breathe. damn it. breathe.

We just returned from a whirlwind trip to PA.  It was a much needed break from life here, but not without it's own stressors.  Right now I feel like I need a vacation from my vacation.

My emotions were like a roller-coaster ride I couldn't get off.  Spent an awful lot of time in my head, with the gremlin running the show...but I suppose that was to be expected.  If I was busy, I was okay.  In groups, I made it work, but left to my own devices, darkness.  I did talk about it some.  But why burden others with my grief?  There was already enough to go around.

Linda.  It's only been a few weeks since her funeral.  Joe, Tony, Nicole, and her husband did come to Christmas at Aunt Lucy's.  But there was something of an elephant in the room, a cloud.  Nicole tried to make her mother's Italian cookies...it was a good effort.

Grandpa Lajcsak.  A shell of the man he was.  Sleeps probably 20-22hrs a day.  Barely speaks or eats.  He cannot stand or even sit up on his own.  Diapers.  There is little dignity in dying.  Aunt Lucy is exhausted.  She said at one point, that she prays for the Lord to take him.  I do not blame her.  It is time.  He was a proud man, POW in Nazi Germany.  Survived the prison camps and ECT (like in the old movies you watch in school), and now he is like an infant again.  Life really does come full circle. 

If I become like that.  Please help me go.  It isn't fair to those left to care for me.  I do not want that for them.

I feel badly that I yelled at Carol.  Well, I didn't exactly yell, I was firm.  Firmer than I've ever been with her.  I have enough guilt, I didn't need it from her too.  She needed to know that the situation was not so simple.  We've protected her from a lot of what has transpired.  Her own illness would prevent her from fully understanding.  But, it became clear that she needed to know more, so that she would stop thinking the same would happen to her and Kate.

Carol is not an angry person.  She would never intentionally hurt anyone.  She has her own misery and vices, but they are not the same as his.  I also needed her not to be a martyr.  This was not her cross to bare.

Tomorrow is New Year's Eve.    2010 has been one for the books.  I am glad that it is coming to an end. I am not one for resolutions, why set myself up for failure?  But, my hope for the upcoming year is to focus on me.  Take better care of myself physically, mentally, emotionally--restore the balance.  To reduce my footprint, literally and figuratively. 

Physically:  lose the weight (again).  stretch.  try something new. slow down.

Mentally/Emotionally:  I see these as interconnected.  talk more.  write more.  stop stuffing the emotion.  ditch the gremlin.

practice mindfulness.
laugh.
set limits.
say no.
be me.

I'm leaving the masks behind.

It comes in waves

It's the day after now.  Kate is still asleep upstairs, Winslow is resting after finishing his morning routine, Lucy and Carol are at church, and Charlie is up looking after Grandpa.  At I am here.  I am okay in the moment.  Check back in about an hour or even five minutes, and we might have a different scenerio.  But we notice it and move on.

I am more quiet then usual, but I have said enough that it is understood.  Kate wants me to talk about it, but I don't really know what to say.  Plus, I don't want to bring her down.  Her family is very good to me.  It's different this year.  Carol was upset that we couldn't all be in the family picture being sent as a thank you/New Year card.  But someone had to take it.  That's a shift...a step forward.

One of the first things Carol said to me when we arrived, while expressing frustration that she does not hear from us enough, was "what am I an estranged mother?" My response was, "No Carol, don't start that...I already have one of those..."  She suddenly grew very quiet.  She didn't mean it to be hurtful.  She was just being her, guilting.  Her way of achieving validation.  She will not say anything like that again.

I told my brother last night, that the holidays make this thing we're going through reality.  It's not a bad dream where one of these days I will wake up and it will be over.  No.  There will be no calling out for my mother to comfort me. 

But I notice and move on.  I am okay.  Strong.  There are other people out there who love me.  Intellectually I know this.  But truth--deep in my core there is this piece of me that wonders why.  This little gremlin that says, you are not worthy.  They say they love you...but someday they'll see, and you will be left alone.

