Moon Memo: I'm glad you were born
Welcome
Good afternoon from Portland, Oregon, where I am taking a mental health break. I washed the dishes to do my one bit of declutter for the day. I tried to do some folding of laundry, but got distracted by purchasing tickets to see Quasi performing their album "Featuring Birds" from front to back for the first time ever. I saw Quasi for the first time in 1999, at Satyricon, at a show that was (ironically) a fundraiser for Outside In. They were amazing: a lady drummer and her ex husband singing songs about crushing disappointment in your life in your 30s. Now they have to be pushing 60. Sometimes I see Janet Weiss at restaurants around town. I know that Sam Coombs still teaches piano around town. It will be exciting to see that show with my friend Sandy, like we did when we were in our early 20s. Good times. Anyway, it's friday, and I'm on a mental health day, and I'm here at a coffee shop with my friend Alana. This is a Moon Memo.
Tumble
Love Thy Neighbor
She tumbled ass over tea kettle, pulled down
by 30 pounds of library books, 300 pounds
of squishy body, gravity doing its hard work
as she misjudged height of a curb. Neighbors
scurried towards her, dropped their foil, glass
tubes, offered arms scarred by needles. "Are
you OK, ma'am? That fall was epic. Any blood
or broken bones? Who pushed you, who do I
have to stab?" The rich gave a wide parabola
as they walked by, assumed she was drunk or high
or any other numbers of failure. "I'm fine, just
clumsy." They gathered her up, found her phone
and keys skittered under her car, shared a laugh,
remembered their own tumbles into gutters, found
shared wonder of falling and being pulled up.
I'm glad you were born
My ex-spouse's birthday was this week. I sent them a text message, let them know I was happy they were born, and they are alive. They said that they were fighting off a cold in the Misha Moon way: sleeping really hard for one day, right before getting actual sick. I had forgotten about that. I have forgotten a lot of things from our marriage. A lot of our time together feels like a dream that I had, not entirely pleasant.
Not because of them. They are a wonderful human, full of vitality and wonder. We were the right fit for me at a time that was difficult: closeted male presenting person figuring out how to live into adulthood, just about to become a teacher, then early years of teaching. They offered so much support for me during that time. We were so poor. So very, very poor. Moved so many times. Had the struggles of their fundamentalist family and our queer ass selves. Because we were queer, maybe not for each other. Because look at me at that time: bearded, trying my best to be the wrong gender, trying my best to be monogamous, trying to be...I don't know. Not me.
One of the reasons that I did my secret dreaming was to obliterate myself. One of the reasons I was so angry was because I knew I was in the wrong life. I was not pleasant to be in a relationship with. I was a mess, and we both knew it.
The first 5 years of our marriage felt pretty wonderful. The last 5 not as much.
I'm glad that I have found a better place for myself. That I'm honest about who I am. I'm glad that they seem happy. We have drifted, as former lovers do. I'm glad that we can still be friends. I just wish I had been more honest with myself, and with them, during that time period.
I'm glad you were born, and that you are alive. I say this to just about everyone on their birthday. And it's true. We start somewhere, and we continue until we don't. I love Bee a lot. I don't regret our marriage. I just wish I had been Misha Moon then.
Meltdown
I saw the meltdown coming upon me, the world turning to a grid around the edges. The familiar humming of blood in my ears, the pressure behind my eyes. I was in the middle of a department meeting. My boss was talking about how it was a good meeting. I disagreed. Half of the people who were supposed to be present were not. I felt disrespected by people I needed to talk to, who were never present when I needed them to be available. It was most definitely not a good meeting. But everyone else agreed that it had been, and I felt embarrassed and unseen, and so I started to meltdown.
I hate how I have no control of this. That once my brain decides to go nuclear it just goes. And I had to watch it happen. I always seem to step out of myself.
I had to leave the room. I sat in my car, and cried for a half hour. Then I went back to my office and cried for another half hour.
I don't want to talk about this anymore. I spent about an hour explaining this to my boss, and finding solutions, and it was wonderful to be seen and heard. But I'm tired of talking about my autism. It's there, and I am happy it is. But it's frustrating when it springs upon me like this. When I don't have control.
Outro
Have two wrestling shows this weekend. Have my friends who love me. Have my amazing partner. Life is beautiful and strange. I'm so grateful for it, and for you, my dear friends. Love you to bits.
Onward and upward!
Misha Lynn Moon