Daddy Issues

So, the man who calls himself my father.....I am finding out I never really knew him at all.  He is 70-something (I can never remember exactly because the mother-thing always lied about what year they were born), has Parkinson's Disease and stage 4 kidney failure.  Has a stent from a mild heart attack (which he insists was major).  Had diabetes.  Had cataract surgery.  Had a pretty miserable life...so he likes to say.

Let's go back to the beginning, though.  As far back as I can remember, the mother-thing was a fire-breathing demon.  Of course, the daddy-thing knew this; he was often the target of her attacks.  Until I became her favorite.  And I mean as far back as I can remember.  Before I was verbal.  The attacks were brutal emotionally, psychologically and sometimes physically.  And they almost always came without warning.  Even though three sisters came after me, I was almost always "it".

I always defended the daddy-thing in my heart/head because I thought he was just too gentle and passive to even try and stop her.

But he was NOT too passive to ride a motorcycle, especially up and down and all around a 4,000-ft mountain.  Over and over and over again.  For years.  (This was after he came to me in tears when I was 22 and FINALLY living on my own to tell me he was in love with someone who was threatening to leave him unless he left the mother-thing. Of course, I encouraged him to be happy, so he left and married my now-step-mom, who proceeded, he says, to make him miserable.)

I recently found out some other interesting things about the daddy-thing.  He traveled a lot for work...so we thought.  Perhaps some of the "business trips" were just that.  But he told me that at one point when he was married to the mother-thing that he had three girlfriends at once.  NICE.  So, he was NOT too passive to chase women.  Or lie to get out of the house.  Or leave his child(ren) in the dragon's lair.

Also, he wants some chick named Becky The Waitress who lives where he used to ride his motorcycle to scatter his ashes.  Not one of his own daughters, but some chick named Becky The Waitress.  AND, his STEPDAUGHTER is the executor of his will.

And then it occured to me that for years I had felt a little twinge of guilt over not calling the daddy-thing more and fostering a relationship with him, but HE NEVER EVER CALLED ME to see how the hell my life was going.  Really, I kind of just feel like I am the result of sperm that found an egg and was left to live or die on its own.

So now I am being asked to "keep" him at my house some weekends when my stepmom needs a break.  And I have.  But now I am so angry that I want to say, "Call Becky The Waitress or the stepdaughter."  None of my own sisters have stepped up to the plate, either.

Although I am pretty damned proud of the job I have done raising and nurturing myself to be halfway freaking human and not pass on the abuse/neglect/apathy to my children, all the wounds I thought I had healed have been slashed open again.  I would like to know why the hell any of this matters to me now.

~Be still, dark shadows in my soul.~

On the Verge of.....

This is the story of a grown woman, who was born into a world of conflict, emotional abuse, hatred and apathy.  This is the story of a grown woman who experienced the same for more than half of her life.  And overcame it all.

Blah-blah-blah.

    She is still frequently sad and empty.  Totally frustrated with her kids, her job, her life.  Gets zero respect at work or at home.  Gets yanked around by everyone everywhere.  Wants to write but nothing worth reading comes out.

    Wants to cry and scream but has become so apathetic to the customary-ness of it all that she doesnt' even bother to sigh anymore.

     What's it all about, Alfie?

     What.the.actual.fuck is it all about?

    The struggle is a daily soul-shredding.  And she can't fit the pieces back together so easily any more.  (Well, putting the pieces back together has never been EASY, but you learn how to do it better and better each time.)  Maybe the pieces get too worn to fit completely back together after so many times of being pulled apart, like jigsaw puzzle pieces that tear a tiny bit...just enough so that eventually the fit is no longer seamless and you can see through the cracks.

    She has all the tools for joy, serenity, inspiration, magic.  The pretty catch-phrases, the motivational pictures, the music, the incense, the candles.  But she can't seem to build anything that lasts more than a day or a few fleeting hours.

     She is a wizard in the kitchen and cooks like it will save her life, because it has in the past.  She has a creative soul and has made so many pretty things to brighten her existence.  She loves her garden, but neglects it sometimes to see the wild things grow.  She hurts when others in her life hurt and does her best to help them heal.

    She has mastered SO many things and is a million times more driven than most.

    So WHY,  oh why, can't she master the joy of LIVING?

    She wonders and worries and frets.  So many directives and rules from the world outside herself.  Things that must be done for survival, existence.  She only wants to dance through life to the music in her soul that she is incapable of translating to any form that others could share.

     Her vibration is amazing, but being muted, like holding down the damper pedal on a piano.  She doesn't know if SHE is the damper, or if it is an outside force.  Why can't she just BE?  and LIVE?  and LOVE?  and VIBRATE?

