This very night last year, Brenda and I came to an agreement that 2006 was going to be our year. We were going to make things happen. 2006 was going to be all about Stacey and Brenda finally getting the lives we thought we were entitled to. No more would either one of us have to feel like we were on the outside looking in.
We sat on opposite couches having this conversation while the men in our lives fell asleep watching football on the floor. And when the clock struck midnight, instead of either one of them being awake to kiss us and the New Year into being, all we had were the words between us and a conversation that was more a silent promise of the changes we wanted and in my case needed to make.
I'm not proud of myself when I think about the decision I made in the summer of 2005 to move in with Ed. When I made that decision, I knew I was making a mistake. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was going to get myself in over my head, but I jumped in with both feet anyway. I did it because I wanted. I rationalized it by believing that everything about life, my life to be exact, centered around my ability to take a chance.
Summer of 2005 gave way to the fall and then fall to winter. I spent most of it crying, calling Brenda on the phone each night just to get me through. I didn't want to tell my parents just how bad things were, didn't want to admit to it at all, but if my silence was any indication, I know they all knew.
Not even the worst moment of my life could compare to the months that I spent in that house feeling hopeless and alone. And it still haunts me to be confronted by my own weakness, my inability to stand up for myself in a situation I knew wasn't right. Instead I didn't feel as if there were any way out of living with the monster beneath my bed, the monster in the next room, the monster who inhabited the home we shared treating both myself and my daughter as unwelcome visitors, stepping stones to his own gain.
The blessing came in September, as I knew it would of its own accord when the final die was cast and the choice to change my life was taken out of my hands. Regardless of my unfounded fear to venture back out into the world once more on my own, I was moving back into the realm of independence at an alarming speed.
If I have anything to be thankful for, I will always consider the conversation that ended our charade to be the true blessing in disguise.
Through my tears I prayed to God that night. Prayed like I had never prayed before. Spilling out every fear as I knelt on the floor beside my bed, begging desperately for his help and guidance. Please, I remember praying, please help me, please tell me what I'm supposed to do. Please tell me where I'm supposed to go.
I fell asleep feeling hopeless and woke up the next morning to hope.
By the end of the next day, a Tuesday to be exact, my once lost faith in God became restored. I had a new home. A place to belong to. A place to belong to me. A place for KC and I both to feel secure and safe.
And I had friends.
Wonderful friends that came through when I asked for help. Friends like Brenda who helped me begin the process of secretly packing and moving just a little bit at a time.
Friends who loaned me money to put down a deposit on my new place. Friends who simply listened and let me air out my fears while encouraging me to be strong. To all of them, I owe my biggest and heartfelt thanks.
Though they could have, they didn't bother to tell me that I'd made a mistake. They didn't tell me that I should have known better. They didn't say how could I have let things happen the way they did or how they had. They simply held out their hands and asked me how they could help.
I could tell you that the last few weeks of sharing that house passed by quickly and easily, but by now I know you would know that not to be anything but the truth.
The truth was those weeks didn't get any easier knowing as I did that I finally had my out. Sadness, hopelessness and fear continued to haunt my steps, following me down the hall, following me to work every morning, and clinging to me when I tried to sleep each night. But in my head I was counting down. Only this many more days before this will be over forever...
I remember the last night I spent in that house, breathlessly waiting for him to leave, waiting for midnight to roll 'round like the magic hour Cinderella knew it to be. I waited like a prisoner hours before her parole, my stomach a bundle of knots, my daughter sleeping by my side behind a door we kept locked.
And I know he knew it too. Trying to hide it as I did, little things I could move without alerting him to the actual day of my departure, my things began to disappear left and right, leaving it only a simple matter of fact of when rather than where my time would come to its end.
He was loathe however to let us go without some fight. I was talking on my cellphone to Glenn, a man I'd met through work, trying to give my voice a sense of lightness and ease when the drilling started. Instantly I knew that whatever that sound was, it was one that didn't bode well for me. I told Glenn I would have to call him back, and then I waited, glad KC was already asleep and could not hear the whining of the drum.
After he'd gone to bed, I crawled out of mine, creeping slowly and silently down the hall, not that I thought he might hear me over the deafening volume of his TV which he slept with on each and every night.
The double door entry in the living room was locked as usual, nothing unusual there. But the next door, the one that led outside, proved the validity of my concerns. On that door was a newly installed dead bolt. One that I realized upon further inspection required the use of a key on either side of the door to gain entry in or access to the outside. I felt my heart drop into my chest, closed the door I was still allowed to close and took myself quickly back to bed where I once again waited for the sound of his alarm, and confirmation from his car lights fading in the distance that he was truly gone before bracing myself for more.
More was the padlock affixed to the door of our garage. The door that I would need to be able to open just to get the bulk of my things outside and into the U-Haul I had made arrangements to rent. Ed however was mistaken by thinking locks of any sort would keep me from leaving. Bolt cutters and the ability to unscrew screws had both doors swinging open mere hours after he had gone. Had I not been so freaked out by his behavior, I might have laughed but it was still too soon to find anything about his behavior anything other than over the top psychotic and scary.
