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So when your mother doesn't love you - does it mean you are worthless? Does it mean you have to look at yourself and make changes or does it mean you look at her and ask why does she require you to be like that? What if she reared you to be honest and fair and truthful, then condemns you for that very trait in your life? And when it feels like hate aimed at you - do you have a right to hate back? To turn a cold shoulder? To let her rot in her own urine?
So everyone is born in a box. And every child has this urge to look out of the box. And every parent's duty is to help the child see outside the box, and when it is safe and when it is not. When to step out, how to step out, and what to do when you get outside that box. What happens to a person who never gets out of the box? Who wraps themselves in bubble wrap and peers through cracks in fear - and then raises a child in that box - and just hates.
Sometimes I am scared of the world. Actually most times I am scared. But to live in the dark of my own head is too much. You HAVE to step out and see the ugly to see the beauty. You have to see other people to feel love. You HAVE to see light to feel sunshine - even if it means you get rained on sometimes. Storms never last long, and then the sun comes out again. You never know that until you get wet, and then dry again. And storm clouds - beautiful.
If you choose not to be part of my life, it hurts. It hurts more than you will ever know. And maybe you don't know, because I never made those restrictions on you. My love was unconditional. Your love always came with conditions. Well, this time I made the choice. You are not part of my life. When you are down and need me, don't look my way. And petty as it is, when you are dying, you die alone, because you cut me off. I didn't isolate you, you did.
I wish I was there for your wedding. I wish you let me in your life for the years building up to that day. I wish I knew the man you met and planned to marry. I wish I was part of the planning. I wish I knew your friends, your house, your colors. I wish I knew you. I am not sorry I did not go. I am only sorry I was not really wanted in the first place. I am sorry you uncovered that part of your life - now, too late...
Sis, I can't stop you from killing yourself. I can't even offer much help, until you help yourself. We were raised this way. We allow others to step on us, always tilting the scales so we help someone, but no one helps us. Always gifting others, and so no one will ever owe us. Settling for pain because we think somehow we deserve it, or that is our worth. I fight it daily, so it is hard to direct you. But that isn't right. You don't deserve this, but you make that decision.
I can't write what I think - I think too fast. I can't even keep up with the thoughts in my head on a slow day. I drag myself down trying. and the thoughts aren't nice. I think my thoughts are mostly about getting even for the pain I feel, that was inflicted on me by others. It is the only way to make the scales tilt back to normal. Sometimes it is the only way I can sleep, to get that hate and pain out, in sick imaginative ways, but all in my head.
When I go to bed and try to relax, I think of myself on a roof. My house. My roof. I can tell what my state of mind is by how I am on the roof. I may be steady and strong - face against the wind, feet apart. Or I may be hanging on my my fingernails, with my body sliding down the side as I scream knowing no one is there to catch me. I may be on all fours, hanging on for what I know is mine. Still there, not fallen.
Fuzz in my bed. I love my animals. I hate their dirt, their poop, urine, stink like dead animal when they find it. But they love me. They always accept. I accept them and their flaws and they accept me. Their soft warm in my bed means I am loved. Means I can't turn over, that the bed will have dog hair, that they will probably share fleas - but they share that bed with the strongest love in the world. To them that is ecstasy, just laying close to me is important.
Did you ever throw up because you had to go to work? Did you do it every day for years? Know you had to? Actually hate your job so much it made you ILL? But there was no choice? And then see those around you with no jobs, living better than you and bitching because you bought yourself something? If I buy myself a $35 necklace, but I spent 5 days in hell to pay for it, I don't want your self righteous bullshit about how you wish you had money for a necklace.
Freedom to be free. To be loved for who you are, for what you like, for how you dress, what you eat, how you sing, what you love, freedom to be a person. An individual person. Love what you want, hate what you want, and have the freedom to say it, do it - just don't hurt others. I love so many people, and they are so different. No one has a right to decide what is "perfect" or "right". We are just different, and that alone makes us beautiful - each in his own way.
I am so blessed with the man I married. Not only is he a wonderful husband, a fantastic father, but he puts up with me and all my "issues". He can handle days when I just have to have my music loud, sometimes all night. He knows when I just need a hug, or to vent, or to just sit quietly and play with my beads for hours. He will sing with me in public, and laugh with me. He appreciates the birds in the trees and the song in my head. Love him.
Friends are like fruit. Sometimes they are past ripe and should be discarded. Sometimes they aren't ripe enough and you need to give them time. Sometimes they are a sweet taste you remember and cherish. Sometimes you make jam and preserve them so you can have them over and over. Sometimes you get a pit, or seed in your teeth, but if they are good enough, it is worth it. Spit out the seed, and enjoy the sweetness. Let the flavor make you happy. And make sure you too are sweet.
There is nothing like a wood fire. Something so basic as wood burning and the smell of the wood make you feel warmer than any electric heater ever will. Yes they make smoke, and leave pieces of wood, and take effort. But maybe it is that effort that makes it so sweet. And when a loved one cuts and splits that wood, or goes out in the wet cold weather and brings in that life giving heat, you know they love you. And when the day is yucky, you can see the flames and dream.
I love my seasons. Every year I get tired of summer and want winter. Every winter I get tired of cold and want warm. The trees change from thick and green and sound covering, to stark and beautiful lines of black and then sounds carry for miles. The birds change from dozens of colors and tiny bright voices to dark heavy birds with power like hawks and eagles. Snow is white and coating, grass is green and blows in the wind. Each time I get tired of it, it changes to make new again.
Grandchildren are a blessing. No one should hold them away from their grandparents. I don't care how bad you might think they are, or that their views are different. It is part of learning and growing that you find out others are different and you can still love them. My grandpa was an ass to my grandmother, but he hugged me. Somedays I hated the way he smelled or talked, but I miss him too. My other grandpa loved EVERYONE and learning, and books, would argue all day long. I miss him too.