I am learning to tell that gremlin where to go.  But be patient with me.

I just wish I could see what they see.  What do I mean by this?  I am a good person, I know this.  I would do anything for anyone.  Caring, loyal, genuine, but I don't see these things as special or extrodinary.  I see these things as what a person should be (I know, I know...my therapist mind just went 'ding').  What makes me any different?  This is one of the reasons compliments are so hard to swallow.  I am just me, treating the world in the way I think it makes sense to be handled.  With care and concern.  So when people draw attention to it, I don't really know what to say/do.  So I say thank you...or mostly just minimize with some response like, 'I do what I can'.

Notice and move on.

hmm

Talking with our friend tonight about how her experiences as a child have overshadowed, in many ways, the quality of the relationships in her adult life.  The avoidance, resentment, fear, and depression she feels on a daily basis significantly impact her ability to communicate her hopes, fears, desires--needs, to those closest to her.  In this conversation, she also brought up another friend of hers, Gloria.  She talked about the strength of Gloria's relationship with her children and grandchildren.  She credited Gloria and her husband for the quality of their parenting, based on the decisions Gloria's children have been able to make as adults themselves.

I worry sometimes if I would be a good parent.  Fortunately, in my case there would be no 'oops', (unless through divine intervention) so there is time.  I worry that while my parents did the best they could, they will not have instilled in me what it takes.  Mostly because of their own gremlins and past experiences with their own parents.  What if I can't stop the cycle of dysfunction?

For years, I said I didn't want kids.  In fact, I often said I hated them.  But that was not true.  I think I was more afraid of them, afraid to screw them up, the way I thought I was.  But now I have changed my tune. A few of my friends have babies/small children, so sometimes I get to practice.

Truth is, kids remind me of how simple life can be.  When my friend's 3yo son runs over for me to pick him up, I melt.  Same thing last week, or the week before when my other friend's daughter was sitting on my lap eating Chinese with me.  For those moments in time, the insanity of life goes away.  My mind slows for moment.  Those three year olds aren't going to judge me, you, or anyone...as long as you are kind to them and the people they care about.

I know I shouldn't worry about how my experiences may have messed up future generations left in my care.  But, it's there...the gremlin says, 'what if you become your mother', or worse yet, my father.  I tell him to shut up, to go away.  And for the most part he does...but every once in a while he sneaks back in.  And I say to myself, 'see this is while you shouldn't have kids.'  And I stay in that space for a while. 

There's another piece of this too...when I hear about things friends did with their parents and grandparents.  Sleepovers at grandma's house, baking cookies, time with cousins.  I didn't have that.  We saw my grandparents only a few times a year.  And less as we got older.  My brother and I do not have the memories that are common around our friends.  Which again reinforces my insecurity.  What do I know about raising kids?  What sort of role model could I be?

Then I get a hug, or high-five, or kiss on the cheek...


And I snap out of it.

Scratch that...

Last night, well technically this morning, I told Kate that in many ways mourning the loss of my mother (the relationship, not physically--she is still very much alive), was like losing my best friend.  In fact, I said she was my best friend.  But this is not the case.  She was/is not my best friend, though at one time I may have been hers.  The lines between mother and daughter were blurred when I was rather young, because of my father's disease.  At 12 and 13, I was who she cried to, sitting on the edge of my bed, worried for the future of our family.  It was in that same time, that I became her protector...stepping in when the verbal assaults became too great.  I was her shield.  It was in this time that I grew up. 

As result of this, I think I saw her as a buddy.  Her authority over me weakened, almost non-existent, because afterall--I took care of her.  I was the adult.  The one who said it would be okay.

As I think about it more, my grief comes from a different place.  I am no longer defined by the role I once held.  There is no one but me, to define me.  I am no longer protecting her, giving her advise, comforting her.  Being the parent--without the holiday, thanking me for all I do throughout the year. 
I am grieving that my mother, and father, are not, nor will they ever be the parents I wanted or hoped them to be.



