to the daughter of a famous writer? Ugh! I should not whine so... She’s striving to live up to a man who passed over two decades ago, and I turn myself into a nervous wreck trailing behind her. (Chronic Anxiety Disorder, anyone? I will not take Paxil, either!)
So, to finally get to my long-winded point: this dream represented the part of me associated with my mother, and this part of me decided it was going to be less my mother, and more me, so that one day I will be completely “me” with my loving mother only that – a powerful influence in the shaping of me, but not me. A nice healthy dream for a change – as for the other half of me representing my father ... well, things are a *bit* unresolved right now. Here I am, running after my goals, and he’s back there shouting, “you missed the off-ramp!” (You know, the one I had no intention of taking?)


Dream from 11-28-01:
The only things I remember were the elaborate examples of architecture and the high ceilings. Underneath one of these ceilings which struck awe in me, my guide in the dream explained not only were high ceilings aesthetically and practical for many functions, but they were requisite for something very spiritually important – though sadly, I no longer recall what that great importance is, I am only left with imprint of this importance ... and the ceilings.

Untitled, written 11-30-01:
I live in the Light, and though
I may falter along my path, shadows
Passing briefly over me,
It is in the Light I ultimately remain,
Grateful for my blessings of divine grace.

Gosh, with a statement (above) like that, you’d think I was a Christian.

Well, I finally got enough of our room cleaned up that we can sleep in it tonight. Big relief. I'm going to do more scrubbing in the morning, and then I've promised Ana (my little angel) we'll see Monsters, Inc. We can use the break from the stress, before going head-long back into it. I'm a week behind now, getting daycare, getting a job, securing our family. Not good, but I know it will get done.
Sadly, I still have yet to hear from Anastasia's other "mom" and have no idea why she thinks acting like this is ok. If something were seriously wrong, I would hope (pardon the pun...) she or someone else would contact me to let me know. (And if something were seriously wrong with US, I would hope she'd deign to respond . . . as if fire damage to our home isn't emergency enough!)
I don't understand why she seems to fear me. And why, after four years of a deep, loving relationship, and a daughter we both wanted and didn't know we could have together, she would go to such great lengths to ignore and avoid us. She wonders why I don't trust her enough. It's times like these, when there's something important and I need her help, she might come through at first, adding to my trust in her, and then completely flake on me. Once again she's proven I can't really count on her for anything. ::sighs::
I wish it weren't like that, but she just doesn't seem to feel it's important to be considerate to *me* (I've watched her be overly considerate to others -- even strangers who haven't been nice to her). Why? Why? Why? ::scritches head with Ana's finger, Ana giggles::
At least I'm still proving to myself (if no one else) that I can do what needs to be done . . . even without help from others. Ana's upset with me, have to go for now . . . Boy, I miss my friends.