Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Life in "Perfect": I Like Twilight. . . You Gotta Problem With That?
Life in "Perfect": I Like Twilight. . . You Gotta Problem With That?: So. I'm a woman of a "certain age", as they say and yes, I love the Twilight Saga. I also love Harry Potter. My favorite movie is Mary Po...
I Like Twilight. . . You Gotta Problem With That?
So. I'm a woman of a "certain age", as they say and yes, I love the Twilight Saga. I also love Harry Potter. My favorite movie is Mary Poppins. Quite honestly, I'd prefer to watch a Disney movie most days than anything else. I like the Discovery Channel. I love to learn new things.
I love a cheesy love story. I love watching a show that reminds me of what it's like to be innocent and care free. I enjoy it all. Of course. . .I take criticism. From EVERYONE. People make fun of me. A lot. I've been trying to figure out, for a while now, why it is that I prefer the more "childish" things in life? I think that I've finally got a pretty good grasp on it. I want to have what I never have had.
I want that innocence back. I want to feel light and airy. I don't want to watch anything that brings me MORE stress and anxiety. I want things to be simple. I like to feel that inner joy at the simple pleasures of life. I want it to be. . . .simple. I want to pretend that things aren't all wonky and painful and stress filled.
I like watching Bella fumble through her life because, well, I fumble through mine. I like watching her fall in love with a man who is kind. Honest. Traditional. Chivalrous. A VIRGIN!! I mean, yeah, okay. . .so he's a vampire, but if that's the part that you're hung up on then. . . .GET OVER IT!! It's a sweet love story that has drawn me in and made me wish that I could have met a man like him when I was 16. Instead, I met my first husband. Enough said.
I like watching Mary Poppins love on those kids and teach those parents to pay more attention to them. I like that she's "practically perfect in every way". I find it comforting to think that someone out there truly, deeply, honestly and without ulterior motive loves a child. I wish that I had that when I was a child. Instead, I got my step-father. Enough said.
I love watching Harry Potter learn that he's more than just the "boy under the cupboard". It makes me warm inside, every single time I watch the scenes that are at Christmas time. The true unadulterated joy on his face reminds me that there IS peace in the world. I find comfort in the fact that Harry is okay without a family to call his own. I feel renewed when I watch the friendships between all the kids in the films. It gives me hope that, in the end, we can all find a place to "fit in" and be accepted, even appreciated. Just the way we are. Right now. Today. It reminds me that my strengths might be your weakness and vice-versa, but that we all have a part to play. I just wish that we could all stop COMPETING and start working together, for the greater good. I wish that I had had friends like Harry has. Instead, I get. . . .well. . . .NOT Hermione. Enough said.
So, yeah. . .I watch kids movies. I FEEL them with my whole being. I read kids books. I live them through the pages. It brings me joy. It brings me peace. I find comfort in them. I find them reassuring and uplifting. So, go ahead.. . . .make fun of me. I don't care. Perhaps, they're feeling a void in me. One that can't be filled any other way. I'm okay with that.
Take a deep breath. . . . it's just another day in Perfect!!!!
I love a cheesy love story. I love watching a show that reminds me of what it's like to be innocent and care free. I enjoy it all. Of course. . .I take criticism. From EVERYONE. People make fun of me. A lot. I've been trying to figure out, for a while now, why it is that I prefer the more "childish" things in life? I think that I've finally got a pretty good grasp on it. I want to have what I never have had.
I want that innocence back. I want to feel light and airy. I don't want to watch anything that brings me MORE stress and anxiety. I want things to be simple. I like to feel that inner joy at the simple pleasures of life. I want it to be. . . .simple. I want to pretend that things aren't all wonky and painful and stress filled.
I like watching Bella fumble through her life because, well, I fumble through mine. I like watching her fall in love with a man who is kind. Honest. Traditional. Chivalrous. A VIRGIN!! I mean, yeah, okay. . .so he's a vampire, but if that's the part that you're hung up on then. . . .GET OVER IT!! It's a sweet love story that has drawn me in and made me wish that I could have met a man like him when I was 16. Instead, I met my first husband. Enough said.
I like watching Mary Poppins love on those kids and teach those parents to pay more attention to them. I like that she's "practically perfect in every way". I find it comforting to think that someone out there truly, deeply, honestly and without ulterior motive loves a child. I wish that I had that when I was a child. Instead, I got my step-father. Enough said.
I love watching Harry Potter learn that he's more than just the "boy under the cupboard". It makes me warm inside, every single time I watch the scenes that are at Christmas time. The true unadulterated joy on his face reminds me that there IS peace in the world. I find comfort in the fact that Harry is okay without a family to call his own. I feel renewed when I watch the friendships between all the kids in the films. It gives me hope that, in the end, we can all find a place to "fit in" and be accepted, even appreciated. Just the way we are. Right now. Today. It reminds me that my strengths might be your weakness and vice-versa, but that we all have a part to play. I just wish that we could all stop COMPETING and start working together, for the greater good. I wish that I had had friends like Harry has. Instead, I get. . . .well. . . .NOT Hermione. Enough said.
So, yeah. . .I watch kids movies. I FEEL them with my whole being. I read kids books. I live them through the pages. It brings me joy. It brings me peace. I find comfort in them. I find them reassuring and uplifting. So, go ahead.. . . .make fun of me. I don't care. Perhaps, they're feeling a void in me. One that can't be filled any other way. I'm okay with that.
Take a deep breath. . . . it's just another day in Perfect!!!!
Life in "Perfect": The Things That Money Can NOT Buy. . . .
Life in "Perfect": The Things That Money Can NOT Buy. . . .: Here I sit, in my nice house in Perfect. Here I sit at my computer, typing away. My daughters are safely upstairs watching their individua...
The Things That Money Can NOT Buy. . . .
Here I sit, in my nice house in Perfect. Here I sit at my computer, typing away. My daughters are safely upstairs watching their individual TV's in their individual rooms. They are lying on their big, soft, warm, safe beds; without a care in the world. My (brand new) refrigerator is stocked to the gills with my Thanksgiving Day turkey and all the trimmings. I just got my hair done and went to go see a wonderful movie three times in four days. (Clearly, I LOVE THAT DAMN MOVIE!!) I have clothes in my closet and so do my husband and children. We have shoes on our feet. We have entertainment. Clean drinking water. Heat. Blankets. The whole nine yards. You know. . .pretty much EVERYTHING!! So, what's my problem? You might ask?
The things that money can NOT buy.
Things like family.
I have a strained relationship with most of my family and it hurts me ---- without end. I mean it, people. There is no end to the pain that I feel as a direct result of this one. simple. fact. I feel misplaced in the world. I feel left out. I feel forgotten. I feel unloved. I feel overwhelmed. I feel sad. I feel afraid that I can't be everything to my children, so they must certainly be missing out?!?
I think that last one hurts me the most.
You can't force people to "do the right thing". If y'all have read my blogs before you will recognize this"running theme". You see, I'm a control FREAK (Yes. All caps and bold. That's it.) Yet, even with my "freak" on. . .I have exactly zero control over my family. I can't force those who aren't speaking to me to pick up the phone and reach out. I can't force those who have wronged me to even try, for one FUCKING SECOND TO MAKE IT RIGHT. . .oh. . .sorry. . .I was yelling. I can't make people see that shutting me out is also shutting my children out. I can't open their eyes to the fact that, when you miss something with a child, you've missed it. Forever. There's no unringing that bell, folks. I have no power over them; those who've turned their back on me and my family. And in the end, I don't want it. I want them, of their own volition, to pick up that phone. To humble themselves enough to admit that they are ALSO not perfect and perhaps, even partially to blame for what's happened to this family. I can NOT be the root of all evil in the world. Sorry folks. I don't have that much power or control. (As much as I might WISH that I did. . .)
That's all well and good, right? Right. But, the real, honest, sad truth is this. . . . .they never will. I will. I will keep on reaching out and getting my hand slapped and my heart crushed. I will keep on, "keepin' on". I will make every attempt to love on them, even though they're not here. I will never bad mouth them to my children, even though I cry after my girls have asked me, yet again, where they are and why they don't come over or call anymore? I cry alone. In private. I cry in the shower. I cry in the car. I cry in bed. I cry when they're at school. I cry every time I want to pick up the phone and beg for the love of my family, but can't make that call. I cry when I can't stop myself and I text. . .just one more time. Praying for a response that never comes. I cry when I type long emails that I can't ever send. I cry when I type blogs that are only for my benefit. I cry when I realize that I have to be EVERYTHING to my girls.
Mother.
Father.
Grandmother.
Grandfather.
Aunt.
Uncle.
Cousins.
What am I supposed to do with that? How can I NOT fail? The pressure to be "the village" for my girls is staggering. Crushing. Overwhelming. Yet. . . .I can't stop. I can't relent. I can't just NOT. I love them more than they'll ever know. I possibly love them MORE because. . .in the end. . . .they're the only family I have. We have each other. No more. No less.
So, in a couple of days, I'll get up early and start the days meal. We'll play games and I'll cook something delicious for my family. We'll eat until we're sick. We'll sit in our beautiful home in Perfect. I'll strain my ears to listen for the knock on the door that won't ever come. Hell, if you looked though the window, you'd half expect to see Norman Freakin' Rockwell, sitting by me on the sofa watching a movie. I'll feel like something missing; like I've "forgotten something", all day. I'll hold out the hope that they'll come by to the bitter end. Not until I turn out the light and head to bed will I be 100% sure that they're NOT COMING. We'll all sleep in our safe, warm, comfortable beds. I suppose that I'm just hoping that when their head hits the pillow that night they're not thinking, "Gee, I wonder why we're not good enough to have a 'real family' like everybody else?" It's always hard to go outside and take a walk after dinner and see all of the cars parked in the street. All the cars of all the FAMILY that's visiting. Eating together. Playing together. Loving together. Building memories together. I pray that I don't have to dry anymore of THEIR tears because, once they get back to school, they'll get to hear about all the wonderful things people got to do with their grandparents, aunts/uncles and cousins and it will remind them of how "empty" our house was. Again.
So. . . yeah. . . .this isn't The Most Wonderful Time of the Year around here at all. This is the time of year when, we're reminded of what we don't have. What's lacking. The pain and emptiness that is left behind when your family turns their back on you. I tell myself, every year, that this is THE LAST year that I'm going to let this get to me. I pull my chin up off of my chest and remind myself that my life is full. Complete. Happy. My girls are well adjusted, well behaved, smart, beautiful, healthy kids. But, I know. . . .deep down inside. . . .how it feels to be missing a part of yourself. I know what it's like to be that kid who doesn't want to say anything about that missing person, because you don't want to hurt your mom. So, I wonder. Are they REALLY okay with it, in the end? I mean, over and beyond the tears from "not being like everyone else at school'? I mean, the real meat and potatoes of who they are. Will they grow up and blame me for the loss? The emptiness? The time that they'll never be able to get back?
You see. . .the things that money can't buy, the things that I can not control, the 'things' that make me cry aren't really "things" at all.
Take a deep breath. . . . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!!!
The things that money can NOT buy.
Things like family.
I have a strained relationship with most of my family and it hurts me ---- without end. I mean it, people. There is no end to the pain that I feel as a direct result of this one. simple. fact. I feel misplaced in the world. I feel left out. I feel forgotten. I feel unloved. I feel overwhelmed. I feel sad. I feel afraid that I can't be everything to my children, so they must certainly be missing out?!?
I think that last one hurts me the most.
You can't force people to "do the right thing". If y'all have read my blogs before you will recognize this"running theme". You see, I'm a control FREAK (Yes. All caps and bold. That's it.) Yet, even with my "freak" on. . .I have exactly zero control over my family. I can't force those who aren't speaking to me to pick up the phone and reach out. I can't force those who have wronged me to even try, for one FUCKING SECOND TO MAKE IT RIGHT. . .oh. . .sorry. . .I was yelling. I can't make people see that shutting me out is also shutting my children out. I can't open their eyes to the fact that, when you miss something with a child, you've missed it. Forever. There's no unringing that bell, folks. I have no power over them; those who've turned their back on me and my family. And in the end, I don't want it. I want them, of their own volition, to pick up that phone. To humble themselves enough to admit that they are ALSO not perfect and perhaps, even partially to blame for what's happened to this family. I can NOT be the root of all evil in the world. Sorry folks. I don't have that much power or control. (As much as I might WISH that I did. . .)
That's all well and good, right? Right. But, the real, honest, sad truth is this. . . . .they never will. I will. I will keep on reaching out and getting my hand slapped and my heart crushed. I will keep on, "keepin' on". I will make every attempt to love on them, even though they're not here. I will never bad mouth them to my children, even though I cry after my girls have asked me, yet again, where they are and why they don't come over or call anymore? I cry alone. In private. I cry in the shower. I cry in the car. I cry in bed. I cry when they're at school. I cry every time I want to pick up the phone and beg for the love of my family, but can't make that call. I cry when I can't stop myself and I text. . .just one more time. Praying for a response that never comes. I cry when I type long emails that I can't ever send. I cry when I type blogs that are only for my benefit. I cry when I realize that I have to be EVERYTHING to my girls.
Mother.
Father.
Grandmother.
Grandfather.
Aunt.
Uncle.
Cousins.
What am I supposed to do with that? How can I NOT fail? The pressure to be "the village" for my girls is staggering. Crushing. Overwhelming. Yet. . . .I can't stop. I can't relent. I can't just NOT. I love them more than they'll ever know. I possibly love them MORE because. . .in the end. . . .they're the only family I have. We have each other. No more. No less.
So, in a couple of days, I'll get up early and start the days meal. We'll play games and I'll cook something delicious for my family. We'll eat until we're sick. We'll sit in our beautiful home in Perfect. I'll strain my ears to listen for the knock on the door that won't ever come. Hell, if you looked though the window, you'd half expect to see Norman Freakin' Rockwell, sitting by me on the sofa watching a movie. I'll feel like something missing; like I've "forgotten something", all day. I'll hold out the hope that they'll come by to the bitter end. Not until I turn out the light and head to bed will I be 100% sure that they're NOT COMING. We'll all sleep in our safe, warm, comfortable beds. I suppose that I'm just hoping that when their head hits the pillow that night they're not thinking, "Gee, I wonder why we're not good enough to have a 'real family' like everybody else?" It's always hard to go outside and take a walk after dinner and see all of the cars parked in the street. All the cars of all the FAMILY that's visiting. Eating together. Playing together. Loving together. Building memories together. I pray that I don't have to dry anymore of THEIR tears because, once they get back to school, they'll get to hear about all the wonderful things people got to do with their grandparents, aunts/uncles and cousins and it will remind them of how "empty" our house was. Again.
So. . . yeah. . . .this isn't The Most Wonderful Time of the Year around here at all. This is the time of year when, we're reminded of what we don't have. What's lacking. The pain and emptiness that is left behind when your family turns their back on you. I tell myself, every year, that this is THE LAST year that I'm going to let this get to me. I pull my chin up off of my chest and remind myself that my life is full. Complete. Happy. My girls are well adjusted, well behaved, smart, beautiful, healthy kids. But, I know. . . .deep down inside. . . .how it feels to be missing a part of yourself. I know what it's like to be that kid who doesn't want to say anything about that missing person, because you don't want to hurt your mom. So, I wonder. Are they REALLY okay with it, in the end? I mean, over and beyond the tears from "not being like everyone else at school'? I mean, the real meat and potatoes of who they are. Will they grow up and blame me for the loss? The emptiness? The time that they'll never be able to get back?
You see. . .the things that money can't buy, the things that I can not control, the 'things' that make me cry aren't really "things" at all.
Take a deep breath. . . . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!!!
Friday, October 28, 2011
Life in "Perfect": Stay At Home Mom VS. Working Mom---Revisited
Life in "Perfect": Stay At Home Mom VS. Working Mom---Revisited: Perspective. I talk about it a lot. Okay, I'm kind of obsessed with it. I find that it alone, truly is the "cause" of all in the world. ...
Stay At Home Mom VS. Working Mom---Revisited
Perspective. I talk about it a lot. Okay, I'm kind of obsessed with it. I find that it alone, truly is the "cause" of all in the world. Evil and good. Fun and boring. Depressive and elating. It's all about the "perspective".
So, here I sit. Finally, I sit. I've been working at my husband's company since May and I've started working with the police department as a victim's advocate. I'm also the room mom for my youngest's fifth grade class. I'm a substitute crossing guard at the school. I have friends and family who love, need and want me around. I. Am. Blessed. I. Am. Also. Overwhelmed. I also finally have a "day off".