I know who my best friend is.  It is not my mother. And it never was.

Tensions rising.

Started trying to write a poem, but words would not flow.  So, prose it is.  Today has been an emotional day.  My mind has been racing with all sorts of things.  Family, friends, things left to do.  Anxiety.  All day.  There were brief periods of relief, but these were short lived.  Even now as I write this, I can feel the tightness returning in my chest, the aching.  Sleep will be scarce tonight.  Coffee will be my friend to make it through the day.  That and adrenaline. It'll be okay...


Drained. As it spikes again.

Fuck.

Same conversation...here we go.  No resolution. Unless I play by the rules.  Obsessed.  No.  Why can't I control myself?  Why do I have to? It isn't I who is out of control...and that is the problem. Isn't it?  The balance of power is shifting.  And that is scary for all involved.  Even me.  What will come of these changes I don't know...but they are needed.  I'll deal with the consequences.

Tired of being quiet, passive...but not defiant.  Do not villainize me, the situation, or my friend.  It is what it is.  Quite simple actually.  You would see that if you could open your eyes instead of being blinded by fear and insecurity.  Which is actually doing nothing more than pushing me farther away.

Hero no more.

Christmas is in one week.  If the calender didn't tell me that, or the malls insist it...I wouldn't believe it. I'm having a hell of a time getting into the Christmas spirit.  And so is everyone else around me...maybe it's because we haven't had any snow...or just that everything seems to be pushing forward at full throttle.  I usually love Christmas.  Not for the shopping...we all know how much I am not a fan...too many years of retail. But to share time with family and friends.

There it is.

There is no Christmas Eve with my parents this year.  And as much as I try not to think about it, or pretend that it doesn't bother me.  It does.  Everyday.  It wears on me.  Sometimes it's a passing thought, something someone says triggers a memory, a question never to be answered.  Sometimes it's more consuming.  Mood shifting. 

I am not angry.

I am beyond that stage of my grief.  Though admittedly, I do flow back into it from time to time.  Despair is probably a more accurate description at this point.  I am saddened by the events that have unfolded over the last year.  Never did I imagine that we would end up here.  You can call me stubborn, selfish, ungrateful...insert negative remark, gremlin thought here...

But this is not the truth.

My decision to walk away, to separate myself was not done in spite.  But in self-preservation.  For myself, my family, my career, my sanity.  It would have consumed me, more than it does now at times, if I had stood by.  I would have become enmeshed.  The hero. 

I am no hero.  Not anymore.

It was the most difficult decision of my life, one that I grapple with regularly.  I was licensed this week--a very exciting accomplishment professionally.  I wanted nothing more than to share that with my mother.  Father.  For them to be proud of me.  But that is not where we are.  Or may ever be again.

My parents taught me to stand up for what I believe to be right.

And I am.

Grounded

i can't sleep. the house is dark aside from the glow of the laptop. as i sit on the couch, the only sounds are the hissing of the heat and the clicking of the keys beneath my fingers. i enjoy this time of day. really the only time that i can sit quietly. any other time, someone person or animal needs my attention or creates a distraction from the stillness of the dark. my eyes are heavy, tired. but my body still has energy to burn, mostly from all of the coffee and chocolate consumed hours before. coffee and chocolate. one of my favorite things to do is sit and talk with a friend over coffee (or tea) and share the latest news. or maybe nothing at all. to just be.

sitting here, the song from rent came into my mind. specifically this line: take me for what i am
who i was meant to be.

tall order isn't it?

or maybe not. i think the hard part is taking ourselves for what we are. who we are. all of us. there are parts of myself that i wish i could forget sometimes. you know the ones...the unmentionables. like the fact, that when i get mad, really mad, i can lash out with words that cut to the core. i get this from my father. he said i could blame him. so i am. it's a learned behavior i think, as i suspect it was for him. but i don't actually blame him, or my mother, for that matter, for anything. i may not understand why things are, but i am not supposed to . just to know that it happens for a reason. that there is a lesson to learn. not sure what the lesson is with my parents, but someone better get on it.

this is where faith comes in. i walked away from church for many years. i thought god had left me. i was not willing to accept that there were things that are truly out of control. free will. i used to sit there and think, if there were a god, how can i believe in someone who treats others in that way.

