Erasing you

I keep hearing that you haven't stopped talking about me yet. I scoff at this idea, knowing how much time you've had to think about this mess. Not once did you try to call or write. Not until you began to feel the ground crumbling underneath your feet. You don't like the appearance of this new reality. Now you appear to be grasping for straws. I am not just an object though. I refuse to be your pawn. Now you grab anyone who knows and use them. Then you send them my way. I hear them speak and the words are not their own; but rather they are your own ideals. Nothing's changed. It's all still for your gain. It's never been about anyone else's best interests. It's always to glorify yourself. Why would I walk back to a place where I have never been allowed to speak the truth without living in absolute terror of the consequence?
I want to march forward and one day realize you have no more power over me. You play the victim if you would like. Underneath my anger lies apathy. Now you say you hurt? I remember you laughing in the face of my pain. I'm ready to make a life of memories in which you are in none of them.

Homeless

There's a deadness inside today
Feels like it's made itself at home
I have memories of the first times I ever invited it in
Never knowing that once invited it doesn't want to leave
That was a long time ago
So long ago that I can't really recall my life without it
Coping mechanisms
Tonight I'm lighting a fire to my past
Tomorrow it may stand in front of me again
I'll summon the courage to burn it down again
I'll become an arsonist until I am firmly planted in the truth that it does not define me
Then the deadness inside will be without a home

Oh decisions....

I've felt stuck in this place for some time now with an immense desire to be genuine. I say that and realize it's been a life-long pursuit. For just as long though I've felt stunted by a lack of knowing the difference between being genuine gracefully and being completely uninhibited. There is a line between the two, yet I've been unable to decipher it. As a result I have allowed inhibition to take the front row. The consequences have been many. I have found it is possible to be myself while also playing along with others. It comes with a cost though; the cost being an internal battle waged with self-contempt for not being true to myself. I've spent many days lately in bed slumbering while my children tear apart the house and do as they please. My goal? Escape. The actual outcome? More self-contempt. Today I got up and once again began tidying up the house; a task that's never ending and seemingly fruitless. When I walked into the kitchen later however, I recognized the rewarding feeling when I glanced at all the dishes drying on the counter top. I dread the monotony of mundane tasks. I forget that there is joy in these accomplishments as much as there is in the larger successes. I wish I could say that tomorrow I will wake up ready to begin the first day of the rest of my life. The truth is however, that I've spent many years plagued by depression. So I know tomorrow may not be any different at all. I wonder at how much of my depression manifests itself from the roots of my self-contempt?
We begin these vicious cycles almost out of an innocence, completely unaware that once begun they take on a power of their own. The sheer force of these cycles feels somewhat akin to a natural disaster; deadly and out of our control. They leave us appearing to be moving forward while parts of our soul are buried in the past.
Try to walk away from them and you may just find yourself spinning with a new, yet strangely familiar chaos. Asking yourself who you are and what you want only to be shocked because you lack an answer to both seemingly simple questions.
Now what? Return to what's comfortable? Or forge ahead into unknown territory? Neither path will be without pain. So do you take the easy road and continue lying to yourself in order to hopefully convince others and perhaps even yourself that this is as good as it gets?

Read while listening to: Christina Perri; Jar of Hearts

I've been reading a book loaned to me by a friend. It's called, "Love, Sex, and Lasting Relationships." Well, if you can get past all the scripture, the story line is a pretty good one. Not that I have anything against scripture, but sometimes I do struggle to read a book that is engorged with it.
The book hits on a topic I've been pondering for years. What's the prescription for relationships? Or is there a prescription that fits for everyone? The key the book points to is that a person has be able to stand alone before they can stand next to another. We have to be right, or true to ourselves before we can truly do the same for another. This can apply to all our relationships; not just intimate ones. Since this master's program has started I have done a lot of self-evaluation. I've been led to see a lot of things in myself that I have yearned to change for what seems like ages. Every so often I get a burst of passion and want to chase after change. Generally I end up flat on my back while I am reminded that life cannot be taken by storm in such a manner.
I'm going to start again; seeking change. This time I'm going to try to go about it a little differently than I have in the past. Stay tuned for updates.

Haven't written about the kids in a while...

Well, last night my daughter had a Christmas music concert at her school. Throughout the day I had been contemplating the idea that with 2 children, and with them being so far apart in age, and the fact that there is only one of me; one of them is often going without my attention. Not that they need my constant attention, but one of them can have me so captive that I do find myself missing the opportunity to fill the needs of the other. Anyways, yesterday my daughter comes home from school and starts going on in a very dramatic manner about some boy on the bus. You know what? This boy on the bus has asked out at least 5 different girls and they have all said no because he is so weird. Then he has the nerve to sit next to her on the bus and ask her. When she says no he refuses to leave the seat next to her and, "Oh my goodness!" Drama, drama, drama. Where did this girl get it from? I know it's not from me....
So last night we are walking up to the concert at my daughter's school. I dread these things. Not because they suck, but because I always have to go alone, which can be slightly intimidating. Also because the age difference between my children makes this type of task a challenge. This particular night though, my brother said he would meet us there to support my daughter in her ventures. That's my baby brother; he's such a sweetie :) The way I see it is that if I need to take the little guy out to the lobby when he gets restless, my little brother will still be there rooting my daughter on. This way she won't feel that he is robbing her spotlight.
We're walking through the parking lot and my daughter begins complaining about the sprinkling rain. Oh my goodness, we hate getting wet! It must be the worst thing in the world; right up there with cleaning out the cat box or taking out the trash. Geesh. She's rattling on and I look over at my son who is wearing his monster rain boots. That is they have scales down the back and eyes and nostrils at the front. He is stomping through every puddle he can find, cheering all the way and exhilarated about the rain! My 2 children; they couldn't be any more different.
Once in my daughter is singing and my son has to potty. We take care of business and go back to watch. I can tell by looking at him that my son hasn't recognized his sister up on stage yet. I wondered when he picked her out of the crowd, how loud he would become in his excitement. It didn't take long. I thought he restrained himself fairly well, until my daughter told me later that she had heard him shout her name when she was on stage. Shortly after he became agitated. When would it be his turn to sing on stage? I finally nudged my brother when my son was practically doing somersaults in his chair. I told him we were going out to the lobby for the remainder of the concert. About that time I hear a noise that makes my breath catch in my throat and I look up in time to see my coffee go streaming down the stadium seating floor of the auditorium. I heard the lid, but all I could find was my cup. FML. Dear Lord, get me out of here before I have to make any eye-contact with any members of the audience, please.
Although my son can be fairly entertaining, the rest of the evening was uneventful by his standards.
Today however, I must have been in the other room, because when I walked into the kitchen what did I see, but the $175 DKNY cardigan I had just worn for the first and only time 2 nights before; shredded with my sewing shears. FML. Alright, so no, I didn't pay $175 for the damn cardigan, only $19 on markdown. However, that's besides the point!
Just a day in the life.....

Just stick a fork in me....

I should start this post by saying that my recent dating ventures have been products of an online dating website. Upon realizing that my current life filled with raising children, school, and working from home does not allow much time to get out and meet people, online dating seemed like a viable option. Pump the brakes. I'm not sure how long I've been at it, maybe 5 or 6 weeks, but I think it's about time to call it quits for a while. I've wanted to cry all evening. I feel like the word love has become so overused in our society that it has nearly lost its appeal to people. It feels like so many people now are just looking for something akin to an over the counter drug. Just give me a quick fix and I'll be on my way. It seems that no one really wants to take the effort it would require to acquire the good stuff. Don't get me wrong, no one confessed to loving me, and I am not under the delusion that I was in love with any one else. I just get the feeling people say that's what they want when no one really seems to know what it takes to have it. If it doesn't come cheap and easy....they aren't interested. Sad. It also feels a lot like rejection. In the end it all leaves me wanting to crawl back into my shell and go live another 3-4 years of my life focusing intently on my priorities while I try to bury that deep desire to engage in relationship. Fuck it all. Is it even worth it?
I'll spend the next week pondering that question. Perhaps I'll log-in in another week and have some answers to that question.

