Breaking Confusion 6.17.13

So you want a break?875cbf89f3c467e7884bdf4d8b63e268
You got it!
What is it that you want a break from?
From me?
From us?
From this?
From that?
For now?
For a little time?
Forever?
Danger ahead since as
That decision may not stay yours!

So you are confused?
So am I!
What confuses you?
Me?
Us?
This?
That?
Cold feet I doubt.
Colder heart I fear.
What don’t you get that you surely deserve?
What more needs to be done to make you feel whole?

Without letting me in,
The conversation goes solo.
The blame belongs to you,
For ruining what was there.
What you can’t voice to me,
Can you hear from yourself?
Are you getting any answers,
Or just making excuses?

I am free to move on?
How kind of you!
Going on means leaving behind
Me that I was with you
Us that I was working for
This so new and so carefree
That which will never be.

I hope you realize
Nothing can be the same again.
Where we go from here
Alone,
Apart,
Two bruised hearts,
Never will have what we had before.

I know I deserve better.
I gave you my best.
No longer can I wait.
For what you cannot say,
For what I already suffer,
The pain is just too great.

Living life shouldn’t feel so wrong.
Nothing I do is ever enough.
You have no clue what you want or don’t,
And leaving me in such flux;
I’m just not her.
When you come get your stuff,
From the home we would have shared,
In place of the spaces,
Relinquish my heart’s pieces.

Forcing your hand,
With the words that I write,
Is not what I want,
It’s your passive demand.
I refuse to live as an option.
I deserve to be a choice.
So if you won’t man up,
I’ll no longer hesitate.

I have things to do.
With or without you.
My life must go on.
If you come to decide you want me,
Good luck catching up,
Try convincing me the same.
You’ll have to work much harder,
Should a second chance be yours.

2013 2014 2015

Not the least bit sad to see 2013 leave.  Very few victories this year.  Extensive failures and obstacles that I am just too tired and old to deal with, climb over, take apart, etc.  The nuclear family is solid in areas that count but on a learning curve in others.  The sibling and parental rings have splinters and holes leaking connectivity to no one’s desire to fix.  Work is what it is.  Slammed for the first time in over twenty years in a very unfair way but it is what it is.  Tried the relationship thing again only to find myself alone half way through the year because he wanted a break.  He wasn’t ready and I have returned to my solo life.  Gonna stay there where I know what is what and what is not.  Working through a few books for more clarity.  May or may not blog about them.  Started an art journaling group with the Ladies of the Church of She.  Really like the way mixed media unfolds and want to venture out more in my own journaling.  As for health and wealth–all works in progress.  Sleep issues might be on the way to being fixed but hate to tempt fate and say all is good there yet.  Chronic pain will just remain an issue and therein lies the crux of the problem for other goals.  Often I wonder what they hell I did in a past life to deserve this one?  Made the same resolution I make every year–to put me first and do my thing.  Was more successful with that last year but tripped myself up in the end.  It is a worthwhile goal so here I come again!  Good luck with you and yours in 2014!

HIATUS over!  Bring on 2015

So begins the overhaul. . .

On The Road to

4givesness

After going through much of my life privately pissed off yet publicly functioning as normal, I entered therapy to save myself from myself. Something in the way I was dealing with a childhood trauma was no longer a viable option and it was time to let someone who knew better help. Over time the individual sessions gave way to group workshops and one workshop was on ‘forgiveness’. I liked the idea because in my whole life there was only this one incident that I felt unable to offer forgiveness. The book used also incorporated writing so that was right up my alley. As I worked through the book, Forgiveness is A Choice by Robert Enright, Ph. D., I came across a writing assignment with the following directions:

As one step in confronting your anger, please take the time to review what you have written in your journal from the entries in Chapters 4 & 5. Write a one- to two-page letter to the person, one that you do not send. Try to express to the person the learning that you have gained so far. Let the person know why you are angry, how angry you are, and the struggles you’ve endured because of the unfairness.

I was shocked with what came of the assignment. And I still return to it as it and I both morph over time.

R,

I am learning the extent to which your actions have harmed me and stilted the development of my life path. The anger of the initial trauma is not something I was ever able to feel since I was immediately thrown into a sense of shock at what was happening and have only later figured out the full extent of what happened. That may be why I am to this moment so afraid—to the point of physically responding—so afraid of my anger. It makes me nauseous to the point of wanting to vomit right now when I think about what went on when I was only six. My breathing is stilted and I get hot and clammy all at the same time. My knuckles turn white from the intense stronghold I have on whatever I can grasp at the time.  I look around wondering where the next attack will come from, sure that I won’t see it in time. It is now in my 50th year of life that I am able to express the devastation that your actions have on me and my life.

