She brings light, she is like the sun

"For nothing is fixed, forever and forever and forever, it is not fixed; the earth is always shifting, the light is always changing, the sea does not cease to grind down rock. Generations do not cease to be born, and we are responsible to them because we are the only witnesses they have. The sea rises, the light fails, lovers cling to each other, and children cling to us. The moment we cease to hold each other, the sea engulfs us and the light goes out."~James Baldwin


The saddest part of today was when I was sitting way up in the civic center stadium while the class of 2009 marched in and I couldn't find my daughter among the sea of 1000 green caps and gowns.

I stood there looking for someone I knew so I could approximate in the alphabet where she would be and I couldn't pick out even one face that I recognized from so far up. I panicked then, just for a little bit, because I thought--who sends their kid to a high school with a graduating class of 1000? And I could feel tears pooling in my eyes with the ridiculousness of it all--but then I found her--decked out with her honors collar and ropes (cords) and medals and pins and my heart filled with joy. She never found me in the crowd, but I found her. She has done everything right and I hope our country doesn't get too screwed up before she gets to really shine because that would be a damn shame. She brings light, she is like the sun.

On the way over to the graduation ceremony, stuck in traffic, my husband sighed and asked me if our daughter just couldn't have skipped the ceremony and picked up her diploma at the school sometime next week. I've gotten good at taking this sort of remark and not exploding on the spot anymore. What I do is I tell him I can't entertain his nonsense at the moment and to please act normal. Then I'll file the comment away in my head somewhere and take it out (like now) and think--whatever will I do with myself if I have to deal with this craziness for the rest of my life.

You might think that your youngest daughter graduating from high school with so many honors she barely has room around her neck for more would be an experience you'd want to dive into and enjoy forever. But no--it's an inconvenience for him--finding a parking spot and whatnot. I had to remind him that today was not about him and I truly think that I should NOT have to do that sort of thing at this point in my life, but for life to run smoothly, I suck up the things that make me want to scream. I think I am getting better at accepting that life will not always be the way I want it to be.

Then it's time to choose a place to eat and of course there's a battle between the graduate and my husband and he doesn't seem to get that it's HER day and that he should take her where she wants to go. Nope. An argument ensues and I sit there feeling myself shrinking and wishing I could disappear because no one will "just go along" except for me. What's so hard about doing something you don't want to do once in awhile? My father used to tell me it builds character.

Anyway, I thought I'd be very emotional today but between my husband's juvenile behavior and my son's griping about not "having a plan about where to sit," and the kid who sat next to me who hogged the armrest while my husband hogged the one on the other side leaving me scrunched up and claustrophobic, and my camera malfunctioning, and the 12 or 13 people who needed to get up and as a result I had to get up to let them go by so that I was pretty much a like a jack-in-the-box for most of the ceremony, and then the restaurant wars afterwards--well, I was too aggravated to feel sentimental and weepy. Mostly I just wanted to hit someone.

I'm really proud of my daughter and all she has accomplished. I'm happy to think I played a small part in all that greatness.

Into the light

Over the weekend, I had several moments when I had to actively fight being hateful, and I lost. It's not my nature to be hateful. I think I am the exact opposite of hateful, and because of that, it's easy for other people to view me as a doormat you stand on to wipe away any dirt you might have picked up on the bottom of your shoes. The people who love me think the well of my giving is bottomless--that I exist for that purpose alone. I think when it gets to be too much I have to scream for them to hear me, see me. And then they behave for a couple of days like I am a queen and then after that we repeat the whole process until I get hateful and start screaming again. I've never mapped out these episodes but I'd estimate a guess that this happens every couple of months. It's good to know that I can count on life never changing.

I think I mentioned before about how I decided to read the Bible and it has been a very sobering experience for me. Being raised a Catholic, I remember most of the stories, but what has surprised me is how much I missed as I left it to other people to interpret for me. I don't want to sound fanatical or anything, but I feel as though the experience of reading the Bible has changed my life. The messages of God in the Bible are very clear but they get lost in man's translations. Furthermore, God stresses that man should NOT translate his words because God says what he means and means what he says, so no translation is necessary.

The Catholic church has done lots of rewriting of the laws of God, and this is not something I recognized until I took the time to read the Bible. I followed where I was led and never questioned anything. This is just one more example of how I went along with what other people said to me or wanted for me. I have a long history of doing that and I am not sure why. I'm the "go along gal" even when there is voice in my head telling me to run in the other direction. It's not that I like sabotaging my life, but you might think so by some of the choices I have made.

Anyway, without going into a whole big spiel, I think I am finding truth inside the Bible, and the truth I am finding is throwing my life into a bit of a turmoil. I have to wrestle with the fact that I have been deceived by a church that has moved away from serving God. I mean--I didn't even realize that the Catholic church had changed God's ten commandments! But they did! And I just followed along reciting the Catholic church's altered commandments as if I was speaking the truth. And I felt self-important and superior to anyone who did not have the same beliefs. I did not know any better--but is that really a good enough excuse? I don't think so.

No one really likes the new me who keeps quoting God's words and telling everyone that the truth they believe is a lie. But it's like I can't stop. I want them to see what I see. And then I'll panic and think that maybe this new truth I'm believing is just another deception, another way that I'll end up being wrong about everything. That's what finding new truths has done to me--it has made me question everyone and everything.

I feel like the story of all of our lives has been written already and our purpose is to try to make the best choices that put us in the best position for peace in our next life. Obviously I have some things to work on. I am a work in progress. I am potentially awesome.