Hopeful

I've recently decided to begin dating again. Now anyone who knows me knows this is no small feat for me to tackle. For many reasons I've spent most of my life staying far from men and relationships. Fear being the biggest reason. Growing up I was often told that I was too sensitive. As an adult it's been said to me, "So what if you're sensitive. If you are, then those people should respect that." I see some truth in that. If I were to take a personality inventory test I would score higher in the feeling category. I always have. Ugh, feelings. That's a love/hate relationship for me. I feel so intensely for others in compassion at times that my heart just aches and I shed tears. I value the fact that I have the capacity to empathize so much with others.
When it comes to my own heart however, I have this run away reflex. Dating is washing it to the surface again. The slightest hint of rejection leaves me wanting to flee back to a life of solitude. I'm striving to face my fears, yet I feel that I haven't completely made sense of them yet. I'm hopeful that when I do I will be able to stand through them.

Game on

I've been reminded lately of a space in my life that was full of peace
A time when I knew life would present struggles, yet I was willing to face them head on
Days were not void of pain, yet I knew I was never alone
I've spent the last several years wrestling
I have wrestled an opponent who was fighting for me, and would not fight against me
I continually retaliated
I was seeking an aggressive match
I was confronted with a gentle demeanor
I claimed I could not trust
I believed I had been betrayed
Sweat dripped from my brow
I shook with rage
I latched on to independence
I thought myself a warrior
Then I felt the earth rumble underneath my feet
My defenses began to crumble
I searched for weapons and realized I had none
I grew weary
I fell to my knees
I surrendered
And He won
Yet, I walked away with a treasure

Anxious Chaos

Alright, so 5 months into my masters program and I'm already asking myself if any of this was really a good idea. Obtaining a degree in counseling requires a person to take a deep look into his or her own life. What I am finding out is that when you do this, you may just end up wondering if the person sitting in the "hot seat" shouldn't be yourself. Damn. Not only that, but my life has become what feels like a chaotic mess of constantly reanalyzing priorities, racing against the clock, and continually being reminded of the many ways that I fall short when I fill my plate as full as it currently is. What does all this mean? I wish I knew. Right now all that I am really sure of is the fact that I am not truly happy because I don't feel that I have the time or discipline to be truly engaged in my present life. All the pressure makes me feel that much more detached and scattered. I'm fighting a constant tug-of-war. I wish I just had time alone. When I'm alone I'm just lonely. I wish I had time to devote to school work. When I find that time I'm distracted by social networks and mindless websites that put a temporary smile on my face. When I think ahead, try and take one step at a time, and breathe; I see all that lies before me and I feel that I should be able to make it all fit. Once again I find myself asking, "At what cost?"
Add to this all the other shit life likes to throw at us, and what do you come up with? Not enough hours in the day? An awareness that those 24 hours should be spent more wisely? The desire to "get away" more often? Lots of dry humor? The desire to stay in bed for an entire weekend? How about all of the above. I wish I could end this post on a more positive note. Truth is though, I'm not sure yet what that looks like. I suppose I can say at least I haven't given up on the idea yet....

On Death and Dying

This is a topic we have been covering in one of my classes this week. In class today we watched Tuesdays With Morrie. I read the book years ago, but I had yet to see the film until today. Since reading the book I have experienced the death of my sister, so the story line felt much more personal this time around. I found myself relating to so much of the content on a much deeper level than I had years ago when reading the book. I reminisced. I felt joy, sorrow, grief, courage, and peace. My relationship with my sister was revisited, but more than that were the days following her death. I found myself wishing I was back home sitting on her grave. I remembered the days I would go there and cry. I would close my eyes and feel the wind and sunlight on my face. I allowed God to hold me.
Once again I experienced a sense of enlightenment as I viewed my life. I became aware of the many ways I become consumed by things in life that are not true to my sense of self and my priorities. So often I find myself waiting for that next adrenaline rush, that next exciting event, or sometimes even that next crisis. I can become so absorbed by these things that I am not fully living in the present. I felt like coming home and riding bikes with my children to the park. I imagined feeling that peace once again as I push my son in a swing and share laughter with my daughter. I was reminded of relationship. Those familiar feelings of longing and desire for quality time with those I love. Sometimes I long for it so deeply that I forget it's right here in my home. When this happens I begin searching elsewhere for it, slightly oblivious to the fact that my own children are crying out for it as well. If we look at what we have right here, right now, can we learn to love ourselves, our children, our family, and our own lives in a way that brings us that much closer to being true to ourselves? What kind of example would that set for those looking on?

Solitude and Being Alone; Two Very Different Things

I don’t believe we were meant to suffer alone
For a good many years I thought I had to
There seemed to be no one else to turn to
It took a great deal of internalized brutality for me to realize
That life does not have to be lived that way
When I ponder my own coping mechanisms
I can see that I still suffer alone needlessly at times
While solitude can be beautiful,
Suffering alone is just plain unnecessary
In solitude I often find myself staring up at the ceiling or sky
When I suffer alone my eyes tend to be shut
And my claws come out
I find it hard to "just" be near another when he or she is experiencing suffering alone
When another shuts the door and pushes everyone away
It takes a great deal of strength not to intervene
My heart feels torn in two
I sense that prying will be too forceful and unwelcome
Yet my heart sheds tears
Something deep inside wells up
I have to remind myself that sometimes all I can do is be present
When in reality I want to cry the tears they cannot seem to cry for themselves
I am taken back to my youth
I am that young girl who clung to the belief that no one should have to feel so alone
I want to give the hugs I should have been given
I want to be the shoulder I could never rely on
We were most definitely not made to be alone

Where's the Night Owl?

It's 9:39 pm on a Thursday evening. I'm thinking about heading to bed; not because I'm tired, but because I don't know what to do with myself tonight. This master's program is kicking my ass. I can handle the homework load; I work well under that kind of pressure. It's the material that's shaking me up. The application of theory in my life is painful. I have so many things I could be working on, and I'm not motivated to tackle any of them. I did cry tonight for the first time in I don't know how long. Then my son walked in while I lay there on my bed. He started body slamming me, making it difficult to stay caught up in the moment. Then my daughter walks in and asks what's wrong. Oh, I told her school was just really difficult and I just needed a good cry. All the while I'm thinking how the heck do I make this work? Do I process and have my tearful moments when I'm supposed to be studying? When I'm supposed to be working? When I'm supposed to be raising children? I thought I had this all mapped out. My master plan for juggling life is beginning to look like a school paper that I put off until the last minute and now find myself struggling to throw together into something barely legible. I know I should be able to make it through this, but at what cost? How do I rearrange my priorities and personal needs in a way that's beneficial for me and my children? And dating? Don't even get me started. Not that I do much of it anyways, but good lord! I'm not sure it would be wise to try to squeeze it in now, which means perhaps I might be married by the time I'm 40. That's comforting. On that note, the application of these theories is stirring up so much inside of me that I'm starting to think I may die before I truly feel that I'm capable of having a healthy intimate relationship anyways. More comfort. Oh blog! Please forgive my skepticism and pessimism, this week has not been one of my "finer moments."