  The little girl who ran wild through the woods, with the sunlight dappling through the tree branches, and all the wonderful smells and feels, wants to know why she never gets to come out and play any more.  She still looks out through the grown woman's eyes, but like a drunk, or someone who's been poisoned and is puzzled and horrified by the reality she sees, disillusionment that feels like a physical blow.

     She feels like she is poised on the verge of....

nothing........

The Death of Me

This is how I feel today.  And, also, probably how my guardian angel feels.  A lot.  Although lately I am beginning to doubt I have one.  Or, maybe, mine is taking a sabbatical.  Can I go, too????

This Mommy thing is wearing on me.  No one tells you that the little bundle of joy that opens your heart so wide will one day take great delight in plunging knives into it.  And twisting them.  Hard.  And often.  

The fear and self-doubt are almost as crushing as the slow, gradual, but certain loss of the bond you had when that beautiful creature came into your life.  Individuating is necessary, but when you suddenly realize that you have gone from super hero to arch-enemy, it takes your breath away.  It almost feels like the death of a loved one, knowing that bond is stretched to the breaking point.  And having to watch your child make all the wrong decisions is excruciating.

It's not at all like when they were toddlers and you could scoop them up and redirect them away from danger.

So, what do you do?  If you broach the subject, you are a demon.  If you allow them the personal freedom to do their own thing, you are uncaring.  Then the great mind-f*cking begins.  What did I do wrong?  Did I not show them enough love?  While trying to be firm about all the right things, did I go overboard?  While trying to be generous enough with personal freedom, have I sent the wrong message?  When I am beating my head against the wall trying to communicate, and I stop in utter fear for my sanity and my physical well-being, am I weak?

Not having had a nurturing parent, I doubt myself often.  Maybe I don't have a clue what I am doing and have done permanent harm.  Maybe I have been so busy trying to stabilize my life that I have become too self-involved, when at the time, I felt like I was just setting limits. And what if the child you love so has the genetic personality disorder(s) that caused you to leave their father because you gave him every chance (for years) and nothing changed.  I certainly would never "leave" my child.  But how do you deal?

The only thing I know how to do is try to remember this is not about ME, but about my child.  And try to see things from her perspective.  And hopefully figure out what the void is in her life that she uses to justify her behaviors.  Maybe, just maybe, it is only being a teenager.  And hormones....

Tangled Too

Computer-cabled.  Spaghetti-fied.  Dredlocked.  Christmas lighted.  Fishing netted.  Spiderwebbed.  Pretzled.  

Did you ever just feel like running away from home?  Stepping in front of a bus.  Driving off a bridge.  Going to sleep and never waking up?

If it weren't for my kids.....I would.......

So tired........

Give Us This Day

“Let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving; To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy; To return home at eventide with gratitude; And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.”

Kahlil Gibran

*****SIGH*****

I miss being in love......with someone who loves me back.

Bereft

A wave of grief came over me suddenly this morning.....completely consuming.
For what?  I am not sad.  There's been no ending. I wept deeply quite unexpectedly.  


I opened the curtains in my bedroom to let some LIGHT into my life. A limousine and police motorcycles lined the road in front of a neighbor's house. People in church clothes were gathered outside. And I said a prayer, not for the soul who passed, but for the ones left behind whose sadness was so deep, it found its way to me............

Tangled

http://fineartamerica.com/featured/twisted-beauty-allan-mcconnell.html

Computer-cabled.  Spaghetti-fied.  Dredlocked.  Christmas lighted.  Fishing netted.  Spiderwebbed.  Pretzled.  

http://www.wreckthetapedeck.com

Fuck.

Mommyaches

Looking back, my hopes and dreams for my baby girl were so big and bright and beautiful.  I wanted to give her everything, dress her like a little princess, sprinkle her daily with mommy fairy dust.  And in the beginning, it was like that somewhat.  I was just SO HAPPY to be a mommy, I even loved changing her diaper.  Seriously.  I held her constantly and rubbed the top of her soft little head with my chin until her hair fell out (sorry, Bug!).  Sang to her, rocked her, whispered in her ear, kissed her soft little cheeks, recorded all her little baby noises, talked baby talk to her to watch her wiggle with joy, loved, loved, LOVED her so much it hurt (in a good way).

When she was born, her father (EH1) and I had been married ten years.  He had been putting me off forever about getting pregnant.  And I finally talked him into it.  I was ready to have my baby, his or someone else's.  He agreed, certain that we could never get pregnant the first time.  He was so wrong.

