The emotion that motivates me to move is anger.
I do a lot of things out of love, but anger motivates me like nothing else.
Showing posts with label I am loved. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I am loved. Show all posts
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
the bearer of unconditional things
I know this is really strange, but every once in a while I go to my brother's flicker site and go through his pictures--a virtual stalker, if you will. I have two brothers who don't speak to me, who I have not seen in over 20 years. My one brother doesn't speak to me just because (really!). My other brother who doesn't speak to me, basically cut the whole family off and I was just collateral damage thrown into the mix because he severed ties with them. Even though I did nothing to him except love him, I got cut off, too. I've spent a lifetime trying to process this. I cannot tell you how it feels to be erased like that from someone's life because there are no words. I never talk about it to anyone because I don't know what to say. I know that a lot of my childhood years have been forgotten because of this.
I cannot remember so many things. My sister will ask me if I remember this or that and I have to tell her no. I try to remember, but I can't. I was literally erased from their lives, then I think my mind erased most things connected to them. I do remember my older brother being a know-it-all and I remember him playing the Elvis Costello song "Alison" over and over and over again. I remember this about my little brother: When he first started school, he cried and cried, and could not be consoled, so I would stand in line with him to take him to his class in the morning so that he would feel safe and stop all that crying. I have never been able to stand seeing little kids cry.
Anyway, this wasn't meant to be a trip down memory lane where I get all weepy over lost relationships because I'm at peace with my life at this point. What I wanted to write was that as I was going through my brother's Christmas flicker pictures, I noticed something weird. There were pictures of the inside of his house decorated for the holidays and what I noticed is that both my sister and my brother have almost 100% copied the way my parents furnish and decorate their home. They all have open beams on their ceilings. They have the same type of rug in the family room. Their kitchens are set up in identical ways. Their wooden tables all have a sheet of glass on top and a white doily runner between the wood and the glass. There are built in bookshelves in the family room of all their homes. Their fireplace mantles are adorned in similar fashions. When my parents started to collect a certain kind of expensive pottery, my sister went out and bought a ton of it herself. My mother has an extensive collection of Hummels and I noticed that my sister started collecting them as well. They all have the same type of curtains in the windows, too. Let me be clear, their homes are beautiful. But it's like this weird copycatville where they all seem compelled to be carbon copies of each other. I wonder what they think about when they visit each other. I'm guessing they think what good taste they all have since they all have the exact same taste.
I'm trying to figure out what this means because I think there has to be some reason why they both felt the need to replicate our parents home inside their own homes. I think it might have something to do with needing my parents approval and knowing that they would have it if they copied them. What else could it be? There's no hint of originality in either home that screams, THIS IS ME, I AM DIFFERENT FROM YOU.
I guess I just find it fascinating to know that there isn't anything in my home that resembles their homes. If I never moved away, I wonder if my home would mimic theirs. I wonder if I would reside in copycatville as well due to the pressure of living in the same area, or if I would have the courage to be the me that is different from them that I feel free to be because I am so far away.
I cannot remember so many things. My sister will ask me if I remember this or that and I have to tell her no. I try to remember, but I can't. I was literally erased from their lives, then I think my mind erased most things connected to them. I do remember my older brother being a know-it-all and I remember him playing the Elvis Costello song "Alison" over and over and over again. I remember this about my little brother: When he first started school, he cried and cried, and could not be consoled, so I would stand in line with him to take him to his class in the morning so that he would feel safe and stop all that crying. I have never been able to stand seeing little kids cry.
Anyway, this wasn't meant to be a trip down memory lane where I get all weepy over lost relationships because I'm at peace with my life at this point. What I wanted to write was that as I was going through my brother's Christmas flicker pictures, I noticed something weird. There were pictures of the inside of his house decorated for the holidays and what I noticed is that both my sister and my brother have almost 100% copied the way my parents furnish and decorate their home. They all have open beams on their ceilings. They have the same type of rug in the family room. Their kitchens are set up in identical ways. Their wooden tables all have a sheet of glass on top and a white doily runner between the wood and the glass. There are built in bookshelves in the family room of all their homes. Their fireplace mantles are adorned in similar fashions. When my parents started to collect a certain kind of expensive pottery, my sister went out and bought a ton of it herself. My mother has an extensive collection of Hummels and I noticed that my sister started collecting them as well. They all have the same type of curtains in the windows, too. Let me be clear, their homes are beautiful. But it's like this weird copycatville where they all seem compelled to be carbon copies of each other. I wonder what they think about when they visit each other. I'm guessing they think what good taste they all have since they all have the exact same taste.
