This is My Forties

This is my 872nd post on this blog, and I don't even know what I want to say.  I started writing today because I don't want my whole life or everything I write to just be school assignments or unschooling/kids (that's why I created the unschooling blog ). My first week of the semester is over.  It's gonna be a good one.  I think I am going to be doing a helluva lot of reading and writing, but seeing as this is my 872nd blog post... shouldn't be an issue. When I look back to my first semester and what I wrote on here... I just can't believe how I feel now... or that it's been an entire year since I started back up.  I have little anxiety now, but first semester I was crying damn near every day.  I never felt good enough, stressed about grades and performance, stressed about not belonging.  I wish I could say that was due to my age, but it was all about confidence in my level of intelligence.  I thought everyone was better than me at everything and I...

After tons of research and conversations, we've decided to try something completely new.  The kids are going to be home with me next year instead of attending school.  I'm writing all about it on another blog for anyone interested in following this little adventure :)  We probably will also have a few trips to Germany and elsewhere mixed in... SO EXCITED!  I get really nervous about telling people about my choices for some reason, but I'm working on it.  It was time to finally let everyone know.

I believe the main reason bullying has become such a problem is our continued mistreatment of children.  We are bullies to them.  We are sarcastic and cynical and disrespectful.  We lord our power over them.  We hit them.  We say everything we want, however we want, as loud as we want, and tell them they cannot respond similarly.  We tell them how they feel and how they should feel.  We tell them what their intentions are.  We don't ask them or help them think through these complicated issues.  We don't practice patience.  We publicly shame them.  We don't trust them or have faith in their abilities.  We tell them what they can wear and say and when they can eat, sleep, even go to the bathroom.  It's insane.  We say "you can be anything", but our actions are fear-filled and insecure and opposite our words.  We give them no autonomy or control over their own lives. This is especially true during middle school ye...

My suffering is justice Makes sense Brings balance In this place that takes heroes And leaves enemies in palaces I'm left to wonder what "hero" is If honor is real If justice is swift Or... what if We're all out of control There's nothing we can do To right or to wrong No weak No strong IS... with no value Added to one over another Can this be it? NO I'm meant to suffer There's order Decisions, control Right side, wrong side Heaven and hell There's better than There's greater than There's evil and good There's purpose to pain Gravity to gravity A good fight A moral stand I must be right But... Trista And Rock And Dan NO My suffering is justice Makes sense Brings balance In this place that takes heroes And leaves enemies in palaces

Someone warned me not to light up because I'm liable to get sniped Light makes you a target to the enemy They told me it was too bright Keep it to yourself Be humble Don't draw attention Tone it down so they don't get jealous What's the point of light If not to shine Light shines for all, not just the bearer It spreads into darkness and uncloaks all its secrets It doesn't discriminate, it flows from all angles It's not meant for just one Jealousy isn't my responsibility Shining is I am a light

When I was little I hated puking so much that once I wouldn't open my mouth, thinking that would somehow stop the inevitable.  It didn't.  Sure burned my nose though.  I still hate purging.  I'd rather suffer for longer than have a painful build-up and then a violent purge followed by general feeling of wellness.  Whatever!  I can handle the pain for longer if it means feeling a little more in control! I need to vent, and I apparently need to vent to a crowd so that my throat and neck stop throbbing.  I don't want to.  I hate this.  I loathe this exercise so much.  I feel like I've done this so many times, but nothing changes.  I hate complaining, even if it's about MYSELF. I have typed probably 15 emails or texts or messages to people this week that I won't send.  Why?  Because I'm SURE these people don't want to have anything to do with me whatsoever.  Why?  I DON'T KNOW!!! I was told just this month that...

I am going to march with my fellow scientists on April 22nd, and for many great reasons. Here are a few. It was discovered in 1929 that lead was poisonous in paint ... however, lobbyists fought science on it until 1978 when it was finally banned. It killed thousands of people, mostly children. They blamed it on parents. They said science wasn't proving without a doubt that lead was bad. They wanted to force laws on science that are incredibly restrictive and unreasonable. They are doing this now with our food and our environment. Food corporations spend billions of dollars lobbying to keep themselves in business by encouraging the government to use old or unsound science (that was bought and paid for) instead of the hundreds of well-researched and articulated studies done by independent laboratories. They employ lawyers to whittle down scientific studies... lawyers. Not scientists. They argue over syntax, not content. Their main goal is economics, not health. It is...

You never see the lonely They hide in plain sight The floor below in Boyden With the tables packed and loud Hovering above, playing their Symphonies of belonging. The lonely sit among the statues The cold and silent stone The unwanted doppelgangers of Rome Below the echo of laughs like thunder Muffled conversations gather like clouds And rain down An added reminder That there's nothing here Nothing but the lonely As those who belong Collect their stories on Olympus Here I am Non-traditional Forgotten and old.

It's been awhile since I posted, but I have been keeping up with my creativity challenge.  Today I finally rearranged and hung up framed photos that have been patiently waiting in my basement since we moved here 4 years ago.  I was trying to come up with ideas on what to place in some giant poster frames we've had laying around and I reopened 2005-2007, the years Josh was gone. I thought it would be kinda cool to collage everything I had saved, which was everything we wrote each other while he was away.  Romantic, right?  I started reading a few notes from flowers he had sent me "home soon, babe. i love you." and I was right back in that hell of missing him.  I bawled immediately and didn't read anything else.  It took me by surprise that I still have such a strong emotional response after all this time.  Such a tiny little message.  I feel every hopeful, pain-filled word.  I see my yellow walls, my blue cabinets in the kitchen, and the bou...