Now, here's where the perspective kicks into high gear, folks. Am I a working mom or a stay at home mom? I "work" for my husbands company two days a week. I'm at the police department another two days a week (give or take a day here and there. . .). I help out at the school as needed. I still clean my whole house, do all the laundry, all the cooking, all the shopping, all the baking, all the party planning, all the helping with homework, all the parent/teacher conferences, all the band-aid applying, all the hair "doing", all the lunch making. . . .you get the idea. I'm here when my girls leave for school and I'm here when they get home (most days). I still find the time to call the people whom matter to me the most. I still reach out to friends in need. I'm still a shoulder for anyone to cry on at any time. I still pay the bills, on time. I still manage to do everything that I did "before I went back to work", even whilst working. Albeit, my house isn't "quite" as clean as it used to be.
Funny thing has happened though. . . .I'm getting many more offers for "help". For example, I'm getting a "pass" from the teacher. . . .for the first time EVER! I was told, by the teacher whom I've been the room mom for the entire school year, "If you need to step back from any of your responsibilities here, I totally understand. You're a working woman now!" Hmmmm. . .what? I have NEVER, in my "stay at home mom" days, been told that I could "step back". It's almost an EXPECTATION that we "stay at home" moms are going to do EVERYTHING at the school. Meanwhile, the working moms are "allowed" to send in store bought cupcakes. They're responsible for "plates and napkins". Are you kidding me? You know what I'm talking about, "working women". This is not a dig. Not in the slightest. It's just. . . .perspective.
Then, when I'm talking to my "working mom" friends, they tend to say things like "Well, at least you're not "really working"!' Excuse ME??? They, of course, see me as a stay at home mom still. They still expect my house to be perfect. Home cooked meals to just "POOF" into existence. I mean --- REALLY? My professional moms still treat me like an impostor. They still "pat me on my head" and say "Wow, I wish that I got to go home right now, too.".
So, here I sit. In limbo. Am I a working mom? Am I a stay at home mom? I suppose that it depends on who you talk to. . .thus, the person's PERSPECTIVE on things. To those single moms out there who've had to work a fully time job since the day their baby was born just to put food on the table, they'd probably say, "Uh, hell no. You are so NOT a working mom!" Can I ignore their perspective? Of course not. I would, however, as them this. . .if you COULD stay home with your child, would you? I mean, really think about it, ladies. Would you? I'm not talking about getting to spend some wonderful "quality time" with your kids; like on a vacation to say Disney World, or around the holiday table with Auntie Rose and Uncle Bob. I'm talking about, sitting at home. Day in and day out. Some weeks not speaking to another adult except for the checker at the grocery store. I'm talking about staring at the same four walls every single day and wondering how many more times you can scrub the same spot? I'm talking about losing yourself entirely to your family. Your house. No affirmations here. No one to give you a pat on the back. No one to tell you what a good job you're doing. Nothing. Just you and your child(ren) and your house. When the highlight of your week becomes running to Wal-Mart. . .how will that feel?
I've had a few of my "once" working moms become stay at home moms in the last few years. What they've all told me is this. . .."I had no idea how hard this was." Can I get a "Hallelujah!!!!"? You're damn right. It IS hard. It's a different kind of hard. But, hard nonetheless.
Now, here I sit. . ..with a day off. A day that seven months ago, would have been like every other damn day of my life, but now. . .now it takes on a different meaning. I have a different perspective on it. Now, I just don't want to leave my house. I want to "chill" inside. Sit on my sofa. Appreciate my four walls. Don't ask me to leave and run a damn errand. Don't ask me to do anything really. Why? Because I just want to scrub some spot on the wall. What? The? Fuck?? Are we really always going to want that grass that's just on the other side of the fence? I made the crucial mistake of saying, out loud, that I was bored. I've equated it with "praying for patience". We all know that you just DON'T DO THAT!! Well, hell. Don't say that you're bored either.
So I work. In the end, I do. I get up and drive across town, come hell or high water and I get a paycheck. I also get up and drive across town, come hell or high water, to help out a total stranger. For this, I do NOT get a paycheck. . .yet. (Fingers crossed here. . . .) I stand out in the rain with a stop sign to make sure that our kiddos can cross the street and get to school in one piece. I organize holiday parties for fifth graders. I clean a large house. I do the laundry of four people. . .well really more like 7. . .I have a teenage daughter. I bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan. . .and never let you forget your a man. Oh. Wait. I got side tracked. I do that. I'm tired. Why? Because I'm a working stay at home mom. That's what I am. I'm both. It kinda sucks and it's kind of amazing. All at the same time. I'm getting to see the world from a new perspective.
Which one is better. . .a working mom or a stay at home mom? (Come on, that's what you wanna know, right? That's what it all comes down to in the end. After all, we're Americans. We need to "classify" everything, don't we??) Well, I would say that I have respect for all moms. It's hard. The whole damn thing. If you have to leave your sweet ones every single day and pray that someone else will love and keep them as well as you would, if you could. That's hard. Really hard. If you have to stay home each and every day and not feel "appreciated" or "valued". THAT'S hard. Really hard. So, I think what I want to get across here is this. . . .can we all stop competing and just start realizing that neither one is perfect. Neither one is "superior". Neither one has it "worse" or "better". It's all just your perspective.
Take a deep breath. . . . . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!
So, here I sit. Finally, I sit. I've been working at my husband's company since May and I've started working with the police department as a victim's advocate. I'm also the room mom for my youngest's fifth grade class. I'm a substitute crossing guard at the school. I have friends and family who love, need and want me around. I. Am. Blessed. I. Am. Also. Overwhelmed. I also finally have a "day off".
Now, here's where the perspective kicks into high gear, folks. Am I a working mom or a stay at home mom? I "work" for my husbands company two days a week. I'm at the police department another two days a week (give or take a day here and there. . .). I help out at the school as needed. I still clean my whole house, do all the laundry, all the cooking, all the shopping, all the baking, all the party planning, all the helping with homework, all the parent/teacher conferences, all the band-aid applying, all the hair "doing", all the lunch making. . . .you get the idea. I'm here when my girls leave for school and I'm here when they get home (most days). I still find the time to call the people whom matter to me the most. I still reach out to friends in need. I'm still a shoulder for anyone to cry on at any time. I still pay the bills, on time. I still manage to do everything that I did "before I went back to work", even whilst working. Albeit, my house isn't "quite" as clean as it used to be.
Funny thing has happened though. . . .I'm getting many more offers for "help". For example, I'm getting a "pass" from the teacher. . . .for the first time EVER! I was told, by the teacher whom I've been the room mom for the entire school year, "If you need to step back from any of your responsibilities here, I totally understand. You're a working woman now!" Hmmmm. . .what? I have NEVER, in my "stay at home mom" days, been told that I could "step back". It's almost an EXPECTATION that we "stay at home" moms are going to do EVERYTHING at the school. Meanwhile, the working moms are "allowed" to send in store bought cupcakes. They're responsible for "plates and napkins". Are you kidding me? You know what I'm talking about, "working women". This is not a dig. Not in the slightest. It's just. . . .perspective.
Then, when I'm talking to my "working mom" friends, they tend to say things like "Well, at least you're not "really working"!' Excuse ME??? They, of course, see me as a stay at home mom still. They still expect my house to be perfect. Home cooked meals to just "POOF" into existence. I mean --- REALLY? My professional moms still treat me like an impostor. They still "pat me on my head" and say "Wow, I wish that I got to go home right now, too.".
So, here I sit. In limbo. Am I a working mom? Am I a stay at home mom? I suppose that it depends on who you talk to. . .thus, the person's PERSPECTIVE on things. To those single moms out there who've had to work a fully time job since the day their baby was born just to put food on the table, they'd probably say, "Uh, hell no. You are so NOT a working mom!" Can I ignore their perspective? Of course not. I would, however, as them this. . .if you COULD stay home with your child, would you? I mean, really think about it, ladies. Would you? I'm not talking about getting to spend some wonderful "quality time" with your kids; like on a vacation to say Disney World, or around the holiday table with Auntie Rose and Uncle Bob. I'm talking about, sitting at home. Day in and day out. Some weeks not speaking to another adult except for the checker at the grocery store. I'm talking about staring at the same four walls every single day and wondering how many more times you can scrub the same spot? I'm talking about losing yourself entirely to your family. Your house. No affirmations here. No one to give you a pat on the back. No one to tell you what a good job you're doing. Nothing. Just you and your child(ren) and your house. When the highlight of your week becomes running to Wal-Mart. . .how will that feel?
I've had a few of my "once" working moms become stay at home moms in the last few years. What they've all told me is this. . .."I had no idea how hard this was." Can I get a "Hallelujah!!!!"? You're damn right. It IS hard. It's a different kind of hard. But, hard nonetheless.
Now, here I sit. . ..with a day off. A day that seven months ago, would have been like every other damn day of my life, but now. . .now it takes on a different meaning. I have a different perspective on it. Now, I just don't want to leave my house. I want to "chill" inside. Sit on my sofa. Appreciate my four walls. Don't ask me to leave and run a damn errand. Don't ask me to do anything really. Why? Because I just want to scrub some spot on the wall. What? The? Fuck?? Are we really always going to want that grass that's just on the other side of the fence? I made the crucial mistake of saying, out loud, that I was bored. I've equated it with "praying for patience". We all know that you just DON'T DO THAT!! Well, hell. Don't say that you're bored either.
So I work. In the end, I do. I get up and drive across town, come hell or high water and I get a paycheck. I also get up and drive across town, come hell or high water, to help out a total stranger. For this, I do NOT get a paycheck. . .yet. (Fingers crossed here. . . .) I stand out in the rain with a stop sign to make sure that our kiddos can cross the street and get to school in one piece. I organize holiday parties for fifth graders. I clean a large house. I do the laundry of four people. . .well really more like 7. . .I have a teenage daughter. I bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan. . .and never let you forget your a man. Oh. Wait. I got side tracked. I do that. I'm tired. Why? Because I'm a working stay at home mom. That's what I am. I'm both. It kinda sucks and it's kind of amazing. All at the same time. I'm getting to see the world from a new perspective.
Which one is better. . .a working mom or a stay at home mom? (Come on, that's what you wanna know, right? That's what it all comes down to in the end. After all, we're Americans. We need to "classify" everything, don't we??) Well, I would say that I have respect for all moms. It's hard. The whole damn thing. If you have to leave your sweet ones every single day and pray that someone else will love and keep them as well as you would, if you could. That's hard. Really hard. If you have to stay home each and every day and not feel "appreciated" or "valued". THAT'S hard. Really hard. So, I think what I want to get across here is this. . . .can we all stop competing and just start realizing that neither one is perfect. Neither one is "superior". Neither one has it "worse" or "better". It's all just your perspective.
Take a deep breath. . . . . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
If I Seem (POEM)
If I seem hard,
Perhaps I've never known tenderness.
If I seem weak,
Maybe I trust you enough to be vulnerable.
If I seem bitter,
It might be because I've offered forgiveness, yet never been forgiven.
If I seem faithless,
The cause could be constant disappointment.
If I seem distant,
Maybe I'm too terrified to speak to you.
If I seem cold,
Try reaching out to me with some warmth.
If I seem sad,
My heart just might be shattered.
If I seem overly chipper,
Perhaps I'm hiding a deeper pain.
If I turn my back on you,
Try walking around towards my face.
If I seem aloof,
Maybe I don't know any other way to protect myself.
If I seem wounded,
Why not offer up a bandage of friendship?
If I seem to be too much to handle,
Perhaps that's more about how you seem. . . . .
Perhaps I've never known tenderness.
If I seem weak,
Maybe I trust you enough to be vulnerable.
If I seem bitter,
It might be because I've offered forgiveness, yet never been forgiven.
If I seem faithless,
The cause could be constant disappointment.
If I seem distant,
Maybe I'm too terrified to speak to you.
If I seem cold,
Try reaching out to me with some warmth.
If I seem sad,
My heart just might be shattered.
If I seem overly chipper,
Perhaps I'm hiding a deeper pain.
If I turn my back on you,
Try walking around towards my face.
If I seem aloof,
Maybe I don't know any other way to protect myself.
If I seem wounded,
Why not offer up a bandage of friendship?
If I seem to be too much to handle,
Perhaps that's more about how you seem. . . . .
At That Particular Time. . . .
Impressions. Ideas. Interpretations. All of these are subjective. They are also all false, contrived, pretend and constantly in flux. One thing I know for sure is, what your impression is of someone has more to do with who YOU are and who you perceive them to be at the particular time that you both meet.
For example, the people who went to high school with me have a very different idea about "who I am" than the stay at home moms who have met me in the last decade or so. I've been "left behind" shall we say by several of my old high school friends. I think, partially, because of who they believe me to be now; with little to no validity. Am I angry at them? No. I understand that they're basing their opinion on several things. First and foremost, at that particular time, I was a train wreck of a person. Hollow. Empty. Suffering. Lonely. Depressed. Sad. Pathetic. Now, would you want to be my friend? Of course not. Then, as we all go older, I moved out of that place but still had some lingering "issues" (shall we say. . .) and clearly, I did NOT live up to their expectations about where I should be at THAT particular time. Again, it's all a matter of timing, isn't it?
Now, fast forward to today and I've been shocked to find out from some of my more "recent" friends that they see me as: Strong. Independent. Intelligent. Articulate. Kind. Generous. Out spoken. Loyal. Hm? Are they wrong? Are they seeing something that my "old" (perhaps the word "previous" might be better here) friends aren't? Are they better equipped to see the "real" me? The authentic person I am? Perhaps. Strangely though, I find their assessment of me somehow unsettling. Although, I've heard it time and time again recently, I can't seem to wrap my head or heart around it. In so many ways, I still see myself through the lens of "that particular time", too. Even though I know that now, I am strong. I am independent. I am smart. I am well spoken. I am kind. I am generous. I am loyal, to a fault. I. AM. Why is it always so much easier to believe the "bad" things about oneself than the good? I feel as if, I'm telling all of my new friends some grand lie, just by being myself. Don't they know that I suck? Don't they know that I'm scared? Don't they know that I'm anxious? Don't they know that I'm broken? Don't they know that I'm fragile? Don't they know that I have horrible "baggage"? Don't they know I can't find a reason to be loved? Possibly. And possibly, they see who I am. . .at this particular time, more clearly than I do. Maybe, I can't let go of the desire to be accepted by the very ones who don't accept me.
Think of someone that you've known for a long, long time, but, haven't seen in years. How do you picture them? Probably very close to the way they were when you last saw them, right? Is that wrong? No. It's just how they are stored in your brain. Are they that same person? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I believe that there will always be a "piece" of who we "were" in the whole of who we now "are", but in truth that piece can be quite small. Does that mean that we will always get along with the people that we got along with at one particular time in our life? Of course not. We each grow. Evolve. Change our perspective on the world. See things through older, wiser, more mature eyes.
I do wonder though. . . . .what would happen if we were to meet again. . . .at THIS particular time? Would we be friends? Would I perceive you to be who you really are now? Would I see what you want me to see? Would you even give me the chance to be who I am now or will I spend an eternity having to defend myself and "make up for" some wrong from the past? Whether real or only perceived by you, to be legitimate. Can we ever really move forward in time? Or are we all eternally stuck, in that particular time? Doomed by fate and happenstance. Serendipity.
I don't blame people for the choices that they make. Truly, I don't. What does bother me is the manner in which people can cast each other aside and never even glance back. As if, looking over your shoulder shows weakness. I find it sad that our pride gets in the way of real long lasting relationships, in some cases, because we can't humble ourselves enough to even acknowledge that we might be wrong about someone. That we don't know who they are now. That sense that giving someone a second chance just takes too damn much energy. Well. Shame. On. You. Shame on all of us, who've walked away, moved on, let go and never looked back. What does that behavior say about who you are. . ..at this particular time? Volumes.
Take a deep breath. . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!!!!!!!
For example, the people who went to high school with me have a very different idea about "who I am" than the stay at home moms who have met me in the last decade or so. I've been "left behind" shall we say by several of my old high school friends. I think, partially, because of who they believe me to be now; with little to no validity. Am I angry at them? No. I understand that they're basing their opinion on several things. First and foremost, at that particular time, I was a train wreck of a person. Hollow. Empty. Suffering. Lonely. Depressed. Sad. Pathetic. Now, would you want to be my friend? Of course not. Then, as we all go older, I moved out of that place but still had some lingering "issues" (shall we say. . .) and clearly, I did NOT live up to their expectations about where I should be at THAT particular time. Again, it's all a matter of timing, isn't it?
Now, fast forward to today and I've been shocked to find out from some of my more "recent" friends that they see me as: Strong. Independent. Intelligent. Articulate. Kind. Generous. Out spoken. Loyal. Hm? Are they wrong? Are they seeing something that my "old" (perhaps the word "previous" might be better here) friends aren't? Are they better equipped to see the "real" me? The authentic person I am? Perhaps. Strangely though, I find their assessment of me somehow unsettling. Although, I've heard it time and time again recently, I can't seem to wrap my head or heart around it. In so many ways, I still see myself through the lens of "that particular time", too. Even though I know that now, I am strong. I am independent. I am smart. I am well spoken. I am kind. I am generous. I am loyal, to a fault. I. AM. Why is it always so much easier to believe the "bad" things about oneself than the good? I feel as if, I'm telling all of my new friends some grand lie, just by being myself. Don't they know that I suck? Don't they know that I'm scared? Don't they know that I'm anxious? Don't they know that I'm broken? Don't they know that I'm fragile? Don't they know that I have horrible "baggage"? Don't they know I can't find a reason to be loved? Possibly. And possibly, they see who I am. . .at this particular time, more clearly than I do. Maybe, I can't let go of the desire to be accepted by the very ones who don't accept me.