I'm trying to figure out what this means because I think there has to be some reason why they both felt the need to replicate our parents home inside their own homes. I think it might have something to do with needing my parents approval and knowing that they would have it if they copied them. What else could it be? There's no hint of originality in either home that screams, THIS IS ME, I AM DIFFERENT FROM YOU.
I guess I just find it fascinating to know that there isn't anything in my home that resembles their homes. If I never moved away, I wonder if my home would mimic theirs. I wonder if I would reside in copycatville as well due to the pressure of living in the same area, or if I would have the courage to be the me that is different from them that I feel free to be because I am so far away.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Merry Christmas
I tried something different this year. Instead of waiting until Christmas Eve to wrap all the presents, I started a couple of days ago and now, for the first time in forever, I am not hunched over on the floor somewhere with tape and wrapping paper and Christmas tags cursing whoever it was that thought it was a good idea to wrap presents in pretty colored paper. It feels glorious.
Merry Christmas from my house to yours. I wish you happiness, peace, light and love.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
the easy kill
“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.”~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
On the day of my birthday, I did not get a call from my parents. I kept checking the phone thinking I would miss their call when I went out for a run, when I stepped out to get the mail, while I was in the kitchen unloading the dishwasher. I was watching TV in bed that night with my phone beside me, and I decided I needed to check the recent call list one last time just to make sure I didn't miss their call, but there was no listing with their name and number beside it. There was no missing call. It was in that moment that I was able to step out of myself and see how pathetic the whole situation was. I see myself waiting for the call. I see myself accepting no call will come.
I like to think about life as a journey of lessons learned, so I tried to figure out what the lesson of this could be. Was it that the world did not end just because I did not get a call from them on the one day of the year that is mine? Was it that a phone call, or lack thereof, should not be mistaken for love or lack thereof? Was the lesson that expectations of others are futile--even the simplest of things--because expectations inevitably lead to disappointments? Who knows. I'm sure I don't.
I tried to imagine the thought process that went into them not calling me because it is important that I understand why. Did they make a conscious choice to let the day pass without a word to me or did I slip their mind altogether? I will not lie: neither choice feels acceptable. Understanding eludes me.
A pattern of mine that I've been trying to break is the one where I lock all the unacceptable things inside my head where I tell myself not to think about them. It's a safety mechanism of mine that I've taken up because people have not always been careful of my heart and I know I'll be unwaveringly vigilant. I've learned, though, that the feelings tied to all the unacceptable things do not go away just because I choose not think about them.
Instead, I've been trying to deal with the feelings as they come--to honor the feelings, good and bad, that come from my journey. I used to think it was best to lock everything bad away because I was afraid thinking those thoughts would kill me, but they didn't. In case you haven't noticed, I can be quite theatrical at times. I thought the feelings would paralyze me and render me unable to move forward. But then I stopped being afraid to feel my own emotions, and learned I am stronger than I think I am. Hidden, unexamined, unfelt feelings are more poisonous than allowing myself to feel them. I can cry the sadness out of me and then move on.
For most of my adult life, I have felt somewhat disconnected from people, and I think the roots of this disconnection go all the way back to my beginning. There was a lack of nurturing I experienced--not in any way connected to having food, clothing, and shelter--that left me feeling apart from the rest of the world. I find this difficult to explain. It's like being on the outside looking in all the time. It's needing to watch other families and relationships to learn what it's like to behave like a normal family/person because it doesn't come naturally. It's guarding your heart always, because that is what makes you feel safe in this world.
When something happens to remind me where I come from, I feel stuck and angry and sad all at once. I have to sit in those emotions and feel them and they feel awful. I think if only I was a better person--THEN I'm sure they would have remembered to call me--which is ridiculous. I don't want to have to be better to be remembered. I just want to be who I am.
Sometimes I feel so alone in this world--that my ties to the people I love are so tenuous--that if severed--I would simply float away, telling myself not to look back, because I would know instinctively that those on the ground would not be looking up to see where I might be going.
I have been mourning the relationship I have with my parents for most of my life. It feels like this: I have everything except what they did not give me, and what they did not give me is everything I'll ever want.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*This happened a number of weeks ago and I wrote this immediately afterwards, however, I wasn't really able to post it until now because I felt so horrible. I'm pretty much over it now. Time heals what reason cannot.
