So I had a good journaling streak going, and then I let fear stop me from continuing. My daughter's teacher pulled me aside during the band concert. He explained that my daughter had been the recipient of some inappropriate emails, he didn't recognize the sender, but my brother said that my step-brother creeped him out from the first day that we met him.

I haven't wanted to face writing about this. When I sent the emails to my mom, my step-brother lives with her, the response was disappointing. She said it would be helpful to see my daughter's side of the conversation, and asked me what my thoughts were. My mother gave my daughter my step-brother's email address. In no way shape or form is what he said or did appropriate, and that should be evident to anyone.

I'm hoping that tomorrow the principal will be able to talk to me about the emails. I'm going to come up with a boundary plan, and it's going to outline where my daughters may go, who they can be alone with, and who they can email. Fortunately school monitors emails that the children send, I'm profoundly grateful that my daughter's teacher caught this before it went further, and I've had numerous friends who have come out with advice, and offered to listen.

My daughters are not going to be going to my mother's house for a while. My step-brother is no longer welcome in my home, and if my mother would like to spend time with my girls, then I need to know where they're going to be, other than at her home, how long they're going to be there, who else will be there, and when they're going to be back.

My cousin's baby shower is coming up. My mother is hosting it, and I'm not going. I can't go to my mother's house right now. I haven't felt safe there since she remarried. I know my cousin will understand, and the rest of my family will too. A friend of mine who saw the emails said that my daughter is seeking attention from my step-brother. I'm going to talk to her therapist about it, and I'm also going to talk to the police.

During our family call, which was the five of my mother's children along with my husband, my family discouraged me from going to the police as they feel that no crime was committed, and the police aren't going to do anything. Maybe they won't, but I want to talk to them about it anyways. I made some new smoothies this past weekend. Two green, two red, and I wanted an orange one, but I broke my blender carafe.

I'm still listening to my favorite Zen Garden music. I woke up early this morning, and I felt good about the past few days in terms of the progress I've made. The things I've written, the conversations I've had with my friends. Tonight I told people on Twitter I was going to clean up my followers. That sparked a huge interaction spree, it's my favorite thing about that place, the constant stream of conversations about any topic imaginable. We discussed healthcare pricing, bird watching, the Midwest in the fall, baseball, why people get burned out at their jobs, family, a guy I'm friends with said something that really made me angry. In the past, I would have unfollowed him. Today I told him he made me mad, but I kept following him because what he triggered was good.

It was good for me to go back, to read what I've written in the past so I can identify themes in my life. Tonight someone shared a goal in my journaling class. This is week eight, and I'm going to be a sad girl when class ends. I met Nathan on Twitter, and the way my life has been transformed since I met him is incredible. Tonight he shared the Out of the Whirlwind site with us. I signed up, and I'm excited to see how that goes.

After paying May's bills, I have $300 left. I need to get my oil changed, and put gas in my car. I want to take the next journaling class, and I want to order a smoothie recipe book that comes with a DVD and sprouting bags. I also want to set aside money for savings. A friend of mine shared some personal news about her health today. I really have the best friends. People who support and encourage me. People who celebrate my successes, and remind me that my failures are opportunities for me to learn new things. The girls have been going to bed when they feel like it. I've been letting them make more choices and allowing the natural consequences of those teach them lessons instead of me lecturing them.

I went back to school after my youngest was born, and I'm contemplating going back again. I don't have the money for it, and I'm nervous about the idea, but a funny thing happened after my boss told the school that she was leaving which means that they would need a third grade teacher. My kids asked if I was going to apply for the job. When I told them I didn't have a teaching license, they told me to get one. When I said that they didn't like hanging out with me, and I asked them why other kids would want to hang out with me in a classroom if they didn't want to. 

I want to write more, but it's late, I'm tired, and I need to get to bed.

Take care,

jess

Grief is weird. The Portland scene continues to be weird.

I don't know how much I want to go into the memorial. There were some words spoken that were fairly effective, and if you're looking for a good set of them to begin trying to understand, these seemed to suit quite well. The most effective words may not be posted, and oddly, I'm okay with that. The world needs less things capable of making me sob in semi-public.

What can I speak to? Watching people wander like ghosts with thousand yard stares, hangovers that seemed to last a week. Escaping Friday to go plant a fig tree and some basil. Weeding like a sonnuvabitch on Sunday. Cocktails at Teardrop. Going through two flasks on the porch and in the front room of Planet Motherfucker. The emptiness of the house and the slow Sunday cleaning after Jetgirl and enth had taken their trains.

The heel of a bottle of Laphroaig passed around behind dann's car. Well dressed men and women wandering through an industrial space, flowers from sideyards stuck in the necks of gin bottles and a funereal dirge from the man himself that sounded like a heart was being cut out in display.

Brunch with mordel and karma debt and panamaus and Mrs Panamaus over beets and tempeh.

It's been such a strange weekend. The ripples continue to spread. There are still so many consequences of what happened, and ends that'll never be tied. And I still feel like a newcomer here. I feel like I was watching an explosion, and now I'm waiting for the implosion, or the birth of something new.

Monday feels too raw to be a new week. We'll see how it goes.

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