Growing Pains

I have a deep desire to grow emotionally and spiritually. You can't have either without experiencing some form of pain, suffering, and humility. I welcome the growth - and I resist the suffering it brings. Inner turmoil ensues. A tug of war where I feel bombarded with emotions from all different directions. They cover me in layers so thick that I have trouble differentiating between them all. It just feels like a battle, and I want the fight to be over. What are my options? I could run away. Or I could face the reality that when I get through the current experience I may walk away stronger. I'd like to cry, but I don't. Oh that dreaded detachment....It seems to creep up right in the midst of trying to process these emotions. Then I'm fighting again to feel the emotions so I can process them some more. Maybe right now I just need to be still for a moment and allow God to intervene. Oh surrender self, just surrender.....

Dear Friend,

You find yourself in an unfamiliar place. Surrounded by unfamiliar faces, roads, and food. It is all thrilling; living this dream your heart has yearned for. Yet now you find that life has become too unfamiliar. Not only have your surroundings changed, but you have too. You now share your body, giving life to another. Suddenly the landscape that once appealed to you has lost its fascination. The beautiful sunset seems to have lost its color. The cathedral you once stared at in awe has lost all appeal as you search for meaning in all of this. Why? Where has the joy gone?
I beseech you to ask yourself if it was ever really there. What has shattered is not your life. It is not your future that seems lost. An image has been exposed for what it is. What is this image? Who created it? Was it you who thought it had to be free of all flaws? Or was it important people in your life who told you it HAD to look perfect?
In the midst of your sorrow I look at you and I am grateful. Yes, my heart aches for you. However I can see that although so much is changing, so many things are still the same. You are still full of strength. You are still one of the most loving people I know. You are beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, kind, empathetic, persistent, and honest. You can still do all things through him who gives you strength.
So an image has shattered. Now you are faced with opportunity. This opportunity will challenge the very idea that the life you have been living has been truly authentic. Do you not desire authenticity? Do you not desire personal growth? If you answer yes, then I encourage you to accept this challenge. Does that mean I will tell you what decisions to make for your future? No. I am simply saying that the path to peace often comes with a cost; your comfort. The process; being true to yourself. The reward; liberation.
It's scary, I know. Tell me, would you rather go to the library and read a book about a girl who never does wrong, who never takes risks, and who lives the same dull routine every day? Or would you rather read the story about the woman who made mistakes and learned from them; the story where the woman dares to look others in the eye and tell them that she will not allow their thoughts, ideas, and judgments to define her? This woman learns along the way that she is special just the way she is; by believing that there is more to life than all of this.
When you wake up today, will you close your eyes to look at a false image that has been shattered? Or will you open your eyes to the possibilities of a beautiful new beginning?
Much love,
Betty

Incongruence

There has been this ongoing theme in my life that I have been aware of for some time. Courses in counseling are beginning to make it much more apparent to me. The word is incongruence. Although in counseling I believe I will tend to lean towards a Humanistic approach to counseling, I’m sure I will adopt and incorporate other theories as well. When I read about Carl Rogers and his theories regarding incongruence in a person’s life, it just clicks for me. I feel like I am reading about my own internal struggles. I have a perceived image of myself, and I have an ideal image of myself. Although many people have told me I am a genuine and authentic person, my heart has generally disagreed. In many ways I do feel authentic, but I often see many of my behaviors as the opposite. I understand the theory of incongruence as not being true to oneself. Rogers explains that this stems from receiving conditional positive regard (conditional love) as a child. In turn, this person will treat him or herself with the same conditional love. “I will love you if/when you…..”
I grew up in a home where the love my parents gave often felt conditional. Oddly enough, each parent expressed this conditional love in different ways. One parent was very direct or aggressive in outlining the conditions; the other was much more passive in displaying these conditions. One parent made it a point to describe the conditions with manipulative words, while the other parent displayed the conditions through body language and actions.
I’ve recently moved about 3 hours away from both parents. One parent I am no longer speaking to. The other parent I still have a relationship with, yet I am often very aware of the passive conditional love. I hope that this time and distance away from these relationships will provide the opportunity for me to find and sustain new relationships with people who will offer unconditional positive regard. I also hope this space gives me the ability to step back and look at the relationships from the outside.
Here’s my current state of living incongruently:
I want to be authentic and genuine, yet I consistently place too much value on what other people think of me.
I want to believe I am a good person, yet I have behaviors that I view as “bad.”
I want to love myself for who I am, yet my internal thoughts are often cutting and negative.
I want to fall in love and be loved, yet I tell myself I am unworthy.
I want to believe I am a good mother, yet I place more emphasis on my parenting “mistakes.”
Alright, so what does all this mean for me? Well, I suppose in a sense I need to start being my own counselor. I need to somehow wrap my mind around the idea that who I am is not defined by right and wrong. Self-acceptance; I need to put this into practice on a daily basis! I extend a lot of grace and mercy to others; I need to start extending more to myself. I want to start living more intentionally; doing what I feel is good for me, and not doing things just because I feel that it is what someone else wants. I can think of many experiences where the application of these things, especially the latter, would have greatly affected the outcome of those circumstances. Alas, once again I cannot change the past. Thankfully I do have more hope for the future.

Fallen, fallen world

I had a great day today. Good day at home, very productive, and a great night at class. Drove home from class feeling so at peace with God and with the world. Then I start getting text messages. Damn. I hate text. Entirely too much communication can be misconstrued. So here I am feeling so motivated and empowered and blessed and then......
I see it for what it is though. I'm not perfect. Far from it. I'll be the first to admit it too. Sometimes even too quickly. But there is Grace. And there is Mercy. However it often feels like there are so many people in this world who don't believe in those things anymore. I want to believe it. I want to be certain that even when it feels as if the world has turned its back on me, there is a God who never will. I want to cling to the hope that this life is not all there is. I want to cry out to God with an avalanche of feelings and questions and emotions and know that He hears those cries. Even when I can't feel Him.......
So this is faith. Reaching out. Knowing that nothing tangible will be within my grasp, but reaching anyways. Calling out, knowing that I won't hear an audible human voice, but knowing that he takes my words to heart. Crying, even if I am alone, and believing that he is counting and catching every single tear.
Yes, my heart has been fractured. Yes, I have fallen down numerous times. Yet he witnesses these things and still calls me beautiful. Astounding. I want to be made new all over again. I want to look to his future for me, not continue searching for what my version of that future looks like. I want to set goals, knowing that he steadies my hand as I write them on paper. I want to keep my eye on the prize and not forget where my treasure lies. I want to tune into him and tune out all the other voices of humanity who shout contrasting opinions. I want to bow at his feet and humbly admit that I am far too weak to live this life alone......

Hypocrisy

Anne Frank once said, “I keep my ideals, because in spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart.” I’ve tried to believe that for so long. Some things have recently been brought to my attention though. This new knowledge made me angry and made me want to laugh at the same time. I did laugh out loud actually. Not at the circumstances though, but at the hypocrisy involved. Yet, as I sit here to write I’m beginning to doubt my own bitterness. I feel these things welling up inside of me, and then have to stop and ask, am I not just the same? Do I not also say I want to be a certain way, and then turn around and live my life quite the opposite at times? Who am I to cast judgment on others? This internal tug of war leaves me feeling delirious. I want to say that I have the right to be angry; but when is this right truly ours?
I have watched another start a life made of lies and manipulation. Then they covered it with more lies. On top of those lies they stacked more lies. The deceit has grown so substantial that I stare in amazement and wonder how a person can keep it all together and how they manage to live keeping order of truth and lies. Or do they? Then I think of myself, and millions of others. I think of how we all have a tendency to view life through this little lens of our own limited perspective. In a sense we all learn how to dress for the masquerade. We all wear our little hats and our masks when the situation calls for it. Does life ever truly call for it, or have we just decided that it should? Are we just locking ourselves inside the prison of our own narrow perceptions?
I sat in class today as we had to choose a list of 3 types of people we look forward to counseling, and 3 types of people we believe we may have trouble counseling. I felt rather humble when I realized both of my lists were determined solely based on my own personal experiences. I felt so limited. I was very aware of my present desire to only counsel those whose life experiences were similar to my own. I was also aware of my lack of desire to counsel others who reminded me of people who have caused me immense pain and suffering. Then I looked around the room and even became aware of someone in the class who reminded me of someone I once knew. I don’t have too many fond memories of that person, and subsequently I realized I was transposing those emotions onto this person in my class with whom I have never even had a conversation with. Wow, I suppose I really ought to start looking at my own heart before being so quick to judge someone else’s. Perhaps some of my own internal unhappiness lately has been substantially in part because I have been so preoccupied with the hearts of others.....