He was also deep in the throes of mental illness.  I just didn't recognize it for what it was at the time.  Among other things, this meant that he never really held a job.  Always seeking some get-rich-quick scheme or trying unsuccessfully to build his own business.  And completely frying my credit..and any feelings I had for him other than anger and frustration.  Living hand to mouth in practically poverty sometimes not knowing if I would have gas money to get to work.

When our daughter was born, he seemed to take a turn for the better.  He absolutely adored her.  And he seemed determined to help me provide for her.  But by the time she was almost two, his mental state was deteriorating rapidly.  He became extremely withdrawn even from her.  He would come home from "work" and go straight to the bedroom and turn on the tv.  I wasn't allowed to ask him if he wanted dinner or even say hello, but he always made time for our daughter at her bedtime.  I will never forget the first night he didn't want to cuddle with her and tell her goodnight.  I could see the bewilderment and hurt in her eyes, even as young as she was.  And that was the beginning of the end for him.

After he left, she and I began to have a much better life.  There was LIGHT and laughter and good times.  Stereo loud dancing through the house and cleaning together.  Cooking and singing together (she has been singing since she was born.) She was my whole heart.  I had a little extra money to spend and her first Christmas without him was ridiculous.  The entire living room floor was covered in toys and presents.  It took her almost 4 hours to discover everything and open presents.  I was in heaven.  I had never been able to give her anything before.  

But with no child support and a mortgage, things were really tight.  She lived in hand-me-downs from her cousin.  No shame in that at all, it just wasn't what I had planned for her.  No washer and dryer either, so every Saturday night I would hand wash her things in the kitchen sink, spread them out to dry on a rack, and spend Sunday mornings ironing everything so all her clothes (undies and socks, too) would be soft.  And I loved every minute of it.

When she was four, I decided to go to night school.  I don't know how I did it. Working full time, shuffling her between preschool and different baby-sitters three nights a week.  But I was determined to make a better life for her.

And then I met my son's father.  And got pregnant.  At 39.  On birth control.  And freaked the freak out.  And then was overjoyed because I knew I was having the baby boy I secretly wanted and thought I would never have.  Since I was divorced.  And 39.  (Oh, boy, be careful what you wish for!)  

And then we were three. I was so happy to have my babies and me. Ecstatic to have another little person to love and cherish and my daughter was thrilled to have a baby brother.  Had to quit night school because my body just wouldn't let me live on 4 hours of sleep a night (the boy didn't sleep through the night till he was 4 months old). But ok. I can make it work.  

I didn't want to ever get married again. But then baby boy started growing up. I worried about him growing up without his father.  So we got married.  I thought it would be good for my daughter to have a positive male role model in her life, too.  By that time, she was seeing her father every other weekend, and she still loves him with all her heart, but I wanted her to see what "normal" was like.  Then we were six, because EH2 was a package deal which included EMIL (Evil Mother-In-Law) and his granddaughter who was two.  Things were tense at first but seemed to be ok for the first year until we bought our house.  That was the beginning of the end, I think mostly because EMIL thought I was only temporary until that point and after that, she set about to completely destroy our relationship and our family.  And, oh, boy, did she ever do an outstanding job of it.

Whatever the reason, EH2 became someone else entirely, escalating after his decision to become a Jehovah's Witness.  I seriously never saw that coming.  He had already become controlling and possessive, but then became abusive as well (verbally, emotionally and at the end, physically).  I did my best to make it work thinking I was doing the right thing for my son.  Until he started having anger issues from all the fighting and tension created by EMIL and the fights between his father and me, which prompted me to get him counseling.  And then I knew it was time to go.  Because I had given EH2 three years to stop the bullshit.  It was only getting worse.  I knew it would never change.

So, here we are now, just the three of us again.  Peacefully, blissfully happy and healing.  I found out after the fact that EMIL had been extremely abusive to my daughter and not always so nice to my son, her own grandson.  Really, the things that can happen right under your nose are disturbing.

I know I have done the right things and chosen the right path for me and my kids.  But there are days when I remember the hopes and dreams I had for my babies in the beginning and I find myself mourning the loss of those dreams.  Wishing, hoping, praying that all these scars they have will fade away and not be remembered some day.

Remembering too, my fervent promise to myself to never behave the way my mother did, and feeling the shame and self-disgust at knowing without a doubt that I have done so. Ah, but now at least I have some insight into why she behaved the way she did. Being unhappy with your life on a daily basis distracts you from taking care of other people sometimes. Letting the worries and the stress of life get in the way of nurturing those two precious little souls I am so grateful to have in my life.