I left that very morning while KC was at school with both my father, stepmother and older sister Amy by my side to lend a hand and help me out and then when it was deemed necessary two officers of the local law enforcement team as well. It was the first time in my entire life I've ever had to call 911 and be thankful for their swift response.
I didn't get out cleanly. I wanted no drama at all. I wanted the clean and swift break I didn't get. And I wanted all my things. But there were things that did get left behind. Small things, and big things. Things made impossible for me to get as I'd no room left in my truck and no intention of returning for them once I'd gone. Things that I now consider payment of any debt anyone thinks I should owe. Though truth be told, neither my washer nor dryer was worth having to see him or any of his family ever again. The whole lot of them certifiable and incapable of knowing what normal is.
But he can never pay me back for his behavior. He will never own the words that hurt me and made me doubt myself. He will never be able to apologize enough for the lies he told, and the promises he made early on and did not keep. And for this, I feel sorry.
Sorry that I stayed as long as I did. Sorry that I didn't believe in myself enough to know that neither KC or I deserved to live like that for one minute let alone just a few days shy of a year. Sorry that I have to live with this story for the rest of my life and call it part of my own, part of my past.
But what I've learned is now what I must share. If simply retelling all of this here can help to reach and pull someone else out from the darkness that has become their life, I will consider it a good start, but by no means an end...
2006 was not the year that all my wishes came true. I did not live happily ever after. I did not ride off into the sunset. Instead I rode off into a new dawn, a new day, into a life returned to me.
Most importantly I came home to God. And there is a story of how I came to be at the church that I now attend, but that story is only one half of the whole. It only tells of how I found of a church to go to, it has never told the true reason for why I'm there. Until now...
Stepping Stones
I don't really mind not having computer access at home. It's kind of nice not being so connected to the giant world or everything. It is however a bit of an inconvenience when I get in the mood to write something and then have to drag myself to the nearest library or take my laptop out to dinner just to get free wireless access. But here I am again. Day two at the library, sitting in front of a computer surrounded by a bunch of different people just typing away, and wondering every so often how many eyes slip my way to sneak a glance at my screen. So much for being incognito...
Bren and I supplied the church supper last night in what our final class termed a "love feast" and I continue to be amazed at just how many wonderful people we have met in such a short amount of time. God's network is truly amazing. How else could all of this have happened the way it did?
Bren and I had spoken on and on for the last couple of years of finding a church, a place we could both feel comfortable in, a place we could raise our children up in, but we never made the attempt to actually find one. Like Cinderella waiting for her one true love to come and rescue her, we were waiting for the engraved invitation from God to invite us into his love. Miracles I've since learned don't always have to be on the grand scheme to get the job done.
And this is how it happened that Brenda's sister Jen (who resides in Nebraska) decided it was time to light a fire under our church avoiding ways, and took it upon herself to go online and scout the local churches in our area. When her search landed on Trinity, it was God's hand and not the Google search engine that used her as his messenger to send the link that led us home. Of course, it did mean some work on our part. You can read your email, you can click on the link, but it all won't amount to much if you don't put forth the effort on your own to get yourself to the place you need to be.
For a couple of beginners, I'd have to say we're not doing so bad...
Bren and I supplied the church supper last night in what our final class termed a "love feast" and I continue to be amazed at just how many wonderful people we have met in such a short amount of time. God's network is truly amazing. How else could all of this have happened the way it did?
Bren and I had spoken on and on for the last couple of years of finding a church, a place we could both feel comfortable in, a place we could raise our children up in, but we never made the attempt to actually find one. Like Cinderella waiting for her one true love to come and rescue her, we were waiting for the engraved invitation from God to invite us into his love. Miracles I've since learned don't always have to be on the grand scheme to get the job done.
And this is how it happened that Brenda's sister Jen (who resides in Nebraska) decided it was time to light a fire under our church avoiding ways, and took it upon herself to go online and scout the local churches in our area. When her search landed on Trinity, it was God's hand and not the Google search engine that used her as his messenger to send the link that led us home. Of course, it did mean some work on our part. You can read your email, you can click on the link, but it all won't amount to much if you don't put forth the effort on your own to get yourself to the place you need to be.
For a couple of beginners, I'd have to say we're not doing so bad...
Everything But the Kitchen Sink
I promised myself that this was going to be a week of rest and relaxation. A week to spend some quality time with my daughter, a week to do little things around the house I've left undone, and a week to simply take a break from thinking too much about things that don't really matter much at all. And for the most part, I've done quite a good job at keeping my priorities straight, although as I am bound to do, I did slip a few times, checking my work email from home to keep tabs on the happenings at work. For the time being however, I have promptly put those thoughts back on the backburner where they belong.
So just what have I been doing with myself and all this free time?
Yesterday KC and I went to the movies (Eragon gets a 4 out of 4 stars rating) and ended up sitting with one of her girlfriends from school and her father. It was an odd sort of thing being that we didn't know each other from a bag of beans and our daughters had us looking like a happy extended family on an outing, but we managed to get through it. Or as I really should say, I managed to get through it without completely turning red and making a complete ass of myself. Though truth be told, he probably wondered if I was able to speak since the entirety of our conversation consisted of me saying thank you when he held the door open for me at the end of the movie. It was at this point that my initial shyness was finally overruled by politeness. Needless to say, Dad was cute, Mom was speechless, and the girls struck out with the fix up.
