I committed to starting my blog. There’s not enough content here. Actually there’s no content. Just a bunch of ideas swirling around in my head, sitting on a line in my iPhone note app, or saved in a draft. There is nothing complete. I’m beating myself up about it. I’ve heard the old “done is better than perfect” line before. I know it’s probably true most of the time…but I can’t help but want perfect. I’m effectively weaning myself off of perfect, the way one stops anti-depressants…slowly and secretly.
I’d taken WordPress and copy writing classes at Geek Girl Camp back in March. I kept my notes, damn it, I’m committed to making this happen. My version of “making this happen” was like everything else in my life. Over-thought or under-thought. Swished around until I I analyzed every possible outcome….or off- the-cuff impulsive. I’ve been keeping a list of thought starters. I’ll come back to them later. I’ll remember what they mean. No, seriously.
On May 20th, as I was scrolling the Facebook feed on my phone, I saw a post that made me slow my breathing. I felt dizzy.
63-year-old Woman Overdoses on Heroin at Southport in Mashpee
I wanted to click, but I couldn’t. When the extra beats in my chest slowed, and I started to hear my heart beating normally, I opened the link and read the article. I immediately sent a message to Cissy White. Her reply…”See, THAT is a blog Post”. I gave myself a deadline. By Saturday, “Are You My Mother?” would be my first post.
Saturday came and went. It was my first missed deadline for blogging. Dumb. On Sunday, May 25th, I hadn’t written anything, but I’d registered my URL on WordPress. Caged Moments. Searching for the right name was important to me. It had to feel right and it had to be true. When I landed on Caged Moments, I knew it was right. Jason shared a Maya Angelou poem with me many years ago. It had deep, deep meaning for him. I’d been asked to mail it to him. I did. I also downloaded it to my kindle and I re-read it a million times. For me, it was profound and I connected right away. I have a tattoo inspired by them both. Maya & Jason. I related to the caged bird in a completely different way than he did. It was as much mine as it was his…or hers. They’d share it with me. It wouldn’t be poetry any other way, right? Caged Moments would be where I’d share some of how and what I think.
Yesterday, I was exhausted from work, a busy weekend, a science project, spending too many hours in the car, and my heart was heavy. Tuesday after a holiday always sucks. May 27th, my mother’s birthday, always sucks. I was wondering if she was cold, I was cold in my living room. It was rainy, but she used to be so warm.
I couldn’t crack the laptop, but I could open my kindle to maybe play a game. Television required too much effort at this point, because I’d have to choose what to watch. I wasn’t up for a choice. I was sitting on the couch, resisting the need to sleep. I found myself inside my latest kindle book, A novel by Joe Clifford. Junkie Love. It’s a story about a man in love with heroin. Gritty, revolting, sad and so beautifully honest. I couldn’t concentrate. Before I knew it, the book was closed and I was ordering up a few things for Jason on Amazon. Adult ADD in full effect, people. I finally went to bed, even though I had today off. Randomly.
Today, I’m sitting in Starbucks. The plan was to write “Are You My Mother?” Instead, I just read that Maya Angelou died. Today. She’ll never be able to do a reading at my wedding. We lost a Phenomenal Woman. The universe tipped today. It always tips in May. The circle of Love, Cape Cod, the Junkie, the chains that bind, and the Cage swam around me like Saturn’s ring. (Is Saturn still a fucking planet?)
Maybe today is supposed to be launch day? I feel like it was meant to be.
If you followed any of this, and you feel like it followed some sort of process…you’re a little fucked up too. Welcome.! Now go read a Maya poem, share one with the next generation, and tell someone who matters that you love them. We need all the help we can get.