To Be or Not To Be, is that really the question?

I have had many a great thought lately as I've been spending a lot of time on the road. A lot of time driving tends to equal a lot of time to think. I wish I could remember all the "great thoughts" now, but unfortunately when I don't write them down right away I tend to lose them. I just finished watching a movie tonight called, "It's Complicated." About 1/3 of the way through I wanted to turn it off, but I didn't. I pushed through instead and finished it. There were parts about it I didn't care for as I was watching it, but all in all it turned out to be a fairly good film. It was all about relationships. When the show was finished I got up and went to the bedroom to put on my pajamas. For a brief second I thought, maybe I don't ever want to get married. Perhaps it was because I had just surveyed the room around me and taken into account all the toys and laundry scattered all over the floor. I suppose sometimes I feel there are parts of my life I don't necessarily want to share with anyone else. Then I suddenly found myself thinking of a particular friend of mine whose husband has been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimers. I found myself wanting to ask her if she would change anything if she could. I wanted to ask her if it was worth it. All those years of marriage and suddenly the man she has loved is becoming a stranger in their own home. Upon thinking this I realized, perhaps there is more to my thoughts of never wanting to marry than I care to admit. I honestly know that I have some hang-ups in that department, however I really have not quite learned yet exactly how to get past them. Sometimes I feel like I am just afraid, and other times I wonder if I don't just like being alone. I think of the field I am heading into for a career, and of all the "talking" I will be doing and I think maybe I want my quiet time. Maybe I don't want to have to talk to someone else when I come home from my job. I often enjoy solitude. Not always, but I do enjoy my personal space. Working from home I often feel isolated from the world, and very much in need of social time, as I feel that I am a people-person at heart. However what would it look like if all of my time was "social time"? How annoying, total brain fart; I can't remember if the question mark goes in front of the quotation marks or behind them in this instance :) I suppose I am thinking all of these things because I have been doing more "dating around" in the last 6 months than I have done in years. And years and years. It's been a sad reminder to me of broken-heartedness and pain that is always just an arm's length away. Well, I know that pain and suffering in this life are unavoidable, however in the dating department I always wonder if it's even worth it. Maybe for some people it is, and maybe for others it just isn't. I can't honestly decide if all of this is just a cop-out for me, if I really believe it, or if I just haven't yet in all of my years met that someone that leaves me absolutely certain that he is the one for me. I hear some people say this has happened to them. Sometimes I wonder if it's just not in the cards for some of us. Whatever the case, I just want to be content. I want to love myself and love my life for what it is, single or not. I want more inner peace more than I want an intimate relationship; of that I am positive. There are just some things I don't ever want to have to sacrifice for love. In regards to my children, this is not the case though. For them, I think I would sacrifice just about any of my own desires.

Time Heals.

Life has been marching forward. I started my master's program at the beginning of June; in the midst of all the family upheaval. I love my classes. I relish the time I get to spend alone with my music or prayer on the 45 minute drive to and from class. I savor the 4 hours I get to spend with other students in the classroom. Most of the chaos that has been stirred up with my family has settled back down to a lull. The woman my father proposed to has decided she will go ahead and marry him after all, choosing not to heed my warning. I've become fairly apathetic towards the idea, having already decided that he will no longer be a part of my life. His mother has left me a hateful voicemail and ranted and raved about me to other family members. I, being more of the 21st century mindset (chuckle), sent her a text saying, "I guess that means goodbye." Surprising me, she wrote back with, "You chose this." In a manner of speaking, yes. Did I do this on my own? No. We all chose this by living years of our lives just sweeping the ugly stuff under the rug. It's been like a monster in the room all along. I just finally decided to call it what it is.
It hurt at first to know that the man I have called my father my whole life had discredited me in order to keep his secrets, his career, and his future wife. As time has been passing though, I'm growing more and more confident that my life will be better without these toxic relationships. Holidays will be different, for sure. Possibly even less stressful since I will be traveling to fewer family functions. In truth, the 3 family members I think I will be losing over this entire ordeal are the 3 family members I have never had authentic relationships with before anyways. Rather, they have been superficial. They have also been relationships where I have continued to listen to their verbal abuse, as they don't seem to think the way the often treat others is abuse at all. I imagined the other day this scenario; a great depiction of these relationships. There is a door. I go to the door, my hands full. I knock, one of them answers. In order to come in I must hang outside all those things they see I carry that they don't want to acknowledge; painful memories involving them, ideas I have that are different than their own, some morals, some beliefs, any right to object, and my own assertiveness. These things are not welcome if I want to spend time with them. One day I decided that I would not knock, I would announce myself instead. I walked right in carrying all of these things. I placed them in front of everyone and told them to look. They screamed. They tried to kick me and all of my "stuff" right out the door. I dare say, I did not just let them. I walked right back out all by myself. Can you say liberation?
Thank you God. I feel a beautiful new beginning on the horizon.....

1 a.m.

Sunday night, or shall I say Monday morning. Either way I can't sleep. I have class tomorrow at 6pm, and a 5 page paper due. Have I started it yet? Of course not. My goal was to write it tonight. I'm exhausted so I opted for sleep instead. aaaaaaand sleep won't come. So, I'm blogging instead.
Well, school is going great so far. I'm loving it! I feel like I am right in my element with a bunch of other students all going to school to be counselors. I've made some friends there, but can't wait to get to know my fellow students better. Living in this small town not knowing anyone is getting awfully lonesome. I have made a couple of friends, but as friendships take time to grow, only time will tell whether they will be close friends or not. I tend to have a plethora of friends, but only a small circle of great friends. Ah hell, I have nothing else to say. I'm off to start writing a paper I guess!

What You Have Done To Me

I can go 3 or 4 years at a time without a single date. Dating washes up so many fears as a result of my past, that it hardly seems worth it.
My daughter begs me to go to the pool with her and I cringe. I can't stand the thought of men looking at me in a swimsuit. It feels dirty because it's the way you used to look at me as well.
If a man makes a sexual comment towards me in many settings I freeze, terrified, and feel unable to tell him to stop. It's as if I feel that I have to take it.
I'm afraid that if a man really gets to know me he's not going to like me; as if I won't measure up. Perhaps this is because nothing I did was ever good enough to earn your love.
Trusting others is an immense struggle.
For this I can thank you: When I see others being subjected to injustice and cruelty I want to stand tall and firm and be a voice/support for them.
Sometimes the weight of my past wounds that are still so fresh from a lack of healing weighs so heavy on me I can hardly get myself to push through the day.
If I raise my voice at my children in anger I feel so guilt ridden and full of self-contempt that the rest of my day seems to sour. I hate thinking I might be anything like you.
Even sex, something that God has created as a beautiful and sacred experience for a husband and wife, has little allure for me as I see myself as tainted by you.
Male friends will make jokes and I often fear their intent/meaning, and all I can do is cringe and hope they have no sexual thoughts or ideas driving their words.
I fear that I am unlovable.
I am a woman now though; no longer a child. I cannot change the past I have endured. I cannot blame you as I walk into my future. I can only pray for healing. I can inspire the change I wish to see in myself. You will no longer have any power over me. I will continually ask God to heal these open wounds and return to me the innocence that was stolen. This will be my new daily prayer.

