"...Something.
.. say anything..." I say to myself.
I don't listen to my internal voice. I listen to my little boy who says: you don't have to talk if you don't want to..."
TO which DD says:
Seminal... this is the part where you get angry with me for calling you on your shit!" I say nothing.
I stare at DD and say nothing.
What brought on all of this? Well, this time it was the sound of Shamolian (our 9 month old baby). I had left him to crawl all over the futon (or roll rather) while I flicked the television. I was on the futon to. I'd turn him every few seconds, but mostly he didn't like it. He made struggling sounds, sounds of fatigue and sounds that seemed to say: pick me up... pick me up...". So I turned off the television, got flat on my back (on the futon), and tired to put him on my stomach to sleep - he often likes this.
He didn't .. and at this point, I can understand why.
So, I'll put him at my side.
DD came into the room seconds later. She asked me if I had been sleeping. "No, I hadn't been sleeping I said." "I heard Shom in distress"
To be continued. More to be added.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Monday, March 19, 2007
FIRST NATIONS, me and my 5 yr old.
SO Stinkapee and I jumped into our car and drive across town. Where we are going, I have no idea - but I do know that I wasn't going to be home. DD and I talked about how we have different experiences in our growing up relating to men. If I get triggered, I'll tend to freeze and not know what to do next.
I know I'm suppose to have feelings of shame around this... like... hey your partner is dealing with the landlord and not you. What kind of man are you. Answer: A smart one. My partner and I have diferent talents - and are trying to weigh the emotional weight of each other. It's not all men this happens with - our landlord is a very specific type. So we concluded that it'b be ok if I wasn't in the house if I was around.
ON the drive, Stinkapee was very excited about all the posters and fryers in our neighbourhood. I asked Stinkapee what she'd like to do, and she said get a surprise present for *Mama*. She said:
"What kind of cake does MAma like, cause we could get her a really cool CHOCOLATE cake." To which I said, "what a great idea.. only thing.. well, i'm not sure Mama likes chocolate as much as you..."
Then she asked me, "well what kind of cakes does Mama like? I told her, Mama likes "apples and vanilla ice cream." YIPEE! she exclaimed. We'll get a vanilla ice cream cake with apples!" Her face was glowing.
When we got to our destination, I asked Stinkapee if she wanted to walk for a bit. She said yes. We came to one of about 10 Japanese restaurants in this particular area. Stinkapee pooked her head into one restaurant.
I saw a crowd, and I thought... NO. No crowds. I can't handle crowds right. I thought about Stinkapee and the crowd, and not being able to hear her. I also thought my attention would be drifting all over the place trying to keep her out of hazards. I hate that. I'm forced to micro manage and this also pisses off Stinkapee.
We finally found a restaurant that was not crowded at all. Basically, it sat about 40 and there were about 4 people in the whole space. Perfect I thought.
The waitress came, and was very charmed by Stinkapee asking for tempura. Stinkapee also informed the waitress that she was going to make tempura at home. In other posts I'll write more about the actual lunch and how it went.
I want to jump to what happened when we were getting back in the car to leave the visited neighbourhood. There were these two white men are walking up the street and speaking loudly. I am in the process of putting Stinkapee in our car, and one of them is saying to the other:
"You know, the major problem with Canada is that try saying any racial slur and someone is going to have something to say about it - except if it's about the First Nations. If I say "that stupid drunken Indian" right here on the street - chances are no one is going to say anything."
Now I heard this just as I was closing Stinkapee's car door, to which I said: "Oh I'd have something to say.. I'd have a few choice words" To which he then said - "well, I' really sorry - and I'm glad you would but I mean most others."
I got in my car, and immediately Stinkapee asks me why she doesn't see more First Nations people. I said to her, because the government made a bad decision and decided many of them needed to live in their own neighbourhoods - called reserves. Then she asked me why the people in history made such bad choices. I told her it was a lotof people who live on the goddess mother earth's planet have parents that didn't deal with their emotions. Do you talk about your emotions Stinkapee. "Yes, I do." she replied.
