looking back over my drafts, I found this little poem. I hardly remember writing...
Red.
Ash after the flame quiets
Sun through curtains as it rises
Low full moon on the horizon
Ripened on the vine
Ready
Red.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
I often find myself searching for solutions, answers and even resolutions on the internet. If I want to know why the thermostat isn't working after replacing the batteries or what the number one song was the week I was born, I simply type my question into the search box and almost instantly I have a list of results to explore.
Trying to conceive is often like being on a roller coaster. There are highs and lows. The low points occur after another failed attempt and usually corresponds with fluctuations in hormones. The high points are filled with hope that maybe it will happen this time. The highs and lows can be frustrating and exhausting, so while I allow myself to feel the "lower" emotions I also try to remain positive. This is easier said than done, especially after faced with yet another happy "we're having a baby" announcement. This is wonderful news to hear and while I am always happy for the expecting party, I also find the news bittersweet and my emotions are always mixed with jealousy and guilt for not sharing in their complete joy... When this happened to me the other day. I decided that I must not be the first person in my situation who has felt this way. So I did a search on the internet, and sure enough it's a common feeling. So common that there is even a list of things to say and not to say for someone who is experiencing infertility. After a little more exploring I came across a blog called infertility awakening... This blog is so well written and every emotion is so exquisitely expressed, that after reading a few sentences I felt comforted and less alone. Finding these words was exactly the answer I was looking for.
Trying to conceive is often like being on a roller coaster. There are highs and lows. The low points occur after another failed attempt and usually corresponds with fluctuations in hormones. The high points are filled with hope that maybe it will happen this time. The highs and lows can be frustrating and exhausting, so while I allow myself to feel the "lower" emotions I also try to remain positive. This is easier said than done, especially after faced with yet another happy "we're having a baby" announcement. This is wonderful news to hear and while I am always happy for the expecting party, I also find the news bittersweet and my emotions are always mixed with jealousy and guilt for not sharing in their complete joy... When this happened to me the other day. I decided that I must not be the first person in my situation who has felt this way. So I did a search on the internet, and sure enough it's a common feeling. So common that there is even a list of things to say and not to say for someone who is experiencing infertility. After a little more exploring I came across a blog called infertility awakening... This blog is so well written and every emotion is so exquisitely expressed, that after reading a few sentences I felt comforted and less alone. Finding these words was exactly the answer I was looking for.
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not alone
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Chinese herbs
Yesterday I had my consultation for Chinese herbs. The practitioner gave me a lot of information concerning my diet and how it affects my health, as well as information regarding hormones. She poked around my stomach, shoulders and ribs and I smelled about twenty different oils until I found a combination that relaxed my shoulders and neck muscles the most. I left her office with a large bottle of prenatal vitamins, progesterone aiding supplements, a small bottle of customized oils, worksheets for basal body temperature tracking, instructions to vary my diet and the usual overwhelming sense of frustration and self pity for my broken body. I realize "broken body" may be taking it too far. I have an intolerance to gluten, a need to vary my diet and a sluggish immune system but overall I am healthy. Still, there is a gland the size of a pea buried at the base of my brain that isn't serving it's full purpose. The pituitary gland is responsible for regulating my bodies hormones. There is a hormone called the luteinizing hormone, that controls estrogen and is responsible for signaling to the ovaries that it's time to ovulate. At a certain point in my cycle my estrogen builds and I start to feel the symptoms of ovulation. What should happen next is called an "LH surge" where the pituitary gland signals a rush of luteinizing hormone, which then signals ovulation. For whatever reason there is a disconnect between my pituitary gland and my ovaries. In other words month after month my LH isn't surging, and like the fizzling out of the péripétie, I fail to ovulate. This new treatment plan is set up to do a few things. The vitamins will give me the folic acid I need, in addition to help my body process food and nutrients. The essential oils will help stimulate the pituitary gland... When I think about my body and its inner workings, I think of it as a vast ocean and below the surface are things happening that I can try to understand but never fully will. I can only touch the surface and trust those who have explored the depths. I want to know everything that is happening on the inside and I want to be able to fix whatever isn't working properly, but that isn't my area of expertise. I can only pay attention to the ebb and flow of my body, tend to subtle shifts and changes, rub oils on my neck, swallow the vitamins and supplements they give me and hope that the tides will turn and eventually they will turn into a new life.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Building blocks
Hello Shh... be quiet world. Life has been fairly quiet since my last post well over a year ago, with the exception of a few cymbal crashes, a trip home to visit my family (which is a story for later) and then the most notable of which was getting married. Though this event was less of a smashsmash life changing reverberating cymbal crash and more of a natural response to the movement of things. So here I am moving into the New Year surrounded by ways that nurture my well being and hopefully will assist my desire to further my being (in other words I would like to start a family). If I am being truthful here (and really it's never a matter of being truthful or not but more of a concern of how much of my inner workings I wish to divulge), I will confess that I've faced some challenges in my attempts at starting a family. I've seen Dr.'s and specialists that prescribed pills and expensive x-rays, but I've currently chosen a more holistic route. I've started acupuncture and while I can't say I've seen the results I'm hoping for as of yet, I still find the practice to be extremely relaxing and therapeutic. I think my next move will be to try Chinese herbs. I have a consultation with a practitioner/distributor and will go from there. So this is where I am right now. I'm hoping these building blocks will help me build something beautiful. More on the trip home later.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
space

Soon I will say goodbye to my little "Emily Dickinson" apartment on the near east-side. This apartment, (which is actually the top floor of a two story house built in the 1930's with most of its orignal fixtures including pedestal sink, tub, brick red plastic tile lining the bathroom walls and silver radiators embellished with beautiful scroll designs) has served me well over the year I've been renting. Having moved here after my divorce, this was my first solo apartment in five years. I brought new books, boys and friends to my white walled cocoon, and now I'm getting ready to re-imagine my life in another space.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
waking up at night
I walk up to the house. You stay behind on the sidewalk and watch as I approach the unshuttered window by the front door. It's dark and luckily there are no sensor lights to spotlight the stranger creeping across the lawn. The visible fish tank anchored in the hallway glows blue and gold. Shadows of tiny waves play on the adjacent wall. The fish glide and pause, jet and dive, performing for the window watcher. My back is turned to you. You shift the weight of your stance and yawn, silently observing the light from the window flaring faintly around my shoulders to the crown of my head.
...tbc
...tbc
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