To be, or not to be....isn't that always the question???!!!????

I have been pretty angry lately. Surprise, Surprise! (as my mother would say).  I blame myself, but it is not all my fault.  Now that my walls are down, I can see the pattern and begin to remember why things went down the way they did.

The smartest thing I ever did was accept reality in the early 2000.  I had forgotten for a while at that time, that when you are forgiven and accepted you really are not and the game begins all over again.  Needless to say, when one important relationship ended and I needed my family, they let me back in.

Being outside of acceptance of one's family, formerly known as being disowned has its ups and downs.  In reality, it is a lose/lose if there are children or grandchildren involved, unless you are the beloved grandchild.  The rest of the discarded are just that.  Invisible, do not exist, outsiders.

So, I got sucked into daring to believe that things could be different.  I live in a special kind of hell.  I believe in the impossible.  I believe in happily ever after and riding off into a perfect sunset on a beautiful white horse into a starry night.  I live in reality, but believe in fairy tales.

I believe in family.  Not the one I was born into.  I knew that I was fucked when my dad departed, or shortly thereafter.  I have always been an outsider.  My Dad fed me a fairy tale that everything would be okay and we would be together someday.  The first time I ran away to him I found out that was never going to happen.  He bought me a cherry coke and called my Mom and sent me back to my real life.

I have repeatedly been disappointed by his actions as this hope and loss is a pattern with us. It sucks, especially as I grow older and he grows older.  He feels guilty, thinks a trip to Florida, spend time together, Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, car, none make his guilt go away. I reluctantly accept these gestures, knowing that the intentions are not good.  When confirmation comes, I am not allowed to name it, and when I inevitably do, me being me, turn into the enemy, yet again, always.

I decided at a young age that the only way I was going to be a part of a family is to make my own family and treat them like human beings and love them and teach them and I was happy to wait and live on that dream.  It was a nice dream.  I never dreamed about a wedding, or my Dad walking me down a church filled with flowers, family and friends.  I was not a typical little girl.  I would have loved to have had that dream, or any dream at all.  I live in the land of broken dreams, stomped down, smashed hopeless.

I wonder if I am on the brink of madness.  I walked up to that line once.  It was not pretty.  Somehow, I didn't fall in. Losing faith in mankind has that effect on some people.  I am lucky, I guess to be one of them a person who cares so much that events can (or did, or is once again in the process of) totally shatter my psyche.

This comes at a bad time.  I have been weakened by my physical trauma on my body and am still coming to terms with that on a daily basis. One day at a time, hell, one second at a time at times. My ability to keep my status quo within my personal comfort range has been a myth for quite sometime now.  I was trying to pinpoint just when the walls totally collapsed.

The wall always lands on me.  I never see its toppeling until it is too late, and I am under the rubble. No one digs me out of this shattered mess. Everyone expects that once I dig all the bricks, mortar and rubble off of myself that I will be bright and eager and have dinner on the table, no complaints, complaints mean that you are not being nice, and why are you not being nice, I am nice you should be nice says the voice sitting next to me at the table.  Good meal, nice job, thanks; as long as there are others around the table. 

Perhaps it is just grief, I think to myself.  Knowing, that it could be part of it.  The repeated loss is like death, a revolving door of my soul dying. Sadly, my heart has stopped breaking.  It didn't hurt like usual this time, instead it just broke apart in a flash of light within my chest.  I remember walking into a rest area bathroom in some state somewhere and phoned someone who has a heart at 4:30 in the morning and cried like a baby for a few minutes before walking back to continue the next  stretch of the endless drive.

I drove for hours, the night in front of me, the music blaring and the wind blasting in the window to aid in my journey.  When I needed to rest I got yelled at so I just continued on.  A faker and a liar pretending to sleep in the seat next to me.  Co Pilot  my ass. His guiding light - his stomach finally needed sustenance at 8 hours later so an icy meal in a cold restaurant was had..  The next 10 hours was a delight. An apology came, but really, what are words compared to the repeated behavior.  Words are hollow and empty and meaningless when you have heard it, lived it all before.  A lifetime of it.  The rule is you are good if you accept and believe in my bullshit, the second you think for yourself, do for yourself or question me you are toast.  The one thing my parents have in common it appears, aside from two adult children.