KC and I also took some time this week to do a little bit of shopping. Gift card spending to be exact, and I thank each and every one of you who remembered that the best gift cards are the ones that can buy me books... Altogether, I got three new reads, two books of poetry (Pable Neruda and Louise Gluck) and one by Bishop T D Jakes on being a Christian woman of faith. I also bought two new CD's, both by Mary Chapin Carpenter and two movies, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (most excellent movie for woman of all ages) and Something's Gotta Give (a movie I identify with for more than one reason and something I will probably write a whole lot more on later.)
Anyone who has tried to find a book of poetry at my local Barnes & Noble's knows that trying to find something there is like trying to find the mythical needle in the haystack... It seems to be that it's only within that section that the books are never in alphabetical order or any sort of order for that matter, so I have learned to look first in the most ridiculous spot in order to strike gold. The man next to me evidently wasn't in on that little secret as he stood in front of the bookcase desperately trying to make sense of something without any reason. Finally after what seemed like hours, he turned to me (being that I must have looked like I knew what I was doing since I found my items rather quickly) and said, "Is there any kind of order to this section?"
Now I don't normally have conversations with strangers (at least never ones that I start myself) but he seemed so genuinely confused that I couldn't help but find myself wanting to help him out finding his book. (Wallace Stevens to be exact.) And though it was a short conversation with my brainstorm that he should check with the helpdesk to make sure they had that book in stock before he spent too much time searching for it, it did light a little bit of a light bulb in my thoughts. (Especially after our paths crossed again in the parking lot as he smiled at me and waved goodbye.) Perhaps the message that has been trying its darndest to get across to me is that each end has its own beginning. In other words, I can either choose to nurse my broken heart and waste the next few months being sad, or I can choose to be thankful for the small amount of time I did get to spend knowing someone as I did.
This is the part where unless you're my Mother, Brenda (or an extension of Brenda such as a friend/co-worker who are frequently updated on the ever continuing (though not at all very exciting) saga of my personal life) or my friend Susan, you're not going to have a clue what or who it is I'm talking about... (Thankfully who I am not referring to is my former roommate, a man I am more than happy to say is completely out of my life and out of the picture forever more.)
But my point here is that sometimes the things you really want to work out, just don't and there's nothing you can do about it even though you really felt that your heart had finally found the right person, in the right place at the right time. Perhaps I gave my heart too soon, but I don't think so. I think for the first time in my life, I opened myself up to someone so completely that despite our outcome which at the moment is the kind of silence that beats like a drum in my ear, I'm thankful for having met him and for having him in my life for the time that he was there. He got to know me in a way I don't think I've let myself be known and I think he too was surprised at how much he gave back to me in very much the same way.
So it comes down to this, I guess we were both a little scared, and if I had to hazard a guess at what went wrong, I'd like to think that it's this fear which has stopped us in our tracks. This somehow makes me feel better than thinking that he just didn't want to choose me... Regardless, I could never think bad of him...(Not now, and not in a million years.) We were both adults, we took a chance together, we reached for the stars and both of us felt the fall that brought us back to earth. And it was one word.
Wonderful.
So just what have I been doing with myself and all this free time?
Yesterday KC and I went to the movies (Eragon gets a 4 out of 4 stars rating) and ended up sitting with one of her girlfriends from school and her father. It was an odd sort of thing being that we didn't know each other from a bag of beans and our daughters had us looking like a happy extended family on an outing, but we managed to get through it. Or as I really should say, I managed to get through it without completely turning red and making a complete ass of myself. Though truth be told, he probably wondered if I was able to speak since the entirety of our conversation consisted of me saying thank you when he held the door open for me at the end of the movie. It was at this point that my initial shyness was finally overruled by politeness. Needless to say, Dad was cute, Mom was speechless, and the girls struck out with the fix up.
KC and I also took some time this week to do a little bit of shopping. Gift card spending to be exact, and I thank each and every one of you who remembered that the best gift cards are the ones that can buy me books... Altogether, I got three new reads, two books of poetry (Pable Neruda and Louise Gluck) and one by Bishop T D Jakes on being a Christian woman of faith. I also bought two new CD's, both by Mary Chapin Carpenter and two movies, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (most excellent movie for woman of all ages) and Something's Gotta Give (a movie I identify with for more than one reason and something I will probably write a whole lot more on later.)
Anyone who has tried to find a book of poetry at my local Barnes & Noble's knows that trying to find something there is like trying to find the mythical needle in the haystack... It seems to be that it's only within that section that the books are never in alphabetical order or any sort of order for that matter, so I have learned to look first in the most ridiculous spot in order to strike gold. The man next to me evidently wasn't in on that little secret as he stood in front of the bookcase desperately trying to make sense of something without any reason. Finally after what seemed like hours, he turned to me (being that I must have looked like I knew what I was doing since I found my items rather quickly) and said, "Is there any kind of order to this section?"
