I took a bunch of older blogs and archived them - this is the slimmed down version and I anticipate the tone changing - Seemed like a good day to clean it up.

- Stacey

Wendy Cope

An excerpt from a conversation with Wendy Cope, published in Mind Readings (Secker, 1996).

"Being able to see things for myself, feeling I was entitled to my way of seeing things, was also very much bound up with getting in touch with my feelings, with my emotions. I imagine that very often in the early stage of analysis the patient says: 'no, I'm not angry - that would be unreasonable'. At a certain point I realised, and this was a revelation to me, that when someone asked me how I felt about something, I was coming up with a plausible answer but actually I didn't really know how I was feeling. I asked myself what would be reasonable. I thought I was telling the truth but then I realised that's not how I'm feeling, that's just what I think. I began to see that I did not actually know where to look for the answer to the question, 'what are you feeling?"

"I didn't know that if you accidentally drop a cup of tea over someone it may mean that you're angry with them. Once you understand that, you notice what you're doing, and you notice what thoughts cross your mind. And those are clues and then you get better at it. I think I'm pretty well in touch with my feelings most of the time now. I don't usually have to wait till I drop something to find out that I'm angry."

He Tells Her - by Wendy Cope
He tells her that the earth is flat -
He knows the facts, and that is that.
In altercations fierce and long
She tries her best to prove him wrong.
But he has learned to argue well.
He calls her arguments unsound
And often asks her not to yell.
She cannot win.
He stands his ground.
The planet goes on being round.

Tulips - By Wendy Cope
Months ago I dreamed of a tulip garden,
Planted, waited, watched for their first appearance,
Saw them bud, saw greenness give way to colours,
Just as I'd planned them.
Every day I wonder how long they'll be here.
Sad and fearing sadness as I admire them,
Knowing I must lose them,
I almost wish them Gone by tomorrow.

The Home - Interpreted by Julian (age 4.5)

I went to see a therapist today, as there is no way in Hell I would be able to get through this time without professional help. My story must have had some heft - my trained professional got teary-eyed. I knew then that she was the gal for me. I will use my 3 free 'employee assistance' visits and take it from there.

I showed her a photo of Julian and Mara so she could put real faces to the story. I showed her one of Julian's drawings from 2 nights ago. She was very intrigued. She also is focuses on adolescent psychology, so I was eagerly awaiting her thoughts on this drawing. I asked Julian who was who after he drew it and this was his reply [ Moving from R to L ]

• on far right - baby Mara all sprawled out, all orange


• next right - Stacey with huge hair, all orange


• middle - Julian orange body, blue arms


• left - John smaller, blue body, blue arms

I found it interesting that Julian's arms are blue (but his body is orange like Mara and I). John is all blue. Are they just colors and the happened chance he picked up the blue pen just in time to draw his arms and his Dad? She thought not. She might be right. Does my son feel torn between two new worlds? I venture to say yes and we have begun to gently approach the subject of Mom and Dad having two different homes for him.

Ant Bites Sting

taken from one of my school classmates emails that came in today:
My dog, Tango, without our knowledge sat on an ant pile and you should have seen him jump straight up. Even with all that hair ant bites sting.

Her World

She is now the new family face

A long love decided to go to a new unknown place

She is left dealing with issues oh so steep

She now must hurldle over the heap

Thank God she has the two little lights in tow

Hurt feelings please die off swiftfully - she begs not to feel so low

No going back - she is as inconsequential as piled up snow you never get through

Dirty snow that she will carry her two papooses through - over oblivion -

eager to

His World

Stone walls do not a prison make,

- Nor iron bars a cage;

Minds innocent and quiet take

-that for an hermitage

If I have freedom in my love,

- And in my soul am free,

Angels along, that soar above,

- Enjoy such liberty.

'Heredity' by Thomas Hardy

The Cheerleader

The skirt – all red a flow
The hair – growing, but still a ways to go

The face - oval, and prettier too
The shoes – feels like same shoes walked in long ago twice before
- unpleasant feelings, never knew

The love – undying still for a short while
The music – an ear for it, passion too
The cheer – here’s where it went wrong
- not much cheering towards the end, lost sight of importance
The fall – plunging down to the arms so trusted
- the decision was made to let go

his ‘heart was not in it anymore’

An Open Road

I'm the prettiest mess you've ever seen

There was truly just one that captured my soul
This love - I knew would last forever

I too easily gave him my heart
And he left the thing stinging

The musician in him longing to get out
The noose released - he's now free

I envision him soon being miles away with his new love
walking happily down a path of what he really wanted anyway

He chose to leave so much behind

Why does life have to be so unkind?

Rembering all the good times
I am heavier than I have ever been

Refusing to carry the weight might get me through
My hazy new world lies out there somewhere

My life - lying open - a road in front of me
I can't help but wonder where it will go

I must find truth next time

I won't go through this again
I know me
I'm wonder woman, or so i'm told