Beginning with your strategy of sneakiness in whisking me away from the sisters and making me feel ‘chosen’ above them or over them is a manipulation beyond the years of a twelve year old. That in and of itself has made me wonder for years if someone else had the same impact on your life by doing the same to you. How could anyone at the age of twelve be so deceptive without having learned it from someone? Though I struggle with whether or not the answer to that question would make a difference in my dealing with this situation and moving on I am not interested right now in impacting anyone else’s life but my own. At this point in my life your traumas are not my issue.

I can remember all the moments of the trauma and how in the moments I would close my mind off to what was happening and go somewhere else. I knew it would be over soon because all the time was stolen time. Unfortunately, I can remember it all.

I can remember the moment I knew it was something that was not right and that what you were doing was evil; frozen in fear and knowing I was unable to do anything about it or even what to do. Just as I could not remove your hand from covering my mouth from uttering a sound, my brain could not utter the words later to tell anyone what was happening. If you deemed it a secret by covering my mouth, who was I the younger child to question my elder? I remember the discovery by others and knowing that trouble was coming because of it and I had no way to stop it but somehow it was my fault since I was the one on the doctor table. I remember the feeling, the sight, the smell, and the frightening experience of having my bladder punctured with a tube to release the urine I refused to release because of the pain. I remember the older nurse’s disgust as urine sprayed all over the room and the younger nurse’s compassion and tear filled eyes. I locked eyes with her until it was over.

I remember once again my mother outside the room unaware of the pain. She is still “outside the room unaware” today regardless of our very recent frank conversation. I remember her dismissive commentary and contradictory responses uttered in her inability to accept what I was saying to her. In that memory comes a new resentment that is born from an anger that can never fully evolve. She is too old; time is too short; no purpose would be served in going down that road.  At this point in my life her denials are not my issue.

The most important aspect I have learned in my journey is the impact that ‘dismissiveness” has on my life. In the moments, I dismissed what was happening. In the reveal, my mother and father dismissed what happened with a simple “ask and ye shall receive” forgiveness notion. The reason I am having trouble with forgiveness now.  In the aftermath that is the rest of my life it has been one dismissal after another. Starting with that event because I had to box it up and pack it away since no one else told me what to do with it; it just sat in a dark corner of my brain. Every time it tried to surface I dismissed it by pushing the lid back down on the box. Nothing I have done has been my own, has been good enough, or has warranted any attention by anyone. All my accomplishments in my professional life are not even on the horizon as an accomplishment by anyone else in my family. I am simply a ‘teacher’. What I do now that is my own is not understood and dismissed for some reason.

Keeping the lid on the box is something I did for forty-three years before finally being unable to keep the lid on any longer. In hopes of saving the next generation from the sins of the last it had to be shared.  Afterwards, listening to a family doctor choosing to see someone to help the healing truly begin.

The shocking aspect that I have learned is how much I dismiss myself in my daily decisions and actions. While I know the value of the hard work my life has been to get to the point I have reached, and the accomplishments I have made on a day to day basis, I dismiss myself and my needs, thoughts, etc. to this day on a daily basis. I know and acknowledge how hard I have worked to get through school, get my degree, get a career, positions in professional organizations, and in my career path. I know how massive a decision it was to give up on a marriage that was doomed to violence and escape with a four month old knowing what price that would mean for my son. I know how wonderful my nuclear family of my son is and how raising him has blessed my life; being a little league mom and supporting him in becoming the best young man he can without male influence to depend on; what a great work ethic he has; and what a wonderful partner he is on most days to his wife.

I am saddened and newly angered by the notion of me dismissing myself.

So along with working on reacting appropriately in the moment to snide or critical commentary from others, I need to learn to stand up for myself with myself and be proactive in living my life and ceasing to just exist. Watch out world, here I come!

Obstacles to Writing

It is so simple that I only wish it was doable.  These obstacles I have are so manageable if only.  Writers are worse than Hollywoodians when it comes to ego driven insanity.  Our creative souls propel us to places we can’t reach but can feel, we can’t draw but can see, we can’t be but can imagine.  A padded cell is not good enough to contain the insanity our writer’s ego ignites.

Never failing to impede my desire, these obstacles exist to torment my need to write.

Time—the thief of all desires.  Never enough.  Mismanaged at best when we do have it.  Interrupted by those that think so much less of what we are doing that they think we are doing nothing.   I just need to order more hours in which to write.  can it be as simple as designing my own clock with a time warp or Mobius loop for just those few more hours I want?

Eye Twitch—if only my fingertips had eyes to type out on my illuminated keyboard the thoughts I wanted to write when my eyes were so tired that they start twitching at me to demand I close them for sleep.

