Posts Tagged ‘study group’

I Love It When You Hold Me

January 30, 2016

He whispered and held my arm tight, kissing my hand.

My heart just broke wide open.

Careful kid.

I’m hormonal.

“Carmen, you’re going to put me to bed tonight?” The three year old asked me.

“Yes,” I said, “mommy and daddy are at a school function.”

“I love it when you put me to bed,” he said and hugged me.

I love it too.

Despite it being Friday.

Despite it being the end of the week and the end of the day.

I love it too.

The boys were very sweet today and we had a lot of time together, it rained, so mostly indoors and mostly coloring and building train tracks.

I would have happily gone out for a walk with them, but neither of them were inclined to put on rain boots and rain coats and stomp outside in puddles.

I always loved a good puddle stomp when I was a kid.

Warm summer rainstorms in the Midwest might be one of the best things ever.

Perhaps only second to snuggling down with a sweet boy.

“Sing me a song,” he whispered.

I obliged.

“Hold me,” he tugged my arm, “snuggle down with me.”

Ah kid.

You really are a wonder and I really felt my heart grow fifteen sizes too big for my chest.

Human contact is so important, being held, being touched.

I do it pretty unconsciously with the boys, rubbing their backs, holding their hands, letting them clamber up in my lap, rest their warm bodies against mine, little pack animals.

I feel a little sad with it sometimes.

Sometimes I want to be the one being held.

But there is a comfort to know that I am being taken care of.

I know that pretty intrinsically.

And being maudlin is not a help.

Just the sound of the rain, the sound of the beating child’s heart, feeling it bloom and fade under the palm of my hand, the soft rise and fall of the chest, the warm breath, and the slow fall into sleep.

So close your eyes close as I fall asleep.

There is something so delicious about being held when falling asleep.

I can’t recommend it highly enough.

I haven’t had the experience recently, my memories sustain me.

My own sense of love and purpose lifts me.

Even when I catch myself falling into sadness I know that I am held and that is good enough, the knowing is good enough.

And the ability, the capacity to love and love another, no matter what the reciprocation, is a tremendous gift.

I used to think that there was not enough love, not enough, anyway for me.

Now I know that there is an ever widening, continuously deepening, ocean, with swells of love that I will get to cast my small little seed pod of a boat upon.

I imagine a curled leaf.

A dandelion lion fluff of seeds as my sail.

An acorn cup.

A tiny wisp of love floating like eiderdown over the tides.

Excuse me while I wipe the speck from my eye.

No that is not a tear.



So it goes.

Another Friday night and I ain’t got nobody/I got some money ‘cuz I just got paid.

There is that.

Pay day.

Pay the rent day.

Little low on funds, but not bad.

Rent and utilities all covered for February and I should be getting a disbursement from my student loans by February 10th.

I also should have my tax return pretty quick.

I got a new pair of shoes in my sights.

Everything else is pretty on point, no need to shell out any money.

I may get some clothes when the tax return hits and the rest of it I think I shall sock away for my trip to New York in May.

And potentially another small trip, again, depending on what the family’s needs are and whether or not I am taking vacation pay for the time they are away or I am doing household stuff for them while they are away.

I’ve juggled a couple of ideas in my head, but nothing so far as stuck.

I will probably end up staying here and doing the infamous “staycation.”

Which means, I’ll probably do homework.


Speaking of.

I do have a confirmed lunch date and study session with a friend from school for this Sunday.

Tomorrow I meet with my person and hang out in the Inner Sunset for a bit.

Grocery shopping, laundry, cooking, doing the deal.

Pretty mellow day.

Pretty mellow weekend.

I’m thinking about making gumbo tomorrow night.

Other than that I don’t have anything going on.

This, I am told, is not a bad thing.

I know this.

But sometimes the brain gets going and the judgement machine gets turned on and I wonder what the fuck I am doing working on a Friday night and cooking on a Saturday and doing homework on a Sunday.

What fucking fun am I?


I think, hmm, look, all this lovely time, an expanse to lavish myself with self-care and love and good food, with rest, and nurturing.

I get to see a friend on Sunday and I get to see my person tomorrow.

I’m getting a manicure.

I’m getting on my scooter, the weather is supposed to lift, and I am excited to ride her around a bit.

I’m keeping up with my homework so I won’t be overwhelmed for my next weekend of classes.

I’m doing just fine.

The house is quiet.

The boys are asleep.

The rain falls in the back yard dropping down on the palmetto leaves and splashing on the flagstones.

The moon rises behind the clouds.

I sit in the throne room in my heart and wait.


I do not have to know for what.

Or whom.

I await.

I do not have to know.

I just know.



Slow Slide

January 29, 2016

Into the weekend.

I’m working a long day tomorrow.

Dinner benefit for the boys school, mom and dad out late.

Not horribly late, but late.

Then the weekend.

Where there’s not much planned.

Meet with my person and get my eyebrows waxed.

And of course.