This Week

Most of us have heard the expression, I feel like I have been "put through the wringer." Most of us have probably even felt that way a time or two. After this week I am truly feeling the weight of that expression. I have been boldly honest, terrified, stone-faced, and shaken by uncontrollable sobbing. I have talked and talked and talked to person after person until the sound of my own voice makes me want to scream. I have sat in silence. Someone told me today that I am raw from all of the sharing and admitting. Tonight I saw that. Even a simple film that I know so well from my childhood days held scenes of hateful people griping at others and I found myself cringing. Perhaps raw is an understatement. I have felt utterly stripped of defenses and energy. I have stood tall in encouragement, and I have crumpled under the weight of words.
Right now I welcome the sound of the wind blowing the nearby trees. I close my eyes and relish the sound of the neighbor's wind chimes; the lack of voices. If I didn't fear all the dog piles people neglect to pick up behind my apartment, and the knowledge that complete exhaustion would set in and I would fall asleep, I would spread a blanket under the stars tonight, stare up at the heavens, and just pray. I don't even know that complete thoughts or words would come, but I do believe the Holy Spirit would carry my internal groaning right up to God's outstretched hands. There I visualize Him cupping his hands, drawing them to His ears, and listening as He understands every ounce of my pain. I imagine, if you will, a man's face that if He were to turn and look at me I would see echoing in His eyes the depths of all the heaviness my soul feels. Then I imagine those arms stretching out towards me as I close my eyes, and let go. I don't feel myself falling though, because I have been caught in a tender embrace. In that moment I am aware that any shame I have carried is for naught. All that shame has been a knife I have held to my own wrists. Gently He tells me to put it away. Gently He whispers, "Why?" I try to look away as a thought escapes my body, "I deserve this." He ever so softly turns my face back to His and says nothing out loud, but shakes His head as His eyes tell me, "No." I look into those eyes and see what I have always wanted to see. Yet, it's still hard for me to see it, to believe it. I see understanding, I see unconditional love, I see acceptance, I see tenderness, and I see compassion. I see a Father whose image has always been like one from a fairy tale. I see truth. I know sometimes I run from the truth, but tonight, I will sleep in its arms.

A Walk Back Through Time

When I decided to write this blog, I also decided to use psuedonyms for all parties. I had a reason for this. The biggest reason has really surfaced lately though. I have thought often about writing a memoir. Then I have thought; I'll have to wait until my father dies because people are not aware of the truths I know about him. Just this week all of that thinking has come full circle. He proposed to the woman he has been dating for the last 8 months. I snapped. A flood of memories began to wash over me, and I was blown over by the power of the past. I began to feel sick that I had let things go on this long. I came forward. I shared many wretched details of my childhood with her. I told her that I cannot stand to see history repeat itself all because I have been silent. I switch between feelings of terror because of what I have admitted, and feelings of liberation because I feel that I have cut many of the disturbing ties that have binded me.
I have confronted my perpetrator and told him that he no longer has power over me. I have also opened a flood-gate of memories. It has taken much counseling for me to admit that I was sexually abused growing up. The physical, verbal, and emotional abuses where much easier to label. I have finally given voice to the young girl inside of me that has been dying to be free for far too long.
I have done the right thing, and yet I have to keep reminding myself of that. Our family stands divided, some agreeing with my decision, and others claiming they will never speak to me again for dragging up the past. What they do not see is that it has never really been my past. It has been a present hell to me. It has been a daily battle with myself, my heart, and my world. I have felt dirty, tainted, ashamed, undeserving of love, and unable to say no to many new experiences of abuse. As always, I really don't know what the future holds, but I know that I am still trekking down a long road of recovery. Our journeys of healing are never without pain, but I know they are the key to a healthy future. Healthy. Ah, and to think that my children might truly understand what that word means.

Father

Father
That word echoes with emptiness in my heart
Any trace of you left in me
Tonight I will it away
I see myself today
Full of insecurities
Afraid to be true to me
Because I was never allowed to
I see your face when lips that want to speak
Freeze and say nothing
Just silence
Inside lives a little girl
She thrashes about
Smashing walls
Screaming
Punching the air
Crying
Holding her chest as if the very act might keep her heart alive
And yet here I am
On the outside
The one everyone sees
Clever trick
This game you have made of life
We protect your secrets
You show us love
What if I don't want to play anymore?
Why have I protected you?
Why have I played along?
I don't want to keep your secrets
I don't even want the memories
I'd like to give them back as well
But I can't
So here they stay
Etched in my memory
Lingering like ghosts
While you march forward
Like a beautiful new beginning is on the horizon
Where is my new beginning?
Where is my horizon?
I face the journey of pain back through time
and you just waltz right into the future?
I haven't decided yet if I will ever speak to you again
I'm not pushing myself to make a decision either
No more games
Just life
My new life
I'm not sure you fit in it anymore
I've been asking myself for awhile now if you ever did
Where is my apology?
Keep your pretense
Carry it with you in your new life if you want
I can't pretend anymore
My soul has grown too weary from the pressure
I'm going to dust myself off now
I'm standing
To walk my own way

Lessons

My world has stopped turning
While my mind goes round and round
The world around me stands still
I want to be alone
But when I am my thoughts are too deafening
So I turn up the music
I turn on the TV
The hands on the clock tick by
Tick, tock
Tick, tock
I finally have a chance to rest
But rest will not come
Tick, tock
Tick, tock
Have you ever willed your body to move
and yet it will not listen?
Have you ever contemplated your to do list
and yet left it untouched?
Perhaps it's the heart in times like these
telling you to stop and allow healing to begin
Lessons
They rarely come easily or swiftly

A Must Read....

I read another memoir from the Holocaust tonight. Yes, just tonight. Started at 9pm and finished at 3am. 6 hours of my time well spent; I couldn't put it down. Every memoir I have come across from the Holocaust period has been so different, yet so painfully similiar. Every story brings its own unique surge of feelings that pour into my heart and leave me teeming with emotion. This particular book is called "The Children of Willesden Lane," by Mona Golabek and Lee Cohen. Never have I been so aroused and awakened by music; and this from a book! The story painted the most beautiful images of how music can move the soul and take us to another place in time. The main character is a pianist who pours herself into her music as it becomes an encapsulating release for all of the emotions and experiences she felt throughout her life leading right up to the end of the war and after. Again I am filled with a quiet and humble appreciation for what I have. Once again I am reminded that there is always hope and reason to move forward in life if only we will hold on with every ounce of strength we can muster to even the tiniest spark. It's heart wrenching to think of the multitudes of people who did not survive the war, to hear some of their stories, and to hear of the wretched treatment of fellow human beings. This book however shed light on the possibility of finding joy even in the face of the death of dearly loved ones by knowing that from where they are now they are surely smiling down on those who live on; proud and forever alive in their hearts.
I could almost hear the chorus of voices all around me as I finished the book shouting, "We survived! We survived! If you ever feel that you are suffering alone think of us! Take heart and remember that you never suffer alone! It's not possible when you can recall the lives of so many others that have suffered before you!" I'm going to steal a line now from the movie We Are Marshall....."Out of the ashes we will rise again!"
So take heart! We have a legacy to pass down to future generations. A legacy of love, compassion, hope, persistence, and never giving up.