On the day of my birthday, I did not get a call from my parents. I kept checking the phone thinking I would miss their call when I went out for a run, when I stepped out to get the mail, while I was in the kitchen unloading the dishwasher. I was watching TV in bed that night with my phone beside me, and I decided I needed to check the recent call list one last time just to make sure I didn't miss their call, but there was no listing with their name and number beside it. There was no missing call. It was in that moment that I was able to step out of myself and see how pathetic the whole situation was. I see myself waiting for the call. I see myself accepting no call will come.
I like to think about life as a journey of lessons learned, so I tried to figure out what the lesson of this could be. Was it that the world did not end just because I did not get a call from them on the one day of the year that is mine? Was it that a phone call, or lack thereof, should not be mistaken for love or lack thereof? Was the lesson that expectations of others are futile--even the simplest of things--because expectations inevitably lead to disappointments? Who knows. I'm sure I don't.
I tried to imagine the thought process that went into them not calling me because it is important that I understand why. Did they make a conscious choice to let the day pass without a word to me or did I slip their mind altogether? I will not lie: neither choice feels acceptable. Understanding eludes me.
A pattern of mine that I've been trying to break is the one where I lock all the unacceptable things inside my head where I tell myself not to think about them. It's a safety mechanism of mine that I've taken up because people have not always been careful of my heart and I know I'll be unwaveringly vigilant. I've learned, though, that the feelings tied to all the unacceptable things do not go away just because I choose not think about them.
Instead, I've been trying to deal with the feelings as they come--to honor the feelings, good and bad, that come from my journey. I used to think it was best to lock everything bad away because I was afraid thinking those thoughts would kill me, but they didn't. In case you haven't noticed, I can be quite theatrical at times. I thought the feelings would paralyze me and render me unable to move forward. But then I stopped being afraid to feel my own emotions, and learned I am stronger than I think I am. Hidden, unexamined, unfelt feelings are more poisonous than allowing myself to feel them. I can cry the sadness out of me and then move on.
For most of my adult life, I have felt somewhat disconnected from people, and I think the roots of this disconnection go all the way back to my beginning. There was a lack of nurturing I experienced--not in any way connected to having food, clothing, and shelter--that left me feeling apart from the rest of the world. I find this difficult to explain. It's like being on the outside looking in all the time. It's needing to watch other families and relationships to learn what it's like to behave like a normal family/person because it doesn't come naturally. It's guarding your heart always, because that is what makes you feel safe in this world.
When something happens to remind me where I come from, I feel stuck and angry and sad all at once. I have to sit in those emotions and feel them and they feel awful. I think if only I was a better person--THEN I'm sure they would have remembered to call me--which is ridiculous. I don't want to have to be better to be remembered. I just want to be who I am.
Sometimes I feel so alone in this world--that my ties to the people I love are so tenuous--that if severed--I would simply float away, telling myself not to look back, because I would know instinctively that those on the ground would not be looking up to see where I might be going.
I have been mourning the relationship I have with my parents for most of my life. It feels like this: I have everything except what they did not give me, and what they did not give me is everything I'll ever want.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*This happened a number of weeks ago and I wrote this immediately afterwards, however, I wasn't really able to post it until now because I felt so horrible. I'm pretty much over it now. Time heals what reason cannot.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Let freedom ring.
I read somewhere today that freedom is a state of mind and I like that thought so I'm going to try to remember it the next time I start worrying. The worries. The worries are heavy. I want to knock them off my shoulders and dump them in a bottomless pit so that I never have to deal with them again. The worries keep me up at night, they consume my thoughts throughout the day. I breath them in and breath them out. I cannot make them go away.
Freedom is a state of mind. Ok. For the moment, it's working.
My hair smells like smoke from the grill. I had a massive grease fire going on this afternoon when I was cooking up the food. I'm the griller in my family which I know is unusual, but with my husband gone a lot of the time, I needed to know how to fire up a grill or go without and so now I am an expert. We had hamburgers, hotdogs, sweet italian sausage, baked beans, salad, my specialty deviled eggs, and corn on the cob. It was all so delicious. I don't think there are fireworks in town this year due to the economy but no big deal. We can buy fireworks in the grocery stores here so if we want them we can go buy them. When I was growing up, my father would put on a fireworks show each year for the neighborhood. We'd crawl up on the roof of our house and watch them and it's great how I can think back to that time and I'm back there. I love the snapshot memories that take me back.