I watch a repeat of history past.  My father adopting my mothers playbook, but different.  I watch him target one of my children who is vulnerable.  I do not like it.  I cannot say a word or do anything.  Liars always lie. My stomach turns in an uncomfortable way.  Accusations fly.  I do not question why.  I know.  I have lived through this once or twice or ten times now, but not in this way.

I can't seem to blame myself, or accept responsibility this time.  Nor can I block it out and pretend it isn't happening as I have in the past.  My defenses are down.  No drama here, only slight panic at the situation.  It is not my fault, but it is. It is in by the fact that I have made bad behavior acceptable.  I have subconsciously allowed myself to be complicit with those involved.

Only myself, and the guy I pay to keep me sane understands what I am experiencing and why I am feeling the way I am.  Anyone else involved wouldn't have the understanding or compassion or ability to accept responsibility (other than to know they are guilty deep in their hearts, hence the purchase of love and loyalty).

I can't be bought, love can't be bought.  I can be tricked, I am gullible. I think gullibility comes from believing in people who tell you lies. I know none of those little tidbits like a passport, a trip to Italy, or an Art Show that was dangled in front of me will never materialize, unless I do it myself.  That I let myself believe even for the short time that I did really believe, is a miracle.  Just like I believed that what was a gift doesn't belong to me.  Ask the guy who gave it.

Breaking my own rules.  Damn it.  I believed, I accepted, I had faith and hope and now I have only the reality and truth as it always has  been.  I was a smart girl once.  I made rules to protect myself.  I learned not to want, I learned to accept, I accepted my 'place' until I didn't/don't. Rules became structure, structure became balance, balance became order, order became calmness and peace. 

My peace is gone, I am not calm, chaos rules?  Unacceptable to me.  So I condemn the behavior, say it outloud and I am the enemy.  There is no war.  But the troops rally on, hyping my response as dramatic and out of control.  I try to laugh in the face of it.  I tried to laugh in the face of it.  I broke down and cried for the loss of that belief in false hope and empty words.

My girlfriend told me insanity was doing the same thing over and over hoping for a different result.  I must be insane.  My shrink assures me I am not.  Daily reminders  and recurrence of a lifetime of neglect and abuse has a tendency to trigger shit. My weakass self has or has not the ability to accept reality once and for all and figure out how to find my peace and restore my balance without the side effects, that is the goal. 

I just hope I can not publicly melt down and make it out with what is left of my little family intact without being the villain, but I fear that ship has sailed. 

Think I need some inspiration from my man, Bob Marley
https://youtu.be/zaGUr6wzyT8

Wish me luck!

A REFLECTION OF LIFE

LIfe - what a trip right?  When we are small children we have no idea what is in store.  If we are lucky we grow in love and security.  If we are unlucky we shrivel in the shade of worry and fear.  We are not born knowing the difference between the two and what we get becomes our normal, our basis for all of our actions and beliefs.

The love and security is supposed to prepare us for that day when we venture out into the world ,via school and begin our journey.  I remember my first day of school walking in those large front doors, into the mouth of the beast, up the stairs like a tongue ready to chew you up and spit you out.  Not a thought I had on that day - cloaked in purple for strength and holding my Mom's had for security - I thought I was prepared.  I was eager, I was young, was I stupid? 

Looking back now, I was smart which was how my Mom got me into kindergarten early.  I was not socially ready for school, however.  That seems to be a burden throughout my life.  I adapted, but never excelled.  In truth, because I made stupid decisions to make other people angry which ultimately was my undoing academically.