Brighter than sunshine

I came home from the grocery store Sunday afternoon to find my son sitting on a bench outside the front door armed with a hose and one of those car cleaning mitts. I asked him what he was doing and he explained that my husband was being driven crazy by a tiny bird that kept coming up to the brass kick plate on our front door. Apparently, the little bird could see it's reflection in the kick plate and hopped around cheep-cheeping at himself. So I was like...um...ok. "But what are YOU doing?" And he told me that he was waiting for the bird to return so that he could spray it with water or toss the mitt at it so that it would go away. This is what I live with. I went inside and I had to hear all about the terrorist bird (about the size of baseball) who would NOT stop making a racket while my husband was trying to watch TV. I told him to turn up the volume. I mean, REALLY. The little bird wasn't hurting anything or anyone. He was just hopping along the front step looking at himself and cheeping merrily and we have to immediately institute plans to murder the poor thing.

This reminds me of the time years ago when we were taking a road trip back home with the kids. It was a 18 hour trip and about 10 minutes into the ride, the kids were in the back screeching at each other at the top of their lungs. I had brought a book to immerse myself in and I just tuned them out but my husband went ballistic and pronounced that "Everyone better knock it off and remain silent for the rest of the trip!" Now that's reality for you!

The bird hasn't been back all week while my husband has been out of town so let's see if he makes a reappearance to start harassing him this weekend again.

I can't believe it's mid April already. Time is flying. My youngest daughter is getting ready to graduate from high school and I thought I'd be truly depressed by the prospect of her leaving to go off to college, but strangely, I'm just so excited for her and how well she has done. I really have been blessed to have children who have remained grounded in a world where it's so easy to get distracted by excesses everywhere. She has been especially hard hit by the loss of friendships due to their involvement in drinking,drugs and just plain rebellion towards EVERYTHING and she has managed to pick herself up and find new friends and a new way of life without them. She has kept her eye on the prize and I am unendingly proud of her for that.

On hair, love, politics, and God

"There are times to cultivate and create, when you nurture your world and give birth to new ideas and ventures. There are times of flourishing and abundance, when life feels in full bloom, energized and expanding. And there are times of fruition, when things come to an end. They have reached their climax and must be harvested before they begin to fade. And finally of course, there are times that are cold, and cutting and empty, times when the spring of new beginnings seems like a distant dream. Those rhythms in life are natural events. They weave into one another as day follows night, bringing, not messages of hope and fear, but messages of how things are.”~Chogyam Trungpa


I chopped off most of my hair today--the first time in about five years. They divided my hair out into four sections of ponytails then cut them off. The hair will go to Locks of Love. It makes me so happy giving it all away. I told my daughter that the best thing about getting it cut today was throwing my purse over my shoulder and not having my hair get all tangled up in the strap. I feel much lighter now, like my head is floating above my shoulders.

I know that a lot of time has passed since I last posted but I have not felt like writing lately. I've had this heavy heart for a while in terms of our world and where we're headed and when I'm troubled like I've been, it helps me to turn inward to try to find peace. I've had this horrible feeling about what's going to happen to the United States--and feel like we're not heading in a direction that I feel is good for us. I believe our government is filled with people who do not have our best interests at heart and it's hard being at the mercy of people I mistrust with every fiber of my being. I've wanted to do something--anything--to make sure that my family survives. I believe the financial crisis is much worse than what our traitorous government tells us and so I've been trying to prepare by doing things NOW that I hope will help us down the line. I've started storing food and other sorts of supplies in preparation for the worst. If the worst does not come, I can always use the stuff I've bought anyway. I'm not typically an alarmist, but I listen to my heart when it tells me something is wrong. I think if I listen to my heart with pure intentions, then my heart will not fail me.

I bought a large print Bible the other day (because my sight is failing me) and plan on reading it cover to cover. I grew up Catholic but have not been inside a church for more years than I care to tell you. I went to Catholic schools all my life but after I left home, I decided that there was too much about the church that rubbed me the wrong way. I know too many people who go to church on Sundays believing themselves to be holier than thou, yet on the remaining six days of the week, they are as hateful as the day is long. I never felt any connection to God inside a church for some reason and because I did not attend mass anymore, I figured that I was knowingly signing a one way ticket to hell for myself (Catholic guilt will do that to you).

But even though I stopped going to church, I never stopped having a relationship with God, in fact, I think my connection to Him grew stronger the minute I stopped forcing myself to pray with a church full of people. And now with everything that is happening all around me, I felt compelled to go back and read God's words to see how I can apply them to my life--to find answers that I know are inside if I take the time to read them carefully. I feel slightly ashamed that I am such a voracious reader and yet I've never read the entire Bible. I've sat in churches and allowed other people to tell me their interpretations, but I've never challenged myself to seek the wisdom I know I will find there on my own. Rest assured I am not getting all God squad on everyone because I still manage to sin up a storm on a daily basis without even trying.

Spring is almost here and I am loving seeing the color come back into the world. There are miracles everywhere when I stop long enough to notice them.

Break a window, burn a souffle, scream a lullabye

I have it in my head that other people lead more normal lives than I do. By that I mean when other people get in the car to go out to eat with their families, I'm sure the trip to wherever they're going doesn't end up in shouting matches like it does here--where I have to hold myself back from opening my door and jumping out into the road just to get away from all of them. Normal in that when someone suggests to their father that he might be passing by the dry cleaners where he needs to drop off his shirts for work, everyone doesn't end up listening to a tirade about how someone doesn't need anyone telling him how to drive or where to go because he knows everything and takes care of everything.