Now I don't normally have conversations with strangers (at least never ones that I start myself) but he seemed so genuinely confused that I couldn't help but find myself wanting to help him out finding his book. (Wallace Stevens to be exact.) And though it was a short conversation with my brainstorm that he should check with the helpdesk to make sure they had that book in stock before he spent too much time searching for it, it did light a little bit of a light bulb in my thoughts. (Especially after our paths crossed again in the parking lot as he smiled at me and waved goodbye.) Perhaps the message that has been trying its darndest to get across to me is that each end has its own beginning. In other words, I can either choose to nurse my broken heart and waste the next few months being sad, or I can choose to be thankful for the small amount of time I did get to spend knowing someone as I did.
This is the part where unless you're my Mother, Brenda (or an extension of Brenda such as a friend/co-worker who are frequently updated on the ever continuing (though not at all very exciting) saga of my personal life) or my friend Susan, you're not going to have a clue what or who it is I'm talking about... (Thankfully who I am not referring to is my former roommate, a man I am more than happy to say is completely out of my life and out of the picture forever more.)
But my point here is that sometimes the things you really want to work out, just don't and there's nothing you can do about it even though you really felt that your heart had finally found the right person, in the right place at the right time. Perhaps I gave my heart too soon, but I don't think so. I think for the first time in my life, I opened myself up to someone so completely that despite our outcome which at the moment is the kind of silence that beats like a drum in my ear, I'm thankful for having met him and for having him in my life for the time that he was there. He got to know me in a way I don't think I've let myself be known and I think he too was surprised at how much he gave back to me in very much the same way.
So it comes down to this, I guess we were both a little scared, and if I had to hazard a guess at what went wrong, I'd like to think that it's this fear which has stopped us in our tracks. This somehow makes me feel better than thinking that he just didn't want to choose me... Regardless, I could never think bad of him...(Not now, and not in a million years.) We were both adults, we took a chance together, we reached for the stars and both of us felt the fall that brought us back to earth. And it was one word.
Wonderful.
Becoming Found
A year ago today, I wouldn't have been able to tell you when the last time I'd been to church was. But in the past two days, I've been twice. Once last night and once more this morning to watch KC along with the other Sunday school children perform a short skit on the true meaning of the twelve days of Christmas. And I think to myself how easy it has been to reestablish my relationship with God and to introduce my daughter into the Christian faith.
Everywhere I go now, I see traces of his word. In the books I read, the people I meet, in the way my life is slowly changing. And I think of how unhappy I've been for so long, and all the anger I've carried with me for so many years. So much anger and so much rage boiling inside for so long that I'd begun to believe that I was a bad person, not worthy of being loved, not worthy of being treated with compassion or respect, not worthy of being forgiven for sins that weren't even mine.
I needed healing but I refused it. I needed faith but I turned away from it. I needed forgiveness but I did not ask for it. I needed wholeness but I clung to being broken as if that were my true salvation. And I blamed God, blamed him for everything that broke my heart and crushed my spirit. Blamed him for my darkness and my depression, blamed him for the lack of light and happiness in my life until God was not something I believed existed anymore. God was for people who were not me.
But I sit here now telling you that I was wrong and that what I believe now is what I know to be true. We are all given choices to walk with God or to walk without him, to ask him for his company or to deny him a place in our lives. God gives us that right to choose, but even with that choice we are never truly without him. God never gives up or walks away, he simply waits. Waits and watches over us, always ready to guide us back to the path when we are lost. And when we are found, it's like we were never lost at all...
Everywhere I go now, I see traces of his word. In the books I read, the people I meet, in the way my life is slowly changing. And I think of how unhappy I've been for so long, and all the anger I've carried with me for so many years. So much anger and so much rage boiling inside for so long that I'd begun to believe that I was a bad person, not worthy of being loved, not worthy of being treated with compassion or respect, not worthy of being forgiven for sins that weren't even mine.
I needed healing but I refused it. I needed faith but I turned away from it. I needed forgiveness but I did not ask for it. I needed wholeness but I clung to being broken as if that were my true salvation. And I blamed God, blamed him for everything that broke my heart and crushed my spirit. Blamed him for my darkness and my depression, blamed him for the lack of light and happiness in my life until God was not something I believed existed anymore. God was for people who were not me.
But I sit here now telling you that I was wrong and that what I believe now is what I know to be true. We are all given choices to walk with God or to walk without him, to ask him for his company or to deny him a place in our lives. God gives us that right to choose, but even with that choice we are never truly without him. God never gives up or walks away, he simply waits. Waits and watches over us, always ready to guide us back to the path when we are lost. And when we are found, it's like we were never lost at all...
When and If I'll Be...
One would always think that one should know better, or in my case, that I should know better. But I am quite adept at stumbling and half falling down before I figure things out and set myself and my world back to rights. I've done a lot of that lately. Misstep after misstep, thinking as one foot is falling in front of the other that this time I'm doing the right thing; I'm making the right choice.
And just when I think maybe... Maybe this is it. Maybe this is what I've been waiting for with my fingers crossed and my heart all tied up in knots, reality strikes back with a kicking blow, a not so gentle reminder that nothing - at least not for me - is ever easy, and the white picket fence remains as always, out of reach...
And yet I keep doing this to myself. Putting my heart out there time and time again, betting the odds even when they're not in my favor, waiting for my gamble to come through, to pay off. And each maybe is like a breathless pause, the sound of a first hello, warm and excited eagerly awaiting an answering hello, a return of the spirit like gifts at Christmas time, wrapped in brightly colored paper and filled with hope.