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.

--Reinhold Niebuhr

finally my eyes are closing, wislow is snoring in the create next to me. bed now.

Hello little girl

It's funny really, behind all of the pomp and circumstance, masks and layers, how we're really all the same. Or are we? We are all products of our experiences, shaped by what has happened to us, by us, in us. Take me for example, despite appearances I'm just a scared little girl, hiding in the corner. Waiting. Hoping for someone to extend a hand, a warm smile, and tell me that it is all okay.

This little girl, cold and seemingly alone, trembles at the idea of being found out. What was it my father said? A coward, phony. This little girl is self-conscious. She doesn't think any one really likes her, nor does she deserve to be. She is shy, quiet, reflective. Intense. She questions everything, On occasion she finds someone that can draw her out, for a little while. But more often than not, that person leaves and she retreats even further into the shadows of the walls she creates.

This little girl is searching for her place in this world. A place where she can be herself, she can be comfortable. Where she feels that no one judges her for the way she walks, looks, or feels. This little girl does not like to feel vulnerable. Her insecurities pile on as she tries to look away.

She's growing now though, this girl in the corner. Trying to sit up a little higher and allow herself to be seen. Slowly she is starting to take risks, has even made eye contact once or twice, but only briefly. But we all have to start somewhere, patience. As she stretches out her hand.

Rambling

What is rambling anyway...perhaps a stream of consciousness that may or may not make sense to those either having or interpreting what is being delivered. I find it fascinating how a series of seemingly unconnected thoughts, feelings, and emotions can cause such chaos or perhaps peace. I find that the thoughts that swirl around in my head, while apparently unrelated, always seem to come together to some end or resolution. Granted, this is not to say that everything is always tied up into a nice little bow, certainly not. But in time, I always seem to find some relief.

What do I mean by this? There are periods of time in which my sleep is restless, dreams, nightmares, even that cannot make sense. I wake up with jaw tense and sore, headache, I drag through the day. Yet, after a few days of this, perhaps a week, the dreams subside. I can rest. My subconscious has run through the hundreds of thousands of possibilities, the conversations have been played and replayed to the point of being etched in my mind, and I am okay.

Secure.

I've been writing more, talking more, it seems to be helping. If you know me well, not the facade I use in public, you'd know that I process internally the majority of the time. So, as you can imagine, my mind has been in overdrive. But this has been good. I have been reminded of the importance of writing in my life, which is also serving the purpose of relieving my brain from having to loop through the additional information, which I am now able to process here.

This is my free association exercise.

Phoenix Rising

Like a phoenix rising up from the ash
I am freed of my experiences
No longer weighed down by the choices
Made by those with authority over me

This path unknown leaves questions
Uncertainty at every bend
I am left to my own devices
to carve out my own way

Reborn with a wisdom greater than my years
I am not alone in this journey
The gifts of this life rewarding
As I reflect on those which are in front of me

I take nothing for granted
As I move through this life
Considerate of my span
I rise

Letting Go

I have to forgive you
for things done and will never be
emotions long since buried and gone
resurface with a force
not to have expected.

I have to let go
of the ideal
I thought
I had.

You are not the person
I need you to be.

My expectations of you
too high to be upheld.
Another statistic.

Your anger and pain
too embedded in your soul
your "misery",
needing to be washed away.

Guilt, shame, embarrassment
shake me to the core.
I hide you from view.

Pride vanished in an instant.
The foundation crumbled
as my suspicions were confirmed.

Anger has been replaced
with sadness and grief
as I move forward without you.
Unwilling to carry
your weight once more.

Words said years ago replay in my mind
promises broken, trust lost.
Scars reopen into fresh wounds
As those same sentiments are repeated.

