sister resistor...

my nerdy/activist/crafty/*insert snarky type here* rantings... woot.


Mindfulness Week 2012- Days 1 and 2

So, this is the intro to Mindfulness week for me Dec. 1 to Dec. 8. December 8th is Bodhi Day… Google it…

Day One, or So, you think you can build a shed in one weekend?

My partner and I have a shed to build. It was originally supposed to be built before Thanksgiving because she had her family stay here… And we wanted to build it. Well, she ordered it, it took a while, she left town, and it came. We knew we needed to dig out the yard a bit because we live on a hill. 

Anyways, we dug and she got sick for a week. 

Then, she recovered and we got back to digging THIS weekend… Well, we THOUGHT we could get it done… But, the Georgia red clay decided differently. And not just some tough dirt that may be hard to get out of your clothes in small patches around the yard… I mean 3 inches under the topsoil is a solid mass of clay around the entire 8 X 10 area… We had to get a pickaxe to break it up, and not only was it red, but it was yellow and black and there was quartz mixed in… She pickaxed and I shoveled. And when we finished the 2 X 8 feet area, I kept thinking it was so far from level or one side was too high. She assured me it was because I was looking at the hill while observing the level that my view was skewed. she was right. (Don’t tell her that)

It really made me think about how we all view our troubles. Its easy to think that someone is above or beneath us because one of us is standing at the top of the hill. Even when the two cement blocks were level, because of how far we had to dig the less deep side seemed higher. I mean, it’s easy to think someone’s life is better because it looks that way, and because we only know our own experience. I only know how far I have had to dig. I don’t know how far Oprah had to dig, no matter how she tries to tell me, as if Oprah is going to sit me down and tell me her story, lol. 

I want to change how I judge people from my perspective. I want to be able to accept people and meet them where THEY are, not just where I am. I want to not compare my life to others. I also, and this is hard to type, want to ACCEPT my experience. No one else has lived my life but me. I just gotta accept that.

Day two, or why I ate a $12.99 burger on a full stomach…

This is a little raw and sore because it just happened.

Without going into too much detail, we went to eat, there was a misunderstanding, and pent up frustrations all around, and in the end I ended up eating the food I didn’t really want. 

I feel nauseous. When I ate the burger, I thought I was just doing it because it was thirteen friggin dollars… But now, after further introspection, I realize I try to swallow everyone’s conflict. 

I thought eating the burger, the Lump Crab Burger, would diffuse an already exploding situation. I can’t make people get along, and I can’t fix everyone’s problems. Heck, I can barely fix my own problems.

a m

d o i n g 

t h e 

b e s t


c a n

I really am. I’m also putting my foot down and refusing to play mediator to a situation that requires the other two parties to speak to each other on THEIR own terms about their own conflict. I want to protect them both. I want to fix this with a hug and some tuna casserole. Great, now I’m tearing up and I can’t see the keys… 

You know, no one really SAYS how difficult raising teenagers is. And yes, I’ve done it once already, my daughter in college… But, now I’m raising my son who, for two years, lived with his father (RIP Antoine). And because he has lived with his father, and rarely visited me, I feel like I don’t really know him. I want to know him. He’s my baby. He’s my blood. and I’m trying. I think I’m trying too hard, but what is too hard with your family?

And you know what? No one really SAYS how hard it is to be a widow. Grief is always something private and you’re supposed to come out on the other side prepared to continue with life. My ex-husband and I were separated for 10 years this year. He died this year. At 36. At one point in our mutual timeline, we were best friends. We were newlyweds, we were new parents, we were a unit. Somewhere between there and here, we stopped being those things to each other. And to spare my children, who just might happen to stumble upon this blog, that’s all I’ll say. We’ve both been in relationships since. But, I didn’t expect to never see him again. Ever. I didn’t expect to last see him in the hospital. I didn’t expect to never get the opportunity to be friendly toward each other. I wasn’t ready. Not that he was, this was very sudden. But, I feel abandoned. And I might talk a good game and say I can handle this single parenting thing by myself, but I’m scared. Yes, I’m scared.  I’m scared because there is no one else to blame for my kids being screwed up, if they are. It’s just me, and I still don’t know what I’m doing.

I want to know what to do when my son suddenly stops speaking to me. I want to not feel insecure when my kids come home from my in-laws for the weekend. I want to know the direct effect of what I say before I say it. I want to see it in a crystal ball before I say it to make sure I’m not scarring my kids for life.  

I’m rambling…

I’ve had a crazy year. And, I’m using this week to reflect.