Normal in that people can agree on one place to go to eat without it being a major production like we always have here--people within a family who can compromise and not always put themselves first because they feel they work the hardest or deserve to make all the decisions for everyone because they earn the money that will buy the food everyone will eat. I want normal people in my life and I don't have normal people in my life, and when I look around me, I think everyone has normal people except me, and I'm jealous of them. I think I started off my life pretty normal then gravitated towards crazy and now I am neck deep in it and I want out even though I know I cannot go.

I know tomorrow I will feel differently, but now, I am beside myself with regret. I don't want out of control yellers who make mountains out of molehills, who fight dirty by bringing up things that have taken place years ago just because it's easier than being normal and letting things go. I'm sick of scab-pickers who feed me the most beautiful words thinking that I will believe in words when there aren't any actions to back them up.

It's the day of love and after attempting to going out to eat with my family, we all came home and went our separate ways because we can't do the simple things without making them difficult and ridiculous and so terribly insane it makes me ashamed to even write it all down. I took the valentine my husband gave me and I went into the kitchen and I got scissors and cut it up into a million pieces and left in by his wallet. It felt cathartic cutting that thing up.

Don't give me a valentine that speaks of love then scream like a maniac about all the things in life that should not matter because that is not the way I have ever operated and if you don't know that by now, then I guess I am living with people who do not know me at all.

And it's moments like this that I wonder how in the world I ended up in this place, in this life with these people. What's the purpose, the message, the life lesson I need to learn that put me right here where I least want to be?

And I think...how could I have gotten it so wrong? How could I have thought I knew that this is what I wanted for my life when I was only 21 years old? And I want so badly to go back and make different choices...ones which do not lead me HERE with a person who finds it so easy to stamp out my light, to leave me lonely.

Wishing for everything, committing to nothing (Happy New Year)

"May all your troubles last as long as your New Year's resolutions." ~Joey Adams

I am trying to come up with a list of things that I want to do/accomplish in 2009 but I'd hate to post something that would leave concrete evidence of me failing. I'm more the type that keeps a mental list that can be easily erased, forgotten or revised at any time to suit my purposes. I am not ashamed to say that lists of things to do make me nervous. Whenever I do have the forethought to create one, I usually leave it behind me when I set off to do what needs to get done or I simply just lose it on purpose so I have a ready made excuse for coming up short.

I'm aiming for lots of happiness in 2009 for myself and for my loved ones. And good health, too. I want to read more, to never stop learning because I've found an idle mind breeds discontent. I'm hoping I can find a way to incorporate some of my dormant dreams into reality. I will need much courage for that, and so I'm aiming to reach deep down inside and find that, too, dust it off and use it. I want to remember to look at each day as the gift that it is and do things in the span of each day that will make me proud of how I am living my life. I want to make myself a priority, which I never do, but I think I deserve it now that my children are pretty much grown. I want to keep writing because it feels necessary for me to write things down, even if no one is reading--it's the part of me that says the most about me, even when I am guarded. Mostly, I just want to live another year so that I can come back here next year and wish for another.

Happy New Year!

Burning the city down to show you the light

"The important thing is not to stop questioning." ~Albert Einstein

My in laws are very good to my children and my husband. They are so thoughtful and loving. Watching how down-to-earth and generous they are makes me want to be more like them. Family is very important to them and they'd do anything for those that they love.

For some reason, however, they do not seem to like me. I don't know if it's something I've done or some unconscious signal I send off to them that has caused this. I've searched my head and my heart but I can't come up with anything. If I'm in a room with them--they speak to me like I'm an acquaintance--not part of the family. I try not to let this get under my skin, but mostly it lives under my skin, where it always feels hot to the touch.

Here are some of the ways they have made it clear to me that I live on the periphery of their lives:

They never recognize my birthday with a card while everyone else gets cards and presents. I know it's silly to want a card from them, but I do. I send them cards for their birthdays and sign my husband's name as well as the children's. If I left it up to my husband, they wouldn't receive a thing. I could be hateful and retaliate by not sending them cards but I try hard not to be blatantly hateful to people who are so good to everyone but me.

The first year we lived in FL, they sent a box filled with Christmas presents down to us. Upon opening the box, there were at least 5 presents apiece for everyone and there was one gift for me. It was an ugly brown candle and my MIL put a note inside the box that said, "here's a little remembrance for you." WTF? I took that candle and put it in my sitting room and every night I would light that sucker and think to myself, "here's a little remembrance for you." As long as I live, I will never forget that candle or that little note she sent. Each night, I felt like the flickering flame was mocking me, but I was determined to burn it down into nothingness and I did.

Whenever they call here and I pick up the phone, they do not say hello to me, they simply ask for one of the favored members of the family (either my husband or the children). Afterwards, I tell my husband how insulting it is that they cannot even acknowledge me with a hello and he explains it away by saying, "they don't mean anything by it, they're just getting old." I can't wait until I am old enough to blame everything on old age because it seems like it's a great excuse for getting away with things you'd normally be held accountable for in the real world.

When we used to live near them, we'd visit them and as soon as we entered their house, they'd ask everyone what they wanted to drink or eat and they'd pretty much ignore me. I got served last.

