Poised for Change

I sat in my front yard for a while this afternoon and watched the sunlight reflected on the lake. Brilliant flashes and sparkles of light danced on water and wind. A moment in time, remembered in a blog, my mind's eye, and then gone.

I turned 48 last week. While where was no existential crisis, I did reflect that I've reached yet another birthday without having yet attained many of my life goals. I still work on my licensure requirements, planning to finish December 2012. I'm still living on trailer subfloors and dreaming of home improvements. My partner and I continue to work our ways toward her transition when Cameron will be the name everyone knows her/him as. I continue to wait for the day when I tell Scrooge goodbye.

When I was in my late 30s, He Who Shall Be Nameless, did a numerology reading for me. It might be the only thing about me that he ever got really right. He told me that my 40s would be a time of incredible growth and change. He also told me that my 50s wouldn't bring about so much growth, but would bring my dreams and financial security. Bring it on! I'm so ready.

Hermione sleeping on the waterbed this afternoon.

And yet. As I type this, a tiny kitten lies on my chest, satisfied in her supreme entitlement. My partner, whom I spoiled with homemade soup and homemade wheat bread, is waiting for me in the next room. The utilities are on, we have two cars parked outside, and I have a job. More, I sat in my front yard today and watched light dance on water and thought of my godson, my sister of the heart, of my daughter of the heart, and of my lover and thought how grateful I am to have them in my life, and how much meaning their presence brings to my life.

Camron and I are waiting for the time to go to Portland. I watch our investment and pray it will bring the financial security we need to meet the next step of our calling. I dream of a homet here, a building next door for a studio and space to do therapy. I want to set up a non profit. Maybe put a "blessing" jar by the door. Would be cool for folks to drop a minimal payment in the jar on their way out. Or come to use the extra studio space for art therapy, and leave a small payment for space on their way out. We value what we pay for, especially where therapy is concerned, and $10 is plenty to meet the cost of the space....something to think about anyway.

Cameron, reading over my shoulder, tells me I just didn't have the right goals in my 30s. She says I should have been dreaming of marrying a transgender man, moving to Portland by way of South Carolina, and practicing making homemade bread. Well, I added some of that myself, but she'd say if she wasn't out walking the dog.

As the wheel turns, so does my life. We move into the dark of the year, the time of introspection, the time of accounting, the time before we begin to plan again. I want to rejoice in the harvest. I want to hear the voice of Oak King, to walk with him as be becomes the sacrifice of wheel. I want to align my life with wheel. Slow my pace, stay ready for change, but not so lost in the preparation that I miss the dance of the wind and the sound of his pipes.



Blessed be.

Happy Birthday, Enlightened One!

Today is my youngest son's birthday. My relationship with my sons is a troubling thing. I love them both deeply, but I was never the mother I wanted to be for them. Too many marriages, too many divorces, too many layoffs, to much mental illness is the men I choose to share my life with. The damage shows in my relationship with my eldest son, who hasn't spoken to me since his brother got married two years ago. I've never held my grandson and my granddaughter doesn't know who I am. He says it is because I'm gay. But he's known Cameron many, many years and loves her dearly. I know he's internalized those years of damage. So Christmas, birthdays, etc are extremely problematic.

Nevertheless, the youngest son, whom I call The Enlightened One, is joy in my life. He has married  a woman who loves him as he deserves to be loved. Below is the email I sent him this evening:

24 years ago I was eager to have another baby. While my first son was absolutely beautiful, I looked forward to getting pregnant again. They say morning sickness is worst with the first child, so I figured I would be happily married, pregnant and joyful...

Well, I knew within two weeks of conception that I was pregnant. Within a month, I was morning sick. No, I was day and night sick. I averaged being sick 12 times a day...my eldest child, age almost three, learned to empty my bucket...

