my name is ra.

footnotes

I’m not writing a post today. I am in a mood.
A bad mood, I suppose you’d say.

I don’t feel like hiding behind metaphors, or wrestling with an oxford comma. I feel like fragments. I feel like short sentences.

I feel short.
Short-tempered.

This is the type of post that I intended to write on my secret blog. The sort of post that is really a journal entry. The sort of post that isn’t prettied up enough to mean anything to anyone except to me, but then, maybe one day it could.

Many Rarasaur blog posts blossomed from a seed I planted in my journals.

My secret blog is called:

the girl behind the dinosaur
and other footnotes.

And I love the name, though you’d hardly guess it because I rarely write there. It is a bonus section of content for my Patreon supporters. Supporters who, let’s face it, are the reason you’re reading anything at all right now.

.

.

I wouldn’t be able to afford to be blogging, at least not the way I blog. The computer, the internet, the wrist bands, the phone, the projects…

When I came home, it was to nothing except what you all raised for me. I work an hour away from my home, for a small business. It is fulfilling. It is home. It is not going to make me rich. Most months, it will not even make me solvent.

When I say I had nothing when I came home, I mean I had very little. A dozen articles of clothes, a few stray books that Dave kept, a broken laptop. I had to buy soap, shoes, toothpaste, towels, everything. I had to clarify my legal status and get through parole which wasn’t inexpensive either. Every time I get a little ahead financially, I am sucked right back down.

I’m not complaining, of course.
I make choices.

Between shoes without holes in them, and a blog, I choose blog.

I’m not complaining.
More of us have this story than not, and I am lucky.

Every thing I do have, with few exceptions, has been a gift. The things you see in the back of the videos, the clothes I wear, the foods I snap photos of– I am gifted, constantly. I am cared for.

I am also tired.

The problem with being broke is that you can be broke anywhere. It’s one less string you have, tying you down.

I used to have so many strings.
My car was totaled two weeks ago.

.

.

My left arm hurts. Dave’s car is gone now, as gone as he is.
Oh.
Well.
One less string.

I don’t have to stay here and wait in a five-hour DMV line like I did this morning. I don’t have to wait in a line to be told again, and again, that I can’t do the things I need to do.

I can go anywhere.
I have nowhere to go.

This sounds unhappy, doesn’t it? I’m not used to that sound in my own voice, but I wore it on my face all day. I tried to buy myself a lemonade with tear-soaked eyes, but the waiter saw my face, and made it his treat.

I am lucky.
Tired, but lucky.

I can’t find my ring. It’s probably a sign.

.

.

My short hair needs a touch up I can’t afford, or maybe it just needs to be washed properly, but I can’t lift my hands enough to do it, so we’ll see. The boys I like don’t care for short hair, but I cut it anyway. Find yourself before worrying about boys, people keep telling me. As if there aren’t 3000 posts on this site written by me, talking about me. I know myself, even if I don’t know which direction I’m going or why I’m even here anymore. It’s such weird advice to give. Move your arms, kick your legs, find a raft, wear a life vest.

I’m not drowning, friends. I am burning.

That’s needlessly sharp. I can’t help it. That particular kernel of advice is getting on my nerves. My nerves are messed up which is why my hands hurt. I need an MRI, they say.

The insurance will pay, but I can’t find the title to the car so everything to do with the insurance is on hold. Once upon a time, I could have paid for it all myself. Now, not so much.

I think a lot lately about the things I could do that would justify my staying in one of the most expensive areas of the United States. I could work again. Not the 9-to-5 that I’ve always had, but my work.

I can make your business profitable, beautiful, purposeful. I’ve done it to hundreds of others.

But that was then.
Then, when I had strings.
Then, when a trip to the DMV didn’t spiral me into a mental depression.

Fine.
A mental unhappy.
The doldrums.

I’ve slid into the doldrums.
Part of it is the pain.

My arm just won’t stop hurting.
And I just won’t stop typing.

And I wonder if one day I’ll have a little corner of the streets that are too expensive to live on,
and a little cardboard sign that says
#amwriting.

And I know,
I know.
I know.