Then this Christmas, my MIL sends envelopes with checks for everyone but me. I don't care about the money--what bothers me is that my MIL doesn't think about how I might feel seeing everyone getting something but me--seeing everyone's name on the outside of an envelope but mine. I mean, what goes through her head when she's doing stuff like this? It makes me feel invisible. It makes me feel not good enough. I could not hold myself back from saying something on Christmas Day about this--that I just don't get how they make it so glaringly obvious that they do not like me. My husband told me that I was over reacting, and that OF COURSE they love me. I guess I'm just a little slow picking up the love signals. All I wanted to hear from my husband was, "you know something, you're right, it's a rotten thing to do (or NOT do)," but it seems that not only do I have to put up with their constant slighting of me, but I must not be outraged or say anything about it or I'm labeled "super-sensitive" or it is implied that I am too clueless to know that being left out translates into me being loved. Right.

My parents send my husband presents and cards on his birthday and on Christmas. I wonder what they would think if they knew that my in laws repeatedly ignore me. I would hope they would think it is horrible but I'm not ever going to tell them because I don't want them feeling sorry for me. It's an indignity I'd rather bear alone. And since it's uncool for me to talk about this anywhere, I'll talk about it here where I know none of them will ever find me.

Because they are so kind and generous to everyone else, I feel it's my place to find happiness in seeing THEM be happy and I'm so endlessly grateful that they have each other. I find comfort in that. When I first met them (many years ago) I was so excited to think I'd be a part of their little world where love felt pure and limitless and safe--like a secret treasure you want to hold onto forever. It's like I'm stuck on the outside looking in, wondering what it is that stops them from loving me the way they love everyone else.

I am old enough and wise enough to know that you cannot make someone love you if they don't but that doesn't make it any easier to accept. I think the distance between us helps. I do not have it in my face so much anymore--just on occasion--and I can sneak away if it feels like too much so that I can gather my wits together and pretend I don't really care. In another life, I was probably an actress of some sort. I can pull off fake ok-ness like nobody's business.

Despite all this, I can truly say that I love them for all that they've been and done for the rest of my family. I'm happy they have each other to count on and to love. I know our lives are richer for having them in it.

May your hearts be light

"May the spirit of Christmas bring you peace,
The gladness of Christmas give you hope,
The warmth of Christmas grant you love."~Author Unknown


I went out to do a little last minute shopping today (it's the way I do Christmas). There were two incidents that threatened my holiday spirit: 1.) I held open the door for a young man who was pushing his child in a stroller and he walked by me and didn't say THANK YOU, so I shouted after him, "YOU'RE WELCOME!!!" I mean, give me a break. I was busy and could have let the door slam shut but I wanted to be kind and he couldn't even say thank you. Sometimes I can't stand people!!! and 2.) I was driving down the road and an accident had occurred and I was trying to shift into the left lane (I had my blinkers on) because the right lane was blocked and I counted 6 cars go by before anyone would allow me to merge in (everyone else pretended I was invisible!!). So much for good will among men. At that point I decided that I would head home and have my husband take me out to lunch to cheer me up but when I arrived home, he was gone--to get a haircut and buy a few presents, so I quickly ate one of those Jello pudding cups and headed back out to shop. I had better luck later in the afternoon. No more unpleasant encounters. My Christmas spirit is back intact.

I am currently trying to muster up the enthusiasm to wrap presents. Ugh. I find it such a waste of time but I know it has to be done. I also have not baked even one Christmas cookie this year (for us anyway--I did bake some a week ago for some pre-school kids). I'm not going to stress about it, though, because we have plenty to eat and that's the main thing.

I have everyone home again and it fills me with happiness. The house is alive with music, laughter and occasional bickering and I'm loving it all.

I'm going to be busy being busy the next couple of days but I wanted to wish everyone a VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS.

Letters

"Letter writing is the only device for combining solitude with good company." ~Lord Byron

I've started writing letters to my children outlining what it is I expect from them. After using the spoken word for years with varying degrees of success, I've decided that if I put into writing what it is that I want from them and for them, then they will have something tangible to reflect back on should they need a reminder. Words tend to go in one ear and out the other. I'm hoping my letters will have a bigger impact. I know I do better when I have something concrete like directions to follow. Also, no one can claim afterwards that something hasn't been talked about if I have it in writing to prove otherwise. I think part of me is just tired of talking and talking and getting nowhere. I am hopeful that this will make a difference.

The weather has cooled down a bit and I put the screens back in our front windows so that I can create a cross breeze on wonderfully refreshing days. Not a week after I put those screens in did I receive a letter from our Homeowners about how we were breaking the covenants with our front-of-the-house-screens. Sigh. I really don't ask much from life. It's such a small thing to find happiness in having your windows open on a beautiful day but the screen police cannot have anyone be happy. I'll wait till they send me a registered letter again before I take them out because this is America and I want to open my windows when I want to open my windows. Hopefully it will be much colder by then and it won't matter. More and more I am thinking that a nice house in the mountains away from everyone might be the way to go.

We'll love you just the way you are, if you're perfect

I keep thinking that I will wake up one day and know everything I need to know about life. I keep thinking if I get the answers that I'm searching for, I will officially be grown up and I can finally stop looking around corners and wishing on stars and questioning everything. When things are confusing for me, I want explanations that comfort me. When the explanations are at best unsatisfactory, I want to throw them back and ask for something more to my liking.

I have a very disconnected relationship with my family. We can go months without speaking to one another and then I'll crack because a voice in my head will tell me that the normal thing to do is call or email them because that's how I think it's done with most people. I see my husband calling his parents every week and there's a part of me that thinks it's foreign to want to talk to your parents that much. I never begrudge him those phone calls, but I do listen closely to his end of the conversation to get an idea of how it's done because that sort of easiness does not come naturally to me and I learn by watching and listening. Still, when I talk to anyone in my family, I need to shut myself off somewhere so that no one hears me. I have this forced friendliness with them that I don't want anyone to witness because I really hate phoneys and I feel like I'm being one.