I am older now, wiser
no longer held to the roles
played in youth.

I cannot expect you to understand
so of course you lash out
the rules have changed.
You are no longer the leader.


Lessons taught,
not soon to be forgotten.
I follow a different path.

I let go.

Hello Gremlin, how are you?

I'm reading this book, Taming Your Gremlin, and it's all about how to overcome that negative little voice in your head-->you know the one who tells you how much you suck or that people don't really like you. You are not good enough. Err, at least that's what mine says. Regardless of the content of the message, these little bastards can do a number if not kept in check. The problem is, we've been listening to them for so long...we can no longer even tell that the voice isn't our own or is not based in any sort of reality.

The book breaks done the steps to squashing your gremlin into basically three principles.

simply notice
be at choice
play with options

It's all about changing how with think and interact with our gremlins...detaching ourselves from the onslaught of negativity that clouds our every interaction. My gremlin is somewhat amorphous. Sometimes he looks and sounds like people I've known, others there seems to be no shape but only a feeling of weight. The gremlin wants to keep you in the dark, he thrives there. To see the light is to question and begin to poke holes in the messages he's convinced you to believe.

I've done a lot of work on my gremlin. I know where he comes from and what at times gives him strength. I've gotten better at recognizing his games, but at times he remains one step ahead. But, I suppose that's what the last step is (I haven't quite gotten there yet). Taming your gremlin is a process. He didn't grow over night, nor will he disappear. It's having a healthy respect for his power, yet finding the strength within ourselves to kick his ass to the curb.

Wake-Up Call

There it is again,
the aching.
it’s going to be one of those days
I can tell. The pain,
encircling my knees
travels down the length of my shines,
does a tour of my ankles,
and back up the calves.

My muscles twitch
in an uncontrollable spasm.
As I lay there, I dread
the moment I attempt
to rise.
What if I fall?
It’s happened before…

Heat doesn’t work,
ice is pointless—
there are meds…
they at least dull the ache,
but, stubbornness is a bitch.
I hate the way they make me feel,
besides, I did this to myself—
the years of neglect, I deserve
the pain.

So, I rise and put on my happy face,
it’s time to grin and bear it.
Make you believe
that there is no pain.
It’s all okay
and fool you—
for yet another day.

Through the Cracks

As the darkness rolls in--consuming
my mind reels from a past I've wanted to forget
from which I have tried to run away
yet I know I cannot run forever,
so instead I erect a wall
to block out the memories--the pain
I keep this wall up, thinking I will hurt less
be hurt less, that no one needs to know me
there are some though
that have peered through the cracks
and even scaled the divide
to these few, I hold on dearly
afraid of them walking away,
leaving me,
alone.

Walls

I used to think they were a good idea. They kept things in, and more importantly, kept people out. Took moments to build and years to take down. And it seemed like every time I would start to take them down, something would happen, and they would go up higher and with even more thickness. It was a learned behavior, survival.

Years later they are still there, just as thick, but with a few cracks here and there. Few people have been able to successfully scale them. I used to take pride in this. But right now I sit here wondering how much I have lost out on because of my solid construction.

As I sit here thinking. There's a video game in the background. World at War. Rather fitting actually. We're all at war, every moment of every day trying to decide our next move. Who lives and who dies? Who get's in and who to keep out. What parts of ourselves get sealed away behind re-bar and cement?

I've spent years chipping away at the concrete slabs and sometimes I make progress. I even know why I started pouring the foundation all those years ago. I was that scared little girl in the corner...the one the kids picked on for riding the short bus. Then there was all the other stuff. The stuff that we didn't talk about. The secrets.

I never fit into the molds that were cast for me. My walls I think were my attempt at creating my place in this world. To hide behind the fact that that I wasn't what I was supposed to be. From the moment I entered the scene someone's expectation somewhere was dashed.

So I built.
I perfected.
I was the foreman.

But now I am tired.

The question now is, how do I find myself beneath the rubble?