Woman got herself dry socket. Exposed bone and nerves after a tooth extraction happens when the blood clot for Porte took doesn’t form properly or get dislodged.
It’s painful and can lead to infection. Guess I’m one of the lucky ones. As mine is infected.
I thought the pain and bad taste and breath were part of the healing process. No pain no gain right?! Seems this level of pain and the foulness is a sign of dry socket and infection. Go figure.
Thank goodness for saltwater washes, walking and self-care. Looking out for myself has become a priority in a world that just doesn’t care.
‘This year is gonna be about me. Never will I ever have a reason to doubt me.’ – Emily King
This year is gonna be about me, I’m gonna turn the tables, feeling all the feelings. Or maybe numb it out?
Car horns honking through the open window, sirens cutting through the heat haze, YouTube chatting while they play Mario Party, with the aim to lose. The only time when coming last makes you a winner.
I don’t wanna leave but this year is gonna be my year. I’m gonna love the music I love and I’m gonna love the words I love, words that open up worlds, one word at a time, each word moving further away from you and your crippling crap.
This year is gonna be all about me. Never am I gonna waste my time again trying to get your attention. I’m giving me all the attention. Chicken salad and all that stuff. Mayo too. Because nothing is off the agenda, for me, this year.
This year is gonna be me travelling and enjoying the experiences, alone and whoever comes along for the ride. You better have a ticket to ride as we’ll be crossing hostile borders and encountering enemies within. So you better be down for some deep shit, some deep emotional shit.
This year is gonna be all about me and no never again am I gonna doubt me and what I’m capable of. I’m allowing the cool breeze to caress the hairs on my arms and just breathe into the moment, budding into bloom.
This year you’re not gonna be able to handle this honesty, this raw heart of love and pain, again and again.
Weathering to shine through.
This year is gonna be all about me. And never again am I gonna double me. I’ll have no reason to, as I’m gonna shine through.
Letting my brain catch up with the happening, I allow my heart to stop for an instant. Feeling unmoored to make sense, far too soon.
If only I had saw it coming. If only someone had thought to talk to me before this. Maybe things would be different, maybe the wound wouldn’t cut so deep.
Needing to rewind the clocks, to go back to that ignorant bliss, that season of love and acceptance, is a fool’s wish.
Under the avalanche of words, I move silent into the dark night, to piece myself back together following a different schema, charting an undiscovered course.
A few days in the Emerald Isle, staying in Dublin. Walking my little legs off and soaking up the culture and Guinness ( with a dash of blackcurrant).
Here is St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Probably the first building to get my heart a pumping. And I’m thinking gothic. I’m going back to my GCSE studies and Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen. And it just really thrilled me. It touched my romantic horror capabilities. The terrible beauty of this world.
It’s a striking Cathedral, made from limestone and is constructed in a gothic style. I recognised its mystery and gloom and yet a feeling of light too. An 800 year old building probably constructed in an ancient well used by St. Patrick himself.
It’s such a beautiful construction as well as having a moody kind of vibe of pointy arches and buttresses and heavy weathered stone. I was just as in my element as I walked the streets of Dublin. And just as the limestone, is greying and dark, but still a hint of lightness, so was the city itself: full of heart with an underbelly of poverty and suffering. A terrible beauty.
Utterly thrilling. A potentially world-changing, game-changing work. This is the book that will help us transform the institution of motherhood.
– Lucy Jones, author of Matrescence
The Mother Wave offers a welcome critical perspective on the liberal feminist orientation toward gender equality by showing how the focus on equality does not remedy patriarchal systems of oppression that continue to challenge women’s lives, nor does it account for the emancipatory potential in mothering experiences and the affirmation that diversely situated women continue to find in motherhood.
Foregrounding the lived experience of women and others who do the work of maternal care, the contributors make a strong case for matricentric feminism as a new framework: one that treats the maternal as an issue of both biological difference and a set of complex social identities. Informed by the African American feminist commitment to the epistemological importance of lived experience, on the one hand, and third-wave feminist commitment to intersectionality on the other, the collection claims and demonstrates through multidisciplinary analyses that maternity matters more than gender.