Well, many people don't. In fact, the parents of some people in government have parents which are Durselys. And their grandparents, and their grandparents are durselys too. And when you're a dursely, you make bad choices, and choices that hurt people.
"I never want to be a dursely Papi." she says. "You could never be Stinkapee. I love you." I reply. "Papi" she continues, can we go to Disney World.
*Boy it just keeps on coming*
I know I'm suppose to have feelings of shame around this... like... hey your partner is dealing with the landlord and not you. What kind of man are you. Answer: A smart one. My partner and I have diferent talents - and are trying to weigh the emotional weight of each other. It's not all men this happens with - our landlord is a very specific type. So we concluded that it'b be ok if I wasn't in the house if I was around.
ON the drive, Stinkapee was very excited about all the posters and fryers in our neighbourhood. I asked Stinkapee what she'd like to do, and she said get a surprise present for *Mama*. She said:
"What kind of cake does MAma like, cause we could get her a really cool CHOCOLATE cake." To which I said, "what a great idea.. only thing.. well, i'm not sure Mama likes chocolate as much as you..."
Then she asked me, "well what kind of cakes does Mama like? I told her, Mama likes "apples and vanilla ice cream." YIPEE! she exclaimed. We'll get a vanilla ice cream cake with apples!" Her face was glowing.
When we got to our destination, I asked Stinkapee if she wanted to walk for a bit. She said yes. We came to one of about 10 Japanese restaurants in this particular area. Stinkapee pooked her head into one restaurant.
I saw a crowd, and I thought... NO. No crowds. I can't handle crowds right. I thought about Stinkapee and the crowd, and not being able to hear her. I also thought my attention would be drifting all over the place trying to keep her out of hazards. I hate that. I'm forced to micro manage and this also pisses off Stinkapee.
We finally found a restaurant that was not crowded at all. Basically, it sat about 40 and there were about 4 people in the whole space. Perfect I thought.
The waitress came, and was very charmed by Stinkapee asking for tempura. Stinkapee also informed the waitress that she was going to make tempura at home. In other posts I'll write more about the actual lunch and how it went.
I want to jump to what happened when we were getting back in the car to leave the visited neighbourhood. There were these two white men are walking up the street and speaking loudly. I am in the process of putting Stinkapee in our car, and one of them is saying to the other:
"You know, the major problem with Canada is that try saying any racial slur and someone is going to have something to say about it - except if it's about the First Nations. If I say "that stupid drunken Indian" right here on the street - chances are no one is going to say anything."
Now I heard this just as I was closing Stinkapee's car door, to which I said: "Oh I'd have something to say.. I'd have a few choice words" To which he then said - "well, I' really sorry - and I'm glad you would but I mean most others."
I got in my car, and immediately Stinkapee asks me why she doesn't see more First Nations people. I said to her, because the government made a bad decision and decided many of them needed to live in their own neighbourhoods - called reserves. Then she asked me why the people in history made such bad choices. I told her it was a lotof people who live on the goddess mother earth's planet have parents that didn't deal with their emotions. Do you talk about your emotions Stinkapee. "Yes, I do." she replied.
Well, many people don't. In fact, the parents of some people in government have parents which are Durselys. And their grandparents, and their grandparents are durselys too. And when you're a dursely, you make bad choices, and choices that hurt people.
"I never want to be a dursely Papi." she says. "You could never be Stinkapee. I love you." I reply. "Papi" she continues, can we go to Disney World.
*Boy it just keeps on coming*
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Constant Mothering
So, I just got into an argument, or was it a non-argument with my partner about my constant need for attention in a particular fashion, the mothering fashion. Yes, a constant validation that only a mother can offer (which mine will not - and yes my little boy is angry about that)
I want my attention, I want my attention, I want my attention. I want it at all costs. I went to counseling today... ... I'm having a realization about my friendship with my friend Charles. You see, him and I are starting a men's group, which incorporates journaling, reading, and reflection. But he just told me he's kinda not into writing. And I thought about how it would be great if he knew about blogging.