That's when I get the Mommyaches deep down in my heart.  

And every time they ask for something I can't give them.  Thankfully, it's only things I can't always provide.  One day they will understand that.  Right now, though, it's devastating to see disappointment on those little faces.  It's hard for me to know I've gone from super hero to mere mortal in their eyes.

Mommyaches.......

Loyalty

I could probably write an entire novel about loyalty.  I consider it one of the most important character traits a person can espouse.  Webster's defines loyal as:


: unswerving in allegiance: asa : faithful in allegiance to one's lawful sovereign or governmentb : faithful to a private person to whom fidelity is duec : faithful to a cause, ideal, custom, institution, or product


I have certainly many times been "loyal to a fault" to people who did not earn or deserve and furthermore abused my loyalty.  But it is still who I am.  Honesty, loyalty, and integrity are things I consider "must-haves" from people who are in my life.


I have remained in relationships with people and employers who did not appreciate my loyalty.  Hopefully, I have learned great lessons from this.


Today, a person who has been loyal to my employer for over 25 years turned in her notice.  Because they did not appreciate her loyalty and basically threw it in her face by not only passing her over for the promotion she deserved, but demoting her as well in favor of someone who has only been with the company for about six months and has no experience or real qualifications for the position.


I know this happens every day in corporate America.  But I am more than dismayed.  I am sick about it.  For her.  And for everyone else who plays by the rules and does so with passion and devotion only to have the rug pulled out from under them.  I want to hold this disgrace up to the brightest light for everyone to see, only the ones who can do something about this type of injustice have already sat idly by and watched it all unfold.  They think they've won something.


Tragically, the organization to whom this amazing woman devoted herself for so many years is losing someone who genuinely cared about the well-being of the organization.  And many others will follow of their own volition simply because of the inequity and violation of principals exhibited by the highest office of this company.  


I can only hope that the pain of this outrage will not linger and that the open door she next walks through will bring her greater joy than that she has known and has shared with those of us who have been fortunate enough to know her.

Outstanding Note from the Universe

So much to be thankful for, huh, (insert your name here)?

Yet so little time.

Let me start with you -
    The Universe



And then, rainbows, oceans, sunshine, air, inertia, turquoise, gravity, cotton, otters....




Add your list via comments!!

SOMETHING

             something        something      something      something      

 

            something        something      something      something   

   

            something        something      something      something      

 

           something        something      something      something        

 

           something        something      something      something        

 

          something        something      something      something 

 

        something        something      something      something           

 

 

(there....at least I posted SOMETHING!)

ISOLATION

.........IS THERE..............................








...........................ANYBODY...........................................










........................................OUT THERE?...............................

Broken

Aftermath

I FEEL:


Grief over losing (what?) something that was not true to begin with...


Anger over feeling mislead (lied to).....


Shame over believing everything I was fed...........


Pathetic for wanting love so desperately I am so easily fooled.......


Despair over being emotionally devastated.  AGAIN.......


Frustrated over not being able to find the lesson (although I do recognize the gifts this time)......


Doubtful about my ability to prevent this from happening to me again....


Fearful of never finding what I am looking for........................


Hopeful that these feelings will fade very soon..........

Bare

"A Thousand Beautiful Things" by Annie Lennox

(click on the link)

A most wonderful song from an incredible album entitled "Bare", telling the story of all the phases a woman goes through in ending a relationship.   This song is the first on the album and actually the last of the stages of a break-up, recovery and gratitude at feeling alive again.  I had the great privilege of watching her perform this song on some morning show years ago when I was on maternity leave with my son.  I've always really admired her, and her performance and the interview afterwards floored me.  She said the album was titled "Bare" because these songs were all intensely personal.  And it has SO helped me so many times!


Other songs include "Honestly", "Bitter Pill' and "Erased" (one of my very favorites).  Hearing someone else describe what you are feeling and hearing how they express it has been very empowering for me, helping me remember who I am and what an awesome, giving, nurturing person I am.  And I deserve to be cherished as I cherish the significant other in my life (when I have one).


If dudes in my life only knew, once I pull out this cd, you are history, pal.  Been listening to this a lot lately.  :)

GRATITUDE

I cannot say enough about it.  (And, I am writing in red because it's my very most favorite color and I am grateful for it!)


At the advice of a very good friend, I have started keeping a gratitude journal.  I have been amazed at the vast quantities of things that make me happy.....so much so that once I start making my gratitude list every evening, I can't stop writing things down!


I have found that I am even grateful for the sad, painful unpleasant things because they lead to personal growth and "bigger and bettter".  This was a BIG epiphany for me.   Finally, a way to actually process the yuck and let it go, something I've never been able to really do before.  And the cleansing process of crying it all out is miraculous in itself.


