So, today was a very unproductive day. I woke up got out of bed and just had no umph to do anything. I had this annoyed out of my mind feeling all day - like I should be doing lots of things, but I didn't really want to, but that was a bad thing.
My husband was trying to get me to get out of the house - go pick up a pizza with him. I was trying to tell him about this kind of yucky cloud I had hanging over me. I mentioned that my moon cycle started waning a few days ago and now that the real moon is waning I had this very pulling down and inward thing going on and that I had intentioned to do things well when this time came so as to not end up feeling like this for 2 whole weeks and that part of my angst was that I felt I hadn't been true to that today.
He then commented that he sometimes wondered if my knowing and talking about my "moon cycle" (the quotations are his) doesn't just give me a psychological excuse to get depressed or angry or bitchy or unproductive or whatever. I started to answer that I realized the possibility of that happening and that the point is to recognize and realize the timing so that I can do something about it - like making sure I get some exercise, drinking plenty of water, not eating sugar, taking extra Vitamin D, etc. And to do these things consciously and on purpose so that I don't spiral into a dark hole of self-pity.
He then rolled his eyes and said that he only wondered if I wanted to go pick up a pizza with him. I was so freakin' hurt in that instant, take-your-breath-away and have no idea what to say sort of way. Why did he bring up and contribute to the conversation if he thought it was stupid? Why did he make eye contact and encouraging noises if it was the most boring conversation of his life and he couldn't wait for it to be over?
Normally I would slink into a corner and not say anything but something clicked this time and there was just no way I was going to be ridiculed for talking about my feelings, or for reaching out in a female way on a female topic and then being shut down. I actually had the thought that this is how the burning times keep happening in our culture and that if I didn't consciously pull myself off the stake that they will never stop. So, I let him have it.
Unfortunately I think my anger at being shut down and silenced came out more like just an extension of my pms-ing. It came out very bitchy. Also both my sons were standing in the room at the same time and while I don't regret that they saw me rage in defense of my Self, I think they perceived the situation as something they needed to contribute to and both of them made funny, jokey remarks in an attempt, I think, to bring some levity into the room. In the heat of the moment, all I saw was two more people with penises telling the person without one to shut up and stop inconveniencing everyone with the truth. Get back on the burning stake, mom. So, I let them have it too.
In the end before I stormed out the door to go get the damn pizza was to let them know in no uncertain terms that I wasn't nearly as angry about my unproductive day as I was at not being allowed to talk about it.
The funny thing is I'm not telling this story now so that I can bitch about my husband or complain that my own sons contribute to the ongoing patriarchy game. I'm also not confessing my own flying off the handle and feeling guilty about it. If anything, I'm actually doing what Mama Gena would call bragging.
For once in my life I felt that nudge and honored it. I actually heard that voice tell me I was worth defending. Not that I had personally been terribly wronged, but that there was a principle at stake and if I walked away and left it alone a precedent would be set, reset really, and my family culture would forever be formed by it. For once the words didn't get stuck in my blue chakra behind my poor thyroid that is just starting to heal - they came tumbling, ripping out - like Kali's flashing fiery swords, cutting away what no longer serves.
Yes, there was smoky residue. Yes, feelings got hurt. Yes, I coulda shoulda woulda handled it better. Perhaps a little more grace and a little less cussing was in order. But my guys are all fine now and it turns out they actually got the gist of what my ire was all about. And afterward I was just kinda in awe that I felt the nudge and acted on it at all. That my voice spoke when it felt it needed to. I thought, "Hey look at me, I'm actually learning!"
It's all baby steps. Tiny, imperfect, faltering, red steps toward the light.
So, this day turned out pretty Red after all. Not that it ever doesn't.
In Grace,
Kell
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