Think of someone that you've known for a long, long time, but, haven't seen in years. How do you picture them? Probably very close to the way they were when you last saw them, right? Is that wrong? No. It's just how they are stored in your brain. Are they that same person? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I believe that there will always be a "piece" of who we "were" in the whole of who we now "are", but in truth that piece can be quite small. Does that mean that we will always get along with the people that we got along with at one particular time in our life? Of course not. We each grow. Evolve. Change our perspective on the world. See things through older, wiser, more mature eyes.
I do wonder though. . . . .what would happen if we were to meet again. . . .at THIS particular time? Would we be friends? Would I perceive you to be who you really are now? Would I see what you want me to see? Would you even give me the chance to be who I am now or will I spend an eternity having to defend myself and "make up for" some wrong from the past? Whether real or only perceived by you, to be legitimate. Can we ever really move forward in time? Or are we all eternally stuck, in that particular time? Doomed by fate and happenstance. Serendipity.
I don't blame people for the choices that they make. Truly, I don't. What does bother me is the manner in which people can cast each other aside and never even glance back. As if, looking over your shoulder shows weakness. I find it sad that our pride gets in the way of real long lasting relationships, in some cases, because we can't humble ourselves enough to even acknowledge that we might be wrong about someone. That we don't know who they are now. That sense that giving someone a second chance just takes too damn much energy. Well. Shame. On. You. Shame on all of us, who've walked away, moved on, let go and never looked back. What does that behavior say about who you are. . ..at this particular time? Volumes.
Take a deep breath. . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!!!!!!!
Monday, August 29, 2011
Loss - A Love Story
Loss. It's a horrible word, isn't it? We lose those that we love. We lose friends. We lose our keys. We lose our pets. We lose our house. We lose our money. We lose our minds, perhaps. Can loss be a "good thing"? Is it possible that losing everything can bring you to a place of loving yourself more fully?
Loss can and does chisel away at us. It can break your spirit and leave you feeling empty inside. It can bring with it so much pressure and pain that you feel as if you're going to explode! I wonder though. . . . .could it possibly be responsible for all the growth in our lives? Can I say that I am who I am today BECAUSE of my losses? Yes, in fact, I can.
The pressure of losing my family has forced me to be a stronger, more independent woman. Something, I truly didn't think was even possible. I was already quite self sufficient. In fact, probably TOO self sufficient. It's not about that though, it's about being free from the nonsense that came with trying to please my family. Trying to pretend away a lifetime of sorrow and abuse. I was forced to play the ostrich and just stick my head into the sand and act as if that was normal behavior. My independence from that has been one of the most liberating experiences of my life. So, from the loss, I've gained a new sense of myself. My true self.
The agony that I felt when I lost my grandfather, taught me that there's an inherent risk to loving someone. It brought into sharp focus what, exactly happens when death reaches out and grabs our loved ones away from us. I learned this at seven years old. I carried that pain with me until I was 25. I kept it tucked away, safe from view of the outside world, yet; I couldn't even speak my grandfather's name without ripping the wound open and allowing my tears to pour out. When I was 25, I finally made the trek back to his graveside and said my final goodbye. I still miss him. I still hurt for him. What I learned from the loss was that I love deeply, fully and completely. Something, I'm grateful to know!
Being someone's "best friend" sets you up for all sorts of things. Loss, unfortunately, is one of them. What happens to you when they leave? When the move away? When the don't like you anymore? When you just simply grow apart? Loss. You feel it to your core. Loving deeply doesn't only apply to my family, but, to my friends, too. I care about them in every way. I want them to succeed. I want them to be happy, healthy and live a long, long time. Sometimes though, those feelings aren't mutual. Sometimes, people who we let into our lives don't fit, precisely. Sometimes, you grow apart. Sometimes, you just can't see eye to eye. Sometimes, they're aren't who you think they are at all. It would be nice to say that I've never experienced this, but, in fact, I have. I had someone whom I loved, like she was part of my family and we had to part ways. I was shattered. I left a piece of myself behind. A piece that, in the end, I've learned, I don't actually want or need anymore. This loss helped me realize what my limits are. That it's okay to set them and see it through to the end. I'm now ALLOWED to be dissatisfied with the way I'm being treated and actually DO something about it. Wow. Irreplaceable gift!!! Empowerment from loss.
I'm not saying that I'm loving all the loss in my life, especially right now.. .no, what I'm saying is that I truly think that I've become a healthier person through my losses. The pressure is creating a diamond, not destroying a chunk of coal. The pain is building my endurance. I can appreciate myself more now. I can appreciate my friends and what family I DO have left, more. I have a greater respect for those around me and, I hope, that they can have a greater respect for me, too. So, in the end. . .loss has been the one great "love" of my life. Without it, I wouldn't be who I am; where am I; who I'm supposed to be.
Take a deep breath. . . . .It's just another day in Perfect!!!!!
Loss can and does chisel away at us. It can break your spirit and leave you feeling empty inside. It can bring with it so much pressure and pain that you feel as if you're going to explode! I wonder though. . . . .could it possibly be responsible for all the growth in our lives? Can I say that I am who I am today BECAUSE of my losses? Yes, in fact, I can.
The pressure of losing my family has forced me to be a stronger, more independent woman. Something, I truly didn't think was even possible. I was already quite self sufficient. In fact, probably TOO self sufficient. It's not about that though, it's about being free from the nonsense that came with trying to please my family. Trying to pretend away a lifetime of sorrow and abuse. I was forced to play the ostrich and just stick my head into the sand and act as if that was normal behavior. My independence from that has been one of the most liberating experiences of my life. So, from the loss, I've gained a new sense of myself. My true self.
The agony that I felt when I lost my grandfather, taught me that there's an inherent risk to loving someone. It brought into sharp focus what, exactly happens when death reaches out and grabs our loved ones away from us. I learned this at seven years old. I carried that pain with me until I was 25. I kept it tucked away, safe from view of the outside world, yet; I couldn't even speak my grandfather's name without ripping the wound open and allowing my tears to pour out. When I was 25, I finally made the trek back to his graveside and said my final goodbye. I still miss him. I still hurt for him. What I learned from the loss was that I love deeply, fully and completely. Something, I'm grateful to know!
Being someone's "best friend" sets you up for all sorts of things. Loss, unfortunately, is one of them. What happens to you when they leave? When the move away? When the don't like you anymore? When you just simply grow apart? Loss. You feel it to your core. Loving deeply doesn't only apply to my family, but, to my friends, too. I care about them in every way. I want them to succeed. I want them to be happy, healthy and live a long, long time. Sometimes though, those feelings aren't mutual. Sometimes, people who we let into our lives don't fit, precisely. Sometimes, you grow apart. Sometimes, you just can't see eye to eye. Sometimes, they're aren't who you think they are at all. It would be nice to say that I've never experienced this, but, in fact, I have. I had someone whom I loved, like she was part of my family and we had to part ways. I was shattered. I left a piece of myself behind. A piece that, in the end, I've learned, I don't actually want or need anymore. This loss helped me realize what my limits are. That it's okay to set them and see it through to the end. I'm now ALLOWED to be dissatisfied with the way I'm being treated and actually DO something about it. Wow. Irreplaceable gift!!! Empowerment from loss.
I'm not saying that I'm loving all the loss in my life, especially right now.. .no, what I'm saying is that I truly think that I've become a healthier person through my losses. The pressure is creating a diamond, not destroying a chunk of coal. The pain is building my endurance. I can appreciate myself more now. I can appreciate my friends and what family I DO have left, more. I have a greater respect for those around me and, I hope, that they can have a greater respect for me, too. So, in the end. . .loss has been the one great "love" of my life. Without it, I wouldn't be who I am; where am I; who I'm supposed to be.
Take a deep breath. . . . .It's just another day in Perfect!!!!!
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Things that you CAN'T tell. . .just by looking.
Private pain. By very definition is it, in fact, private. However, at what point are we hurting ourselves by keeping such things a "secret"? When is it completely acceptable to speak up for yourself? To even whine a bit? We, as a society, seem to root for the "under dog". . . .just so long as said under dog can "take it like a man" and not complain or FEEL like an under dog. We're a walking contradiction. We "say" that we want to be there for others, yet, when it really comes down to it. . .how many of us are 100% honest about what's really going on? Under the surface? Deep down? You know; those things that you're truly, deeply AFRAID to say out loud, for fear of judgement or other negative ramifications? More over, how many of us would EXCEPT the total truth from someone whom we've told, "I'm here for you. That's what friends are for!" I wonder. At what point, does the "stuffing" of such private pain, because a detriment, not only to ourselves, but to those we love? Should I wait until I'm about to explode to let any of it out? Should I EVER let any of it out?
As Mom's I know that we're expected to only talk wonderfully about our experiences with our children. We're supposed to "love" it. . .all the time. Every second. Well, I don't. There are times when I want to run away. I want to drive the fifteen minutes it would take me to get to the airport and hop on a flight. Any flight. Just get me the hell outta here!!! Sometimes, I just hate it. I feel trapped and sucked dry. Sometimes, I look back and wonder why the hell my Mom never did half the shit I do for my kids, for me? Why didn't I deserve to have a mother who loved me? I actually, honestly, feel jealous of my children. BECAUSE I'm a good mom. BECAUSE I love them, unconditionally. (What kind of head fuck is that??) Sometimes, of course, I love it. I love 'giving better than I got'. Don't get me wrong. But, see, there again, I feel like I have to ENSURE that you know that I love my children. I don't want you to think badly of me or think that they're being abused or neglected or anything horrible like that. Although. . . .why is it that father's can leave their children every single day and no one blinks an eye?
You see, it's just THIS kind of suppression that's getting to me. I can't feel this way, because I'm a woman. A mother. I can't say or think or feel or want that, because I'm a wife. I don't get the right to have a religious choice that's different from the masses, because mine is in the minority. (Resistance is futile.) I have to respect your need to change me. Recruit me, even. Save me. Sit back and not say a word. With a smile on my face, no less. Well, guess what y'all. . ..it's piling up. All the "little" injustices have just about buried me. Now, each and every one of you has wonderful intentions.I know that. At least, I hope so.
Here's the rub, though. There are more like you. All around. More people judging. More people "helping". How come I can't seem to get anyone to help me do the shit that I ACTUALLY want help with? Like, laundry, for instance. (Yes, I'm over simplifying. But, I hope that you "get" the idea.) I mean, people want me to be all Mary Fucking Sunshine about the facts of my life. Most days, I am. But, seriously? Don't I have a right to be a bit pissy about it all? I mean. . .I'm the quintessential under dog, y'all.
No family. No faith (in your eyes. . .). No "proper" education. Nothing on my resume for the last ten years, but scrubbing toilets and making food. Abused. Neglected. Forgotten. Disposed of. And yet, I find the strength to get up every day and take care of my life, my children, my home, my husband, my dog, my cat, my friends. But, I'm nowhere on that list. And, YES, quite frankly I do want a fucking brownie button!!! Perhaps, I'm in desperate need of some sympathy now. I sure as hell, didn't get any then. The problem, I've found, with being strong is that you have to just keep on being strong. Hell, STRONGER even. More and more and more and more gets dumped on you because, hell, let's face it, you can handle it. . . .right? What are you complaining about? I'm not beating you? I'm not calling you names? I don't even talk to you most of the time, but still. When do I have permission to just lose it? When are we Moms allowed to just let it all out? I want to scream. Truly. Honestly. Scream.
I've been married to my husband for fourteen years now. We've been together for nearly 16 years. We've never had a fight. No. Honestly. NEVER. Now, I'm sure that you're all like "Wow! That's awesome!!" No. No, it's not. I feel like you'd have to have some passion to fight. We have none. We're very "melba toast". A whole lot of nothing going on here. We co-exist. We live under the same roof and are a thousand miles apart. We don't believe the same things. We don't agree on how to raise our daughters most days. We don't even like the same movies or music, books or art. Our sense of humor isn't quite matching either. He rarely thinks I'm funny and I think that I'm hilarious!!! (See, he has NO sense of humor at'tall. . .) But, here again. . . .no one wants to talk about this. You're just supposed to sit back and let your life happen to you. I feel so suppressed that I can't even see straight. I would love to get into a some great screaming match with him and then. . ..have some AMAZING MAKE-UP SEX!!! OMG. What would THAT be like? I have no idea. It's NEVER happened. Never gonna happen. We just don't operate that way.
I'm broken inside. I realize that. I'm no dummy. But, I've learned to work around it. But, the things that you can't tell, just by looking, are that I'm hurt. I feel abandoned. I feel alone. I feel like I AM standing in the middle of a room screaming an not one human being can hear me. I feel irrelevant. I feel hollow. I feel unseen. I feel suffocated. I feel like I don't even recognize myself anymore. I feel afraid. Afraid that after you read this, you'll judge me. Feel "sorry" for me. Not want to be a part of my life anymore, because I'm too damaged. Too dramatic. Just. . . .too. But, I beg of you, think really hard about yourself. Consider all of those things inside of you, that you hide. Pretend away. Keep hidden from the outside world out of fear of reprisal. And perhaps, you too, could find a small place in your heart for an under dog, like me. I mean. . . .if YOU could (anonymously) "clear the air", say what you really feel, without anyone ever knowing that it came from you. What would you say? What can I not tell, about you, just by looking at you?
So, today. . .as you walk your path, be aware that there are probably a million things going on with the people you meet. Half a million of them are happening under the surface; in some deep, dark corner of their mind. Realize that they might not even be aware of it themselves. We aren't only good at "lying" to you, but, we're EXPERTS at lying to ourselves.
Take a deep breath. . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!!
As Mom's I know that we're expected to only talk wonderfully about our experiences with our children. We're supposed to "love" it. . .all the time. Every second. Well, I don't. There are times when I want to run away. I want to drive the fifteen minutes it would take me to get to the airport and hop on a flight. Any flight. Just get me the hell outta here!!! Sometimes, I just hate it. I feel trapped and sucked dry. Sometimes, I look back and wonder why the hell my Mom never did half the shit I do for my kids, for me? Why didn't I deserve to have a mother who loved me? I actually, honestly, feel jealous of my children. BECAUSE I'm a good mom. BECAUSE I love them, unconditionally. (What kind of head fuck is that??) Sometimes, of course, I love it. I love 'giving better than I got'. Don't get me wrong. But, see, there again, I feel like I have to ENSURE that you know that I love my children. I don't want you to think badly of me or think that they're being abused or neglected or anything horrible like that. Although. . . .why is it that father's can leave their children every single day and no one blinks an eye?
You see, it's just THIS kind of suppression that's getting to me. I can't feel this way, because I'm a woman. A mother. I can't say or think or feel or want that, because I'm a wife. I don't get the right to have a religious choice that's different from the masses, because mine is in the minority. (Resistance is futile.) I have to respect your need to change me. Recruit me, even. Save me. Sit back and not say a word. With a smile on my face, no less. Well, guess what y'all. . ..it's piling up. All the "little" injustices have just about buried me. Now, each and every one of you has wonderful intentions.
Here's the rub, though. There are more like you. All around. More people judging. More people "helping". How come I can't seem to get anyone to help me do the shit that I ACTUALLY want help with? Like, laundry, for instance. (Yes, I'm over simplifying. But, I hope that you "get" the idea.) I mean, people want me to be all Mary Fucking Sunshine about the facts of my life. Most days, I am. But, seriously? Don't I have a right to be a bit pissy about it all? I mean. . .I'm the quintessential under dog, y'all.
No family. No faith (in your eyes. . .). No "proper" education. Nothing on my resume for the last ten years, but scrubbing toilets and making food. Abused. Neglected. Forgotten. Disposed of. And yet, I find the strength to get up every day and take care of my life, my children, my home, my husband, my dog, my cat, my friends. But, I'm nowhere on that list. And, YES, quite frankly I do want a fucking brownie button!!! Perhaps, I'm in desperate need of some sympathy now. I sure as hell, didn't get any then. The problem, I've found, with being strong is that you have to just keep on being strong. Hell, STRONGER even. More and more and more and more gets dumped on you because, hell, let's face it, you can handle it. . . .right? What are you complaining about? I'm not beating you? I'm not calling you names? I don't even talk to you most of the time, but still. When do I have permission to just lose it? When are we Moms allowed to just let it all out? I want to scream. Truly. Honestly. Scream.