Love is like that... Simple and easy with no expectations other than exactly what you've always been. Just you... And that is more than enough. All it takes is one hello.
And just when I think maybe... Maybe this is it. Maybe this is what I've been waiting for with my fingers crossed and my heart all tied up in knots, reality strikes back with a kicking blow, a not so gentle reminder that nothing - at least not for me - is ever easy, and the white picket fence remains as always, out of reach...
And yet I keep doing this to myself. Putting my heart out there time and time again, betting the odds even when they're not in my favor, waiting for my gamble to come through, to pay off. And each maybe is like a breathless pause, the sound of a first hello, warm and excited eagerly awaiting an answering hello, a return of the spirit like gifts at Christmas time, wrapped in brightly colored paper and filled with hope.
Love is like that... Simple and easy with no expectations other than exactly what you've always been. Just you... And that is more than enough. All it takes is one hello.
No More Settling...
Things here are different. Different in a mostly good way. Life changes. Sometimes in a quick burst of energy, sometimes slow, like an ember beneath the ashes, waiting for the right moment to burst back into flame.
And for the most part, I've come out of all of this unscathed. A little worse for wear (to be expected) but no irreparable damage, no permanent harm, but above all else, a healthy dose of reality and the irrefutable difference between right and wrong and the knowing of it.
My life isn't perfect right now. There are still plenty of things that need to be fixed, but at the same time, it's not completely wrong and I've got a lot of hope for my future. (Much more than I ever had for most of this year.) Perhaps it's just me hoping that it's so, but I've a feeling that fate has finally taken notice of me. And maybe I've finally taken notice of fate.
No matter where the road goes. No matter the distance traveled. I'm moving forward. One footstep, one moment at a time...
And for the most part, I've come out of all of this unscathed. A little worse for wear (to be expected) but no irreparable damage, no permanent harm, but above all else, a healthy dose of reality and the irrefutable difference between right and wrong and the knowing of it.
My life isn't perfect right now. There are still plenty of things that need to be fixed, but at the same time, it's not completely wrong and I've got a lot of hope for my future. (Much more than I ever had for most of this year.) Perhaps it's just me hoping that it's so, but I've a feeling that fate has finally taken notice of me. And maybe I've finally taken notice of fate.
No matter where the road goes. No matter the distance traveled. I'm moving forward. One footstep, one moment at a time...
October's Passing
The Evening Star
Tonight, for the first time in many years,
there appeared to me again
a vision of the earth's splendor:
in the evening sky
the first star seemed
to increase in brilliance
as the earth darkened
until at last it could grow no darker.
And the light, which was the light of death,
seemed to restore to earth
its power to console. There were
no other stars. Only the one
whose name I knew
as in my other life I did her
injury: Venus,
star of the early evening,
to you I dedicate
my vision, since on this blank surface
you have cast enough light
to make my thought
visible again.
~ Louise Gluck
For tonight, this is enough...
Awake At Such an Hour
I am awake because I cannot sleep which seems to speak volumes for itself, except there's no one else awake to hear a word of it. I woke up from a dream with a vague sense of uneasiness; an ugly thought that wouldn't leave my brain, so I've decided to write it out and get rid of it the only way I know how, by putting it on paper and away from me.
But the dream is hazy and what I barely remember doesn't make enough sense to plot it out like a diary entry. Instead I'm wasting time before returning to the couch that for tonight has become my bed even as I find I'm missing my own with something more than just a lost of familiarity and a soft side of a pillow that has gone unchecked. I guess I should be thankful I rated a blanket before I so unceremoniously fell asleep without so much as a by your leave. But as we all know, these things happen, and I could no more have kept myself from falling asleep than I could have told the moon to come down from the heavens.
Listen to me ramble on... And yet, it's always at this time of night, neither early on in the evening or too close to the breaking of dawns light when I am at my wordiest. And so yes, my mouth moves at a mile a minute and I could go on for one half of forever... These things are sometimes good to know, as other things here - snippets, as I like to call them - are good to know as well. But as always, that remains to be seen...
But the dream is hazy and what I barely remember doesn't make enough sense to plot it out like a diary entry. Instead I'm wasting time before returning to the couch that for tonight has become my bed even as I find I'm missing my own with something more than just a lost of familiarity and a soft side of a pillow that has gone unchecked. I guess I should be thankful I rated a blanket before I so unceremoniously fell asleep without so much as a by your leave. But as we all know, these things happen, and I could no more have kept myself from falling asleep than I could have told the moon to come down from the heavens.
Listen to me ramble on... And yet, it's always at this time of night, neither early on in the evening or too close to the breaking of dawns light when I am at my wordiest. And so yes, my mouth moves at a mile a minute and I could go on for one half of forever... These things are sometimes good to know, as other things here - snippets, as I like to call them - are good to know as well. But as always, that remains to be seen...
On the Mend...