Books. I have thousands. I have more than the high school library. I can't even find them all. Some are collectors - I have one from a sailor on the Titanic (horrible English), some are just stupid (nice reading when you just want to vegetate, the equivalent of cartoons), some are true crime and quite upsetting, some are non fiction, some are science fiction, some are supernatural, some are all natural, some are cookbooks, and some are self help. It is much like friends, sometimes you need one, and sometimes you need another. Nice choices.
I want to paint. I want to draw. I used to. I used to write poetry. I don't do any of that anymore. I no longer let myself just BE. Something inside me needs to be let out. There is something in there that is screaming. Sometimes it is screaming in pain, sometimes it is singing and screaming in ecstasy, but it needs out. And I can't talk or say what I want, I am ALWAYS saying the wrong thing. Somehow I just can't get this social thing right. Why?
Is there a GOD? I mean a larger than life thing that sits over us? Does he/she judge? Laugh? Smile? Did he/she plan fun, laughter, happiness? Or did he/she plan pain and misery and laugh when we just can't figure it out? Sometimes I feel like a puppy that keeps piddling in the floor, and always getting in trouble and I can't figure out where I CAN piddle - no one will exactly tell me, and the rules seem to change daily. All I know is I have to go..
I killed a wild cat once using a beer bottle. My husband and I were both newly married, both with kids from a previous marriage, and trying to make a new life on a shoestring. He was working full time, I was a full time student - 5 kids. A wild cat was breaking into our farm and killing chickens - and that was how we paid for our home. We couldn't catch him. When I did, there was no weapon, but a beer bottle. I beat him to death, then threw up and slept. Saved.
Conditional love. My mother decided to withhold her love because she can't accept me. I am a good person, good job, good life - but I am not of her religion. My father chose to withhold his love because my mother did. My daughter did because she joined her own cult and won't accept me and my life. I certainly didn't raise her that way, but she made that decision. Why can't we just love each other regardless of our differences? If you aren't hurting others, live and let live - and love. Accept.
I am so much stronger than I thought I was. I have lived through things my parents never had to face or deal with. I have faced a rapist and lived. I have seen my child with his skin charred and falling off from third degree burns. I have killed wild animals with my are hands. I have eaten food I killed. I have made my own clothes. I have built my own home. I build my own computers, and I make my own cheese. I am superwoman. Maybe, sometimes.
I am a photographer. I am good at it. I never charged for it. I have taken senior pictures, wedding pictures, glamor shots. But the most fun I have is just driving down the road and getting those pictures that are beautiful around me. When my husband drives, I can see things that I can't look for when I am driving. That old barn. That fence line with the mournful cow. That ancient farmhouse with the roof swooping in to cave in the center. That eagle, that deer. Blessed beauty.
He drug me by my hair and shoved my face into the clock and said "you see what time it is?" I cried as quiet as I could and told him yes. He knew I didn't have my glasses, I couldn't see the clock unless I was close. He slammed me into the wall and screamed over and over, telling me how bad I was. I cried softly so the kids would not wake up. The didn't need to see him like this. They didn't need to see the hair left in his hands.
I really want to believe in karma. I want to know that those who hurt others get what is coming. Unfortunately what I see in the real world doesn't work like that. I see people ripping people off with money. I see men beating women and women hiding it. I see children with fear in their eyes just trying to survive. Even when faced with hatred, I shrink, because dying won't make it stop, and I can't make a difference. If you beat a dog, a women, an old person.. die in pain.
Each day changes our relationships. Not sure if it changes me, or them, or the world, but it changes things. Some I thought were indestructible die, some I thought were dead come alive. Some I thought were not there for me are. Some I was not there for, I am now. Never give up. Times change, things change, people change. We all make mistakes, grow up, see things clearer/differently. Those that I thought were gone are here. Those that I thought would always be here have declared me dead.
Once a man tried to rape me. He was at my door, he asked for help. I lived in the country. He and his wife were welcomed in. I took them into town and got them gas (they ran out) and put it in their car. Then he held my OWN KNIFE to my throat to rape me. I told him the bible said if I screamed I would keep my everlasting life. He did not rape me. He took everything from a single mother of two, but I was alive and unhurt.
When I was growing up, my mother taught that all Alfred Hitchcock Presents, all Twilight Zone, all related shows were demonized. I was taught if I even THOUGHT about them, demons would show up in my bed and rape me. I was terrified. I once spent the night with a friend and her brother watched them in the next room and I prayed all night not to be raped. I revel in watching these shows now. I face down the fears of my childhood. The only demon was my mother's fear that she bred.
You cannot help those that do not want help. Much like you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink. I know - I have been there. Fear breeds fear. Change is scary when you know nothing different. But I cannot sacrifice myself or my security to help someone who is NOT READY to help themselves. All I can do is hold out that blanket.. even then, I hold back part of myself, afraid to trust. I will help, if I can, if you want. But if you don't...
Each of us has to make a decision to grow or change - or stagnate and be happy with what we are (is that stagnation? if you are happy?) I am making major changes in my life, each day, more than ever before. Good part is that I want better things, and to heal the past, bad part is, uncovering the past makes me face things I really SERIOUSLY don't want to. So do I uncover these deep pits of shit, work through it, or do I just say it was a pit of shit and go.
So I open a window and let myself out. It was always here - I just didn't let it out. It has needed out for a long long time. You cannot heal without showing your weakness. I am weak in so many ways. I have been strong for so many for so long - and still must be. I must put on my face, my mask. I dream I am naked in a robe, and must pretend it is a dance gown... no one knows I am naked underneath it. I am always wrapping myself.
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