I am lucky.
Stupidly, ridiculously, unfairly lucky.
Blessed beyond anything I could ever deserve.

I am lucky to be living.
I am lucky to have seen so much die.

It’s how I know that everything passes.
Even this.
This unhappy little post that I absolutely am not going to write.

.

51 comments

    1. It’s just that during one of these hurdles, the everything that passes gets closer and closer to being me.

      I can just see the posts. She survives prison just to melt in a dmv, or die in a shower from trying to wash her hair properly. Sigh.

      I know.
      I know.
      Ignore me.

      Lucky. Lucky. Lucky.
      This too.

      Liked by 2 people

      1. You’re not going to die in the shower. You’re going to die while trying to hug a Panda in a Zoo just outside of Taiwan, all the while dressed in a sundress and heels with words printed on the toes, and a coke in your hand.

        They shall write your epitaph in puffy glitter paint, and you will be giggling from the great beyond about dinosaurs and oversized coffee mugs.

        Thud.

        Liked by 4 people

          1. That’s high praise, indeed *blushes* Smiling is good 🙂 If I can make you smile, maybe I can make myself smile too, soon.

            (Incidendally, it’s what I try to remember to tell myself, when I’m busy berating my own lack of happiness / “bad moods”.. Occasionally it even works)

            Liked by 1 person

  1. I am not going to give you any platitudes, you have received enough of them from what you say. I do know from personal experience when you hit rock bottom the only way is up! You may slip and fall many more times on the way. Yet keep those fingers grabbing at hope and you will get back where you belong. Be blessed and I am sending you love and hope! xxxx

    Liked by 1 person

  2. It’s okay to be in a bad mood. I’ve been in a few moods lately. They come and go, and like you say, they will pass. I’ve been missing blog posts and having to catch up because of these moods. One of the moods is sadness, bordering on apathy.

    Another is frustration, and a little bit of anger. But I’ve lived with these feelings so often that I know that I have to treat myself with kindness, go back to basics, and then deal with the other things when I feel a bit stronger. It’s been a hard year in many ways, but in others, like you, I feel lucky and grateful. Friends, family, the cat, writing, a roof over my head. Books! 🙂

    I would describe myself as money-poor (for the moment), and life-rich. Money so easily grinds you down when you have to make choices between things according to what you need in any given moment. And yet. We do have some. We can make those choices, even if it feels hard to skimp on some things for something else.

    You’re allowed to do what you want and feel what you feel. Sending you love and hoping for the best things for you ❤️

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Wow that’s a lot of conflict all at once, I can see why you’re upset. This too will pass sweetie. 🙂 Sending virtual hugs and support!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Sending hugs, like so many others. But is there a more concrete way any of us can help? I understand that losing the car and then the stress from the DMV could put you into a tailspin. But baby steps…one thing at a time and you soon will feel more in control. I hope. Meantime…is there anywhere we could send you help?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Dawn, you’re very sweet. Truthfully, I’m cared for well here, but you can always pop by and send love and support of the ones I’m leaning on so heavily.

      http://www.BehindTheWillows.com has a book giveaway that she’s hardly had time to promote with me crying all over her every other day. She puts down the kids for a nap, then deals with me. 😉 http://www.WolvieLA.Wordpress.com is my house sister and deals with the running in and out to get all these things done. http://www.TheMatticusKingdom.com is Matt who has work interrupted by me upset about something that I really have no need to be upset about. http://www.BillFriday.com who came down to take me out to eat and run errands, many times this last week. If you’re on Instagram, @mynameismud (http://instagram.com/mynameismud) who stopped everything to help redo the design of this blog, and also went on a search for my ring. His place is also where I went to cry my eyes out since he lets me use it when he’s not there, and those moments of peace are valued much. There’s Bradley over at https://greenembe.rs who picked up the mantle of Captain Poblano when I totally flopped out on being able to contribute in any meaningful way. There’s Diamond Mike, my boss, who just published his book http://diamondWatson.com , (https://www.amazon.com/Legend-Why-Mom-Deserves-Diamond/dp/1891665480/) which has a foreword written by me. He’s been super flexible with me not being able to do work, taking days off when I need to– everything. And then of course there’s all the Peppers– https://cheerpeppers.wordpress.com/2016-2/ who I’ve been trying to visit daily, but haven’t had the energy to tweet them and share them at random.