Disturb us, Lord, when we are too well pleased with ourselves. When our dreams have come true because we dreamed too little. When we arrived safely because we sailed too close to shore. Disturb us, Lord, when with the abundance of things we possess we have lost our thirst for the waters of life; we have ceased to dream of eternity and in our efforts to build a new earth, we have allowed our vision of the new Heaven to dim. Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly, to venture on wider seas where storms will show your mastery; where losing sight of land we shall find stars. We ask you to push back the horizons of our hopes; and to push us in the future in strength, courage, hope and love.
-- Sir Francis Drake, 1577
When I asked for help, and prayed for your guidance, you opened your arms wide and welcomed me back into your love. Thank you for bringing me home...
From the Ashes
I cannot waste any more time crying. What's done is done. It's time to leave this bitter nest and move on to one that is all my own. Sure he didn't leave me much choice tonight when he walked in the door, and shoved the news down my throat.
One month he said, slamming doors and retreating down the hallway to lock himself inside his room. One month to move out, move on...
His name is on the mythical lease, not mine. And I'm no longer welcome here. What kind of man can kick a woman and her child out without batting an eye? Who can even call him a man?
When KC came out of her room, her eyes red with tears, I knew she must have heard the whole thing. She's as scared as I am. But she's ten and allowed to be scared. Me on the other hand, I'm almost thirty-two and my time to be scared has long since passed.
Am I broken? Hell no. I'm the strongest I've ever been.
One month he said, slamming doors and retreating down the hallway to lock himself inside his room. One month to move out, move on...
His name is on the mythical lease, not mine. And I'm no longer welcome here. What kind of man can kick a woman and her child out without batting an eye? Who can even call him a man?
When KC came out of her room, her eyes red with tears, I knew she must have heard the whole thing. She's as scared as I am. But she's ten and allowed to be scared. Me on the other hand, I'm almost thirty-two and my time to be scared has long since passed.
Am I broken? Hell no. I'm the strongest I've ever been.
My Life As a Natural Disaster
All I wanted was love and a chance at happily ever after. I should have known I was asking for far too much. From the very beginning, the exact moment when the question hung in the air waiting to be answered, I knew the biggest mistake I would ever make in my life was about to be put into motion.
I wish I could go back in time and answer that question again. How I would love to shout a resounding no into the air. No. I don't want to live with you without any solid form of commitment. No. You did me wrong the first time around, I have no desire to sign up for a repeat performance. No. I don't need you or anyone else for that matter to supply me with happiness. I have all I need right here.
How I wish I didn't give in to my weakness and my wants. How I wish I wasn't stuck here in this house living under a god damn microscope where my decisions are constantly overruled by outside influences who have absolutely no bearing on my life, and yet still manage to grip me in their iron fists. I've had enough...
Inside I am on fire, a liquid volcano to my core, fierce with anger ready to spill out and over.
I wish I could go back in time and answer that question again. How I would love to shout a resounding no into the air. No. I don't want to live with you without any solid form of commitment. No. You did me wrong the first time around, I have no desire to sign up for a repeat performance. No. I don't need you or anyone else for that matter to supply me with happiness. I have all I need right here.
How I wish I didn't give in to my weakness and my wants. How I wish I wasn't stuck here in this house living under a god damn microscope where my decisions are constantly overruled by outside influences who have absolutely no bearing on my life, and yet still manage to grip me in their iron fists. I've had enough...
Inside I am on fire, a liquid volcano to my core, fierce with anger ready to spill out and over.
Just a Stranger Passing Through
I'm not here all that often anymore. Somewhere along the way it stopped being a safe place for me to leave my thoughts and words. I disconnected. Disconnected heart from emotion, separating myself from disappointment and rejection, and what I could only see as my failure.
You give up more than just a little bit of yourself when you have to manipulate your own heart to stop feeling. Pulling in so completely shuts down more than just the negative emotions, it freezes the good ones as well. But you do what you have to do. You can't cry forever...
And so that is exactly what I've been doing. Learning as I go, moving forward one small step at a time, inch by inch, by inch. I've put on my brave face, shook my head in frustration more than a few hundred times, cried when I couldn't think of anything better to do, and reminded myself as my Mother is wont to do, that this too shall pass. Temporary setbacks are just that. Temporary.
People can lie to you. People can make promises they never intended to keep. And people can do more harm than good when their hearts and heads aren't in the right place. But they can't break you unless you let them. And they can't bring you down, unless you choose to stay there.
You give up more than just a little bit of yourself when you have to manipulate your own heart to stop feeling. Pulling in so completely shuts down more than just the negative emotions, it freezes the good ones as well. But you do what you have to do. You can't cry forever...
And so that is exactly what I've been doing. Learning as I go, moving forward one small step at a time, inch by inch, by inch. I've put on my brave face, shook my head in frustration more than a few hundred times, cried when I couldn't think of anything better to do, and reminded myself as my Mother is wont to do, that this too shall pass. Temporary setbacks are just that. Temporary.
People can lie to you. People can make promises they never intended to keep. And people can do more harm than good when their hearts and heads aren't in the right place. But they can't break you unless you let them. And they can't bring you down, unless you choose to stay there.
Almost... But Not Quite
I thought maybe I could come up with something of interest to write about tonight, but I've got nothing...
Maybe tomorrow.
Maybe tomorrow.