Idea Muse—those gossamer glimmers that arrive in the middle —-middle of work, middle of the night, middle of anything but the opportune time to capture; sure I will remember that thought, those phrases, these descriptions, this character, a twisted plot complicated in a unique knot; no need to write it down so no worries that I don’t have my journal or a pen.

Technology—don’t even get me started since I won’t be able to find my way out of the ones and zeros without my techilicious man.  And let’s admit that technology is more on the positive than the negative when it comes to writing.  More of an assistive tool than an obstacle, unless, of course we see those words ‘file not found’ or the blue screen of death when we try to boot up a computer. No ExcusesWP_20130217_01020130222220852

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In spite of these obstacles this blog got finished.  It may not have been what I wanted to write tonight but I did write, right?

PS  The techilicious man had a solution for the Idea Muse attacks when I have no journal or pen:  Voice Notes on my Nokia Lumia 920!  He is such a hero!

Why Doesn’t Reside Here

grits867 8 days ago 

Sandy Hook Photo Prompt # 5 12.14.12

Who
unfolds over time.
Branching in eternal directions.
A gunman; his family, lover, friends.
A school; a family extension unto its own.
Educators; dream launchers opening eyes.
Innocent children; lives unfolding naïve,
with parents too young to bury their own.
What
is reported again and again
until speculations
are facts we take hold.
No solace they bring
as we cling for each word.
Sinking in slow and deep
as only reality can.
When
December 14, 2012
Mid-morning
Why
The question should never be asked.
For the answer will never be known.
Reason doesn’t apply.
Reason here doesn’t reside.
How
is futile as well.
Precautions brazenly dodged.
Planned ahead and in secrecy too
Cowardice chillingly complicit
Where
has many levels.
Sandy Hook today.
But where before
did this nightmare start
in this gunman’s mind.
Where
will it end?
Today for those too early taken,
ongoing for those peripheral.
For those survivors today
this will never go away.

Where Is God In Tragedy? Photo Prompt #6 12.16.12

Eye_of_God_by_SSpirito

Acceptable answers don’t exist. We are told repeatedly by our religious leaders and faith-filled friends that the answers are not for us to know–at least not now. One day we will know, the adage goes. Today is not the day. You will not find the answer here. I don’t have them. I apologize to you now for not having the answers for you; the same answers I am seeking. Where is God in tragedy?

My venture will be clumsy but I have to make the journey because to do nothing is too crippling and mires me to the anguish. At this point I’m on the quest for hope. Whether you believe in a benevolent God or God at all, I believe in humanity; yes even after Sandy Hook. Maybe–especially after Sandy Hook. Humanity is the only place I can look for answers right now.

A lady once told me that every time she looked into someone’s face the first thing she saw was the face of God. I can remember the discussion was about intolerance and literature and teaching and she was older than I. We were at an English teachers’ conference and her words struck me with such an epiphany of clarity that I have never forgotten the moment. What intolerance led to such an event in Newtown is unclear. How much intolerance measures out the young lives of those taken who cannot possibly have done wrong? Did the carnage erase the calamity he was dealt that drove him to such a rage? Evidently not, since his life was the last he took.

So if you pay attention to God, if you believe, or attention to goodness, or to simple humanity EVERY time you look into the face of another, and filter your thoughts and actions from that angle, maybe, just maybe, the evil that pervades our earth will lose its stronghold and God (insert whatever) won’t have to be doubted. Try to live like the children of Sandy Hook did in their innocence and ignorance to intolerance. Step up as the parents of these children are in their humble handling of a loss so egregious it could have turned them to ash in the firehouse when the words were heard. Be the reflected face of God and extend kindness before rudeness; acceptance before judgment; assistance before blindness; charity before stinginess but most of all love before indifference and power earth with the good that should connect us all instead of tragedy that draws us together shouting why and God where are you?

Sandy Hook

obama_2428619b

Who
unfolds over time.
Branching in eternal directions.
A gunman; his family, lover, friends.
A school; a family extension unto its own.
Educators; dream launchers opening eyes.
Innocent children; lives unfolding naïve,
with parents too young to bury their own.
What
is reported again and again
until speculations
are facts we take hold.
No solace they bring
as we cling for each word.
Sinking in slow and deep
as only reality can.
When
December 14, 2012
Mid-morning
Why
The question should never be asked.
For the answer will never be known.
Reason doesn’t apply.
Reason here doesn’t reside.
How
is futile as well.
Precautions brazenly dodged.
Planned ahead and in secrecy too
Cowardice chillingly complicit
Where
has many levels.
Sandy Hook today.
But where before
did this nightmare start
in this gunman’s mind.
Where
will it end?
Today for those too early taken,
ongoing for those peripheral.
For those survivors today
this will never go away.