I wonder a lot about unconditional love. I think it's a great idea, but I question how many of us truly love unconditionally or if we love hoping that we get something in return for our love. I think secretly we love hoping to get some of that love back. I think the hardest lesson I keep learning is that you cannot make people love you in the way you might need them to love you and so you settle for what they're willing to give because having a little of what you need seems better than having nothing at all.

When I first married my husband, my parents did something very hurtful to both of us. A couple of years ago (the last time we visited them), I guess my father took my husband aside and apologized for their behavior. My husband did not tell me this until just recently and my first reaction was..."Why didn't he apologize to ME???" but I know the answer to that already. It's because we cannot be real with one another. I am still indignant over this mostly because I carry around the way they've hurt me everywhere and it would be nice if I could hear those words so that I can chuck that sack of sorry's and be done with them for good. I am not ashamed to tell you that the messages they sometimes send me, sometimes break my heart.

There has never been a moment when I've doubted their love for me but love is a complicated thing. I've always feared that I would end up being like them, and there are times when I am certain I have. I catch myself saying things I know they've said to me and I catch myself wanting the love I give out to come back to me which means I am not giving it freely with no strings attached. I love with expectations and conditions and a scorecard that measures if I'm getting back what I put in.

I think I will always love imperfectly.

I think I will never know all there is to know about life.

6:28 PM

I think the days I am happiest are the days that are filled almost to bursting. And it's on these days that are filled almost to bursting that I remember why. It's because I live in the moment every moment. I stop living inside my head. I do not regret the past. I do not worry about the future. I stop chasing peace and peace finds me.

I drove by a man mowing his lawn today. I had my windows cracked just a little. The smell was heavenly and I know this is a silly thing to write about, but I want to be able to come back and read this some day and remember how much I love that smell. Next to the smell of Windex, it might be my all time favorite.

I love all 30 days in September, but I love September 16th the best because it's my son's birthday. I am incredibly lucky to have him. I wish him the all that's good in this world.

40 kinds of sadness

"WHEREVER YOU GO, GO WITH ALL YOUR HEART."~Confucious

I start feeling sad about a week and a half before my son leaves for college out of state so when the time comes to say goodbye, I'm mostly ok. I count the days down in my head and they always go by too quickly. Even though I do lots of complaining about having all the kids home and in my hair, and on my nerves, there's something comforting in knowing that everyone is under this one roof--that I know where to find everyone at any given time. When he leaves, it's like a little of the color drains from my life and I'm always looking to fill it back up but that's impossible without him here, and so my world is a little less colorful.

I waste lots of time wishing that I could find something great to do with my life when I know the greatest thing I'll ever do is be a mother to my children. It's easy to forget the importance of that work when you are knee deep in the drudgery of life. Motherhood sometimes feels like it is less valued because there is no measure of success for all the million ways it takes to raise a human being. The job is round the clock giving and loving to the best of your ability. The payoff is proudly watching a life move away from you while you try not to scream come back.

So much of why I am good is a result of having my children. I think without them, I'd be this chaotic, directionless mess, which is not something I want to admit because I like to project the illusion that I'm as together as the next guy who is projecting illusions of togetherness. But really? It's their lives in my life that make me whole, that help me to be good.

I hate goodbyes but I go along with them because there's not anything I can do to stop everyone from getting on with their lives. I can't insist that everyone stay with me forever so that I can complain that they're not leaving fast enough, which is what I end up doing. I contradict myself a hundred times a day without even trying.

It's the waiting for him to leave that gets me the most. I tear up everywhere--in the laundry room, walking around in Kroger's, driving in my car. It's like I'm trying to squeeze all the sadness out before he goes and remarkably, this routine works for me. When crunch time comes, I am always reluctantly ready.

I like thinking that a part of me goes wherever my children go so that we don't ever feel alone. He leaves tomorrow. Already I cannot wait for him to come back.

Ask what I want, and I will sing, I want everything--everything

My husband told me that the best part of going out of town is having me pick him up at the airport after his flight home. He said he feels important when he sees me there waiting for him. I really hate going to the airport because the drive in feels like an endless roller coaster ride where I'm just waiting for the carts to hop off the track, sending me plummeting to my death. Huge tractor trailers follow so close behind me that it feels like they are in my back seat. No one uses their directionals except me. Ambulances always come screeching out of nowhere, weaving in and out of traffic and 6 lanes do not feel sufficient enough for me to find a place out of their way. It's just all these people in a rush, talking on cell phones, singing along to blaring radios and it feels unsafe.

But after he told me that having me there waiting for him makes him feel special, I decided that I'd stop focusing on all the negatives. Besides, hanging out at the airport is interesting. I love watching all the people coming and going with their rolling luggage. I think of all the people and all the stories they have to tell. There must me a million of them. I like imagining what their stories might be.

I fixed a toilet today all by myself. I went out and bought the parts and sat there till I got it right. I love fixing things. I love having directions in front of me and putting things together.

I am thinking about painting the inside of my house. It'll give me something to throw my energies into, something that might stop or minimize some of the head noise that threatens to drive me crazy. Lately I've been a little bummed about the way the summer is playing out for me. We are still two cars short and most days, because I don't have a job outside the house, I am housebound and it's starting to get to me. It's like my world keeps getting smaller when I imagined at this point that it would be so much bigger. I keep having to shift my dreams, change my plans, to fit what life is requiring of me. I guess it's my own fault for looking to the future instead of living in the moment. But I don't know how to stop myself from wanting more.