Slipping Into the Solitude
Went out tonight after work to do a little school shopping for KC, and ended up making an unexpected pit stop at Barnes & Nobles. I just can't seem to help myself when it comes to certain things lately. Maybe I can pass it off as a quest for knowledge or a thirst for words, either of which is a happy excuse to blame my most recent purchase of a book of poetry by Louise Gluck. Perhaps it's just the silent push of winter knocking at the door that has me lining my nest with small pockets of joy, golden nuggets of inspiration for a cold, dark day to come.
Mutable Earth
Are you healed or do you only think you're healed?
I told myself
from nothing
nothing can be taken away.
But can you love anyone yet?
When I feel safe, I can love.
But will you touch anyone?
I told myself
if I had nothing
the world couldn't touch me.
In the bathtub, I examine my body.
We're supposed to do that.
And your face too?
Your face in the mirror?
I was vigilant: when I touched myself
I didn't feel anything.
Were you safe then?
I was never safe, even when I was most hidden.
Even then I was waiting.
So you couldn't protect yourself?
The absolute
erodes; the boundary, the wall
around the self erodes.
If I was waiting I had been
invaded by time.
But do you think you're free?
I think I recognize the patterns of my nature.
But do you think you're free?
I had nothing
and I was still changed.
Like a costume, my numbness
was taken away. Then
hunger was added.
- Louise Gluck
Vita Nova
Mom & Daughter Fun Day
KC and I went to the Renaissance Festival today in Sterling and came back with much less money in our pockets than we started with. However this picture alone was well worth the drive, our time and the coins. (And it doesn't hurt that I don't look half bad, half naked. At least in cartoon form...)
More stories from today to come later. Or at least a few months down the road when I get my film developed...
Not So Distant Memory
Someday I'm going to get back in the swing of things and fill this blog full to bursting with the words I've kept concealed these past few months. I guess I just can't help myself. Too many words and I get in trouble, too little and it's like I never existed at all. To me it's felt like a weakness. A purveying of the truth in small doses; the only quantity I can handle. But inside my head there is so much more to be said as summer days begin to run together racing for the cold.
Tonight the house smells like warm licorice. A comforting smell that brings a thought and a smile to my face much like a conversation would with an old friend. My thoughts are filled with moments, both found and stolen. And I look at the clock above the stove and think about this time last week remembering where I was and who I was with and wishing I could find myself there once more...
Tonight the house smells like warm licorice. A comforting smell that brings a thought and a smile to my face much like a conversation would with an old friend. My thoughts are filled with moments, both found and stolen. And I look at the clock above the stove and think about this time last week remembering where I was and who I was with and wishing I could find myself there once more...
Jupiter in Motion
I am not an illusion, though truth be told, I thought I was. Me, the invisible girl I thought no one could see. But you pushed the envelope, moved me forward when I would have taken a step back until I found a valid reason to stop. Any excuse to put on the brakes and pull away, with no intention of beginning.
A Moment of Possibility
She cannot think of a single thing to say, so tied up is her tongue, now that they're alone on the porch. And she could kill her friend for leaving her out there with him to fend for herself. To sink. Or to swim.
She sits back in her chair, thinking for a moment of what she should or maybe shouldn't say. She is intrigued by him. By things he's already said out in the other room. His explanations, which to others might seem too long and impractical seem just right to her. She sneaks a peek at him from beneath her lashes, noting the strength of his jaw, the character of his face, the tall leanness of his body and hair she's already imagining running her fingers through.
His cell phone rings and saves her from having to start the conversation while he answers in a language she cannot understand. She could listen to the timbre of his voice for hours, heavily accented and yet fluid in his native tongue. He looks up at her and seems to really look at her, "I'm sorry honey," he says, offering her an apology for having answered his phone. And she finds herself smiling, telling him it's okay while he says a few syllable's more and then neatly ends his call. "Now where were we?" he asks, giving her a smile.
In the space of a few minutes she puts to him her questions, learning about the country from which he came, and how long he'd been here. He tells her that his family was originally from Europe, Bosnia to be exact. And she admits to having the world's worst geography skills, telling him she has no idea where to find it on a map. He asks her if she knows where Italy is. And she laughs, at his description of Italy, "You know the country of the boot with the too high heel," he says.
They continue talking, alone on the porch with only the moonlight for company. And she apologizes for not remembering his name. "Armie," he says, "Like an army of one." She rolls his name off her tongue, liking the sound of it on her lips. At some point, after they'd talk more about his job, and he said she should stop in to see him some time, they went inside. She shot her best friend a look across the room, a thank you but I'd like to kill you all the same sort of face, flushed with a dreamy smile.
All too soon the night came to a close, ending with a mass departure of voices drifting off into the night. And though theirs was an ordinary goodbye at best, she couldn't help but hope that he might entertain the thought of wanting to see her again.
She sits back in her chair, thinking for a moment of what she should or maybe shouldn't say. She is intrigued by him. By things he's already said out in the other room. His explanations, which to others might seem too long and impractical seem just right to her. She sneaks a peek at him from beneath her lashes, noting the strength of his jaw, the character of his face, the tall leanness of his body and hair she's already imagining running her fingers through.