A song, because there's a first time for everything

Hadn't heard from you in awhile
You crossed my mind I started to smile
I used to love to make you laugh
But those times have passed

Out of the blue I heard from you
"Do you wanna meet?" I think I do
I am anxious all over again
You were always a special friend

As soon as I see your face
I can feel my heart start to race
But when we start to talk
I can see that you have changed

Now I can see it's not just you
There's been some change in my life too
I guess it was never meant to be
Any more than this

You should know
that I held some hope
But I've finally let go
While holding on
To this dream
I've not been true to me

My heart might ache from time to time
Then I'll put you out of my mind
No more living in the past
I'm letting go of looking back

Tonight...

Tonight I feel like crying
For seemingly no reason at all
Then I recall faces of friends
And I recall the face of my Grandmother
Now I know why
There are many things I don't miss about the move
Ah, but some people I miss dearly
I want to work on embroidering my owl
Then I think of my Grandma
And I'd rather not
I wish I was working on it while sitting in the recliner next to hers
Visiting
Watching Wheel of Fortune or Jeopardy
Sipping coffee
Making memories
Of all the people I miss, I'm sure I miss her the most
I would love to put her groceries away for her again
Trudge downstairs to wash all of her laundry
Pick up her dinner
Or just give her a hug

Deep thinking inspired by another....

I will start by saying I might sound dreadfully poetic tonight. I just finished a tremendous book, and as usual I found myself very wrapped up in the lives of the characters. This is a good thing though. The book is "The Nazi Officer's Wife," a memoir depicting the life of Edith Hahn Beer and her personal story of survival during the Holocaust. As I finished and laid the book down I completed my subsequent tasks in a trance. I'm not sure if I just never paid enough attention in school, or if the school I attended really only pushed education of American history, but either way I have learned a lot more about that time in history than I was previously unaware of. Yes, I did just end a sentence with a preposition.
When hearing stories of this kind my past experiences always tend to pale in comparison. I mean truly become almost obsolete. When I finally stood from my sitting position I thought of how much I want to show my children my love for them. I realized that I have been complaining an awful lot about my present living situation when I really have so much to be grateful for. I felt once again encouraged to live my life differently, with more humble strength and gratitude than I have ever practiced before. Then I remembered something my mother told me she heard once in AA. "I am not so much a quick learner as I am a fast forgeter." I so wish that I could be enlightened and filled with new knowledge like I have been since starting this book; I wish even more that I would always wear these things on my heart, living life with a new "whole" attitude because of them.
The human mind is a curious thing. It fascinates me. Our human frailty, our ability to adapt, and our instinct to survive confound me. A person might see all the pain, suffering, and torment in this life and ask, "How could there possibly be a God?" Others might say, "How can you see the overcoming and survival of these things and not believe?" Tonight I am filled with awe. Tonight I am grateful. Tonight my mind might be filled with thoughts, and yet I have peace.

As a Child....

As a child I never said, "When I grow up I want to....."
Spend countless numbers of days at McDonalds watching children tumble around the playland in order to keep my sanity in tact on a rainy or blistery day.
Watch animated films over and over again until I can quote them almost word for word. "Frakincense, come in this is Myrrh. Do you read me? Molly is opening her first present. It's a....it's a...Mrs. Potato Head. I repeat, Mrs. Potato Head." "Way to go, I-da-ho!" "Oh no! I've gotta shave!" (as Mr. Potato Head pulls off his removable mustache).
Hear someone say, "Momma play. Momma play." Until I finally crawl down to the floor to play choo-choo for the hundredth time that day.
Be a morning person.
Wash 5 loads of laundry back to back and then tediously fold many tiny little outfits.
Go to Chuck-E-Cheese for every birthday.
Turn down the opportunity to go out in exchange for a night in with kids and a movie.
Change diaper after diaper after diaper after stinking diaper.
Wake up at 2am to hold someone's hair back while they vomit. Then lay towels down on the bed so that no one is sleeping directly on the vomit. Then spend the next day washing said vomit out of every blanket in the house.
Spend a great deal of my free time on beautiful days climbing ladders and going down twisting slides.
Read about cows and cats and ducks and dogs and pigs and hor-hees until I want to scream.
Buy cheese sticks by the bulk.
Eat dinner at a nice restaurant with an escapee constantly trying to climb out of his chair while screaming "Give me go! Give me go!" as I try to wrestle him back in his harness.
Explain to my daughter that I am sorry other people can be so mean, and helplessly watch her try to deal with the feelings that result from that.
Spend an entire day picking up toys only to turn around and find myself tripping over them again.
Spend what little extra money I have investing in choo-choos and baby doll clothes.
Work, work, work, and still never really get ahead.
Try to remember everything I learned about fractions so that I could help someone else learn them.
Spend $90 having my car detailed only to watch someone projectile vomit all over the back seat only a week later.
Watch little girls have a dance off contest weekly.
Eat plastic fruits and fries, and then wash it all down with the imaginary contents of a little plastic coffee cup.
Play "Where's the bug?" for 30 minutes straight almost daily.
Vacuum cheese-its and cereal from the carpet on a daily basis.
Repeatedly apologize to passengers for all of the toys and jackets and trash they have to move before I can listen to the crunch of the crackers as they sit down in my car.
Leap at the opportunity to run to the grocery store for my grandmother if I can only leave my children at her house for the duration of the trip.
But all that being said.....If I had it to do all over again.....I wouldn't change a thing.

Things have settled down for the time being. The carpet in our place has been replaced. It's a nice smell. It's actually starting to feel like a home, although it's not nearly big enough for all of our things. I'm either going to have to find plenty of places to stow boxes, find a new place, donate to the Goodwill, or have a ginormous garage sale. Time will tell I suppose.
So, I have been telling myself all week that I need to get some actual work done. My work being listing new things on Ebay. Tonight I ducked out of my responsibilities yet again and rented a movie from the Redbox instead. Turned out to be another love story. Damn. I should have read the storyline better. Why did I think this movie sounded good again? It started off with entirely too much nudity, and of course ended like a fairy tale. Again I find myself thinking, what a load of crap. Do men ever even feel that way? You know, the guy chasing the girl and confessing his love for her in a multitude of sappy words that I guess are supposed to make a woman's heart melt?
I imagine there was a point in my life, probably when I was a very young girl fascinated by Disney's Beauty and the Beast, when I actually believed in this type of happy ending. This type of movie just doesn't do it for me anymore. It just doesn't feel realistic. Perhaps it's because I have yet to meet a man who would actually pour out his feelings in such a way? Perhaps it's because I never hear of men even chasing women anymore. I have had a male friend tell me recently though that chivalry is dead. That's nice. Good luck to you pal. I think I'd rather be single for my remaining years than settle for that attitude. So I guess this means that even though "chick flicks" don't make my heart flutter, I must still have some hope and/or desire to actually be loved that way.
But enough for now. I'll try not to watch another girlie film for at least another year if I can help it....

Sticking it to the Man!