But then again, who am I to talk. I'm really similar to him in that I'm addicted to work... all the time. I just so happen to have a partner with boundaries, and so - she expects me to follow thru on what I commit to. Not so for him.
And even with the partner, it has taken me years to move - and i'm still struggling. Go back and read some of earlier posts... i'm still in a lot ways still in that place.
Anyway, I saw this doc on Metellica, DD talks about this on her site, in which the band is going thru some really tough times and so hires a psychotherapist to come and see them once a week to work out their stuff. I envision something like this for me and my group. Of course, who's got the deep pockets to pay for it on Metellica's scale? Well, Metellica. Maybe we all wouldn't see the therapist every week - maybe it would be once a month.
But it would take some serious commitment.
And would probably end my constant need to be mothered all the time by my partner. I need to take control of my serious lack of emotional care from my parents. I need to take control of this. Right now, I'm just total ball of .. well ... old rage. I talked to my counsel today and released a lot of anger - an anger charge that seems like it is endless. I don't stop. I feel like I'm always angry.
So, I beat up my crazy landlord, that madman - I gave him all my rage. Jumped on his face, threw across the room. Gave him round house, kicks and side kicks. I elbowed him, I kicked him - this of course all in the comfort of my therapists' office.
I think I need to do that everyday. It was my brother I was beating up. It was probably also the rest of my birth family that I am angry at that I don't have a chance to tell off in person. And of course, I don't have a chance to beat up... though I think I'd like too.
Everyone one of them needs a good beating by me. No talking. Just beating. Maybe i shouldn't write this. Maybe it's not safe. I'm having thoughts around me being a "dangerous Black man" that one needs to be careful of.
You know, I saw today as mothering myself. Now, if i could just keep the ball rolling. I put my call out for my group out in my blog and keep you all informed of what happens next.
I want my attention, I want my attention, I want my attention. I want it at all costs. I went to counseling today... ... I'm having a realization about my friendship with my friend Charles. You see, him and I are starting a men's group, which incorporates journaling, reading, and reflection. But he just told me he's kinda not into writing. And I thought about how it would be great if he knew about blogging.
But then again, who am I to talk. I'm really similar to him in that I'm addicted to work... all the time. I just so happen to have a partner with boundaries, and so - she expects me to follow thru on what I commit to. Not so for him.
And even with the partner, it has taken me years to move - and i'm still struggling. Go back and read some of earlier posts... i'm still in a lot ways still in that place.
Anyway, I saw this doc on Metellica, DD talks about this on her site, in which the band is going thru some really tough times and so hires a psychotherapist to come and see them once a week to work out their stuff. I envision something like this for me and my group. Of course, who's got the deep pockets to pay for it on Metellica's scale? Well, Metellica. Maybe we all wouldn't see the therapist every week - maybe it would be once a month.
But it would take some serious commitment.
And would probably end my constant need to be mothered all the time by my partner. I need to take control of my serious lack of emotional care from my parents. I need to take control of this. Right now, I'm just total ball of .. well ... old rage. I talked to my counsel today and released a lot of anger - an anger charge that seems like it is endless. I don't stop. I feel like I'm always angry.
So, I beat up my crazy landlord, that madman - I gave him all my rage. Jumped on his face, threw across the room. Gave him round house, kicks and side kicks. I elbowed him, I kicked him - this of course all in the comfort of my therapists' office.
I think I need to do that everyday. It was my brother I was beating up. It was probably also the rest of my birth family that I am angry at that I don't have a chance to tell off in person. And of course, I don't have a chance to beat up... though I think I'd like too.
Everyone one of them needs a good beating by me. No talking. Just beating. Maybe i shouldn't write this. Maybe it's not safe. I'm having thoughts around me being a "dangerous Black man" that one needs to be careful of.