Socially, I have never felt prepared.  I have never found my niche.  Don't get me wrong, I am a social creature and thrive in the energy of crowds -- of strangers.   I have hundreds of acquaintances who are dear to me, and, as I was reminded at my 35th reunion last night, I am dear to many.  It warms my heart.  It rejuvenates me a bit and knocks me on my ass a bit more.  Always the sharp blade of the double edged sword.

I am sad to say that I do not have clear recollections of specific people and details of my early years, or for that matter, years beyond that.  My brain built a wall and stored those away.  Seeing myself in a photo of 3rd grade, I was curious to see who my teacher was...sad to say, I don't remember from those days the boy/man who shared this reminder with me from then or throughout high school.  It did bring tears to my eyes in real time, which is slightly embarrassing, but not - I am not ashamed to feel what I feel.

My best friend was a boy and my mantra, as I got teased was that 'just because he was a boy, and a friend doesn't mean he is my boyfriend".  So many shins kicked and so much anger.  I obviously didn't learn how to understand emotions.  After an upheaval of my love and security as my family disintegrated emotions became a new participant in my life.  Confusion and insecurity are not comfortable experiences in my humble opinion.

I did my best.  I put on a brave face and a smile and pretended that I was invincible and nothing could knock me down. I became a latch key kid and ran the streets of my neighborhood with my best friend.  We had a round of places and activities.  I can't say for sure, but I do believe that I probably talked his ear off, and he let me and he didn't judge my expanse of thoughts and probably random information.

I spent weekends, summers and winter vacations at my grandparents, both sets lived in the same small town.  My great gram had a cottage she and her sister summered at down the street and I spent a great deal of my time riding my bike and in the waters of that lake.  I played girls softball and baked with my other grandmother for every event going on in town.

I spent time with my great aunts and uncles on our massive farm which was down to a big fat pig called Moe and some chickens and bees which my cousin tended.  My great uncle Sonny had a horse which he let me ride once, but which I fed grass and petted.  There wasn't a horse in that town that I didn't pet if I could get close enough to it.  My dear cousin June and her husband had an array of animals at times, as he was a game warden so I was blessed to interact with baby deer's and raccoons. 

Nature was my security and my peace.  It is also how I established a sense of love and beauty.  Living in the Berkshires there is no shortage, close up or from a distance of beauty be it mountains, lakes, fields, fowl or flowers.  People were complicated and unpredictable who changed the rules and the game on a dime.  Nature, with its own dangers, has rules and boundaries which can be prepared for, as long as you had an awareness and used your head and were prepared.  I mean, hail balls are kind of fun and interesting on a 80 degree summer day, and snow in April melts quickly and it always rains in spring and the snow and cold always comes in winter - consistent and predictable.

Consistency, everything was just so and then one day we met our future. To say things drastically changed would be an understatement.  The more things change, the more they stay the same, however and at 8 years old I entered a new school, new battleground, new kids teasing, chasing and kicking in the shins. Why do these memories stand out?  I am sure that it was just a release for the anxiety.  It didn't have a name in my brain yet, but I can tell you, as I advanced in ages, my access in the library became greater and I searched through massive amounts of books trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me.

Reading had always been my anchor.  Knowledge is key and books hold that key.  Pre internet you had to do the work and read all the words.  None of this search keyword crap. Now days there is so much information at hand and too much of it is erroneous. Too many 'experts'.  Everyone thinks they know everything, you have to source and check.  I was reading case studies in elementary school. Such extreme cases of children so far gone by abuse at the hands of their loved ones.  Awful, but interesting.

My new life included a house on three acres of land with a river and more land behind it.  A little Cape down a long driveway shrouded from the road by a line of trees, but once spotted had a big yellow smiley face on it.  It also had an adult in the house to call during the off season, a novelty and one I used often.  I had stomach aches and wanted to vomit all of the time.  My fight or flight was on flee regularly.  You can only fight so much.