I bought a new pair of sneakers last night and I am thinking about taking up my walking/running routine again. I took a "day" off that lasted 8 months. I always do this. I run like an engine for a year then get tired and decide to rest a day and then I don't go back. There is no sense in this, I know and I fight to understand why I'm wired this way. I lose motivation somehow. It leaves me when I don't realize it's going and then I can't get it back no matter how hard I try. I know the motivation must come from within, though, so there's that.
I'm trying to keep my mind off the economic difficulties going on in our world. I'd feel better if I felt that we had people working toward fixing what is broken, however I think we have people intentionally working to destroy rather than build up. I worry for the people without jobs. I feel strangely calm about my husband's job even though he is in an industry that the Obama administration is working tirelessly to decimate. I'm certain we will be ok but I still care deeply about the direction our world is headed and I wish I could get everyone to think good thoughts and pray to God to help us. We have a bunch of people in our government who are not our friends, who are following a path that is wrong, who are betraying us. I've gotten beyond the democrat/republican thing because I think both are rotten and corrupt.
Anyway, my hope is that freedom, or at least the form of freedom we have now, does not get smaller. That is my wish this 4th of July. For everyone.
Freedom is a state of mind. Ok. For the moment, it's working.
My hair smells like smoke from the grill. I had a massive grease fire going on this afternoon when I was cooking up the food. I'm the griller in my family which I know is unusual, but with my husband gone a lot of the time, I needed to know how to fire up a grill or go without and so now I am an expert. We had hamburgers, hotdogs, sweet italian sausage, baked beans, salad, my specialty deviled eggs, and corn on the cob. It was all so delicious. I don't think there are fireworks in town this year due to the economy but no big deal. We can buy fireworks in the grocery stores here so if we want them we can go buy them. When I was growing up, my father would put on a fireworks show each year for the neighborhood. We'd crawl up on the roof of our house and watch them and it's great how I can think back to that time and I'm back there. I love the snapshot memories that take me back.
I bought a new pair of sneakers last night and I am thinking about taking up my walking/running routine again. I took a "day" off that lasted 8 months. I always do this. I run like an engine for a year then get tired and decide to rest a day and then I don't go back. There is no sense in this, I know and I fight to understand why I'm wired this way. I lose motivation somehow. It leaves me when I don't realize it's going and then I can't get it back no matter how hard I try. I know the motivation must come from within, though, so there's that.
I'm trying to keep my mind off the economic difficulties going on in our world. I'd feel better if I felt that we had people working toward fixing what is broken, however I think we have people intentionally working to destroy rather than build up. I worry for the people without jobs. I feel strangely calm about my husband's job even though he is in an industry that the Obama administration is working tirelessly to decimate. I'm certain we will be ok but I still care deeply about the direction our world is headed and I wish I could get everyone to think good thoughts and pray to God to help us. We have a bunch of people in our government who are not our friends, who are following a path that is wrong, who are betraying us. I've gotten beyond the democrat/republican thing because I think both are rotten and corrupt.
Anyway, my hope is that freedom, or at least the form of freedom we have now, does not get smaller. That is my wish this 4th of July. For everyone.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Close your eyes and sleep to dream
I've been reading a lot of political blogs lately and what I've found is that they tend to depress me and make me lose hope in everything and I think hope is important to have. It makes getting up in the morning worthwhile if you believe that there are positives to counter all the negatives, that there is light somewhere within the darkness. So I decided to stop obsessing over wanting to read everything and know everything because what can one person do with all that knowledge anyway? I want to know what is going on, but I need to continue to have hope that things will be ok. I'm not sure if I'm just fooling myself or what. I've become somewhat jaded about everything and I am not exaggerating when I write this. I'm like the dark cloud over Eyeore's head threatening to rain at any moment and spoil everyone's day. Tell me something wonderful and I'll be able to root out the evil that's lurking beneath the all the wonderfulness. I've turned into quite the killjoy for sure.
I was talking to a friend of mine the other day and we were both lamenting about how our lives did not turn out the way we had dreamed they would--how things happened that we had no control over and how we had to adapt to a different life plan. There isn't a place to go where we can just cry about the losses that probably aren't significant to most of the outside world but still feel huge to us. There's this fear of expressing dissatisfaction when you know that mostly your life is blessed, because the rule is that you count your blessings and you do not ask for more than enough when you have enough. And so we discuss this with each other and tell each other that we're lucky because we are. And the speaking of the words that feel like a betrayal helps for a while. We hang up our phones and get on with the lives we have and we feel less alone knowing there is at least one person walking the earth who feels the same things.