I've been married to my husband for fourteen years now. We've been together for nearly 16 years. We've never had a fight. No. Honestly. NEVER. Now, I'm sure that you're all like "Wow! That's awesome!!" No. No, it's not. I feel like you'd have to have some passion to fight. We have none. We're very "melba toast". A whole lot of nothing going on here. We co-exist. We live under the same roof and are a thousand miles apart. We don't believe the same things. We don't agree on how to raise our daughters most days. We don't even like the same movies or music, books or art. Our sense of humor isn't quite matching either. He rarely thinks I'm funny and I think that I'm hilarious!!! (See, he has NO sense of humor at'tall. . .) But, here again. . . .no one wants to talk about this. You're just supposed to sit back and let your life happen to you. I feel so suppressed that I can't even see straight. I would love to get into a some great screaming match with him and then. . ..have some AMAZING MAKE-UP SEX!!! OMG. What would THAT be like? I have no idea. It's NEVER happened. Never gonna happen. We just don't operate that way.
I'm broken inside. I realize that. I'm no dummy. But, I've learned to work around it. But, the things that you can't tell, just by looking, are that I'm hurt. I feel abandoned. I feel alone. I feel like I AM standing in the middle of a room screaming an not one human being can hear me. I feel irrelevant. I feel hollow. I feel unseen. I feel suffocated. I feel like I don't even recognize myself anymore. I feel afraid. Afraid that after you read this, you'll judge me. Feel "sorry" for me. Not want to be a part of my life anymore, because I'm too damaged. Too dramatic. Just. . . .too. But, I beg of you, think really hard about yourself. Consider all of those things inside of you, that you hide. Pretend away. Keep hidden from the outside world out of fear of reprisal. And perhaps, you too, could find a small place in your heart for an under dog, like me. I mean. . . .if YOU could (anonymously) "clear the air", say what you really feel, without anyone ever knowing that it came from you. What would you say? What can I not tell, about you, just by looking at you?
So, today. . .as you walk your path, be aware that there are probably a million things going on with the people you meet. Half a million of them are happening under the surface; in some deep, dark corner of their mind. Realize that they might not even be aware of it themselves. We aren't only good at "lying" to you, but, we're EXPERTS at lying to ourselves.
Take a deep breath. . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!!
Friday, August 19, 2011
You and Me
You found out that you were pregnant with me and cried.
Not tears of joy, but, anger and sorrow.
I can't seem to grow on you.
I'm born unto you and you felt nothing.
You had me, but never wanted me.
I can't seem to reach you.
The more I grow up, the more you hate me.
I remind you of him, but, you hate him.
I try to be myself.
A young woman now, you push me away.
He wants me all to himself, but it should be you he touches at night.
I try to pretend it all away.
I leave the first chance I get and you don't ask me to stay.
I'm all alone, but, you don't care.
I look back and see nothingness, emptiness, a vacancy.
I find out that I'm pregnant and I cry.
Not out of happiness but fear and trepidation.
If I can't love you, how can she love me?
Not tears of joy, but, anger and sorrow.
I can't seem to grow on you.
I'm born unto you and you felt nothing.
You had me, but never wanted me.
I can't seem to reach you.
The more I grow up, the more you hate me.
I remind you of him, but, you hate him.
I try to be myself.
A young woman now, you push me away.
He wants me all to himself, but it should be you he touches at night.
I try to pretend it all away.
I leave the first chance I get and you don't ask me to stay.
I'm all alone, but, you don't care.
I look back and see nothingness, emptiness, a vacancy.
I find out that I'm pregnant and I cry.
Not out of happiness but fear and trepidation.
If I can't love you, how can she love me?
Pressure Cooker
My wonderful Papaw used to cook using a pressure cooker. You know the type, right? I remember being so fascinated and yet terrified of it. I remember the way it seemed to be alive; shaking, rattling and making noise. I remember expecting it to explode -- standing back, peeking around the corner just in case it did.
I'm the pressure cooker now.
Don't get me wrong, I realize, of course, that I've brought this on myself. Every towel must be hung perfectly every second of every day, in my house. The floors must always be freshly vacuumed, swept and/or mopped, every second of every day, in my house. Clothes must be pristine at all time. Dust has no place in my home. Movies are alphabetized, spices are, too. Bills are paid ahead of time, electronically. No room for "error" or a "oops", there. People must be listened to, respected and appreciated. They also are allowed limitless chances to make mistakes and be forgiven. I'm never allowed to be angry with anyone. I'm not allowed to "write people off", as people are NOT disposable. If I speak up for myself, then I'll be perceived as a "bitch" and, let's face it, no one wants THAT!. I'm not allowed to want anything. I'm not allowed to aspire to BE anything more than I already am. I would be a bad person if I felt anything other than blessed to have my home, my husband, my children. Feeling resentful about anything is an emotion that should be stuffed down, at all costs. There is NO room for failure. Meals must be cooked to perfection, each day. They must be nutritious and delicious. Everyone in my life, should everything they want, the minute they want it. If I can't produce, can't keep up, can't give enough, then I've failed. You get the picture. Type A personality ---- all the way. So, I know, in my soul, that the way I feel today, is ALL MY FAULT. Please do NOT write me and tell me such. I already KNOW it.
However. . . . ."knowing it" and being able to "snap myself out it" are two VERY different things. I often wonder what switch gets "flipped" when I'm able to be thankful for everything around me and why sometimes, that same switch gets "flipped off" and I see it all as a burden. A large burden at that. Why can't I just see this wonderful house as a blessing, every single day? Why can't I appreciate that I've found a man that will tolerate me? Why can't I look into my beautiful daughters eyes and feel complete? Whole? Fulfilled? Why isn't the "everything" I have --enough? Why do I feel like I might explode? The pressure cooker is really singing these days. . . . . .whistling its damn head off, actually.
I think that it quite possibly could be the fact that I have no control in my life. None. I don't have a say in when I wake up, when I go to sleep, what I eat for dinner, when I eat dinner, when I'll ever get a "break", vacations are a "no go" around here. There's very little to look forward to. I "get to" do today what I did yesterday. Which, coincidentally, is the same thing I'll be doing tomorrow. I can't force people to be kind hearted and honest. I can't make people be sincere and genuine. I can't seem to be nice enough to soften some people. I can't make the people who've wronged me, make it right. I can't force the people who have shut me out, to allow me back in. I can't change my husband. Hell, I can't even really tell him what's wrong. I'm too damn scared. I'm also too afraid to open up to my friends about how I feel. Will I be seen as weak? Pathetic? Depressed? (I get so tired of EVERY woman being labeled as depressed the SECOND she has some emotion other than happiness.) I have thoughts that I can't share. Feelings that I can't express. Let the pressure build.
I've spent my life caring about other people. I like to volunteer. I'm the person to come to if you NEED something. Anything. I like being needed. I like helping. I love to love. I love you for even reading this. Taking time out of your busy life to read words that I've written. Nice. I love people who've hurt me and done the "unforgivable". I've forgiven them. I've stayed in relationships, both friendly and romantic long after they became unhealthy for me. I've sacrificed my own sense of self and sanity, in order to stay close to people; only to have them discard me once my purpose was served. I've always been the dumped, never the dumpee. I would never discard someone --- EVER. Boy, that cooker is rocking and rolling now.
I want something to look forward to. I want more. More love. More kindness. More closure. More of an explanation of the "why of it". I want someone to look at me and see me for who I really am. I want to be able to BE who I really am and still be loved. I want to speak up for myself and not be seen as bitchy or bossy or selfish. I want to stop allowing the pressure to build up inside me, to a dangerous level. I want to be happy and healthy and thankful. Verily, I want nirvana. I want people to nice to each other. I want for people to see that our differences don't make us enemies; they simply make us WHO WE ARE. I want people to work together to build each other up; not spend all their time being manipulative and trying to tear each other down. I want us to listen to each other and really HEAR what we each have to say. It's all valuable. I want to find my own voice. I want to speak clearly and feel heard. I want my wants to be important to someone, too. I want to be able to allow myself to have desires and not feel guilty about it. I want to be dissatisfied with my life and not be judged for it. I want to be able to be honest about it and not be talked about behind my back. I want to be able to tell people the whole truth and not be terrified. I want the fact that I'm nice, honest, caring and soft hearted to be seen as good things. Hell, even strengths, not weaknesses. I want to STOP being seen as an "easy target". TOOT!!!!!! I think that the cooker is telling you --- it's done.
I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say. I don't know how to release the pressure. I don't know how to "let go" of the dream that one day, everyone will actually care about everyone else. I DO know that it's a child's dream that I have. I also know that children always have the best dreams. The truest dreams. The purest dreams. Perhaps, the most REAL dreams, aspirations, plans. I can look around and see plenty of "grown ups" who could use a good dose of "dream" into their lives. So, you can call me childish if you want. I don't mind. I suppose, in the end, I've come to realize that the pressure cooker is what makes the meat so tender. Perhaps, it too, is what makes my heart so tender. My feelings so raw and exposed. Isn't it also the pressure that creates the diamond? The pearl? Granite? Perhaps, one day, I too will become stronger from the pressure. But, today----(heavy sigh)---- today, I just feel like I might blow my lid!!!!
Take a deep breath. . . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!
I'm the pressure cooker now.
Don't get me wrong, I realize, of course, that I've brought this on myself. Every towel must be hung perfectly every second of every day, in my house. The floors must always be freshly vacuumed, swept and/or mopped, every second of every day, in my house. Clothes must be pristine at all time. Dust has no place in my home. Movies are alphabetized, spices are, too. Bills are paid ahead of time, electronically. No room for "error" or a "oops", there. People must be listened to, respected and appreciated. They also are allowed limitless chances to make mistakes and be forgiven. I'm never allowed to be angry with anyone. I'm not allowed to "write people off", as people are NOT disposable. If I speak up for myself, then I'll be perceived as a "bitch" and, let's face it, no one wants THAT!. I'm not allowed to want anything. I'm not allowed to aspire to BE anything more than I already am. I would be a bad person if I felt anything other than blessed to have my home, my husband, my children. Feeling resentful about anything is an emotion that should be stuffed down, at all costs. There is NO room for failure. Meals must be cooked to perfection, each day. They must be nutritious and delicious. Everyone in my life, should everything they want, the minute they want it. If I can't produce, can't keep up, can't give enough, then I've failed. You get the picture. Type A personality ---- all the way. So, I know, in my soul, that the way I feel today, is ALL MY FAULT. Please do NOT write me and tell me such. I already KNOW it.
However. . . . ."knowing it" and being able to "snap myself out it" are two VERY different things. I often wonder what switch gets "flipped" when I'm able to be thankful for everything around me and why sometimes, that same switch gets "flipped off" and I see it all as a burden. A large burden at that. Why can't I just see this wonderful house as a blessing, every single day? Why can't I appreciate that I've found a man that will tolerate me? Why can't I look into my beautiful daughters eyes and feel complete? Whole? Fulfilled? Why isn't the "everything" I have --enough? Why do I feel like I might explode? The pressure cooker is really singing these days. . . . . .whistling its damn head off, actually.
I think that it quite possibly could be the fact that I have no control in my life. None. I don't have a say in when I wake up, when I go to sleep, what I eat for dinner, when I eat dinner, when I'll ever get a "break", vacations are a "no go" around here. There's very little to look forward to. I "get to" do today what I did yesterday. Which, coincidentally, is the same thing I'll be doing tomorrow. I can't force people to be kind hearted and honest. I can't make people be sincere and genuine. I can't seem to be nice enough to soften some people. I can't make the people who've wronged me, make it right. I can't force the people who have shut me out, to allow me back in. I can't change my husband. Hell, I can't even really tell him what's wrong. I'm too damn scared. I'm also too afraid to open up to my friends about how I feel. Will I be seen as weak? Pathetic? Depressed? (I get so tired of EVERY woman being labeled as depressed the SECOND she has some emotion other than happiness.) I have thoughts that I can't share. Feelings that I can't express. Let the pressure build.
I've spent my life caring about other people. I like to volunteer. I'm the person to come to if you NEED something. Anything. I like being needed. I like helping. I love to love. I love you for even reading this. Taking time out of your busy life to read words that I've written. Nice. I love people who've hurt me and done the "unforgivable". I've forgiven them. I've stayed in relationships, both friendly and romantic long after they became unhealthy for me. I've sacrificed my own sense of self and sanity, in order to stay close to people; only to have them discard me once my purpose was served. I've always been the dumped, never the dumpee. I would never discard someone --- EVER. Boy, that cooker is rocking and rolling now.
I want something to look forward to. I want more. More love. More kindness. More closure. More of an explanation of the "why of it". I want someone to look at me and see me for who I really am. I want to be able to BE who I really am and still be loved. I want to speak up for myself and not be seen as bitchy or bossy or selfish. I want to stop allowing the pressure to build up inside me, to a dangerous level. I want to be happy and healthy and thankful. Verily, I want nirvana. I want people to nice to each other. I want for people to see that our differences don't make us enemies; they simply make us WHO WE ARE. I want people to work together to build each other up; not spend all their time being manipulative and trying to tear each other down. I want us to listen to each other and really HEAR what we each have to say. It's all valuable. I want to find my own voice. I want to speak clearly and feel heard. I want my wants to be important to someone, too. I want to be able to allow myself to have desires and not feel guilty about it. I want to be dissatisfied with my life and not be judged for it. I want to be able to be honest about it and not be talked about behind my back. I want to be able to tell people the whole truth and not be terrified. I want the fact that I'm nice, honest, caring and soft hearted to be seen as good things. Hell, even strengths, not weaknesses. I want to STOP being seen as an "easy target". TOOT!!!!!! I think that the cooker is telling you --- it's done.
I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say. I don't know how to release the pressure. I don't know how to "let go" of the dream that one day, everyone will actually care about everyone else. I DO know that it's a child's dream that I have. I also know that children always have the best dreams. The truest dreams. The purest dreams. Perhaps, the most REAL dreams, aspirations, plans. I can look around and see plenty of "grown ups" who could use a good dose of "dream" into their lives. So, you can call me childish if you want. I don't mind. I suppose, in the end, I've come to realize that the pressure cooker is what makes the meat so tender. Perhaps, it too, is what makes my heart so tender. My feelings so raw and exposed. Isn't it also the pressure that creates the diamond? The pearl? Granite? Perhaps, one day, I too will become stronger from the pressure. But, today----(heavy sigh)---- today, I just feel like I might blow my lid!!!!
Take a deep breath. . . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Facebook OR Fakebook?
I was having a conversation with a friend of mine last week. Yes. A "real life" conversation. Not a text or IM, but a real life, face to face conversation. Shocking. I know. Possibly MORE shocking, is the fact that she is NOT a Facebooker. Yes, there are a few hold outs in the world. Mainly, in Africa, but, clearly, there are even some crazy people who don't see the "benefit" of social networking, here -- in America! After I got over my initial shock, I asked her "why"? Why did she CHOOSE to not be a part of something so "convenient, fun, wide spread and addictive"? Her answer actually made a whole lot of sense to me. Perhaps, TOO much sense, even.
She told me that she had "gone on" with a friend of hers who DOES FB, and they were "looking around" and she noticed how everyone's "profile" showed things like "I went to Harvard AND Yale and I'm the President of some huge Fortune 500 company, married to a super model with 2.5 children and a McMansion." Also, included was some glamor shot photo to show how "high school skinny" they still were. All of course, with "BIG SMILES" and lots of travel photos to impress you with how many vacations they take every year. There wasn't ONE REAL thing on it. Hmmmmm. Interesting. Is she right?
Possibly. I have noticed that most people only like to post "perfect" status updates and happy go lucky quotes that will inspire others to be better, happier people. I'm in NO WAY saying that that's a bad thing. Being uplifting and inspiring is a good thing. at its core. What I don't like is the fakeness. (Made up word alert!) I don't like that when someone IS real, people commit friend homicide--- they UNFRIEND you!!! Painful. Scary and, sometimes even --- confusing??!! Using social media as a weapon. Who knew? I hate that when I've posted things that WEREN'T full of roses and sunshine and was honest about painful periods of my life, I was, well. . . .shall we say . . . ."let go"? Wow. What message does that send to our children? Don't be real. Don't like people who are real. Life will always be perfect and if it's not, well, then FAKE THAT SHIT!! WHAT??? Really? We seem to be all about not "bullying" right now. We've finally figured out that name calling, emotional blackmail and out right emotional abuse are bad things! Woo fucking hoo! We seem to know all of that when it applies to thirteen year olds and kids on the playground. Yet, we can't seem to apply it to ourselves.
I've been told, and I quote - "Facebook was the death of you." In reference to the way that someone's spouse felt about me. Hm? Really? Gee, let me see. . .I was having an EXTREMELY hard time in my life and I made a conscious choice to NOT pretend it away. Maybe even to reach out a bit and hope that someone could inspire or up lift me. What did I get? Nada. I got told that I was "complaining too much" and "what did I want, SYMPATHY?" Well. MayBE. Maybe I deserved some fucking sympathy. Some compassion. Some love. Nope. Instead, I got "unfriended" and talked about behind my back. I got made fun of. I got ridiculed. . .by my "friends". What does that sound like? You got it --- BULLYING.