My new adult was older than my mother and very paternal.  He didn't talk down to kids, he talked like he talked and discouraged, on our first meeting, my friendship with my friend, which I debated wholeheartedly for - a debate neither of us one, I would call it a tie.  It was the beginning of a long and cherished relationship.  He encouraged me to be my own person and not follow the herd.  He was Italian and I was a prima donna in that house. I was not afraid to speak my mind and enjoyed family dinners every night which he laboured over all day off season or I cooked when he worked so that dinner would be on time.

Life was routine and we enjoyed a different sense of freedom.  We could ride our bikes all of the way to Lanesboro if we wanted, as long as we were home for dinner - it was insane the amount of freedom we had.  It was a nice place to grow up.

I got burned by my best friend, which changed my status in my household just before 7th grade.  When you get lied on and your family alters their opinion of you it in a dirty and cheap way it is not a good experience to say the least.  I went through the stages of grief and got stuck on anger.  Anger which had nowhere to go.  I had previously carried a form of hope which led me to believe that everything would be okay - this period of change made that a bit more difficult.

The realization came to the forefront of my life last month when my 'best friends' brother passed away suddenly with a horrible disease.  A friends mother told me of a memorial where everyone from the neighborhood was going to be there and remember and support the family and as a community.  There was a strong core of friends in our neighborhood and that is how we roll.  I was thankful to be told and had every intention of going, until the day of when the reality of life and actions and dirty deeds came to the forefront of my brain and I asked myself what the fuck was I thinking?  Why on earth would I possibly? I may be a bad person, but what is worse - respect or disrespect? I had to respect myself for a change.

Can I just interject at this moment that in this moment in time of my life that my wonderful defense mechanism from my childhood has finally (over the past 5 years) released me from it's clutches.  Hence, while I cannot recall a clear timeline, it is the clearest it has been in 45 years.  I cannot decide if I like remembering better than to have no recall for safety's sake.  I do take comfort in the fact that I must be evolving and stronger than ever or else my brain wouldn't play this cruel trick on me.

I guess I like it when it is positive.  For example, I like that people share images of me happy, smiling, fun, social.  My memories are darker and anti social.  I had a total double life.  I like that my perception is twisted and I instead left a positive footprint.

Recently I have been facing the challenges of extreme truths and was ready to accept, as I have been trained my whole life, to accept responsibility for things that were not mine to own, a recurring theme.  In the past I did and with that the negative connotations which came with these things. I am proud to say that I was able to stand up for myself and hand it back where it belongs, whether those who own it want it or not.

It makes me sad that some parts of life are so shitty and  tries to choke the life out of me.  Sometimes you have to cut those strangling vines and kill the plant they come from before it kills you.  I wish I could say that I have begun to learn how to squash my anger, but I don't want my anger squashed, I want to get to the core of my anger and sprinkle it with love and cut out the cancer that other people's hatred, jealousy, fears, shortcomings of their own have grown and, while I cannot help those who can't accept their own things, there is much I can do to encapsulate myself from that poison.

I thought I had taken off those rose coloured glasses, but I realize now that they were still slightly tinted.  I am hopeful that in the third quarter of my life I may rid myself of the rest of those constraints.

A friend last night asked me about a special someone - which in my mind is a joke.  I replied, that is next life stuff - the Chinese think they can ban reincarnation but I don't think they have control over that.  I believe and I hope that I can work through the lessons from my past life to endure a different future life.  I feel closer and further both at the same time - at least I feel!

Peaches

Once I went to Maine and stayed at a lovely house. Next to the pool in the backyard was a cute little tree full of delicious ripe peaches. I had never seen a peach tree, nor had I ever eaten a fresh peach. 

One morning I woke up and picked some peaches. I decided to make my friend a Peach Cobbler from his mother's recipe. He located the recipe, I gathered the ingredients and set to work.

As I cut into the fresh peach to remove the pit, the juices freely and abundantly ran down my fingers into a bowl. 

The aroma was amazing as I cut into the peach. It was all I could do not to abandon my project and just eat the peaches as they were.

Needless to say, that was not the goal. In the end I made my first Peach Cobbler for my dear friend and his Dad and we all were happy.