I'm on one of my cleaning binges again. It's always all or nothing with me and I tend to disrespect housecleaning now that I have been doing it more than half of my life. There's nothing rewarding about it but I get to the point where I feel like I need control of something, anything, and so I clean. Even when I know that tomorrow at this time everything I've done will be undone there are at least a few moments when things are in order and that gives me a little peace. My gravestone will probably read something like, She lived, She cleaned, She saw her cleaning come undone, She died.
I'm almost done the Bible and know that I will have to go back and read it all again because there is just so much to take in after just one reading. My mind is filled with all the stories and all the questions I have that I am afraid I will never get the answers to--at least not in this life. I've found some of the most beautiful prose inside the Bible and I wasn't expecting that. And I've also found that while there were things I did not understand, I did get the messages of love that were preached throughout, and the messages of forgiveness. Life is so complicated, and people make it more complicated than it needs to be. The message of loving one another is such a simple thing, yet most of us can't sustain that sort of love long enough to make a difference. There are too many outside annoyances calling our attention away from what is most important and we simply allow those distractions to steal the gift of love away and put it on a back burner. I start off each day swearing to do better and by noon I'm off track. I'm not sure good intentions count for anything when good intentions are all I ever end up having.
Watermelon is great this time of the year...and air conditioning is the greatest invention of all time when it is 100 degrees outside. I feel alive when I go outside and within a minute am covered in sweat. I feel alive when I come inside and am met with a wall of cool air. I am here in this corner of the world struggling to make sense of everything that doesn't make sense. I turn the page and think about all the things I need to put down in words so that I will not be forgotten. I scream inside my head, don't forget me.
I was talking to a friend of mine the other day and we were both lamenting about how our lives did not turn out the way we had dreamed they would--how things happened that we had no control over and how we had to adapt to a different life plan. There isn't a place to go where we can just cry about the losses that probably aren't significant to most of the outside world but still feel huge to us. There's this fear of expressing dissatisfaction when you know that mostly your life is blessed, because the rule is that you count your blessings and you do not ask for more than enough when you have enough. And so we discuss this with each other and tell each other that we're lucky because we are. And the speaking of the words that feel like a betrayal helps for a while. We hang up our phones and get on with the lives we have and we feel less alone knowing there is at least one person walking the earth who feels the same things.
I'm on one of my cleaning binges again. It's always all or nothing with me and I tend to disrespect housecleaning now that I have been doing it more than half of my life. There's nothing rewarding about it but I get to the point where I feel like I need control of something, anything, and so I clean. Even when I know that tomorrow at this time everything I've done will be undone there are at least a few moments when things are in order and that gives me a little peace. My gravestone will probably read something like, She lived, She cleaned, She saw her cleaning come undone, She died.
I'm almost done the Bible and know that I will have to go back and read it all again because there is just so much to take in after just one reading. My mind is filled with all the stories and all the questions I have that I am afraid I will never get the answers to--at least not in this life. I've found some of the most beautiful prose inside the Bible and I wasn't expecting that. And I've also found that while there were things I did not understand, I did get the messages of love that were preached throughout, and the messages of forgiveness. Life is so complicated, and people make it more complicated than it needs to be. The message of loving one another is such a simple thing, yet most of us can't sustain that sort of love long enough to make a difference. There are too many outside annoyances calling our attention away from what is most important and we simply allow those distractions to steal the gift of love away and put it on a back burner. I start off each day swearing to do better and by noon I'm off track. I'm not sure good intentions count for anything when good intentions are all I ever end up having.
Watermelon is great this time of the year...and air conditioning is the greatest invention of all time when it is 100 degrees outside. I feel alive when I go outside and within a minute am covered in sweat. I feel alive when I come inside and am met with a wall of cool air. I am here in this corner of the world struggling to make sense of everything that doesn't make sense. I turn the page and think about all the things I need to put down in words so that I will not be forgotten. I scream inside my head, don't forget me.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Thanksgiving
"Let us remember that, as much has been given us, much will be expected from us, and that true homage comes from the heart as well as from the lips, and shows itself in deeds." ~Theodore Roosevelt
I go to bed at night, thanking my lucky stars for all that I've been given, and I wake up thanking my lucky stars again that I get to live another day with the people that I love.
Y'all, I am blessed!
Happy Thanksgiving to all who come here.
I count you among my blessings.