So, what did I do in response? Made another choice ----- to be fake. To only post "happy go lucky" news. To stop being real. To stop expressing when life had bitten me in the ass. To stop looking for the love and acceptance of my Facebook family. I learned that that list of "friends" that I have is total and complete bullshit. They're not your friends. They're the voyeurs to your life. They want you to see how well they're doing and knock you down every chance they get. Facebook is their PR representative. It's their way to "spin" their life into something that it's not. I say "they" and I suppose what I should be saying is "WE".
So, here I am, no better than anyone else on fucking Facebook. Faking my way through each day. Contemplating every single status update and trying to figure out how it will be perceived. I'm still "wrong" as much as I'm right, though. I'm not sure that being fake suits me. I start controversial posts --- unintentionally. I piss people off with my belief system. Some people have chosen to only reply to my posts when they can lash out and hurt me. Whatever. I mean, it's all fake anyway ---- right? How can I let what anyone says on Fakebook hurt? We all know that it's MUCH easier to "type" something shitty to someone than it is to actually SAY it to their faces. Gee, I'm so glad that we've finally found a new way to hurt each other.
So, in the end, I suppose that my non-Facebooking friend is lucky. She'll never be unfriended. She'll never have to worry that her latest status update will start an emotional "war" between her and her "friends". She'll never have to feel fake and therefore, disappointed in herself. Maybe NOT drinking this purple Kool-Aid would be better. Better, for ALL of us. Or maybe, just maybe, we should all take a deep breath, sit back and realize that it's just a way to "peek inside" other people's lives. Lives are dirty. Things go wrong. There are good days and bad days. Really think about what you're typing to ANOTHER HUMAN BEING, before you hit the "enter" button. Maybe, we should ALL be more real. Maybe, we should all live and let live. Perhaps, being imperfect, compassionate and open minded would, in fact, teach our children MORE than being judgmental, hypocritical and cruel.
Take a deep breath. . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!
She told me that she had "gone on" with a friend of hers who DOES FB, and they were "looking around" and she noticed how everyone's "profile" showed things like "I went to Harvard AND Yale and I'm the President of some huge Fortune 500 company, married to a super model with 2.5 children and a McMansion." Also, included was some glamor shot photo to show how "high school skinny" they still were. All of course, with "BIG SMILES" and lots of travel photos to impress you with how many vacations they take every year. There wasn't ONE REAL thing on it. Hmmmmm. Interesting. Is she right?
Possibly. I have noticed that most people only like to post "perfect" status updates and happy go lucky quotes that will inspire others to be better, happier people. I'm in NO WAY saying that that's a bad thing. Being uplifting and inspiring is a good thing. at its core. What I don't like is the fakeness. (Made up word alert!) I don't like that when someone IS real, people commit friend homicide--- they UNFRIEND you!!! Painful. Scary and, sometimes even --- confusing??!! Using social media as a weapon. Who knew? I hate that when I've posted things that WEREN'T full of roses and sunshine and was honest about painful periods of my life, I was, well. . . .shall we say . . . ."let go"? Wow. What message does that send to our children? Don't be real. Don't like people who are real. Life will always be perfect and if it's not, well, then FAKE THAT SHIT!! WHAT??? Really? We seem to be all about not "bullying" right now. We've finally figured out that name calling, emotional blackmail and out right emotional abuse are bad things! Woo fucking hoo! We seem to know all of that when it applies to thirteen year olds and kids on the playground. Yet, we can't seem to apply it to ourselves.
I've been told, and I quote - "Facebook was the death of you." In reference to the way that someone's spouse felt about me. Hm? Really? Gee, let me see. . .I was having an EXTREMELY hard time in my life and I made a conscious choice to NOT pretend it away. Maybe even to reach out a bit and hope that someone could inspire or up lift me. What did I get? Nada. I got told that I was "complaining too much" and "what did I want, SYMPATHY?" Well. MayBE. Maybe I deserved some fucking sympathy. Some compassion. Some love. Nope. Instead, I got "unfriended" and talked about behind my back. I got made fun of. I got ridiculed. . .by my "friends". What does that sound like? You got it --- BULLYING.
So, what did I do in response? Made another choice ----- to be fake. To only post "happy go lucky" news. To stop being real. To stop expressing when life had bitten me in the ass. To stop looking for the love and acceptance of my Facebook family. I learned that that list of "friends" that I have is total and complete bullshit. They're not your friends. They're the voyeurs to your life. They want you to see how well they're doing and knock you down every chance they get. Facebook is their PR representative. It's their way to "spin" their life into something that it's not. I say "they" and I suppose what I should be saying is "WE".
So, here I am, no better than anyone else on fucking Facebook. Faking my way through each day. Contemplating every single status update and trying to figure out how it will be perceived. I'm still "wrong" as much as I'm right, though. I'm not sure that being fake suits me. I start controversial posts --- unintentionally. I piss people off with my belief system. Some people have chosen to only reply to my posts when they can lash out and hurt me. Whatever. I mean, it's all fake anyway ---- right? How can I let what anyone says on Fakebook hurt? We all know that it's MUCH easier to "type" something shitty to someone than it is to actually SAY it to their faces. Gee, I'm so glad that we've finally found a new way to hurt each other.
So, in the end, I suppose that my non-Facebooking friend is lucky. She'll never be unfriended. She'll never have to worry that her latest status update will start an emotional "war" between her and her "friends". She'll never have to feel fake and therefore, disappointed in herself. Maybe NOT drinking this purple Kool-Aid would be better. Better, for ALL of us. Or maybe, just maybe, we should all take a deep breath, sit back and realize that it's just a way to "peek inside" other people's lives. Lives are dirty. Things go wrong. There are good days and bad days. Really think about what you're typing to ANOTHER HUMAN BEING, before you hit the "enter" button. Maybe, we should ALL be more real. Maybe, we should all live and let live. Perhaps, being imperfect, compassionate and open minded would, in fact, teach our children MORE than being judgmental, hypocritical and cruel.
Take a deep breath. . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Regrets and Revelations
I've often heard that you "never regret the things that you do, but the things that you don't". Now don't get me wrong, I'm sure that that's true in a lot of cases. I'm sure that it's possible that, one day, I'll look back and think, "Damn, I really wonder what my life would of, could of, should of been like, had I accepted that VP position with Ohio Casualty?" But, I can honestly say. . . I regret a ton of shit that I've done.
I regret the ice cream that calls to me, that I usually answer with "YES, please. I'll take two scoops!" I regret wasting a lot of my life trying to please everybody else and, in the end, never succeeding. I regret the times that I've hurt people, whether by action or inaction. I regret that I couldn't find a more productive use of my energy than to harm another. I regret all those times that I didn't speak up for myself and let people walk all over me. I regret all the time that I wasted with people who really didn't deserve my time, love, affection, friendship and energy. I regret that I didn't "kick them to the curb" years ago. I regret that I didn't, okay, to be honest here --- that I STILL DON'T have the BALLS to tell that crazy bitch that she's crazy and to get the fuck out of my life!! Whoa. Where did that come from? Anyway. . . .I regret that I didn't have enough strength the first time a man hurt me to turn around and kick his ASS!! I regret that I haven't spent every second of my sweet daughters' lives worshipping them. I regret that I've misfocused (my word of the day, y'all. Embrace it.) so much of my energy OUTWARD and didn't leave enough inside to really love my husband or myself. I regret that I've let what other people think of me mean more to me than what I think of me.
So. Where does all this leave me? Full of regrets. . .one might say? Nah. Not really. The revelation here is this ---- I know it. I know it all. . . . now. I've been lucky enough to realize all of this in time. I'm still young. Okay. Okay. . .young-ISH (another word of the day. Embrace, remember?) I feel blessed to KNOW that I don't want to be the VP of Ohio Casualty's anything. I won't waste my time on that crazy bitch, because, well, SHE'S CRAZY!!! I've stopped trying to please everyone else. (For the most part. . .this one is tough people. Believe me. It is!!) I'm working on focusing my energy on mine. My children. My husband. My- gulp - self. I will NEVER allow a man to hurt me again! (Can I get a "YOU GO GIRL!" Or something??) I'm remembering to live in the moment with my girls. To really focus on them. See them. Love them. TEACH them. Mold them into the women that I know they can be. I'm allowing them to teach me how to be the Mom that THEY need.
Now, the ice cream still calls to me. So does the chocolate cake, chocolate bar, chocolate chip cookies. (You see the trend here.) But, it IS getting easier and easier to ignore them. Now, it wouldn't feel right to COMPLETELY ignore them, but, alas, I can "visit" them. . .less often. I've started to see the value in me. That I, indeed, do deserve to be healthy and happy. Finding the balance between chocolate and the elliptical is my next "goal".
Perhaps my most significant "revelation" has been the energy that I put into other people. I've become quite selective of the folks whom I choose to spend my precious time. My precious energy. My 'words of wisdom" (okay, don't puke or click that nasty little "x" in the upper right hand corner. . .you know what I mean!) I'm just being VERY careful whom I "let in". Whom I love. Whom I allow to be an influence in my life. I'm choosing to surround myself with wonderful, healthy, adult, mature, loving, like minded, beautiful (in every way) women. They honestly feed my soul. My spirit has never felt so at home. Even though several of the friendships are "new" and very fragile. I feel confident that they will be honest. Humbling. Empowering. Loving. --------- Something I will NEVER regret.
Take a deep breath. . . .It's just another day in Perfect!!!!!
I regret the ice cream that calls to me, that I usually answer with "YES, please. I'll take two scoops!" I regret wasting a lot of my life trying to please everybody else and, in the end, never succeeding. I regret the times that I've hurt people, whether by action or inaction. I regret that I couldn't find a more productive use of my energy than to harm another. I regret all those times that I didn't speak up for myself and let people walk all over me. I regret all the time that I wasted with people who really didn't deserve my time, love, affection, friendship and energy. I regret that I didn't "kick them to the curb" years ago. I regret that I didn't, okay, to be honest here --- that I STILL DON'T have the BALLS to tell that crazy bitch that she's crazy and to get the fuck out of my life!! Whoa. Where did that come from? Anyway. . . .I regret that I didn't have enough strength the first time a man hurt me to turn around and kick his ASS!! I regret that I haven't spent every second of my sweet daughters' lives worshipping them. I regret that I've misfocused (my word of the day, y'all. Embrace it.) so much of my energy OUTWARD and didn't leave enough inside to really love my husband or myself. I regret that I've let what other people think of me mean more to me than what I think of me.
So. Where does all this leave me? Full of regrets. . .one might say? Nah. Not really. The revelation here is this ---- I know it. I know it all. . . . now. I've been lucky enough to realize all of this in time. I'm still young. Okay. Okay. . .young-ISH (another word of the day. Embrace, remember?) I feel blessed to KNOW that I don't want to be the VP of Ohio Casualty's anything. I won't waste my time on that crazy bitch, because, well, SHE'S CRAZY!!! I've stopped trying to please everyone else. (For the most part. . .this one is tough people. Believe me. It is!!) I'm working on focusing my energy on mine. My children. My husband. My- gulp - self. I will NEVER allow a man to hurt me again! (Can I get a "YOU GO GIRL!" Or something??) I'm remembering to live in the moment with my girls. To really focus on them. See them. Love them. TEACH them. Mold them into the women that I know they can be. I'm allowing them to teach me how to be the Mom that THEY need.
Now, the ice cream still calls to me. So does the chocolate cake, chocolate bar, chocolate chip cookies. (You see the trend here.) But, it IS getting easier and easier to ignore them. Now, it wouldn't feel right to COMPLETELY ignore them, but, alas, I can "visit" them. . .less often. I've started to see the value in me. That I, indeed, do deserve to be healthy and happy. Finding the balance between chocolate and the elliptical is my next "goal".
Perhaps my most significant "revelation" has been the energy that I put into other people. I've become quite selective of the folks whom I choose to spend my precious time. My precious energy. My 'words of wisdom" (okay, don't puke or click that nasty little "x" in the upper right hand corner. . .you know what I mean!) I'm just being VERY careful whom I "let in". Whom I love. Whom I allow to be an influence in my life. I'm choosing to surround myself with wonderful, healthy, adult, mature, loving, like minded, beautiful (in every way) women. They honestly feed my soul. My spirit has never felt so at home. Even though several of the friendships are "new" and very fragile. I feel confident that they will be honest. Humbling. Empowering. Loving. --------- Something I will NEVER regret.
Take a deep breath. . . .It's just another day in Perfect!!!!!
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
The "Weaker" Sex
I'm not sure what I'm still surprised by such nonsense, but, alas. . .I am. I truly believe that some women have a real issue with other women. Just in general. Nothing specific or anything. Just. . .well . . . they hate them. They feel threatened or something. I've found that some women, again not all, are weak. Truly and unbearably weak. Maybe, even pathetic.
Now, before you send out the lynch mob, hear me out. Women seem to be much more likely to turn to "the dark side" when something goes wrong. Or even when something goes "seemingly" wrong. Hell, let's face it, even when something just doesn't go their way. It's an adult version of a temper tantrum, in my opinion. But, instead of these women throwing a fit - yelling, screaming, cussing and slamming shit around they. . .wait. That's EXACTLY what they do. See, SOME women don't know how to control themselves. They don't know how to have adult conversations about their problems. They like to yell. Perhaps, they feel like the loudest person wins? They like to deflect. Maybe, they think if they can blame enough shit on you, then all the crap that they did wrong will some how disappear. They like to back bite, back stab and back talk. Wow. I'm so proud to be part of this gender.
Then, you have the women who "take it". Yes, when you have someone "dishing it out", you always have to have a "taker". Now, here again. . .we're weak. I blog, quite frankly BECAUSE I'm scared. Scared to confront the mean people in my life. Scared to try and fail, yet again, at being heard. Scared of being sucked back into relationships that, honestly, I'm only too happy to be rid of. Terrified of being seen as a "bitch". So, what do I do? Ah. . .yes. . . .I take it. You dish it out and I'll take it. No matter how much, how long, how stupid, how wrong, how hurtful, how insane, how petty, how manipulative, I'll take it. Because I'm afraid. But, how horrible is it to stay friends with someone out of fear? About as bad as is it to stay in a marriage, out of fear. Relationships, built on fear, are doomed to fail. Yet, we allow ourselves to stick around and "take it" for far too long when the relationship is a "friendship". We allow women to treat us a thousand times worse than any man ever could.
Then, once we do find the strength to cut the ties that bind, all our fears are realized. We're made out to be the "bad ones", take the blame, take the fall. Our "friendly" dishers start dishing out their shit to anyone who'll listen. We, "takers", sit back and take it. Let it all roll out and wait for the fall out. Wishing and hoping that, one day, the TRUTH will be heard. But, who's truth? The delusional women who make up their "truth" as the story unfolds? The women who think that holding you back, somehow, makes them better? Stronger? More attractive? More powerful?
I like to believe that the truth always comes out. The unfortunate truth is this --- somewhere between your version and my version is probably where the truth lies. Another unfortunate truth is ---- as long as we're spending so much time and energy hurting each other; women will never be empowered to their full potential. As long as you're spewing piss and vinegar at me, you're doing nothing but spewing. You look like a fool. You look like a bitch. Why can't we spend that same amount of energy being kind to each other? Loving each other? Boosting each other? Supporting each other? It seems to me, that if we did THAT, we'd be unstoppable. We'd ALL be better off. One of my favorite quotes is, "You won't be punished for your anger. You'll be punished BY your anger." Remember that the next time that you're screaming at a woman whom you call friend.
Take a deep breath. . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!
Now, before you send out the lynch mob, hear me out. Women seem to be much more likely to turn to "the dark side" when something goes wrong. Or even when something goes "seemingly" wrong. Hell, let's face it, even when something just doesn't go their way. It's an adult version of a temper tantrum, in my opinion. But, instead of these women throwing a fit - yelling, screaming, cussing and slamming shit around they. . .wait. That's EXACTLY what they do. See, SOME women don't know how to control themselves. They don't know how to have adult conversations about their problems. They like to yell. Perhaps, they feel like the loudest person wins? They like to deflect. Maybe, they think if they can blame enough shit on you, then all the crap that they did wrong will some how disappear. They like to back bite, back stab and back talk. Wow. I'm so proud to be part of this gender.