Well, I've been anxiously anticipating a big move near a larger city where I will start my master's degree in June. I have had to put aside the idea of Seattle due to lack of funds, but I have found a college in my current state that appeals to my interests. We made the move this last weekend, with me making arrangements by phone to rent an apartment. Yes, this means I had to put off the idea of purchasing a home as well. Time has just run short.
This is the point in my story where I begin to feel as if either I just get myself into a lot of rotten situations, or I make them out to be bigger deals than they should be, or that for whatever reason I seem to just have a lot of crap happen in my life. Whatever the case, we moved up Saturday and when we got to the place all the whirlwind of activity came to a complete halt. Albeit, briefly. We walk up to an apartment complex that seems to be the worst eyesore in this tiny little town. Upon walking in we were all hit in the face with the rancid smell of urine from former pets. The carpet is spotted with cigarette burns, white paint, and large red spots of "I don't even want to know." A section of carpet has been pulled back so that a grand fan can sit behind it and blow air under the freshly cleaned carpet. Every screen on every window, save one, is either gone or bent in pieces and lying on the ground below the window. The central heat unit turns on and everyone jumps because they think a freight train is getting ready to roll through the living room. Oh, and no worries of my son sneaking crayons to draw on hidden walls behind closet doors, because someone has already graciously done that for him. The list goes on and on. I've never filled out such a detailed property condition report in my life.
Needless to say, it's Saturday, and the property management office doesn't open until 9am opn Monday. My moving party leaves me resting in the stench of my apartment surrounded by piles of boxes and clutter and I head for the nearest McDonalds to steal some free Wi-fi as mine can't be turned on until Friday ( thank goodness tomorrow is Thursday). I spend the weekend staring at boxes, searching for whatever miscelaneous items we need to get us by, and trying not to rip every hair out of my head as I try to decide how to proceed in this current situation. I finally decide that I'll hold off on unpacking as much as I can until I can contact the office Monday and tell them that my 1 year lease has immediately become a month-to-month lease, and by the way, someone better get someone out to replace this putrid carpet immediately. Monday finally creeps up and I stand firm as I dutifully place my phone call only to be given the run around. My college interview is the same day and I try to prepare myself for whatever questions they may have while trying to shove my present living conditions into the recesses of my mind. I think I may have succeeded only partially. Tuesday an office employee with one week's experience comes to complete the apartment walk-thru where he wide-eyed writes "an actual turd pellet on the floor of bedroom #2." Later that afternoon after no response from the manager I call in again only to be told that, "the contractor in charge of carpet shampooing is responsible for the job not being completed as ordered."
Wednesday morning, 9am:
I march into the property management office and ask to speak to the manager. After 10 minutes of waiting in the lobby, where I am tempted to allow my son to enter "operation destruct everything I see" mode, the manager comes to the window avoiding eye-contact. I ask to speak to her in her office. She takes me into a room, being sure to bring a maintenance man, as her body guard I presume. She tries to assure me this is not typical, and the contracted company is being interogated by her boss. I assure her that her job is to make sure the apartments are move-in ready, not leave the final inspections up to the contracted carpet cleaner. By the way, did I mention that the photos of the apartment they showed me are not even the same apartment they moved me into? Here I was told that they have only just taken over management of these properties, and they are trying to the best of their abilities to get them ready for new tenants. She claims she can only offer a 6 month lease, and that they are willing to have the carpets replaced this Friday if I will only move all of my belongs onto the approximately 40 square feet of linoleum in the kitchen before then. I leave shortly after feeling rather confident that I have "stuck it to the man" with all of my talk about how things should have been handled vs. how they have been handled consequently terminating my "legal binding document."
The carpet guy shows up on time to measure the apartment for our new carpet. At this time he balks at how he can't believe they didn't just have the carpet replaced 4-5 months ago when he came out to measure it for new carpet after the last tenants moved out. "And by the way, if you think this is bad, you should have seen and smelled all the feces and urine at that time." Wow. I'll be sure to include that in my email to them explaining to them that my lease is now in fact a month-to-month lease. They just acquired management of this property, but somehow it has sat forgotten for 4-5 months needing new carpet before a shoddy attempt at shampooing is ordered the day before my move in so they can pass the blame off onto some poor, unsuspecting contractor when their new tenant arrives to her new place that reeks of urine and is still littered with turds and dog food?
But that's alright, becaue I've said my peace, and I'll soon be moving on and all of this will be but another blemish in one of my ventures. Besides, it's not everyday I get the opportunity to stick it to the man!

So, I discovered something new about myself tonight. Sort of. My nephew put in a 3D movie to watch with a friend tonight. I sat for awhile watching with them before I realized there were extra pairs of 3D glasses lying around waiting to be worn. Aha, maybe now I could really enjoy the effects of the show without all the annoying pink double vision you get trying to watch 3D without 3D glasses. I picked up a pair and put them on. I've never been to a 3D movie, so this would be a first for me. I'm not sure if they are all made this way or not, I'm assuming they are, but the glasses have one red lens and one green lens. After putting them on I thought, "Geesh, what's all the rage? This sucks!" It looked worse with the glasses on than without! This is when I realized that I didn't think I was seeing things quite right. You see, there's something most people don't know about me because it's not really obvious. I have a lazy eye. My left eye doesn't do hardly any of the work for me to see unless my right eye is completely covered. So, when I wear a pair of glasses I feel like I am looking out of something sort of like this (( ). I see a tiny moon of the left lens, and a very large right lens. I guess what this means is that I'll never be able to enjoy a 3D movie like other people; unless I can somehow afford vision therapy before my left eye decides to quit working completely. How crappy is that? Anyone know a nice, good-looking, single eye doctor that's currently on the market? I'm game.

Letter to my little brother....

Ok, so our little talk has really got me thinking. Or should I say that now I can't sleep? Not a bad thing - don't go feeling guilty or anything. I woke up this morning feeling the pressing need to just really take some time to stop and think about some important things in life that really need me to slow down and look at them. So, I've been thinking and writing and smoking and not sleeping. Then I tried to sleep. Alas, the thoughts won't quit going around and around in my mind. Then I thought of something amidst all the chaos and noise in my mind. I thought of the woman you spoke of. I thought of what it must have been like to be you in that place in time. I pictured her, smiling, talking, sharing. Carefree, seemingly content. And I thought, maybe that's what sprung your tears? Do we not all wish that we could just be free to be who we are? Liberated. Just free. Enjoying all the little pieces of joy that life has to offer? Sounds like she had that. Perhaps your tears surfaced because you saw in her something you long to have for yourself. Something you often hide or forget because we live in a world that is full of suffering, judgement, and pain. Perhaps you saw through her disability and really thought, "Whatever it is that she's got, I want some of that."
Tonight I took our cousin out to a cemetery to teach her how to drive. The highlight of my evening was when I got her really talking about her feelings, long after the driving lesson had ended. The shining moment came when she confessed that she feels that everyone thinks she's just a mess and that she screws up all the time. That is when I had the grand opportunity to tell her that I have never felt that way. That's when I told her that she is a VERY good person, and that I have always known that. I told her she has been through so much more than anyone her age should ever have to endure and she has survived. I told her that she has far too many people in her life telling her she isn't good and that she won't succeed, or that her way is the wrong way. I told her that I believed in her and the truth that she will find her way in this world. I told her she needs to surround herself with more people who see that in her and aren't afraid to tell her the same. I told her she is kind and wonderful.
And now, I'm reminded of my belief that these are the types of moments that keep me hanging on to this life. These moments when we have the opportunity to give another person more than just a moment of our time. More like a piece of ourselves. Even if it lasts no longer than a 30 minute conversation. Because in reality, those conversations can last a lifetime in the heart of the one who has been touched.....by your time, your caring, your kindness....
Love you Little Brother. More than words can express.
Betty

A widowed woman wakes to start the day. Brightness looms overhead and overwhelms her. She buries her face back into her pillow and prays more sleep will rob her of the heavy feeling. Before long the sound of young needy voices draws her from the bed. The pressure of lives dependent on her feels like such a large load to bare. She wonders if she has the right to believe she can care for others when she often questions her ability to take care of herself.
The day already feels dark as she has started off on the wrong foot. Thoughts plague her tired mind. She feels the pressing need to entertain the thoughts, but busyness creeps in instead. The day is a race to fit activities, promises, and work into a schedule that doesn't exist, a stretch of daylight that always runs out too soon. When darkness comes and little voices have fallen silent into their beds she is reminded of a time for peace and quiet. Again she pushes away the need as she finds activities to occupy her time instead. She'll soon realize that all the minutes of the day have ticked away and left her weary and very aware that now the next day will be full of the pressures from the day that has passed.
She wonders when she will choose to live the day she is given instead of watching it pass by.