I go to bed at night, thanking my lucky stars for all that I've been given, and I wake up thanking my lucky stars again that I get to live another day with the people that I love.
Y'all, I am blessed!
Happy Thanksgiving to all who come here.
I count you among my blessings.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Hindsight
"This is a special container for keeping lies that you tell yourself & it doesn't let in any light or air otherwise they start to go bad & there's nothing else you can do but throw them out."~Story people
This is what I wish I knew all along---that it is ok to be wrong, that it is ok to make horrible mistakes and recover from them in time, that what you do is not who you are or who you always have to be, that people understand and forgive, that we're all just trying to do our best, that it makes life easier when we hear other people say that they do not have all the answers because it's not our place to know everything. I wish I knew all along that failing at things repeatedly didn't mean success couldn't be reached at some point if you're willing to work harder than you think you can or maybe even want to, that facing the truth about who we are is essential, even if the truth is ugly. I wish I knew that defining yourself as a victim becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy that gets you nowhere fast, that it is smarter and more rewarding to own your actions and words, that there's hope in every smile, every kindness, every decision to remain in the moment no matter how difficult those moments might be. I wish I knew the futility of chasing love and happiness, that a resilient heart can be counted on to beat you back from loss and sadness, that the secret to having it all sometimes means letting things go, and that living well comes as a direct result of living well.
This is what I wish I knew all along---that it is ok to be wrong, that it is ok to make horrible mistakes and recover from them in time, that what you do is not who you are or who you always have to be, that people understand and forgive, that we're all just trying to do our best, that it makes life easier when we hear other people say that they do not have all the answers because it's not our place to know everything. I wish I knew all along that failing at things repeatedly didn't mean success couldn't be reached at some point if you're willing to work harder than you think you can or maybe even want to, that facing the truth about who we are is essential, even if the truth is ugly. I wish I knew that defining yourself as a victim becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy that gets you nowhere fast, that it is smarter and more rewarding to own your actions and words, that there's hope in every smile, every kindness, every decision to remain in the moment no matter how difficult those moments might be. I wish I knew the futility of chasing love and happiness, that a resilient heart can be counted on to beat you back from loss and sadness, that the secret to having it all sometimes means letting things go, and that living well comes as a direct result of living well.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Love notes
"...You are the dreamer~ And we are the dream~ I could write it better than you ever felt it..."~FOB
Almost every morning before leaving for work, my husband leaves me a little love note of sorts on post-it note paper. Sometimes he takes 2 or 3 to get the whole message down. They say things like "you are gorgeous" or that "you are my love" or he'll write, "I'll catch you later, baby." Some days the love notes will veer away from love and become mini to-do lists for me. They will say "don't forget to pay the bills," or "remember to pick up my clothes at the cleaners" or "please water the lawn." I'm not fond of the to-do list notes because I've never liked people telling me what to do. I usually crumble those up and toss them into the trash immediately so that I don't get all hateful inside first thing in the morning.
The true love notes, I keep hidden in one of my junk drawers. I have many junk drawers and maybe one organized one because I can't seem to keep things in order to save my life. I aspire to be more organized, I think about how wonderful it would be to be more organized, but I never actually do anything about it. I don't have all my crap together and don't ever want anyone to think for a minute that I do. I think the people in my life who love me best, love me mostly for all the ways in which I am not perfect.
Because I believe in the power of love, because I think that love can make all the difference in a world where I sometimes feel so insignificant and small, I stack the love notes I have saved one on top of the other so that I can pull them out and read them when I need to be reminded that I am lovable, that I am loved.
Almost every morning before leaving for work, my husband leaves me a little love note of sorts on post-it note paper. Sometimes he takes 2 or 3 to get the whole message down. They say things like "you are gorgeous" or that "you are my love" or he'll write, "I'll catch you later, baby." Some days the love notes will veer away from love and become mini to-do lists for me. They will say "don't forget to pay the bills," or "remember to pick up my clothes at the cleaners" or "please water the lawn." I'm not fond of the to-do list notes because I've never liked people telling me what to do. I usually crumble those up and toss them into the trash immediately so that I don't get all hateful inside first thing in the morning.
The true love notes, I keep hidden in one of my junk drawers. I have many junk drawers and maybe one organized one because I can't seem to keep things in order to save my life. I aspire to be more organized, I think about how wonderful it would be to be more organized, but I never actually do anything about it. I don't have all my crap together and don't ever want anyone to think for a minute that I do. I think the people in my life who love me best, love me mostly for all the ways in which I am not perfect.