– Tatjana Takseva, Department of English Language and Literature / Women and Gender Studies Program, Saint Mary’s University
Toppling and recasting the idea of “waves” that, until now, correspond to stale time periods and stages of the feminist movement, The Mother Wave allows us to begin seeing matricentric feminism as a core feminist theory and burgeoning politic. Positioning mothers and motherwork at the center of feminism, and motherhood as perhaps the uniting experience among most women, O’Reilly and Green allow for a new “wave” of feminist scholarship and mother experience to take hold and crest – a matricentric wave. The editors introduce a vast array of scholarship and creative work within this volume that collectively helps us understand both consistent themes and new surges within this subfield of feminist thought and experience.
– Heather Dillaway, Illinois State University.
Matricentric feminism seeks to make motherhood the business of feminism by positioning mothers’ needs and concerns as the starting point for a theory and politic on and for the empowerment of women as mothers. Based on the conviction that mothering is a verb, it understands that becoming and being a mother is not limited to biological mothers or cisgender women but rather to anyone who does the work of mothering as a central part of their life. The Mother Wave, the first-ever book on the topic, compellingly explores how mothers need a matricentric mode of feminism organized from and for their particular identity and work as mothers, and because mothers remain disempowered despite sixty years of feminism. The anthology makes visible the power of matricentric feminism as it is theorized, enacted, and represented to realize and achieve the subversive potential of mothers and their contributions to feminist theory and activism. Contributors share the impact and influence of matricentric feminism on families and children, culture, art/literature, education, public policy, social media, and workplace practices through personal reflections, scholarly essays, memoir, creative non-fiction, poetry, and photography. The mother wave of matricentric feminism invites conversations with others and offers a praxis of feminism that aims to coexist, overlap, and intersect with others.
This is where you’ll find my own chapter called
‘I Am Becoming My Mother: Conjuring Black Motherhood on Our Own Terms’ which is a hybrid piece exploring my matrilineage which I mentioned throughout 2023 here.
Get your copy while you can and support Demeter Press.
In the dream, he comes back to me, whole and young.
He was always young in my eyes. When I used to ask him at each birthday how old he was, Daddy would answer, 45.
He was always 45 in all the years I knew him. All the years I was living, he was dying.
In the replaying of images, I play it differently.
I keep my distance until he asks for me to bring his slippers or newspaper. I offer them with bowed head. I don’t throw them at him as I used to. Escaping his rage, escaping the beats.
I keep my distance, but I want to be close to him. To hold him. To feel his love for me. Then and now, still needed after so many years gone.
To serve, he brought me up, to serve. Instead of getting the vacuum clearer out, he had us on the floor picking up the bits of fluff and crumbs. To hear his pride at a job well done was enough.
When I enter the chapel of rest, it’s like I’m floating on air, light as the flowing curtains concealing a prize. I see him now, as then …
he‘a surrounded by gold satin, his mahogany black skin shines, relaxed and unlined, sea-black lips wave-curled and still.
He looks younger than 45. Even though the plaque on the coffin lid reads 1920 -1981 – he was 61. And the time he was dying. I was living.
When life throws you curve balls to knock you off your feet and forces you to reassess everything in your life, this is when you lean into the practices which have seen you right.
Those practices which keep you buoyed when it appears you’re drowning or about to go down.
Those practice which you practice everyday but really come into their own when the chips our down.
One of those practices is keeping a gratitude journal. And it doesn’t have to be something major or time consuming.
Thinking on one simple thing is enough to switch my thinking, to get me to count my blessings and step up again. Renewed, restored and ready.
This week has been a week of happenings and announcements and shit hit the fan moments. But I’m alive and here to live another day. So all is not bad.
I’m a firm believer that things happen for a reason. Maybe to test us. Maybe to move us into a better situation. To gain clarity and perspective. To live a better life on my own terms.
This card ‘thunderstorm’ signifies tremendous upheaval and change, happening or about to. And it is out of my control. But I must keep the faith, trust in Mother Nature that these things are happening for the best.
Things are out of my control. But how I respond to this period of upheaval is within my control.
I’m choosing to count my blessings, lean into my practices and give thanks. Give thanks for all that is going right or is good in my life right now. Here and now.
I’m grateful for the light. I’m grateful for rest. I’m grateful for a warm comfortable bed. I’m grateful for morning coffee. I’m grateful for time spent with the people I love. I’m grateful for my health. I’m grateful for my creativity. I’m grateful for all the opportunities which have and are coming my way. I’m grateful for food in the cupboards. I’m grateful for the roof above my head. I’m grateful for the air I breathe. I’m grateful for the earth between my toes. And I’m grateful for the water that holds me.
Living Wild Studios 