Then, you have the women who "take it". Yes, when you have someone "dishing it out", you always have to have a "taker". Now, here again. . .we're weak. I blog, quite frankly BECAUSE I'm scared. Scared to confront the mean people in my life. Scared to try and fail, yet again, at being heard. Scared of being sucked back into relationships that, honestly, I'm only too happy to be rid of. Terrified of being seen as a "bitch". So, what do I do? Ah. . .yes. . . .I take it. You dish it out and I'll take it. No matter how much, how long, how stupid, how wrong, how hurtful, how insane, how petty, how manipulative, I'll take it. Because I'm afraid. But, how horrible is it to stay friends with someone out of fear? About as bad as is it to stay in a marriage, out of fear. Relationships, built on fear, are doomed to fail. Yet, we allow ourselves to stick around and "take it" for far too long when the relationship is a "friendship". We allow women to treat us a thousand times worse than any man ever could.
Then, once we do find the strength to cut the ties that bind, all our fears are realized. We're made out to be the "bad ones", take the blame, take the fall. Our "friendly" dishers start dishing out their shit to anyone who'll listen. We, "takers", sit back and take it. Let it all roll out and wait for the fall out. Wishing and hoping that, one day, the TRUTH will be heard. But, who's truth? The delusional women who make up their "truth" as the story unfolds? The women who think that holding you back, somehow, makes them better? Stronger? More attractive? More powerful?
I like to believe that the truth always comes out. The unfortunate truth is this --- somewhere between your version and my version is probably where the truth lies. Another unfortunate truth is ---- as long as we're spending so much time and energy hurting each other; women will never be empowered to their full potential. As long as you're spewing piss and vinegar at me, you're doing nothing but spewing. You look like a fool. You look like a bitch. Why can't we spend that same amount of energy being kind to each other? Loving each other? Boosting each other? Supporting each other? It seems to me, that if we did THAT, we'd be unstoppable. We'd ALL be better off. One of my favorite quotes is, "You won't be punished for your anger. You'll be punished BY your anger." Remember that the next time that you're screaming at a woman whom you call friend.
Take a deep breath. . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!
Sunday, July 10, 2011
A Bump In the Road --- AKA ---- My Path Is A Pain In the Ass!!!
What. The. Fuck? I mean, seriously? WTF? I feel like someone, something is trying to tell me something but for the life of me, I can't seem to figure out what it is.
You know how folks will say that when "God" (I use the term loosely, folks....) tries to teach you something, it starts with a whisper, a soft breeze, a glimmer. If you don't take notice of that, it turns into a louder voice, a gust of wind, a flash of light. If you STILL don't get it, clearly because you're a dumb ass, then you'll get a scream, a hurricane force wind and the largest solar flare in recorded history. There are those of us, who are still so damn slow that we STILL don't get it. For us, special people, we get a horse kick to the head, a tornado that destroys our home and a super nova. That's where I am and to be quite honest, I'm STILL NOT GETTING IT.
I try to be as kind and open to everyone as I can. I don't judge. I don't pretend to know what someone else is going through. I only give advice if asked, directly, for it. I love unconditionally and deeply. Intensely, even. I care about other people's problems and mourn for their losses. I'm as selfless as I can be while still being responsible for "my own". My own children. My own husband. My own home. My own needs. I can be annoying, I'm sure. I have a zillion flaws, for sure. But, I do really TRY to keep my shit to myself. I wake up everyday and make a conscious decision to be happy today. To love everyone I meet today. I smile even when it feels like my face might crack wide open, from the betrayal. I swallow my own needs, most of the time, to allow time and energy to accommodate others. I've finally started to stand up for myself and have a back bone; to set some limits and have some good, solid boundaries. I've apologized for the wrongs I've done and learned from them. I've grown and matured into, I think, a pretty good woman.
Yet. . . .people seem to still be leaving me. Fleeing, really. This, folks, is my WTF? What more can I do? I've made it my life's "work" to be better every day --- to process SOMETHING everyday. To be introspective enough to realize when I'm headed down a wrong path and to right that as soon as possible. But---- what do you do when you honestly can't, for the life of you, figure out what you've done so wrong? What do you do when you've loved people SO much and sacrificed so much for them and then, in the end, they still end up leaving you? What do you do when, there is NOTHING TO DO? No way to "make it right"? No way to "fix it" because you, in truth, you didn't break it? What do YOU do when YOU can't control anything? When you can't even speak up for yourself because you've been shut out, so completely, that, silence is the most painful weapon around? What am I supposed to be learning from all this? What path am I supposed to be walking down, right now. . . .today? Next week? Next year?
The screaming and the solar flare still aren't enough for me. Maybe, because it's all too loud and bright and I can't hear or see ANYTHING? Maybe, just maybe, I'm in too deep. Maybe, I can't see the damn forest for the trees? Perhaps, it's staring me right in the face and I refuse to see it. Is it possible that the fear of "what" it is, is so great that my heart is "blinding me" to it, as a precautionary measure? Is it possible for someone to have "too much" pain and loss in the their life? Is it possible that a person will, at some point, just shut down from it? What is that point? When do we get there? Who do we become once we've reached that "fork in the road"? Maybe, when it's all said and done THAT'S my biggest fear. I believe that I very well could be so terrified of who I really am, that I'm hanging on, with every fiber of my being, to the "old me". Unwilling to embrace the new. The different. The foreign. The whole. The filled. The complete. The "pure" --- me.
I'm afraid to say aloud that I'm enough. I'm good enough. I, myself, can handle it. I don't need you. I don't want you. In the end, I may not even, love you. Maybe, I'm so damn afraid of hurting someone else that I'm allowing them to hurt me, by default. Is it that simple? Is the screaming voice, tornado and solar flare really attempting to purify me? Extreme heat is the only way to mold somethings in this world. Extreme pressure is another. Extremes change us all ---- for the good or the bad. In the end, I think, perhaps, we're the ones who make that differentiation. Allow it to be for the good and it will be. Focus on the bad and that's exactly what you're going to get.
I'm allowing myself to be pressured into the good of it.. . . .
Take a deep breath. . . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!!
You know how folks will say that when "God" (I use the term loosely, folks....) tries to teach you something, it starts with a whisper, a soft breeze, a glimmer. If you don't take notice of that, it turns into a louder voice, a gust of wind, a flash of light. If you STILL don't get it, clearly because you're a dumb ass, then you'll get a scream, a hurricane force wind and the largest solar flare in recorded history. There are those of us, who are still so damn slow that we STILL don't get it. For us, special people, we get a horse kick to the head, a tornado that destroys our home and a super nova. That's where I am and to be quite honest, I'm STILL NOT GETTING IT.
I try to be as kind and open to everyone as I can. I don't judge. I don't pretend to know what someone else is going through. I only give advice if asked, directly, for it. I love unconditionally and deeply. Intensely, even. I care about other people's problems and mourn for their losses. I'm as selfless as I can be while still being responsible for "my own". My own children. My own husband. My own home. My own needs. I can be annoying, I'm sure. I have a zillion flaws, for sure. But, I do really TRY to keep my shit to myself. I wake up everyday and make a conscious decision to be happy today. To love everyone I meet today. I smile even when it feels like my face might crack wide open, from the betrayal. I swallow my own needs, most of the time, to allow time and energy to accommodate others. I've finally started to stand up for myself and have a back bone; to set some limits and have some good, solid boundaries. I've apologized for the wrongs I've done and learned from them. I've grown and matured into, I think, a pretty good woman.
Yet. . . .people seem to still be leaving me. Fleeing, really. This, folks, is my WTF? What more can I do? I've made it my life's "work" to be better every day --- to process SOMETHING everyday. To be introspective enough to realize when I'm headed down a wrong path and to right that as soon as possible. But---- what do you do when you honestly can't, for the life of you, figure out what you've done so wrong? What do you do when you've loved people SO much and sacrificed so much for them and then, in the end, they still end up leaving you? What do you do when, there is NOTHING TO DO? No way to "make it right"? No way to "fix it" because you, in truth, you didn't break it? What do YOU do when YOU can't control anything? When you can't even speak up for yourself because you've been shut out, so completely, that, silence is the most painful weapon around? What am I supposed to be learning from all this? What path am I supposed to be walking down, right now. . . .today? Next week? Next year?
The screaming and the solar flare still aren't enough for me. Maybe, because it's all too loud and bright and I can't hear or see ANYTHING? Maybe, just maybe, I'm in too deep. Maybe, I can't see the damn forest for the trees? Perhaps, it's staring me right in the face and I refuse to see it. Is it possible that the fear of "what" it is, is so great that my heart is "blinding me" to it, as a precautionary measure? Is it possible for someone to have "too much" pain and loss in the their life? Is it possible that a person will, at some point, just shut down from it? What is that point? When do we get there? Who do we become once we've reached that "fork in the road"? Maybe, when it's all said and done THAT'S my biggest fear. I believe that I very well could be so terrified of who I really am, that I'm hanging on, with every fiber of my being, to the "old me". Unwilling to embrace the new. The different. The foreign. The whole. The filled. The complete. The "pure" --- me.
I'm afraid to say aloud that I'm enough. I'm good enough. I, myself, can handle it. I don't need you. I don't want you. In the end, I may not even, love you. Maybe, I'm so damn afraid of hurting someone else that I'm allowing them to hurt me, by default. Is it that simple? Is the screaming voice, tornado and solar flare really attempting to purify me? Extreme heat is the only way to mold somethings in this world. Extreme pressure is another. Extremes change us all ---- for the good or the bad. In the end, I think, perhaps, we're the ones who make that differentiation. Allow it to be for the good and it will be. Focus on the bad and that's exactly what you're going to get.
I'm allowing myself to be pressured into the good of it.. . . .
Take a deep breath. . . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!!
Sunday, June 19, 2011
I Remain
I was born unto you, full of trust and innocence.
Never asking for it to be so.
You left me, the first chance you got.
Never looking back to make sure I was safe. I remained.
She married you to replace him,
In her life and in mine.
You betrayed my trust and stole my innocence.
Never telling the truth about your crime, makes it more painful for me to bare. I remain.
I ran away from you and from him,
Searching for some place safe. Secure. Whole.
The rogue child, in need of discipline was pulled back. Restrained. Confined. Punished.
Never listened to, never believed, never allowed to be a child. I remained.
I married him to escape you both.
To pretend that he loved me, to pretend I was normal.
He beat me unmercifully and I let him.
Never thinking that I deserved anything better. I remained.
I went back to them both, time and again.
Swallowing my own pain, allowing it to eat me alive,
In order to be present in your lives, wanting you to know love; more than I had known.
Never wanting to abandon you, I remained.
You grew up and away, as all children do.
I thought that you had finally figured out the truth,
Having it told to you, mouth to precious ear. Ah. . .precious relief.
Only. . . wait; you still linger in a place of selfish disbelief.
Never freeing me from the confines of the invisible bars of lies, told too often to ignore.
I love you too much to force your hand. I remain.
Now I'm an island.
Alone in my pain and pressure and isolation.
It's all been for naught.
I'm not seen. I'm not believed. I'm not cherished. I'm not allowed to feel a thing.
And yet. . . . . .I remain.
Never asking for it to be so.
You left me, the first chance you got.
Never looking back to make sure I was safe. I remained.
I looked into your eyes and knew that you were trustworthy.
Humbled by your genuineness, I fell into your arms, looking for a soft place to land.
You caught me and loved me. . . .I felt special and seen.
You were too good for this Earth and you moved on.
Leaving me behind. I remained.
She married you to replace him,
In her life and in mine.
You betrayed my trust and stole my innocence.
Never telling the truth about your crime, makes it more painful for me to bare. I remain.
I ran away from you and from him,
Searching for some place safe. Secure. Whole.
The rogue child, in need of discipline was pulled back. Restrained. Confined. Punished.
Never listened to, never believed, never allowed to be a child. I remained.
I married him to escape you both.
To pretend that he loved me, to pretend I was normal.
He beat me unmercifully and I let him.
Never thinking that I deserved anything better. I remained.
I went back to them both, time and again.
Swallowing my own pain, allowing it to eat me alive,
In order to be present in your lives, wanting you to know love; more than I had known.
Never wanting to abandon you, I remained.
You grew up and away, as all children do.
I thought that you had finally figured out the truth,
Having it told to you, mouth to precious ear. Ah. . .precious relief.
Only. . . wait; you still linger in a place of selfish disbelief.
Never freeing me from the confines of the invisible bars of lies, told too often to ignore.
I love you too much to force your hand. I remain.
Now I'm an island.
Alone in my pain and pressure and isolation.
It's all been for naught.
I'm not seen. I'm not believed. I'm not cherished. I'm not allowed to feel a thing.
And yet. . . . . .I remain.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
I'm slow. . . . .
Yes, I admit it. I'm slow. I'm slow to fall out of love with someone, even if they're toxic to my soul. I'm slow to realize that just because I love someone, doesn't mean that they'll love me in return. I've been slow to understand that even when someone does love me, it might not be in the right way or even a healthy way---it might only hurt me. It's taken me a long time to know what true, unconditional love really is. I've been a bit hard headed about allowing the lessons I've learned to sink in all the way. I'm hesitant to write someone off. Most of the time, I dig my heels in and go "kicking and screaming" into the "good night". I don't want to give up on anyone for any reason. I, still, believe in the goodness of all people. I WANT them to want to do the right thing. Clearly, I'm still being difficult in letting this lesson process.
I'm too slow to let go. . . .of anything. If you've ever been loved by me, chances are good that you still are. I can't think of many things that anyone has done or could to me to make me stop loving them. Again, even when it's in my best interest to do so. People can hurt me, talk badly about me, misjudge me, blame me for THEIR crimes, walk all over me, shut me out, ignore me, belittle me, beat me, cheat on me, walk out on me, lie to me- about me, love someone else and I'll STILL love them. Like I said---I'M SLOW. Even once I've stopped my obsessive kind of loving someone, there's still a good long time that I long for them back in my life; miss them, hurt for them. After that phase has passed, I still find it hard to hear their name or hear a song that reminds me of them or smell a fragrance that brings back a memory of them. To this day, the smell of beef jerky or maple candy reminds me of my long lost grandfather who died more than thirty years ago. It's still hurts. I still cry. The pain feels fresh-----even after all this time.
I'm slow to stop allowing myself to "take the blame" for everything that's gone wrong in my relationships. It's always been much easier for me to just chisel away a piece of myself here and a chunk of myself there, in order to keep the peace; retain the love. I know that I can survive another blow to my inner core as long as "they're" alright, as long as "they" still love me, as long as "they're" happy. Now, I said I'm slow. . . .but, I'm not stupid.
As I get nearer and nearer to my fortieth year here on Earth, I've noticed something about myself----I'm speeding up. Now that might sound counter intuitive, but, it's true. The speed at which I'm learning who people are, has increased exponentially. My favorite line is this: When someone shows you who they are, believe them. Now, I've been GIVING this advice for years. I'm just now really starting to TAKE it. Funny thing though, sometimes, I find that I don't really want to believe folks. I don't want to think that the lady that I've come to know is truly, honestly, not even real. Rather, what IS real, is her selfishness, her immaturity, her willingness to blame me for things that SHE, in fact, is guilty of---things I had NO control over. It pains me to KNOW that, sometimes, the people that I've chosen to love are in fact, not worth it. Not worth my time, my tears, my loyalty, my sincerity, my open mindedness, my deep abiding love, my devotion, my nonjudgmental nature, my soft heart, kind words and child like honesty. Just. Not. Worth, It.
Now, what I'm slow at is hardening my heart. Although, I know it's my best bet against further pain, I'm not quite sure how to go about it. How to make such a thing my reality? How do I give up hoping that the truth will always come out? How do I "let go" of someone whom I love and cherish in my heart? How, I beg of you, do I move on with my life and become something I've never been? Become the leaver and not the left behind? When is being slow a good thing?
Take a deep breath. . . . . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!!!!!!!
I'm too slow to let go. . . .of anything. If you've ever been loved by me, chances are good that you still are. I can't think of many things that anyone has done or could to me to make me stop loving them. Again, even when it's in my best interest to do so. People can hurt me, talk badly about me, misjudge me, blame me for THEIR crimes, walk all over me, shut me out, ignore me, belittle me, beat me, cheat on me, walk out on me, lie to me- about me, love someone else and I'll STILL love them. Like I said---I'M SLOW. Even once I've stopped my obsessive kind of loving someone, there's still a good long time that I long for them back in my life; miss them, hurt for them. After that phase has passed, I still find it hard to hear their name or hear a song that reminds me of them or smell a fragrance that brings back a memory of them. To this day, the smell of beef jerky or maple candy reminds me of my long lost grandfather who died more than thirty years ago. It's still hurts. I still cry. The pain feels fresh-----even after all this time.
I'm slow to stop allowing myself to "take the blame" for everything that's gone wrong in my relationships. It's always been much easier for me to just chisel away a piece of myself here and a chunk of myself there, in order to keep the peace; retain the love. I know that I can survive another blow to my inner core as long as "they're" alright, as long as "they" still love me, as long as "they're" happy. Now, I said I'm slow. . . .but, I'm not stupid.