Because I believe in the power of love, because I think that love can make all the difference in a world where I sometimes feel so insignificant and small, I stack the love notes I have saved one on top of the other so that I can pull them out and read them when I need to be reminded that I am lovable, that I am loved.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
A less than perfect love
I have the hardest time picking out cards for Mother's Day because it feels so phoney to me. I get so annoyed and frustrated sifting through cards that say things I would never say to my mother because we just don't have the friendly sort of relationship that seems to be the whole idea behind honoring your mother. She is not my best friend and she is not always there for me. I do not tell her everything. And though I have spent time wishing that things were different, I know that I will never change the manner in which she loves me, which is at a distance, with little emotion. So I stand there, and I pick up card after card, and think "I cannot send her this, I cannot send her that." And I wonder if I am the only one who has such a hard time doing something so simple. And I get a little jealous of all the people who can pick out any card and know that it's perfect just the way it is while I need to search for something that isn't too heartfelt or deep or loving because we don't say those types of things to one another. Just when I start feeling hopeless of ever finding anything suitable, I spot the perfect card with the perfect words, "Have a wonderful day." I sign it Love, K. What I do not say is this: my love for her is as big as this world.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
What is love, but whatever your heart needs around
So over the past four months we've been dealing with car mishaps/accidents. To be exact, we've had four mishaps/accidents in four months. That's one a month since the beginning of the year. To say that we are losing our humor over it would be an understatement.
In January, our son calls from the parking lot of a 7-Eleven to tell us an older woman has slid on a patch of ice and crashed into the drivers door, smashing that in.
In February, we get a call from our oldest daughter that while she's driving down the highway behind a truck, a sheet of metal or something flies out beneath the truck, dents and scratches up the hood of the car then proceeds to fly onto the windshield which scratches and cracks that all up.
In March, I get a call from my hysterical, crying youngest daughter that she has just crashed into the back of a truck which had just crashed into a the back of a car that decided to stop and then turn her blinkers on (so she crashed into the crash in front of her--it was torrential rain during this accident if that matters). She was driving my car that was spotless and less than a year old and it was totaled.
Let's take a breather here for a minute because I need one.
Let's also get out of the way that my children were not injured in any way in any of these accidents/mishaps which I know should be the main concern but somehow gets forgotten when we keep getting these calls and are then left scrambling to repair/replace the cars that are damaged or totaled.
About a week ago, I finally got a new car to replace the one that was totaled. My husband has spent countless hours getting all the cars repaired so that everything is in working order again. I have sacrificed not having a car for at least a month so that everyone else has a vehicle while waiting for all the cars to be repaired and whatnot. So I'm sitting down reading a book yesterday (April) when my cell phone rings and I see that it's my oldest daughter and I was like, "OMG, I know that she's been in another accident or something because she NEVER calls in the middle of the day unless she gets in an accident." (as her mother, I know these things)
I flip open the phone and this is what I hear, "Some old lady just drove into me, dented the drivers door all in, broke the tire and tore off the side mirror."
Honestly, I just don't even know what to think anymore because I figured that we had three bad car things happen and that that would be that but I guess not.
We went over to the body shop so that I could see the damage today and I was standing there shaking my head and my husband said, "It's always something, isn't it?"
And I said, "Doesn't this just depress you?"
And without skipping a beat or having to think at all this is what he said...
"Baby, I'm never depressed as long as I have you around."
And so I wasn't sad or angry about it anymore because that filled my heart and I know he means it.
In January, our son calls from the parking lot of a 7-Eleven to tell us an older woman has slid on a patch of ice and crashed into the drivers door, smashing that in.
In February, we get a call from our oldest daughter that while she's driving down the highway behind a truck, a sheet of metal or something flies out beneath the truck, dents and scratches up the hood of the car then proceeds to fly onto the windshield which scratches and cracks that all up.
In March, I get a call from my hysterical, crying youngest daughter that she has just crashed into the back of a truck which had just crashed into a the back of a car that decided to stop and then turn her blinkers on (so she crashed into the crash in front of her--it was torrential rain during this accident if that matters). She was driving my car that was spotless and less than a year old and it was totaled.
Let's take a breather here for a minute because I need one.
Let's also get out of the way that my children were not injured in any way in any of these accidents/mishaps which I know should be the main concern but somehow gets forgotten when we keep getting these calls and are then left scrambling to repair/replace the cars that are damaged or totaled.