His cell phone rings and saves her from having to start the conversation while he answers in a language she cannot understand. She could listen to the timbre of his voice for hours, heavily accented and yet fluid in his native tongue. He looks up at her and seems to really look at her, "I'm sorry honey," he says, offering her an apology for having answered his phone. And she finds herself smiling, telling him it's okay while he says a few syllable's more and then neatly ends his call. "Now where were we?" he asks, giving her a smile.
In the space of a few minutes she puts to him her questions, learning about the country from which he came, and how long he'd been here. He tells her that his family was originally from Europe, Bosnia to be exact. And she admits to having the world's worst geography skills, telling him she has no idea where to find it on a map. He asks her if she knows where Italy is. And she laughs, at his description of Italy, "You know the country of the boot with the too high heel," he says.
They continue talking, alone on the porch with only the moonlight for company. And she apologizes for not remembering his name. "Armie," he says, "Like an army of one." She rolls his name off her tongue, liking the sound of it on her lips. At some point, after they'd talk more about his job, and he said she should stop in to see him some time, they went inside. She shot her best friend a look across the room, a thank you but I'd like to kill you all the same sort of face, flushed with a dreamy smile.
All too soon the night came to a close, ending with a mass departure of voices drifting off into the night. And though theirs was an ordinary goodbye at best, she couldn't help but hope that he might entertain the thought of wanting to see her again.
Too Much of a Worry Wart
Very odd dreams last night featuring a full cast of characters, stairs without handrails or landings, gardens made completely of stone, and an overall theme that burdens should not be a solitary effort.
If I were to pick it apart, I know that one of those efforts is my daughter and this week we've spent apart. And though I know it's a good thing for her to get in some extra time with her father while the summer months allow, I can't help but miss her to distraction when she's gone. And of course, I worry...
Worry that her Dad doesn't always make the best choices when it comes to what she watches on TV, what time she goes to sleep, whether she eats a healthy breakfast, lunch and dinner or dines on a mountain load of empty calories, or if she's outside without supervision in the yard. My worries and the list of them are endless.
And yet I do know that she is safe there. That he takes care of her in his own way, and that she enjoys the temporary escape out from under her Mother's thumb. The ten year old wisdom that announces to the world that her Mother is much more than just a tad bit overprotective and that as far as trusting the world at large, her Mom doesn't subscribe to it. Not one little bit...
I laugh to myself thinking how much now I sound like my Grandma Angie. I can remember her fretting away each time my sister and I were on the loose. She had a way of saying "Ooooh," every time she caught site of us playing in the yard dangling from trees or sneaking into the forbidden broken down barn out back to look for buried treasures. "You girls," seemed to be the way she started every sentence, though it could finish in a number of different ways. One thing however always held true, Grams had constant agida over us.
If I were to pick it apart, I know that one of those efforts is my daughter and this week we've spent apart. And though I know it's a good thing for her to get in some extra time with her father while the summer months allow, I can't help but miss her to distraction when she's gone. And of course, I worry...
Worry that her Dad doesn't always make the best choices when it comes to what she watches on TV, what time she goes to sleep, whether she eats a healthy breakfast, lunch and dinner or dines on a mountain load of empty calories, or if she's outside without supervision in the yard. My worries and the list of them are endless.
And yet I do know that she is safe there. That he takes care of her in his own way, and that she enjoys the temporary escape out from under her Mother's thumb. The ten year old wisdom that announces to the world that her Mother is much more than just a tad bit overprotective and that as far as trusting the world at large, her Mom doesn't subscribe to it. Not one little bit...
I laugh to myself thinking how much now I sound like my Grandma Angie. I can remember her fretting away each time my sister and I were on the loose. She had a way of saying "Ooooh," every time she caught site of us playing in the yard dangling from trees or sneaking into the forbidden broken down barn out back to look for buried treasures. "You girls," seemed to be the way she started every sentence, though it could finish in a number of different ways. One thing however always held true, Grams had constant agida over us.
High Irritability Warning
I'm in a pissy mood tonight. Maybe because I've yet to eat dinner. Or because I miss my kid who's been at her Dad's since last Friday. Or it could be because I've worked late for the past three nights and I'm extremely ready for the four day weekend coming up. Or maybe it's because I'm just tired of all the bullshit, day in and day out. And all the things I'd love to change if I could. If there was a way, if there was enough money, if there was enough time. If, if, if, if, if...
And there's nothing I can do about it even though my brain keeps throwing out things like when, how, and where, as if it's expecting some easy answer to just float by and say, "Oh yeah. I know you've been waiting for me. Here's your solution."
It ain't that easy baby. Trust me on this. When you get yourself in a pickle, there is no such thing as quick and easy. It just doesn't happen that way, because the road out of hell is always a lot longer than the road in.
And with that jolly good thought, I'm off to eat dinner. Woo Hoo!
And there's nothing I can do about it even though my brain keeps throwing out things like when, how, and where, as if it's expecting some easy answer to just float by and say, "Oh yeah. I know you've been waiting for me. Here's your solution."
It ain't that easy baby. Trust me on this. When you get yourself in a pickle, there is no such thing as quick and easy. It just doesn't happen that way, because the road out of hell is always a lot longer than the road in.
And with that jolly good thought, I'm off to eat dinner. Woo Hoo!