As I get nearer and nearer to my fortieth year here on Earth, I've noticed something about myself----I'm speeding up. Now that might sound counter intuitive, but, it's true. The speed at which I'm learning who people are, has increased exponentially. My favorite line is this: When someone shows you who they are, believe them. Now, I've been GIVING this advice for years. I'm just now really starting to TAKE it. Funny thing though, sometimes, I find that I don't really want to believe folks. I don't want to think that the lady that I've come to know is truly, honestly, not even real. Rather, what IS real, is her selfishness, her immaturity, her willingness to blame me for things that SHE, in fact, is guilty of---things I had NO control over. It pains me to KNOW that, sometimes, the people that I've chosen to love are in fact, not worth it. Not worth my time, my tears, my loyalty, my sincerity, my open mindedness, my deep abiding love, my devotion, my nonjudgmental nature, my soft heart, kind words and child like honesty. Just. Not. Worth, It.
Now, what I'm slow at is hardening my heart. Although, I know it's my best bet against further pain, I'm not quite sure how to go about it. How to make such a thing my reality? How do I give up hoping that the truth will always come out? How do I "let go" of someone whom I love and cherish in my heart? How, I beg of you, do I move on with my life and become something I've never been? Become the leaver and not the left behind? When is being slow a good thing?
Take a deep breath. . . . . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!!!!!!!
Monday, April 25, 2011
Being Impressionable Leaves Its Mark
I've learned something amazing about myself and, I think, people in general. I've noticed that certain people bring out certain responses and behaviors in me. Now, this may sound like, "Well, duh?", but, I mean REALLY bring it out of me. For the good AND for the bad. I've also learned that I'm easily effected by others. I'm super sensitive to "vibes" and to others moods, behaviors and subtle body language. I've learned that I have to FIGHT to remain true to myself, at times. A fight that I was too tired, scared and weak to keep up, for a really long time. I've learned that there are certain people whom I just can NOT be around. Not because they're bad people, but, rather, they just bring out the worst in me. I've also learned that there are certain people who really bring the true "me" out to shine. I've RE-learned that there are people in the world who will accept me for me. No questions asked. No accommodations have to be made. They don't have to "tolerate" me. Or vice-versa.
I've found that I didn't even realize how "impressionable" I really am, always have been, if I were being honest with myself. It's as if I was completely willing to abandon myself in order to 'fit in' or be accepted. Huh? I've never had that problem before. I've always been popular and well liked and easy going and really, truly, had several people in my life who I was close to. Then. . . .it all changed. I changed. I twisted myself into a pretzel. I can't really explain why, clearly. I'm still working on that part. Regardless, of the deeper why, the "how" of it, is also surprising to me. I started becoming less kind. More harsh. I started agreeing with things that I knew to be crap or worse yet, crappY. I allowed myself to nearly disappear. I starting caring more about things that I never had cared about before and started caring less about things that HAD meant the world to me. I got lost. I started losing friends. My family didn't recognize me. People were like, "Um, who the hell have YOU become?" I'm embarrassed to say that I didn't care, at the time, that these people thought I was a total bitch. Well, that's NOT true. I cared. I've always cared. I was just putting on a really good show of NOT CARING. I was tying my damnedest to not care. I, of course, failed miserably and cried on my dear husbands shoulder, too many times to count. At the time, I couldn't understand why the people who had known me the longest were pulling away from me. Now, I know. I changed. COMPLETELY. I became a stranger to them. And to myself.
Now then, how do I reach out to them again and make them see that 1) I'm back---the REAL me and 2) that I was truly under some strange influence at the time----unbeknownst to me and 3) they can trust in me, like they always could before. How do I reassure them that I'm back to my genuine self? How do you rebuild a bridge after you're the one that burned it down? After all, I never really left. I was merely hiding behind a curtain of fear and identity crisis. I was allowing the worst of me to be brought out. By circumstance and surroundings. By trying so damn hard to appease and to "not rock the boat". Alas, I did just that and far, far worse. On the flip side, though, why didn't any of them come to me and TELL me what they were feeling? Why were there so many secrets? So many things said behind my back? It's a double edged sword here. I mean, I completely understand that I changed, but, as a true friend, aren't you supposed to speak up and reach out to those that you love? Aren't we all responsible for our relationships? I battle with the notion that I was so easily cast aside, perhaps I never held any value to them at all. I'm struggling to know what the right thing to do is. I've tried to reach out, a bit, over the last year or two and things haven't gone as well as I would have like. Do I just give up? Do I let "sleeping dogs lie"? Should I just live---in the moment---and be thankful for the friends I have NOW and let the "old ones" live in my memory?
In the end, I've found a peace in being myself that I didn't even know I had lost. I've found a calmness in my life, a balance. I don't feel a constant anxiety; again, that I was totally unaware existed at the time. I can BREATHE easier. I've stepped back from the woman that I was and stepped INTO the woman I was always meant to be. Back into myself. Back into a woman that I recognize, the woman I've always been, on the inside. I've stopped letting others effect me so much. I've started to realize that they're walking their path and I'm walking mine. Sometimes, those paths are right next to each other and sometimes they diverge and start moving in opposite directions. When that happens, I have to make a choice. A choice as to whether or not I want to keep them in my life; a choice as to whether or not it's even healthy, for either of us, to try to keep an eye on each other, whilst we're walking away. Sometimes, the answer has been yes. Yes, to keeping a safe distance while remaining there for them. Other times, the clear and resounding answer has been NO. This, of course, is the slipperier slope. The more dangerous territory. How do you walk away from someone that you love? Respect? Even cherish? I know the answer now, now that I've done it the wrong way (of course). I know now that you simply walk away. Wish them well on their journey and let it go. You grieve for the loss. Hell, you cry your damn eyes out about it! But, you don't look back. You don't lash out. You don't wish that things had been different, because, well, they aren't. They never will be. You walk away with grace. You walk away allowing them to be graceful, too. Sometimes, the greatest gift we could ever give, is silence. Pure. Simple. Silence.
I'm sorry that I learned this a bit too late. I'm thankful that I learned it at all, though. I know that from now on, I'll be able to handle this situation with more dignity. Not that I don't feel like I can hold my head up high, now. I do. I know that the decisions that I made were the best ones I could at the time. After all, when you know better, you do better. Right? It's very hard not to let pain and hurt leak out of you, when you feel so damaged and ignored. It's hard to not want to strike back when you feel like you're the one who's been attacked time and time again. But, I know, for me, that that's not who I want to be; not who I am at my core. There are many years of abuse and pain and neglect that have piled upon my shoulders. Maybe some of those are there because I allowed them to be placed there. I now know that I will NOT allow anyone else to hurt me. I will not tolerate anyone who feels the need to change me or belittle me because of my beliefs. I am 100% comfortable in my own skin. I believe that, sometimes, you have to shatter who you were to become who you're supposed to be. A caterpillar doesn't become a butterfly without tearing itself apart first.
Take a deep breath............................It's just another day in Perfect!!!!!!!!!
I've found that I didn't even realize how "impressionable" I really am, always have been, if I were being honest with myself. It's as if I was completely willing to abandon myself in order to 'fit in' or be accepted. Huh? I've never had that problem before. I've always been popular and well liked and easy going and really, truly, had several people in my life who I was close to. Then. . . .it all changed. I changed. I twisted myself into a pretzel. I can't really explain why, clearly. I'm still working on that part. Regardless, of the deeper why, the "how" of it, is also surprising to me. I started becoming less kind. More harsh. I started agreeing with things that I knew to be crap or worse yet, crappY. I allowed myself to nearly disappear. I starting caring more about things that I never had cared about before and started caring less about things that HAD meant the world to me. I got lost. I started losing friends. My family didn't recognize me. People were like, "Um, who the hell have YOU become?" I'm embarrassed to say that I didn't care, at the time, that these people thought I was a total bitch. Well, that's NOT true. I cared. I've always cared. I was just putting on a really good show of NOT CARING. I was tying my damnedest to not care. I, of course, failed miserably and cried on my dear husbands shoulder, too many times to count. At the time, I couldn't understand why the people who had known me the longest were pulling away from me. Now, I know. I changed. COMPLETELY. I became a stranger to them. And to myself.
Now then, how do I reach out to them again and make them see that 1) I'm back---the REAL me and 2) that I was truly under some strange influence at the time----unbeknownst to me and 3) they can trust in me, like they always could before. How do I reassure them that I'm back to my genuine self? How do you rebuild a bridge after you're the one that burned it down? After all, I never really left. I was merely hiding behind a curtain of fear and identity crisis. I was allowing the worst of me to be brought out. By circumstance and surroundings. By trying so damn hard to appease and to "not rock the boat". Alas, I did just that and far, far worse. On the flip side, though, why didn't any of them come to me and TELL me what they were feeling? Why were there so many secrets? So many things said behind my back? It's a double edged sword here. I mean, I completely understand that I changed, but, as a true friend, aren't you supposed to speak up and reach out to those that you love? Aren't we all responsible for our relationships? I battle with the notion that I was so easily cast aside, perhaps I never held any value to them at all. I'm struggling to know what the right thing to do is. I've tried to reach out, a bit, over the last year or two and things haven't gone as well as I would have like. Do I just give up? Do I let "sleeping dogs lie"? Should I just live---in the moment---and be thankful for the friends I have NOW and let the "old ones" live in my memory?
In the end, I've found a peace in being myself that I didn't even know I had lost. I've found a calmness in my life, a balance. I don't feel a constant anxiety; again, that I was totally unaware existed at the time. I can BREATHE easier. I've stepped back from the woman that I was and stepped INTO the woman I was always meant to be. Back into myself. Back into a woman that I recognize, the woman I've always been, on the inside. I've stopped letting others effect me so much. I've started to realize that they're walking their path and I'm walking mine. Sometimes, those paths are right next to each other and sometimes they diverge and start moving in opposite directions. When that happens, I have to make a choice. A choice as to whether or not I want to keep them in my life; a choice as to whether or not it's even healthy, for either of us, to try to keep an eye on each other, whilst we're walking away. Sometimes, the answer has been yes. Yes, to keeping a safe distance while remaining there for them. Other times, the clear and resounding answer has been NO. This, of course, is the slipperier slope. The more dangerous territory. How do you walk away from someone that you love? Respect? Even cherish? I know the answer now, now that I've done it the wrong way (of course). I know now that you simply walk away. Wish them well on their journey and let it go. You grieve for the loss. Hell, you cry your damn eyes out about it! But, you don't look back. You don't lash out. You don't wish that things had been different, because, well, they aren't. They never will be. You walk away with grace. You walk away allowing them to be graceful, too. Sometimes, the greatest gift we could ever give, is silence. Pure. Simple. Silence.
I'm sorry that I learned this a bit too late. I'm thankful that I learned it at all, though. I know that from now on, I'll be able to handle this situation with more dignity. Not that I don't feel like I can hold my head up high, now. I do. I know that the decisions that I made were the best ones I could at the time. After all, when you know better, you do better. Right? It's very hard not to let pain and hurt leak out of you, when you feel so damaged and ignored. It's hard to not want to strike back when you feel like you're the one who's been attacked time and time again. But, I know, for me, that that's not who I want to be; not who I am at my core. There are many years of abuse and pain and neglect that have piled upon my shoulders. Maybe some of those are there because I allowed them to be placed there. I now know that I will NOT allow anyone else to hurt me. I will not tolerate anyone who feels the need to change me or belittle me because of my beliefs. I am 100% comfortable in my own skin. I believe that, sometimes, you have to shatter who you were to become who you're supposed to be. A caterpillar doesn't become a butterfly without tearing itself apart first.
Take a deep breath............................It's just another day in Perfect!!!!!!!!!
Sunday, April 24, 2011
It's the Little Things.......
My husband and I went to go look at cars yesterday. Fun, right? Not. You know that that kind of a thing is SUPPOSED to be fun. Sounds fun. Might end up getting you a FUN car, but, the process itself. No where near fun. We went with a plan. A first for us. We had discussed ahead of time what we were looking for, what we required, what we would NOT accept, etc. We knew that this would be my car. My husband has a company truck and honestly, the only time that we all ride together somewhere is when we go out to eat, go to a party, you know social stuff. For the most part, I drive the car to and from the grocery store, the mall, the bank and drive my girls to and from the school, church and sleepovers. I don't really need a minivan anymore. Sniff, sniff......long gone are the days when my girls need to watch a movie to even drive across town because they're bored after 3 minutes.
So, we're pretty successful at the first dealership. We tell the guy straight away that we want 1) a lease for under $300 a month, 2) we may or may NOT be trading in our old car, because a friend of ours might be interested in buying it and 3) we want something nice, you know leather seats, push buttons that do fun things. Like my minivan. I have a really, really nice minivan. It does way more than your usual car does. It's like its own little house on wheels. Love, love, love the minivan. Don't, however, love that it takes $65 to fill it up, at the store where I get ten cents a gallon discount and the thing isn't really even on "E" yet. Not one bit. So, the first vulture, I mean car salesman, approaches us and we tell him straight away what we want, don't want, we don't want to waste a bunch of his or our time, I really just need to 'sit" inside the car to know if it's "a fit" or not. Truly, I'm buying a feeling, not acceleration. He gets it. We spent a little while there. . . . thank you very much. . . .we're out the door. Perfect.
Then. . . .we go to the next dealership. Hmph. Here's where the "Seriously. What were we even thinking?" comes into play. I mean, did we really think that it was going to go that smoothly the whole day? We had every intention of making it through every car dealership on "CAR ROW" and back home in time for dinner and Saturday evening Easter service at the church. Can you say. . . .wrong!!! We walk up, I would say that we walked in, but, you know that you never even get INTO the dealership before the sharks descend. Max walks up to us and says "Hello." Now, not that I care a whole bunch, but I always seem to get car salesmen who aren't from the US. There's always a bit of a language issue. Not truly a "barrier" but, there are just some things that the guys says that I honestly have no idea what mean. Hmmm. Probably not good, but, then again, what do you do? I mean, I can't exactly say..."Um, no. We want someone else." You get what you get and you don't throw a fit, right? (That's what I tell my kids all the time.) So, Max walks up and does the whole normal what can I help you with, blah, blah, blah. Things progress. Farther than we wanted. I end up test driving a car. No. Two cars. I had no intention of doing that. This guy is good.
Long story, long, he gets us to the point of "crunching numbers". You know. . ..the part that takes all damn day and never really gets anywhere. We finally get to the point where we decide, "Um, yeah. We wanna go home now." and these two fools won't let us leave. (Of course, the general manager has come into the cubicle to "close the deal".) We start going back and forth, back and forth. It's a painful tennis match of words that just isn't going to end well. Here's the glorious "little thing" that my husband did for me. He was on my side.
Nothing more than that. He just stood up for me. He didn't let these two men push me around. He realized that I was sacrificing too much with the "potential car" and didn't want me to settle. He wants me to have the best of everything. (His exact words....can I get a heavy sigh, ladies?? A fast beating heart?) He loves me. In that moment, I felt more loved and protected by him then I've felt in a long time. It was subtle. He wasn't loud or rude or a jerk. He was just mine. My wonderful husband. He refused to let me be bullied. He refused to let me be hurt, in any way. I nearly cried at the simple alliance between us. It was palpable to me. The whole room was outside of my perception. I couldn't hear anyone but him. I couldn't see anyone but him. I just wanted to jump into his arms and kiss him all over his face. I felt all warm inside. Kind of like my guts had turned to warm caramel.
It's amazing to me how loved I felt in that moment. How loved I still feel just thinking about it. He doesn't even understand what he did. I keep thanking him and loving on him and hugging him and feeling like warm caramel and he thinks I'm crazy. That's okay. I don't mind. He's mine. He loves me. He'll protect me. It's the little things that make or break a marriage. I've been with this man for 15 years (tomorrow) and he still never ceases to surprise me. To fascinate me. To become a new man, in my eyes. So, even though I didn't get a "new car", I got something so much more valuable; so rare and irreplaceable, I'll take it whenever I can find it. I got comfort. I got security. I felt safe. I felt loved. I felt treasured and adored. All because we DIDN'T buy a car. . . . .
Take a deep breath. . . . . ..it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!
So, we're pretty successful at the first dealership. We tell the guy straight away that we want 1) a lease for under $300 a month, 2) we may or may NOT be trading in our old car, because a friend of ours might be interested in buying it and 3) we want something nice, you know leather seats, push buttons that do fun things. Like my minivan. I have a really, really nice minivan. It does way more than your usual car does. It's like its own little house on wheels. Love, love, love the minivan. Don't, however, love that it takes $65 to fill it up, at the store where I get ten cents a gallon discount and the thing isn't really even on "E" yet. Not one bit. So, the first vulture, I mean car salesman, approaches us and we tell him straight away what we want, don't want, we don't want to waste a bunch of his or our time, I really just need to 'sit" inside the car to know if it's "a fit" or not. Truly, I'm buying a feeling, not acceleration. He gets it. We spent a little while there. . . . thank you very much. . . .we're out the door. Perfect.