      So, that, if anything. ❤

      I'm doing the chiropractor and MRI stuff, keeping on my arm. Hopefully it'll be better soon. 🙂

      Liked by 3 people

    1. Updates: The government still doesn’t recognize me as a widow (grrr), my bank account was just put on pause with a fraud warning (ugh), and I still haven’t found my ring. But– good news! The insurance claim is proceeding because, I think, it was the only way they could get Mamasaur to stop talking. 😉 Texting is hard, sorry, so I’m typing on here when I can.

      Like

  5. I’m of the opinion that sometimes you need a little wallowing and perhaps an adult sized temper tantrum. Being lucky and blessed and surrounded by a wonderful community doesn’t mean you can’t also be mad at the world and stuck in the doldrums, in fact I’d say it makes it safe to spend some time there. *hugs*, ❤

    Liked by 3 people

  6. physical pain can have such a big impact on mood, i am getting ready to write a post about something similar, allow yourself to be in the doldrums, life is fucking hard. we hear that there is no value in “things,” but that is ridiculous. of course things hold memories that we don’t want to forget. of course things remind us people that we love and can’t see. money is frustrating and stressful and this week the world already seems more stressful than usual. let me know if there is anything i can do. ❤

    Liked by 2 people

  7. Sometimes it doesn’t matter how much you have, or how lucky you are, or how loved.
    Sometimes those things make it worse, because they sneakily try to undermine a thoroughly despair-filled meltdown with whispers of goodness and light.
    Sometimes the sunshine hurts.
    I’m sorry your arm does ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  8. I haven’t had the same difficulties you had but difficulties non the less. I was self sufficient, paid my way without a second thought. Always said I’ll start saving with the next pay check. Spoiled my kids and grand kids. Didn’t know I was going to become chronically ill and unable to work. Now the cost of insurance and the drugs that allow me to see tomorrow drains my cash. Every month I worry how I’m going to pay for my medication but by some Devine intervention I get my medication and that tells me like you I am lucky. You are young and many years are a head of you. Today is just a high step you have to climb but once you step over it the rest get easier. Hugs.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. (cue loving hug) I posted a meme about feeling small the other day. It happens and we must acknowledge it.
    In other comments – boys who don’t like short hair will like it on you. Or they will learn to like un-touched-up sort of longish hair. Because it’s on you. And it’s just hair (says the one who, after four years of growing dreadlocks, decided upon waking on her birthday to cut them all off and who once had a blue mohawk).

    Liked by 2 people

  10. I find it weird that guys like long hair. Short hair is great! True story, I once convinced a girl to get a buzz cut — she got a bit depressed after though. I learned my lesson, however a woman wants to wear her hair that is fine by me. Granted this was the same girl who pretty much told me she’d date me if I wasn’t a fatso. She didn’t say it verbatim like that, but it was pretty clear. So I am not quite sure why she even listened to me… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

    Anyway, I am digressing — I wish this world was fair. Someone with such a kind and loving heart deserves that in return. I’ll work my hardest though to help you anyway I can. Anything I can ever do to help lighten the load, all you need to do is ask. It’s the least I can do for how much you’ve done for me.

    Liked by 1 person

  11. I’m in a mood almost every day. Different kinds but the same backbone of flavor. I love this. It’s so painfully, beautifully honest and raw.
    You got me writing. I even blogged on it just now.
    You’re amazing.

    Like

  12. ::belated hug::

    I’ve been wrapped up in my own stuff of late. I’m also several weeks behind in everyone else’s blogs. I hope things have improved for you in the last few weeks.

    Liked by 1 person

  13. Just sending hugs and love. I know you were hurting when you wrote this, and I know, this too shall pass. I used to have that on my wall as a poster I made. I hope, for you, this has passed by now. If it hasn’t, I will love you harder. *hugs* ❤

    Liked by 1 person

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