A Time for Meditation

Dear God,
I've been calling out to you
But it's only been a whisper
I've been reaching towards you
But I have hardly moved to reach at all
I went to church last week
For the first time in months
As I walked my son to the nursery I saw a playland like those at fast food restaurants
In the church
And I wondered where you were
And I wondered where our hearts are
We come to serve you
Yet we seek accommodations to please the hearts of our children?
I heard a sermon
I felt a tugging on my heart
Yet I left confused
I still look around and wonder how much of You we really understand at all
I left to have conversation with a friend
I made confessions
I almost cried
I haven't cried in ages
Except for last night when I realized I had broken my laptop when I dropped it
Where is my heart?
I no longer cry for the fatherless children
But I cry over my possessions?
I want to write songs about Your love
But the pen is still in my hand
I want to pray like you are a friend sitting next to me
But I look over and see an empty chair
I heard tale tonight of another who shook with tears of conviction and appreciation at Your divine yet subtle appearance
I used to feel joy upon hearing such things
Now I feel only sadness and longing
I have been traversing these deserts for far too long
Is this Your plan for me
Or have I lost my way?
I'm asking you to lead me back
I'm begging you to take my hand
I beseech you to carry me
Yet I feel bits of my heart holding on to this loneliness instead
I want to trust You again
Yet I wonder if my idea of trust has misled me in the past

Busy-ness and Crafty-ness

Well, I have been awfully busy lately with all the usual things. As if that isn't enough I've added a few extra projects to my list of things to do lately. Aside from filing my taxes, helping my grandmother file her taxes, and finishing my college application process I've also begun a couple of projects! These are my favorite kind.
A young woman I know has a military ball to attend soon, so I let her pick out one of my dresses. She picked one that's all in white, but decided she'd like to add some color to it. So, for the last week I have been altering a dress to fit her style. I wish I had taken some before pictures, but I will at least try to get some "after" pictures on here.
I also decided I wanted to try my hand at embroidery. Therefore I decided to make my son a new diaper bag, and embroider an owl on the front of it. My initial idea was to buy a good sized messenger bag and just do the embroidery on it. Wouldn't you know, messenger bags are obviously not all the rage anymore? I couldn't find a single one in stores! That's when I decided to make my own. All said and done, the total came to about $50. Add to that the fact that my daughter was with me and I felt a tad guilty making something for him and not her, so I told her to pick out a pattern for something she would like as well. She chose an apron. Simple pattern; cute fabric with little breast cancer awareness ribbons all over. I'm certain she didn't know what those meant, but oh well!
I have yet to start the apron or the bag, as the dress is something that I have to finish within a time frame. I have however started the embroidery of the owl on a piece of fabric while I lounge at my grandmother's house. Again, should have taken pictures, but I didn't. I'll try to get some and post them here soon! More to come later.....

Joyful Moments

Oh dear blog, how I've missed you. I've longed to write so much lately but haven't found in the time in the midst of raising children, working, searching for a new home, and applying for college. *sighs* Oh, the rat race of life. I wish I had great news for you, but nothing tremendously exciting has happened as of late. Many disappointments in the house hunting department. The joys of parenting have continued as normal. I can say that this evening at least I was driving home on a 3 hour trip across the state and found myself in a moment of bliss. Flipping through the radio I landed on an old song that brought me right back to my past in a rush of delightful feelings. I heard Your Love by the Outfield and there I was, back in 1997 riding in the back of Charles Jackson's GTO in the company of great friends while Charles hit the repeat button every time the song ended. For a moment I was there again, carefree and thinking, "Life doesn't get better than this...great friends, good music, summer nights." I was reminded of my love of music and how it can take you back to another place in time, memories tucked away in cobweb-filled corners of my mind. Suddenly I thought of Seal's Kissed From a Rose and how it was playing on the radio as my cousin and I left the hospital after seeing my Grandfather just after he lost his fight with cancer in 1995. I envisioned the lyrics of Bon Jovi's Make a Memory and recalled how it felt lying in my lovers arms and probing his memory about his relationship with his mother and father. Then I saw my sister back in 1994 standing before her bedroom mirror, curling her hair the way she always did as she bounced to the sound of a Salt-n-Peppa cd in her stereo. I saw myself lying on my dining room floor, tears streaming down my face as I sang along with Sarah McLachlan's Angel. I was weary, lying in my bathtub, crying again as I listened to the lyrics of Superchick's Beauty From Pain and marveled at how music artists have the ability to capture emotions so perfectly at times.
Then I was in my car again, smiling as I realized that I'm truly happy. I don't want to live with regrets, just want to know that my past has led me to where I am today. I accept that. I embrace that. I felt the woman that I am and how as I age I am learning to throw off inhibitions like a jacket worn on a cool morning that has turned warm on a sunny summer day. I though of my desire to love myself for who I am and smiled as I recalled that I am becoming that woman more and more with each passing day. I smiled, because the world can be a dark painful place, but moments of pure joy do exist, and they make it all worthwhile....

Facing my own Giants

Well, I had the confrontation tonight. Last night I should say, as it’s now 3am and I still can’t sleep. It was more of an intervention I suppose. I was not alone, but accompanied by one other person. Funny how these things work. I think the fear of facing some things is often much greater than the actual “doing.” Once the conversation started, it took off. It was wonderful. It was honest, heartfelt, sincere, and liberating. I love those words; all of them! I suppose I hoped that in having this intervention my friend and I would enlighten the other person. We all walked away enlightened and with much to think about for sure. It’s left me thinking all night. It’s made me remember how I long for healing to take place immediately, but know that healing something that takes place over time. I tend to be impatient about this sort of thing. I think many of us would love to have more peace in our lives, we just wish it would come like instant gratification and not something we have to strive for. The conversation reminded me that change can be a slow steady process and I need to accept the small changes as they come, savor them, be thankful for them, and try not to rush the process as a whole because some things just don’t work that way.
I have also seen that in standing up to face something I can view the task at hand as a burden left on my shoulders, or I can view it as a blessing that God has given me the desire to face these things and not run from them. I know I would much rather live my life tackling the hard things than putting aside the inevitable.
I was also reminded tonight of how much I am loved, and that in my own moments of weakness I have plenty of others to turn towards, even when the skies seem cloudy and dark. In that moment I became aware of my own defense of pushing others away in order to protect myself. I don’t end up protecting anyone when I do this, just suffering alone.
I realized that I sure do like to talk a lot, even if it means interrupting others because baby when I’m on a roll, I’m on a roll!
I also became aware of my need to talk about living intentionally, and my habit of living rather selfishly. Sure, I try to think of others and do for others. However I also tend to allow my own selfish compulsions drive me to place my own desires before the needs of others a lot more often than I’d like to admit.
Alas, I’ve also been reminded that when I feel the urge to write it doesn’t matter if it’s 8pm or 3am, the hamster wheel of thoughts in my mind will continue to spin incessantly until I spill the words out in some way. I suppose the 2 cups of coffee I had this evening probably hasn’t helped with that either……