Then. . . .we go to the next dealership. Hmph. Here's where the "Seriously. What were we even thinking?" comes into play. I mean, did we really think that it was going to go that smoothly the whole day? We had every intention of making it through every car dealership on "CAR ROW" and back home in time for dinner and Saturday evening Easter service at the church. Can you say. . . .wrong!!! We walk up, I would say that we walked in, but, you know that you never even get INTO the dealership before the sharks descend. Max walks up to us and says "Hello." Now, not that I care a whole bunch, but I always seem to get car salesmen who aren't from the US. There's always a bit of a language issue. Not truly a "barrier" but, there are just some things that the guys says that I honestly have no idea what mean. Hmmm. Probably not good, but, then again, what do you do? I mean, I can't exactly say..."Um, no. We want someone else." You get what you get and you don't throw a fit, right? (That's what I tell my kids all the time.) So, Max walks up and does the whole normal what can I help you with, blah, blah, blah. Things progress. Farther than we wanted. I end up test driving a car. No. Two cars. I had no intention of doing that. This guy is good.
Long story, long, he gets us to the point of "crunching numbers". You know. . ..the part that takes all damn day and never really gets anywhere. We finally get to the point where we decide, "Um, yeah. We wanna go home now." and these two fools won't let us leave. (Of course, the general manager has come into the cubicle to "close the deal".) We start going back and forth, back and forth. It's a painful tennis match of words that just isn't going to end well. Here's the glorious "little thing" that my husband did for me. He was on my side.
Nothing more than that. He just stood up for me. He didn't let these two men push me around. He realized that I was sacrificing too much with the "potential car" and didn't want me to settle. He wants me to have the best of everything. (His exact words....can I get a heavy sigh, ladies?? A fast beating heart?) He loves me. In that moment, I felt more loved and protected by him then I've felt in a long time. It was subtle. He wasn't loud or rude or a jerk. He was just mine. My wonderful husband. He refused to let me be bullied. He refused to let me be hurt, in any way. I nearly cried at the simple alliance between us. It was palpable to me. The whole room was outside of my perception. I couldn't hear anyone but him. I couldn't see anyone but him. I just wanted to jump into his arms and kiss him all over his face. I felt all warm inside. Kind of like my guts had turned to warm caramel.
It's amazing to me how loved I felt in that moment. How loved I still feel just thinking about it. He doesn't even understand what he did. I keep thanking him and loving on him and hugging him and feeling like warm caramel and he thinks I'm crazy. That's okay. I don't mind. He's mine. He loves me. He'll protect me. It's the little things that make or break a marriage. I've been with this man for 15 years (tomorrow) and he still never ceases to surprise me. To fascinate me. To become a new man, in my eyes. So, even though I didn't get a "new car", I got something so much more valuable; so rare and irreplaceable, I'll take it whenever I can find it. I got comfort. I got security. I felt safe. I felt loved. I felt treasured and adored. All because we DIDN'T buy a car. . . . .
Take a deep breath. . . . . ..it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Childhood "magic"...........
I like Harry Potter. I like The Twilight Series. I prefer kids movies over those filled with action and violence. Yes, I realize that I'm nearly forty and that this seems like I'm being childish to some of you. I, emphatically disagree. What I think it is, perhaps what I KNOW it is, is my desire for a simpler time. Less stress, more magic.
I love to watch the rain fall, listen to the thunder roll and wait for the lightning to strike. I still count the seconds in between. I love the smell of rain. The clean, fresh, damp smell of the Earth being bathed in love. I see the miracle of it. I'm impressed by the rain.
I love the quiet. I like to be here alone, during the day and just be. No television. No radio. No drama. No talking. Just peace and quiet. It's a profoundly important part of my day. If you don't spend much time in total silence, I highly recommend it. It's good for the soul.
I love the way the grass "knows" to turn green every spring, that the trees "know" it safe to sprout new leaves. I love that the flowers that have disappeared over the winter, push their tiny heads up through the dirt, to greet the sun, head on. I see the magic and mystery in it, the beauty and vitality that is all around me.
I don't mind that I'm seen as childish. It's okay. Honestly, I feel kind of sorry for those people who have "moved past all that crap" and don't get to clearly see the magic that's surrounds them everyday. Snowflakes, butterflies, lady bugs, rain drops, rainbows, the full moon, fog, a sun set and a sun rise, the bunnies that emerge just in time for the warm sun and rain showers, the feel of the first sunburn of the season, the smell of grills heating up waiting for hot dogs, hamburgers, a steak or some chicken, the sizzle when the meat hits the grill. It's all magical. It all matters. It's all related. Sometimes, I think that maybe, I feel so overwhelmed because I really do "see it" all; whereas other "adults" seem to have tuned all these things out. Perhaps, I would have more patience, more energy, less stress, if I wasn't so hyper-aware of everything going on around me. I'm not sure that I know how to just "turn it off". I'm not sure that I want to. I like that when my nine year old notices something, I know that I noticed it, too. I like that the magic of the world hasn't escaped my notice.
In the same way I "see" all the world around me, I feel it, too. I think that the way in which I'm most "child like" is in how easily my feelings get hurt. This I am working on. I realize that I need to grow a thicker skin. I need to NOT let things hurt me or upset me so quickly. Yet, they do. I am getting better at hiding it from the outside world. Stuffing those feelings down deep; like a real "grown-up' does. But......is that what the goal really should be? Should we all just stuff and stuff and stuff? Or worse yet, should we just harden our hearts to the outside world? Not trust? Not love? Not risk getting hurt? Does that make us better or smarter than our younger counterparts? Or do they, the children, have it right? I'm not sure. I do feel like all that we need to know to get through life, successfully, we really did learn in kindergarten. 1) Share. 2) Be nice to people, even if they're not nice to you. 3) Afternoon naps rock! 4) Wash your hands after you wipe something, sneeze or cough. 5) Take your time, with your work. Don't rush through it. 6) Listen to your friends and they'll listen to you. Don't interrupt. 7) Always tell the truth. 8) Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut, in order to learn the most. Seems simple enough, right? But, let's really look at the list. How many of us can say that we do all of these things? Hell, how many of us can say that we do half of these things?
Perhaps, there's something to being "childish"? To seeing the magic that the world has to offer, to liking childish things, to being nice and polite, to being willing to share. I don't mind saying that I cried when we first made it to Disney World. Partly for my children and partly for myself. I cried when I saw "Toy Story 3". Yes. Yes, I did. I cried when all the friends held hands and smiled at each other, knowing that they were about to be burned "alive". It gives me goose bumps now, a lump in my throat. It means something to me. My daughters cried, too. I like it that way. I want them to see that I have feelings and that I care about things, even animated characters. I want them to have feelings. I don't want them to stuff, stuff, stuff it away.
So, yeah.....I like Harry Potter and The Twilight Series. My favorite movies are made my Pixar. Violence makes my tummy hurt. And you know what????.......... I like it that way.
Take a deep breath........................it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!
I love to watch the rain fall, listen to the thunder roll and wait for the lightning to strike. I still count the seconds in between. I love the smell of rain. The clean, fresh, damp smell of the Earth being bathed in love. I see the miracle of it. I'm impressed by the rain.
I love the quiet. I like to be here alone, during the day and just be. No television. No radio. No drama. No talking. Just peace and quiet. It's a profoundly important part of my day. If you don't spend much time in total silence, I highly recommend it. It's good for the soul.
I love the way the grass "knows" to turn green every spring, that the trees "know" it safe to sprout new leaves. I love that the flowers that have disappeared over the winter, push their tiny heads up through the dirt, to greet the sun, head on. I see the magic and mystery in it, the beauty and vitality that is all around me.
I don't mind that I'm seen as childish. It's okay. Honestly, I feel kind of sorry for those people who have "moved past all that crap" and don't get to clearly see the magic that's surrounds them everyday. Snowflakes, butterflies, lady bugs, rain drops, rainbows, the full moon, fog, a sun set and a sun rise, the bunnies that emerge just in time for the warm sun and rain showers, the feel of the first sunburn of the season, the smell of grills heating up waiting for hot dogs, hamburgers, a steak or some chicken, the sizzle when the meat hits the grill. It's all magical. It all matters. It's all related. Sometimes, I think that maybe, I feel so overwhelmed because I really do "see it" all; whereas other "adults" seem to have tuned all these things out. Perhaps, I would have more patience, more energy, less stress, if I wasn't so hyper-aware of everything going on around me. I'm not sure that I know how to just "turn it off". I'm not sure that I want to. I like that when my nine year old notices something, I know that I noticed it, too. I like that the magic of the world hasn't escaped my notice.
In the same way I "see" all the world around me, I feel it, too. I think that the way in which I'm most "child like" is in how easily my feelings get hurt. This I am working on. I realize that I need to grow a thicker skin. I need to NOT let things hurt me or upset me so quickly. Yet, they do. I am getting better at hiding it from the outside world. Stuffing those feelings down deep; like a real "grown-up' does. But......is that what the goal really should be? Should we all just stuff and stuff and stuff? Or worse yet, should we just harden our hearts to the outside world? Not trust? Not love? Not risk getting hurt? Does that make us better or smarter than our younger counterparts? Or do they, the children, have it right? I'm not sure. I do feel like all that we need to know to get through life, successfully, we really did learn in kindergarten. 1) Share. 2) Be nice to people, even if they're not nice to you. 3) Afternoon naps rock! 4) Wash your hands after you wipe something, sneeze or cough. 5) Take your time, with your work. Don't rush through it. 6) Listen to your friends and they'll listen to you. Don't interrupt. 7) Always tell the truth. 8) Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut, in order to learn the most. Seems simple enough, right? But, let's really look at the list. How many of us can say that we do all of these things? Hell, how many of us can say that we do half of these things?
Perhaps, there's something to being "childish"? To seeing the magic that the world has to offer, to liking childish things, to being nice and polite, to being willing to share. I don't mind saying that I cried when we first made it to Disney World. Partly for my children and partly for myself. I cried when I saw "Toy Story 3". Yes. Yes, I did. I cried when all the friends held hands and smiled at each other, knowing that they were about to be burned "alive". It gives me goose bumps now, a lump in my throat. It means something to me. My daughters cried, too. I like it that way. I want them to see that I have feelings and that I care about things, even animated characters. I want them to have feelings. I don't want them to stuff, stuff, stuff it away.
So, yeah.....I like Harry Potter and The Twilight Series. My favorite movies are made my Pixar. Violence makes my tummy hurt. And you know what????.......... I like it that way.
Take a deep breath........................it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
I Wonder (POEM)
I wonder what it's like to be you. I wonder what it's like to not worry about what people think. I wonder what it's like to be able to shut down that part of your brain that tells you you're doing it wrong. I wonder what it's like to live in peace; away from the loud voices on the tape that keeps playing in my head--telling me I'm not enough. I can't imagine how it must feel to be perfect -- everything to everyone you meet.
I wonder what happened to you that you're so cold and calloused. I try to pick through the perfectness of your life to find the thorn in your paw; surely no one would be so cruel for naught. I try to put myself into your shoes and see the world through your eyes; yet---I find that I can not. I can't imagine what your view must be, up on high, looking down at everyone else---far beneath you. I find it dizzying at best.
I wonder when karma will kick in. I've been told that "what goes around, comes around", yet, I've never experienced that, myself. I've watched you succeed against all probability and reason. I've watched you win by playing dirty. I've witnessed your darkest colors and noticed that the world sees only the brightest, most beautiful hues instead. I've fallen at your feet and begged you for mercy, only to find a silence so deeply profound that I was deafened by it.
I wonder when I will give up the fight. I pray each day that the right will find its way into the sunshine, no longer hidden in some deep dark cave---only to be disappointed again. Do I have unending strength and tenacity? When will I decide that enough is enough and force your hand? To be free from such an evil imprisonment frightens me --- I've lived there for so long now, I'm not sure that I would know what to do with my freedom, if presented with the keys. I wonder if I'll be able to walk free, among you and go unnoticed by the world, or will my pallor give me away. Ever more showing that I've lived in a shadow for far, far too long.
What would the air smell like? Is it sweet -- full of heady perfume, or is it just crisp and clean and free from all that is tainted and dirty of the world. I wonder what it's like to breathe it in ---- deeply, to own that air, to feel that you deserve to be breathing it, to feel unashamed, to feel free. I wonder what walking a little bit taller would feel like. I wonder how laying down this boulder will feel. Will I utter relief, immediately? Will it take some time for my muscles to adjust to their new role....just holding ME up, for a change. I need you to understand that in order to lift me up you don't need to tear yourself down, merely remove the boulder from your own back, too. The load has been heavy. Cumbersome. Exhausting. For both of us.
I truly do......wonder.......
I wonder what happened to you that you're so cold and calloused. I try to pick through the perfectness of your life to find the thorn in your paw; surely no one would be so cruel for naught. I try to put myself into your shoes and see the world through your eyes; yet---I find that I can not. I can't imagine what your view must be, up on high, looking down at everyone else---far beneath you. I find it dizzying at best.
I wonder when karma will kick in. I've been told that "what goes around, comes around", yet, I've never experienced that, myself. I've watched you succeed against all probability and reason. I've watched you win by playing dirty. I've witnessed your darkest colors and noticed that the world sees only the brightest, most beautiful hues instead. I've fallen at your feet and begged you for mercy, only to find a silence so deeply profound that I was deafened by it.
I wonder when I will give up the fight. I pray each day that the right will find its way into the sunshine, no longer hidden in some deep dark cave---only to be disappointed again. Do I have unending strength and tenacity? When will I decide that enough is enough and force your hand? To be free from such an evil imprisonment frightens me --- I've lived there for so long now, I'm not sure that I would know what to do with my freedom, if presented with the keys. I wonder if I'll be able to walk free, among you and go unnoticed by the world, or will my pallor give me away. Ever more showing that I've lived in a shadow for far, far too long.
What would the air smell like? Is it sweet -- full of heady perfume, or is it just crisp and clean and free from all that is tainted and dirty of the world. I wonder what it's like to breathe it in ---- deeply, to own that air, to feel that you deserve to be breathing it, to feel unashamed, to feel free. I wonder what walking a little bit taller would feel like. I wonder how laying down this boulder will feel. Will I utter relief, immediately? Will it take some time for my muscles to adjust to their new role....just holding ME up, for a change. I need you to understand that in order to lift me up you don't need to tear yourself down, merely remove the boulder from your own back, too. The load has been heavy. Cumbersome. Exhausting. For both of us.
I truly do......wonder.......
Monday, April 11, 2011
It's Not About You (POEM)
When I break down,
It's not about you.
You need to learn that the me in me,
Has nothing to do with the you in you.
When I get angry enough to shout,
It's not about you.
Separate yourself,
Cut the ties that bind.
When I feel vulnerable and alone,
It's not about you.
Is being "right" more important then being heard?
Or is speaking your truth more important than anything?
When I want to jump for joy,
It's not about you.
You can't have it both ways,
Either I'm too much me or I'm too much you.
When I write a nasty blog,
It's not about you.
You're so vain,
You probably think that this is about you.
When I have a great day,
It's not about you.
I have enough emotion in me to keep me going for years,
Please STOP giving me "new" material!
When I want to run away,
It's not about you.
Someday, maybe, perhaps, possibly,
You'll realize----it's NOT ABOUT YOU!!!
When I'm failing miserably,
It's not about you.
If I thought that it were possible for you to jump off your high horse,
I might offer you a hand down.
When I'm succeeding in every way possible,
It's not about you.
If you could take a breath and stop talking,
maybe you'd hear what I'm not saying.
When I'm suffering and in pain,
It's not about you.
If you really know me, as you claim to,
You'd know that choosing to leave you alone, has caused me tremendous pain.
When I'm strong enough to leave,
It's all about you.
It's not about you.
You need to learn that the me in me,
Has nothing to do with the you in you.
When I get angry enough to shout,
It's not about you.
Separate yourself,
Cut the ties that bind.
When I feel vulnerable and alone,
It's not about you.
Is being "right" more important then being heard?
Or is speaking your truth more important than anything?
When I want to jump for joy,
It's not about you.
You can't have it both ways,
Either I'm too much me or I'm too much you.
When I write a nasty blog,
It's not about you.
You're so vain,
You probably think that this is about you.
When I have a great day,
It's not about you.
I have enough emotion in me to keep me going for years,
Please STOP giving me "new" material!
When I want to run away,
It's not about you.
Someday, maybe, perhaps, possibly,
You'll realize----it's NOT ABOUT YOU!!!
When I'm failing miserably,
It's not about you.
If I thought that it were possible for you to jump off your high horse,
I might offer you a hand down.
When I'm succeeding in every way possible,
It's not about you.
If you could take a breath and stop talking,
maybe you'd hear what I'm not saying.
When I'm suffering and in pain,
It's not about you.
If you really know me, as you claim to,
You'd know that choosing to leave you alone, has caused me tremendous pain.
When I'm strong enough to leave,
It's all about you.
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