You know, I saw today as mothering myself. Now, if i could just keep the ball rolling. I put my call out for my group out in my blog and keep you all informed of what happens next.
Monday, March 05, 2007
THE SHMOLIANthe birth of a new baby
The latest edition to our household is already 8 months old. I feel shocked at how little I wrote about the birth. But I just wasn't able to commit to doing the writing just yet.
It was very moving and emotional and intense. It was frightening. It was joyful. It was scary. It was natural. It was birth. My daughter was there. The mid-wives were there. We filmed it. We watched it. Again.
IN some previous posts I think I've talked about the importance of being present for this child, knowing that he is a boy-child and knowing how boy children - specifically Black boy children are under-mis educated and pretty well... left back.
But b4 I get all theoretical on you, let me just write my feelings down, I mean for gods sake the point of this blog was to talk about my feelings. First the birth: it was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I mean, I wasn't emotionally present for stinkapee - I would say - I mean - I was there but only in body. You should see my eyes in some of the pictures of that day. I look like a fucking zombie.
I don't even think I was there. It was like a was on another planet. Some place far far away. I mean my head is exploding right now just thinking about how I felt in the moment. My young self didn't even really believe it was all happening. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Oh shit... I need to get a hold of myself.
So when I think about Shomalian, I think - the opposite. I has present and excited and really interested in the birth. Our life was different physically, but more importantly, I was seeing a counselor, attending a mens group, facilitator of a young men's group against violence and reading. Then slowly things started to change and I didn't know what to do. Well that's not true either. Wow, writing is something else. Of course I knew what to do, I just didn't want to change anything. I wanted to stay miserable and angry and complain. I still want to be angry... okay I'm ranting now.
Back to the day of the birth. It was an unbelievably beautiful day. I was shitting bricks though cause 4 days before, I had been preparing for (the baby's) arrival. DD was having light contractions on the Thursday (he wasn't born until the following Monday) But because of the quick birth of Stinkapee, I thought - i guess we all thought it best to be ready. So, the midwives came over, I paced up and down a little - and I even had my trusty video camera.
Gotta go pick up my daughter - more later.
I
It was very moving and emotional and intense. It was frightening. It was joyful. It was scary. It was natural. It was birth. My daughter was there. The mid-wives were there. We filmed it. We watched it. Again.
IN some previous posts I think I've talked about the importance of being present for this child, knowing that he is a boy-child and knowing how boy children - specifically Black boy children are under-mis educated and pretty well... left back.
But b4 I get all theoretical on you, let me just write my feelings down, I mean for gods sake the point of this blog was to talk about my feelings. First the birth: it was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I mean, I wasn't emotionally present for stinkapee - I would say - I mean - I was there but only in body. You should see my eyes in some of the pictures of that day. I look like a fucking zombie.
I don't even think I was there. It was like a was on another planet. Some place far far away. I mean my head is exploding right now just thinking about how I felt in the moment. My young self didn't even really believe it was all happening. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Oh shit... I need to get a hold of myself.
So when I think about Shomalian, I think - the opposite. I has present and excited and really interested in the birth. Our life was different physically, but more importantly, I was seeing a counselor, attending a mens group, facilitator of a young men's group against violence and reading. Then slowly things started to change and I didn't know what to do. Well that's not true either. Wow, writing is something else. Of course I knew what to do, I just didn't want to change anything. I wanted to stay miserable and angry and complain. I still want to be angry... okay I'm ranting now.
Back to the day of the birth. It was an unbelievably beautiful day. I was shitting bricks though cause 4 days before, I had been preparing for (the baby's) arrival. DD was having light contractions on the Thursday (he wasn't born until the following Monday) But because of the quick birth of Stinkapee, I thought - i guess we all thought it best to be ready. So, the midwives came over, I paced up and down a little - and I even had my trusty video camera.
Gotta go pick up my daughter - more later.
I
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