Imagine, being grateful for anger and bitterness.  I should have already known that because one of my Notes from the Universe said just that:  be grateful for anger and bitterness for they are signs that you are not on the right path.


Already this morning I am grateful for waking up next to my son (little love), the early morning dew making diamonds in my garden, the cardinals coming to eat the sunflower seeds I put out for them, my wind chimes tinkling, good strong coffee (black, just sugar, thank you), emails from friends waiting in my inbox, the trip to the beach we are taking today, and this blog which lets me ramble on without complaining.


Remembering gratitude is changing my outlook on everything.  :)


xoxo

Sensuous

The truest definition of this word is "relating to or consisting in the gratification of the senses or the indulgence of appetite", and not the sexual connotation that society places upon it.


In my twenties, I was adamant about being respected for my MIND.  But I have come to realize upon my journey that I am an extremely sensual person and I am thankful for it.  What greater gifts are there than the pure pleasure of something that looks beautiful, smells heavenly, feels divine, tastes of bliss or sounds that can send you into pure rapture?  These are the things that remind us we are human and feed our souls at the same time.  No matter what your socioeconomic status, these things are available to you.


Imagine a world where none of the beauty surrounding us existed, sort of like living in outer space.   No flowers, no blue sky, no clouds floating by, no birds singing or children laughing, or bright sunshine on your skin, no breeze kissing you, no grass (or beach) under your feet, nothing to tempt your taste buds.


Take note of everything surrounding you, indoors and out.  Everything is a gift from the Universe, even the things that annoy you, for they remind you to be thankful of the other things.  Feeding your senses brings you closer to The Source, The Universe, Gaia, Goddess, God, whatever you want to call the force that exists around us and inside of us all.  My note from the Universe this morning said, "I's ALL God.  Everything.  Always and Forever."


Find something beautiful around you and inside you and about other people every single day.  It truly makes for such a better life.

Three Little Words

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u5HRzaOFhec

HAVE A GREAT DAY!

xoxoxoxoxoxo

Notes from The Universe

This was my note from the Universe on June 2, 2008, which I found this weekend while cleaning out some things (I can't believe I actually still have this email...talk about LETTING GO!!):

        One of the most stringent conditions all angels must meet, other than double-advanced harp playing and skydiving abilities (not necessarily at the same time), is that they must not allow themselves to feel hurt or rejected by the choices made by others, no matter how much they've done for them nor how great their love.


Yeah, WOW.
  The Universe


PS.  Angels are people, too.


I KNOW, right?  This sounded almost impossible to accomplish to me.  I was actually pretty furious when I got this email, shaking my fist at The Universe.
Do you mean to tell me, I thought, that I am supposed to be a doormat?  Is that what LOVE is all about?  That sounds like some stupid drugged-up Stepford Wife thing...


Because prior to this email, one of my Notes From The Universe said just this:
   
    All pain is self-inflicted.


    Yeah, OUCH.


     The Universe


What the yuck?!  


However, when I calmed down and read the two notes together, I had the AH-HA moment.  I get it!  I really get it!  If you can really change your perspective about things, you will realize that 99.9% of the time, it ain't about you.  Sucks kind of for a minute, especially when you're thinking about someone you love and something they did that, in your mind, displays a total lack of mutual respect and/or love.  That person should ALWAYS be thinking of you; in other words, "they don't love me with the same depth of spirit that I love them."  Most likely very true.  If you can grasp this concept, you are probably much more spiritually enlightened than most in your life.


Therein lies the beauty of this:  "ALL PAIN IS SELF-INFLICTED."  


I mean, think about it.  If you can let go of your self-righteous indignation for a minute (which feels REALLY good if you can do it, LET GO), and really be philosophical about it, you will realize that we are each on our own personal journey.  Your interactions with anyone else are just that:  your interactions, your experiences.  So it is with everyone else.  It's all very personal (one of my favorite lines from "Beetlejuice", spoken by the receptionist in the "after life" regarding what happens when you die).


Sounds like a fabulous way to "let go" of negative emotions and energy.  But it's very difficult to stop that knee-jerk reaction of your ego when you feel you've been wronged.  Gotta kick that ego to the curb if you truly want to know peace.  This does not mean you have to let people cross your boundaries, either.  But once anger is out of the equation, your heart can speak to you and guide you in the right direction.


I have found it very difficult to make this a practice as opposed to a concept.  That's why I'm writing this blog, to remind me!  I mean, who doesn't want to be an angel, right?



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