About a week ago, I finally got a new car to replace the one that was totaled. My husband has spent countless hours getting all the cars repaired so that everything is in working order again. I have sacrificed not having a car for at least a month so that everyone else has a vehicle while waiting for all the cars to be repaired and whatnot. So I'm sitting down reading a book yesterday (April) when my cell phone rings and I see that it's my oldest daughter and I was like, "OMG, I know that she's been in another accident or something because she NEVER calls in the middle of the day unless she gets in an accident." (as her mother, I know these things)
I flip open the phone and this is what I hear, "Some old lady just drove into me, dented the drivers door all in, broke the tire and tore off the side mirror."
Honestly, I just don't even know what to think anymore because I figured that we had three bad car things happen and that that would be that but I guess not.
We went over to the body shop so that I could see the damage today and I was standing there shaking my head and my husband said, "It's always something, isn't it?"
And I said, "Doesn't this just depress you?"
And without skipping a beat or having to think at all this is what he said...
"Baby, I'm never depressed as long as I have you around."
And so I wasn't sad or angry about it anymore because that filled my heart and I know he means it.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Watching The Hills makes all things better
I was reading Jane (I read all the time but rarely comment but I do love her blog)....anyway I was reading Jane's latest and something hit me. Yesterday I had a really bad day what with being ignored by the sports moms who know me but pretended they didn't know me until I shouted HELLO to them to make them say hello back to me (see post below).
What I realized was that I left out the most important thing that made me feel bad yesterday and it was my daughter!!! I've written before what a sore loser she is and thank God she doesn't lose too often or I'd need to be medicated to get through the dramatics. I was sitting with two of her friends who had come to watch her play. Well, my daughter comes off the court with her sourpuss face and bad attitude about the loss and since I know how she is, I didn't say anything. She started to talk to her friends and I heard her say something like, "Great, you come to see me the one time I lose," and I thought to myself, well, this isn't going to be good. So I said something about it being a good match regardless of the loss, which, of course, is never a good thing to say to her because it's only a good match if she wins. I need to remember that.
I thought I would diffuse the situation by offering to take a picture of her and her friends (I photograph the kids while they play during the season), and my daughter says, "UM...NO...look at my face. Do you really think I want to get my picture taken right now?" And she said it in a really loud, mean voice in front of her friends and all of the sudden I could just feel myself shrink because what I wanted to do was slap her face, but what I did was stand up and tell her I was going to find somewhere else to sit and to please remember her bag because I wasn't going to take it for her. Then I walked away and sat by myself and then those other moms ignored me and I think that is what sent me over the edge. Everyone was determined to hurt my feelings yesterday and they succeeded.
I don't have a cute ending to my story like Jane always does because while I had planned to rip into my daughter as soon as I could get her alone, by the time that happened, I had lost all my fight. I kept my distance from her when we returned home and wasn't overly talkative then she asked me to watch The Hills with her and I said ok. All was better. The end.
What I realized was that I left out the most important thing that made me feel bad yesterday and it was my daughter!!! I've written before what a sore loser she is and thank God she doesn't lose too often or I'd need to be medicated to get through the dramatics. I was sitting with two of her friends who had come to watch her play. Well, my daughter comes off the court with her sourpuss face and bad attitude about the loss and since I know how she is, I didn't say anything. She started to talk to her friends and I heard her say something like, "Great, you come to see me the one time I lose," and I thought to myself, well, this isn't going to be good. So I said something about it being a good match regardless of the loss, which, of course, is never a good thing to say to her because it's only a good match if she wins. I need to remember that.
I thought I would diffuse the situation by offering to take a picture of her and her friends (I photograph the kids while they play during the season), and my daughter says, "UM...NO...look at my face. Do you really think I want to get my picture taken right now?" And she said it in a really loud, mean voice in front of her friends and all of the sudden I could just feel myself shrink because what I wanted to do was slap her face, but what I did was stand up and tell her I was going to find somewhere else to sit and to please remember her bag because I wasn't going to take it for her. Then I walked away and sat by myself and then those other moms ignored me and I think that is what sent me over the edge. Everyone was determined to hurt my feelings yesterday and they succeeded.
I don't have a cute ending to my story like Jane always does because while I had planned to rip into my daughter as soon as I could get her alone, by the time that happened, I had lost all my fight. I kept my distance from her when we returned home and wasn't overly talkative then she asked me to watch The Hills with her and I said ok. All was better. The end.
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