The homework, the reading, the wearing my big girl pants and keeping on top of what is happening for my masters program.

I got a text from one of my cohort asking if I wanted to do a study group this weekend.



I said yes anyway.

I said yes to take a counter intuitive action.

I said yes, because I wanted to say no.

And I wanted to say no after I had just written about feeling a little isolated again and how I am just going to have to walk through this experience–graduate school–and that it’s not forever and I can be flexible and it will be ok.

Then my friend texts and I’m all like.


Not interested.

What is that?

I basically complain I don’t have anyone to spend time with this weekend, someone says, hey lets hang, and despite having a really open schedule, two of my ladybugs aren’t meeting with me either, I balk.

That is the nature of my disease.

Let’s get her out of the middle of the pack, isolate her a little, make her feel completely alone and see what she does.

Maybe she’ll start up her Okstupid profile.


Maybe she’ll eat some ice cream.


Might as well just stick a gun in my mouth.

Maybe, instead, I’ll take the opposite action and do something where I am engaged with my community, my friends, my graduate school program.

I don’t actually think we’ll study all that much.

In fact.

I would probably get more done on my own, and not have to haul all my books around town, but.

I’ll get to see my friend outside of class time and hang out.

She also sent me a link for a show to go to in March.

I don’t know the artist, but my friend has great taste in music and it sounds really good.

Some sort of Latin/Jazz/Fusion/Brazilian music.

Sounds super sexy.

It’s not on a school weekend.

It could be a possible date.

I want to make sure that I am still getting out and doing things.

Not that working full time and going to graduate school full time are not doing things.


You know.

Life outside of those things.

Dancing, movies, shows, meals with friends.

I don’t want to spend my life saying, I’ll be happy when…

I graduate from graduate school.


I get all 3,000 hours needed to get licensed.


When I am in a romantic relationship.


When I have the right pair of shoes.


I can get wrapped up in it not being good enough exactly the way that it is.

And then I get isolated.

So, I’m grateful I said yes to my friend; however, I think I may ask her to come towards me.

She lives close to Super Bowl city idiocy.

I don’t want to be anywhere near that part of town until it’s dismantled.

Thank God my next school weekend is the following weekend.

I won’t have to be anywhere near the chaos.

I’m sure I’ll still feel the effects of the strange village of idiots being in my town, but hopefully it won’t ripple all the way out here in the Outer Sunset.

In other words.


I have been wondering about the week following my next week at school.

I’ll have Monday the 15th off for the holiday.

Which is nice since I have an engagement the evening before, yup, this lady will indeed be on a date with about 100 gay men in the Castro, and five lipstick lesbian, two straight guys who could pass as gay and seven homeless people.

Such shall be my Valentines Day.

It’s probably a good thing I got asked to be somewhere that night and do a little service.

I hope my new dress, finally the right size, from ModCloth will have arrived.

Nothing says sharing my experience, strength and hope like sashaying around in a sweet heart neck line, A-line flair skirt, and crinoline.

I mean.

Come on.

It’s Valentine’s Day.

I got to dress up.

Maybe I’ll even wear heels.

Frankly, I like to think my recovery looks hella hot.

Excuse me.

My ego took over that last line.

I’m not upset about being a single lady on Valentines Day.

(There’s still time! You got two and half weeks!)

I’m happy with myself and my life and I have a feeling that the less I focus on dating the more magic will happen.

In fact, I am considering not even writing about it as a topic any longer.

Not that I have a date on the horizon, but maybe all the focus I have put on it over the years has actually taken me out of being in the present, where the fun is, where the magic is, where I am exactly who I am supposed to be at any given moment.

I mean.

I don’t know that I would have wanted to date me five, six years ago when I started writing this blog, there was still a lot of messy going on.

Not to say that I don’t get messy or have things to clean up or work on.

I do.

It’s just not about self-improvement anymore.

It’s not about having the right clothes or the perfect shade of blond hair.

Although I might.

It’s not about having a better body or brain or job.

It’s about being happy in my skin, with the person I am.

I am lovely.

I really am.

And I deserve to acknowledge that, I think I reflect a lot of love to other people, but not always enough to myself.

Which reminds me.

I will probably have most of the week off after Valentines Day.

The family is going to be on vacation in Hawaii.

I may have a few projects at the house, but I may also have a lot of spare time.

Day trip?

Spa day?

Train ride somewhere?

Over night camping trip?

I don’t know.

But I will think of something.

I will have gotten my student loan disbursement and since I filed my taxes early, I could possibly have that as well.

A little trip to LA?

I don’t know.

I’ll find out soon what the family expects from me, I may just end up staying here, but getting a lot of stuff done, doctors visit, optometrist, dentist, some clothes shopping, maybe an appointment with my advisor at school.

And definitely time with friends.

If you’re around that week, February 15th-21st, let me know.

I feel an adventure, or six, brewing.

And I am saying yes to it.



Let’s get together!


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