I am greedy. I want everything.

On love - On marriage

"I think everybody should get rich and famous and do everything they ever dreamed of so they can see that it's not the answer." ~Jim Carrey

I think if anyone has illusions that marriage is all fun and games, they ought to take a peek at True Wife Confessions. I get sad, sometimes, reading post after post of downers about marriage, so I don't go there very often. I know that the site is primarily a place where women go to discuss things they feel they cannot discuss with other people--the ugly stuff, the embarrassing stuff, the sad stuff. There's a lot of anger there, too, and it's not under the surface either; it's raw and incredibly heartbreaking.

It didn't dawn on me until just recently how much of marriage seems centered around "the man" and making him happy--how marriage seems like it's something men get more out of than women. The expectations that women have placed on them to be everything to everyone are staggering and impossible to live up to, while men are expected to bring home a paycheck and if they do that then they're pretty much golden. Most of the women I know who are in marriages that would be considered "good," feel as though men benefit from marriage more than women do. This isn't a bunch of woe-is-me women pulling nonsensical theories out of thin air, it's real women looking at their lives objectively and feeling like the scales are tipped in favor of men more times than not in relationships, and saying to themselves that if they ever did get divorced, they'd never, ever marry again.

I feel that way, too, mostly because I married young when I could not know what it took me over 20 years to learn. And it has nothing to do with my husband--it's more about me wanting to experience life on my own terms--because I've never done that. I've always been defined by the relationships in my life that have ultimately taken over my life.

When I was growing up, I was told that getting married and having kids was what women should want for themselves, and I bought into that without question. I feel a little disappointed in myself that I never challenged what other people felt was my lot in life, that I did not dare think for myself because ultimately, that is what it was. I look back and think I've sleepwalked though parts of my life when I should have been awake and paying attention. I wonder, sometimes, why no one slapped me into consciousness, why no one looked out for me. Was it a generational thing? I don't know. All I know is that I would never presume to chart the course of anyone's destiny the way certain people felt entitled to chart mine while I went along like a good little girl who could not think for herself. I try not to dwell on it too much because it makes me angry. Why didn't I fight more for what I wanted? I just kind of went along. It's maddening. I really piss myself off.

My husband is always telling me how much he and the kids love me and I jokingly tell him that doesn't surprise me one bit because if I wasn't me, I'd be in love with me, too. I mean, who wouldn't love someone who does everything and expects so little in return?

I learned a friend of mine is getting a divorce because her husband cheated on her. For three days now, this is all I can think about. I cannot tell you how this breaks my heart because I want to believe in the sort of love that lasts forever, in the sort of love that takes commitments and vows seriously. I want to believe that love and marriage cannot be traded away carelessly after too much booze and too little thought, but this is what happens every day all around me. I want to believe that people are too smart to fall for that grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side bullshit, but we do it all the time. We think what we have is not enough, or not exciting enough. It's this constant looking outside of ourselves for something to fill us up. I don't get throwing away a family for a little fun that simply CANNOT be worth what it costs you in the end.

I'm not even sure what the point of this post is. I think a common theme of my blog is that love isn't easy. I never want people to walk away thinking I don't believe in marriage or love, because I do. But I think the day in and day out of it is tricky and difficult to navigate at times, and I think pretending that it is not does a disservice to everyone.

As often as I am disenchanted by love, I am swept up and away by how wondrous it is. Those are the times I try to keep with me. Those are the times I hold close.

It's just a matter of time until we're all found out

There are roses in bloom everywhere when I am out running. The rose scented air--it makes me want to stop. It makes me want to sit down beside them and inhale the sweet perfumed scent until I've had my fill. I think there are some things you cannot get enough of and I think the scent of roses is one of them.

~~~~~~~

My son will soon be coming home for the summer. Every time I speak to him, he tells me that he misses home and can't wait to get back to us. I try not to think about all the ways in which life changes for me and all the ways in which life stays the same. I try not to think about the chaos that will inevitably reign supreme here once everyone is home again. I tell myself that I am home to someone. I tell myself that I am someone's home.

~~~~~~~~

I used to live by the ocean and miss it every day. I want to sit in front of the ocean again and listen to the waves crash one after another forever. I want to dig my feet into the cool, white sand that feels like a kiss. I want to search for shells. I feel like I belong there. I never feel like I belong anywhere.

~~~~~~~~

There's a courthouse in the center of town that holds weddings on the weekends. Each time I pass by, I am tempted to shout out to the couple that happily ever after is a lie. No one tells the truth about marriage, or maybe it's that when love is so new, the truth of love being lost, or love becoming less intense, or love simply dying cannot be imagined. You must live it to learn it, and so I keep my mouth shut and drive silently by. Who am I to begrudge them one blissfully ignorant day where love is the answer to everything?