I'm a type A personality, always going, always doing, worrying, restless. Drives Hannah crazy. But for nine months of my life I learned to lay on a couch and not experience emotion. Any emotion. If I was happy, I threw up, If I was sad, I threw up. If I smiled at Sesame Street, I threw up. The result? Zen A***...

The day of your birth, your dad and I went to see Brenda to get our hair done. Your dad still had enough hair for a curly perm! LOL The chemicals got me. I had actually not thrown up for two weeks. So I spent the afternoon laying on Brenda's bed behind the shop praying to survive the smell.

I called the Dr when we got home. He said I was trying to go into labor and told me to lay down. Kenny Roger's The Gambler was coming on TV that night and i wanted to see it. When the contractions started, I called the Dr. I informed him I would meet him at the emergency room after the movie. I sent your dad to take a shower (he thought I had lost my mind) because he wouldn't have another chance for awhile. He shaved while I got one.

Sure enough, movie ended and we headed to the hospital. I watched a little more TV, things got a little painful, we turned off the TV, I said a few choice comments to your dad, and you were born a few hours later.

You have never stopped being the blessing to my life that you were the moment they laid you on my stomach. Your dad had been waffling on your name (I chose Marcus' so I figured it was his turn), and he said A*** N***.

I love you son.

Happy Birthday, Cameron!

It's those quite moments in the middle of the night, when I prepare for work, while I find it hardest to go. Leaving the warmth of our bed, the protection of your love has become a daily challenge. Yet I also feel blessed. The house is silent except for the quite mews of the furbabies who want attention. You lie peaceful in your sleep, beautiful, wonderful, precious.

For six years we've shared this intimacy. Five years we've lived together, building a quiet life of miracles.

I tease you about coming out "half baked". Beneath the humor lies a reminder how amazing you are, that you are here, that you walk, that you are whole. Today is your birthday. May it be special. Know that you are loved beyond all measure.

Musings and Reflections upon Turning 46

Having a birthday on September first, right when school starts, meant that as a child I always claimed my new birthday much earlier in the summer so as to appear older. I found myself resuming that habit this year. Perhaps I was not seeking to appear older so much as the last year has been so full I should already be able to claim that next year!

The last few years have been quite eventful. I began working on an Ed.S. degree in marriage and family therapy in the spring semester of 2007. I am quickly becoming a dinosaur in a program that has shifted to only offering a MA. I am now half way through my practicum, and this time next year will be taking the liscensure exam and beginning my fellowship.

When I began the graduate program, I was making excellent money as a debt collector as well as receiving tuition reimbursements. My disposable income has decreased by $31,000 a year. We are barely making it, and that's thanks to whatever work Cameron can occasionally pick up and student loans. But we are still afloat, unlike so many right now with this economy.

Cameron and I have now celebrated six years together. While we continue to struggle with extreme poverty, we are rich in many thing that matter. We did finally manage to exchange our old ratty love seat (extremely damaged by cats and passing years) for a futon this week. Lovely birthday present for me!

My youngest son called me yesterday and wished me a happy birthday. The Enlightened One has landed a long-term substitute teaching position in his local school district for decent pay. His wife is finishing up her student teaching. They bring my heart joy. I also raised the idea of meeting up during my westward camping trip next summer when Cameron and I go see the parental units again.

I continue to work in my field, albeit substance abuse. Few of my peers have landed a position since their graduation. With budget cuts in South Carolina, getting a job with DSS or Mental Health continues to prove challenging. It's my hope to never have to apply for another job (except my fellowship). I hope that while working on my fellowship, I can start my own practice. At the end, hopefully I will have enough clients to work for myself.

I adore this stage of my life. The growing pains are past. Most of the trauma has settled (PTSD doesn't seem to ever go away entirely). I am in a committed relationship with a woman who treats me wonderfully and loves me well, my children flourish, and I work in my field. With the exceptions of the hardships inflicted by a shortage of money, my life is exactly what I want it to be today. Not so shabby for being only 46!