~~~~~~~

I have secrets about me that I have never told anyone. I think my secrets say more about me than the things I'm willing to share.

~~~~~~~

I like the icing better than the cake.

It's all about the drama

"Family quarrels have a total bitterness unmatched by others. Yet it sometimes happens that they also have a kind of tang, a pleasantness beneath the unpleasantness, based on the tacit understanding that this is not for keeps; that any limb you climb out on will still be there later for you to climb back." ~Mignon McLaughlin

Tensions have been high this week between oldest daughter and her father. I'm just going to put it out there that we are a family who cannot seem to have a discussion without it descending into a shouting-fest of some sort. It's disheartening and discouraging to know that nothing of importance can be discussed rationally here. I think I've been living this way for so long that I would spontaneously combust if we started acting like normal people for even 5 seconds.

So the other night I get three quick pings to my phone alerting me that I have some new text messages. It's my oldest daughter letting me know where she is and then she proceeds to leave this gem, "...and please tell Dad to stop calling me because I have nothing to say to him..."

I am, above all things, a very patient person. You can push me and push me and push me but I will remain calm in the presence of all this pushing. I will be giving the benefit of the doubt during the initial pushing and even when I'm up against the wall from the pushing, I will do my best and try to see things from the perspective of the person doing the pushing, knowing full well that they will not afford me the same courtesy unless I scream that no one ever looks at things from my point of view and then, begrudgingly, they might take a peek but not with any seriousness, not with anything that tells me that they value my point of view at all. I may be patient, but I am not stupid.

About six months ago, I read about the "Drama Triangle." Reading that article felt like I was finally seeing in print how my life is being played out. The drama triangle consists of a victim, a persecutor and a rescuer. We tend to rotate through these roles during our lives but I think that mostly, I am a rescuer and certainly, in my role in this family of mine, (husband, wife, 3 children) I am always the rescuer because I get dragged into it by the victim and the persecutor (which probably makes me a victim but for purposes of this post, I will maintain that I am the rescuer).

Here's how things work in my family. Daughter and/or son have problems with father because father is rigid and opinionated and loud and forceful (in a loving way). They start arguing and before I know what has hit me, I get dragged into their battles even when I don't belong there. Son or daughter will give me messages to give to their father and father will do the same thing. I never win in this position, not that I am looking to win anything. All I know is that I never feel anything but bad when I allow myself to be dragged into the triangle. If I side with my husband because I agree with his position, then I am the good wife but the bad mother. If I side with my children because I believe they are in the right, I get told I am being disloyal and I am asked to "just go along" even when my heart is telling me that going along is the wrong thing to do.

I spend a great deal of time being the middle man here. At least once a week this drama triangle plays out. Father will see daughter's messy room and tell me, "You need to sit her down and talk with her about her sloppiness." I'll reply, "Why can't you tell her this?" and he will say, "Because I'll lose my temper and things will get ugly." So the threat is made that a potential storm will erupt if I do not step in and tell our daughter what HE wants to tell her. To spare us all (rescuer that I am), I step in and deliver the message then I get to bear the brunt of our daughter's scorn for being asked to clean up her messy room that I didn't care about in the first place. This is a trivial example but I'm trying to prove a point. I wasn't concerned about her messy room, HE WAS, and yet I had to take his fight on as my own. I end up feeling resentful towards both of them. I crave peace and so I tell myself that my resentment is a small price to pay for that peace, but lately, I am not so sure.

I keep trying to break this dysfunctional cycle but mostly, I fail because disengaging from the drama triangle means that I am left to deal with all those uncomfortable feelings I'd rather just ignore. I have to prepare for everyone being angry with me and I am a people pleaser of the highest order. I have to be prepared to hear things about myself that are probably untrue. but are said to me as a way to get me to join the triangle.

When my daughter text messaged me to relay a message to her father, I had had enough of all their bullshit and so I replied, "I am not your messenger girl. Tell him yourself."

Guess what happened? He called her until she picked up her phone and they talked. Surprisingly, the world did not end.

I need to remember this...that they do not need me to rescue them even when they are begging me to do just that...that I do not need to rescue others to feel that I am important or loved in this family...that refusing to be manipulated by the people I love is letting them know that I deserve better, and more.

Seventeen

In seventeen years, she has aged seventeen years, while, I, her mother, haven't aged a day (curious, I know!). There hasn't been a day in seventeen years that I have not loved her. She came into my life when I needed her most, and so I think of her as my very own earth angel. She came after I already had a girl and a boy, and after I had learned the very painful lesson that to wish for anything other than perfect health in a child is foolish and reckless and selfish and wrong. My wish came true with her because she was born in perfect health, and the instant I saw her face, for the first time in 5 1/2 years, I felt safe in this world again.

To say that she is amazing is not enough. To say that she changed my life and filled my heart with the most awesome love is saying only part of what she means to me. I have always dreaded the time she would grow away from me but as it draws nearer, I'm less fearful because I'm finding that what I'm focusing on now is watching how she takes on this world because, trust me, you will not forget her. She is going to do great things. I love just watching her

She is
serious,
complex,
organized,
straight-forward,
hard-working,
relentless,
self-motivated,
goal driven,
wise beyond her years,
secure,
talented,
strong,
tall,
beautiful,
intense,
complicated.
real

...and then sometimes, there are moments when she forgets that she is carrying the world around on her shoulders...and she heart-attack-laughs with me like a crazy person. I love those times. I carry them with me always.

In all of this world, I loved her first.

I loved her first.

On winning and losing

"If winning isn't everything, why do they keep score?" ~Vince Lombardi

Here is one of many reasons why I love my son. For the past couple of years he has been playing a team sport in college where his team has won only one time each year (they play about 95 games each season). Tonight, when he called, I asked him who they were playing and I asked him if there was a potential for a win tonight, and he replied without hesitation, "There's potential for a win every time we go out and play."

I honestly don't know where he comes from because we are a family of mostly sore losers here and I say that with the utmost kindness and love because, well, they are my family and I guess I have to. My husband was an athlete growing up and no one loses nastier than he does except, perhaps, my youngest daughter who is a carbon copy of him only cuter. Losing for them is personal and it is painful and it is a reminder that they cannot control everything. I think if I was an outsider looking in, and I saw how they react when they lose, I would probably tsk, tsk and get up on a high horse to tell them to please get a life. But since I live with them, I see that their mentality is focused on winning because they do not see the point in playing if they are not playing to win and so they see losing as a waste of their time. They lose a little love for the game they are playing because winning is always the goal. Playing well doesn't seem to make them feel any better about losing. Ever. Both my husband and my daughter are very difficult personalities, they are driven and self motivated and they are both very successful in everything they do because they do things to do them THE BEST. Their approach to life makes me love them all the more because they will not concede that losing is something that will happen to them. It's just not an option they consider.

But my son? Well, we could all learn a thing or two from him about losing with grace because that is what he does. He goes to practice every day of the week and works alongside his team and he prepares himself for the next game always with the thought in mind that he has a chance of winning even when reality suggests he should probably prepare for another loss. I can't tell you how proud he makes me, how it humbles me and makes me want to be a better loser myself because I have picked up some bad habits hanging around with the rest of the crew here. My son will tell you that you cannot win everything and he finds contentment in doing his very best, in giving his all regardless of winning or losing. He doesn't think he is a loser because of the many losses his team has suffered. He always looks ahead and believes there is chance that at the end of the next game there will be a big W beside his team's name.

Anyway, I just think he's totally awesome.

There's no water that can wash away this longing to come clean

"We all grow up with the weight of history on us. Our ancestors dwell in the attics of our brains as they do in the spiraling chains of knowledge hidden in every cell of our bodies." ~Shirley Abbott

About a year and a half ago I wrote a letter to my parents. In it, I spoke of the memories I have of my childhood with them and how I felt those things shaped me into what I am today. I put it in an envelope, addressed it and prepared to mail it off but for some reason, I could not do it. I took the envelope and placed it under my bed where it's been collecting dust ever since.

This is what I think about presents. I think the best presents are the ones that are made by hand, not bought in a store. I know that not everyone possesses the talent to paint or sculpt or write music, but I think if you have those sorts of talents, they are the things that people like me prefer receiving. My most prized possessions are things my father has made for me, things my children have made for me. Those are the things I look at and want to keep safe and feel better just knowing I have them. A sweater from Macy's just doesn't have the same effect. In a fire, I would not think to save a sweater because it was given to me by my parents. But a painting or a piece of furniture made with their hands? Those are things I know I would fight to keep with me.

Even though I have this blog on the internet, I do not share this space with anyone in my family or even my friends. It's so hard to explain how I am this intensely private person and at the same time I am willing to share my feelings with total strangers without batting an eye. It makes no sense and yet it makes perfect sense to me. I feel at ease opening my heart because I'm not risking the involvement of the real people in my life. I think I do not always trust that my family and friends will be careful of my heart. I don't know what I'm afraid of--maybe it's that they would stop loving me if they knew the real me--the one who is imperfect in a million different ways, the one with messy feelings that leak all over the place when what is prized in their world is keeping up appearances, keeping it together.

Sifting through books and whatnot under my bed, I came upon the letter I wrote to my parents and once again I thought about sending it off in the mail to them. I took it in the car with me and passed by the post office for weeks without stopping to get it weighed. I don't know what finally made me mail it. I think I asked myself what I was waiting for and could not come up with a good enough answer. I think I asked myself if I would regret not sending it to them should something happen to them and I knew in my heart that I would. I think I wanted to stop being afraid of owning up to how I feel and I realized that I could not control how they would respond, but I could at least be brave enough to open my heart and say, "this is me." And so I did. I held my breath, then let it go.

A couple of days ago, I received a call from my parents and they told me they loved what I had written, that they had never read anything more beautiful in their lives. They kept referring to my letter as a gift. I cannot tell you how happy this made me because as I've written before, we are not a family who does under the surface living very well. We keep our feelings in check even if it kills us. A lot of the time, actually almost all of my life, I have felt like it's been killing me or at the very least, killing the spirit of who I really am. The last time I tried to communicate to them how I was feeling during a rough period in my life, they changed the subject which left me feeling like I could not be my real self around them--I had to be what they wanted me to be, not what I was. They tend to give me that message a lot, and after a while, I learned to take a hint. But this time? They did not come back and tell me anything more than that I had truly moved them with my words.

This is what I have learned: Sometimes, when you're really scared about opening your heart to people you should be able to open your heart to, they do not disappoint you.

Hope dangles on a string, like slow spinning redemption

I love how I am able to bend my life around everyone elses--at a moment's notice sometimes--how I am able to shift and conform and mold myself to be what others need me to be all the time, but how when I ask one simple thing, it cannot be managed--it is too hard, it is not what someone else wants to do.

So there's that.

I make a mental note of these things, these messages that are sent to me day after day, year after year that I used to dismiss as part of the "job" but now keep track of with a fierce determination. I think about them when I'm out running. They give me energy. They push me to do more, to want to get stronger.

When I dream, I am never married, and I never have children and oftentimes, I am flying high above the world with the wind in my hair. It is simple and calm. I am watching the world from a distance, and I know that I like it that way. I don't remember much of my dreams, but I do know that I fly and that it feels like what I imagine heaven must feel like.

Even though I've started to hate Dr. Phil because he's always celebrity name-dropping, and he has this weird superiority complex thing going on, there is one thing he says that makes total sense to me. He says that people treat you the way you teach them to treat you. I've done a horrible job with this but part of me doesn't want to own up to this because it's just one more place where I've failed and it's one more thing I've got to fix. The list just keeps getting longer and longer.

I am committed to living in reality, however, so I will add it to my list of things to do--teach them to treat me how I treat them.