Friday, August 20, 2021

CRUSHING BOXES

 Waking up today, trying to channel Clawdia, one thing runs through my head, the old adage, otherwise known as the GOLDEN RULE :  

 "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." , it simply means you should treat others as you'd like to be treated.

I have always tried to live within this scope of being.  Today, I struggle with the simply put aspect of it as I ponder the reality that hides around the corner.  If I treated others the way that they treat me, in the larger scope of things then I would have to go against my core self. 

I bet it would feel great to snub and become unavailable in every circumstance, to tell people that my life is none of your business and to make them feel like they can't even ask "how are you?" "What are you up to?" to know that they are struggling to manage physically and only care about myself when and if I do bother to call, and then when I call only ask for a favor and as an aside ask but not listen to how you are actually feeling. To say I am sleeping all day tomorrow only to leave at first light and come back after dark, not answer the phone and then call someone in your house to let them know you are alive and well....burn in hell. 

I wonder, as I sit in thought, emotions aside, through a lifetime of memories I glide. I wonder, if it comes with such ease like an invasive disease in those others, to hurt and then blame it all on  you? how safe am I from the disease? If I did unto you as you do unto me will that set me free? If I do, won't that make me sick like  you?

I try to find a loophole, like I did when I was younger, to help me accept and write off your behavior like it isn't against me, hadn't hurt me, infected me, driven me into choices that I might not have made otherwise. I am just a buffer for the guilt you never feel.  I will never heal.

Just THINKING about the past doesn't mean I live there.  Just connecting the dots in the whole picture, the full piece doesn't give me PEACE. It just confuses a brain that lives in the original fairy tale that is really, as all fairy tales are, a NIGHTMARE hellscape.

My self is connected so deeply in the original lie, the pie in the sky and the cow jumped over the moon made of cheese. Dear lord, please cure me of this disease. I have to put it aside, take it in stride. A change needs to come before I am undone.  I have seen all I need to see and don't care to hear any more.  It appears to be time to close that door and accept the unacceptable. 

Thursday, August 19, 2021

EMPTY BOXES

 Clawdia, Clawdia, where forth art thou, Clawdia?  

All I see is Jennifer. 

You know HER, that weird girl who forgets that expectations lead to disappointment. That girl that forgets the mask and one look at her face will tell you more than you can get in words.  Silence and quiet responses when spoken to, so as not to be rude, or crude.  She is neither.  She is meek  and silent.  

Stuck in between.  In between being able to laugh off the latest non verbal slap in the face and facing the reality she has been laughing off for most of HER life. The fairy tale.  Always the fairy tale. Accepting it for the story that it is, instead of the magical hope that walked by her side when she was ALONE, always alone.

That pretty little thing with the long dark hair and the sparkly blue eyes, unless they were green or god forbid silver...those eyes. She couldn't bear to look into those eyes. She saw deep inside.  She refuses to look, knowing that if she looked too close she wouldn't be able to believe the lie, to face the reality.

It has been harder for her to not see the reality. She is not ready to accept that reality.  She is angry in the reality. Angry and Jennifer are not good companions.  That is why she holds off accepting the reality. Some might say it is bad to not face what is there but in the shadows, no longer in the box, but still, remaining just there...can you, wait, nope...nope. For a second I thought there was hope.


Clawdia, Clawdia...

you who are me, but thee, you who do not give two figs about the hidden digs, the asshole pigs.  She, me, the girl who can take it all in stride.  She never has to hide, she laughs freely and dances in the streets.  The girl who walks always in style with a smile; where forth art thou, Clawdia???

Clawdia knows that the silver lining requires a peek.  Claudia knows that the evil that lurks in the shadow is the speaker of all of the lies. He smiles and wears no disguise.  Just the lies. Claudia knows that it is true, but never knows what to do because Jennifer cares despite the despair that goes nowhere and never has. Nothing ever changes. 

Where is Clawdia?  Where is the faith and hope?  The view from a different scope? Where is the mask? The smile? Where is my magical little bit of silver lining?  Is it the cake that is not as it should have been a birthday cake which is now just cake? If only it were that simple....




Wednesday, May 19, 2021

RANDOM

WHO    KNOWS?


                I DUNNO                                

                   WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO? 



WHO CARES?


WHATEVER!!!!


                  HOWEVER....


  THE SUN  

                                               IS SHINING




                                         

Saturday, May 15, 2021

DEEPER INTO THE BOX


 Is it better to live with your head in the clouds or your feet firmly planted on the ground? I myself need a balance of the two. 

Lately I feel like I have had too much ground and not enough clouds.  In fact, in the span of 24 hours I feel like I have hit the ground from a very high altitude. Yesterday I woke up in a mixed state and on general assessment thought I was good.  On second assessment I reached out to a friend. I expressed myself, got feedback and  pep talk and felt really positive. 

I had a plan. I was going to do what I had been doing for the past month and wait until the overall assessment on the 13th and go from there. Easy peasy, right? wrong. 16 hours in I made the wrong move, said the wrong thing and triggered an avalanche.

It took some cool down time, but 20 hours in I had dug out two of the three of my cohorts out of the snow and was able to not be buried under the weight of that metaphorical snow. In the light of day I really don't know how to do recovery on the third party. 

The elephant in the room is the third party which is the issue. It is my issue but touches all of us from our own places.  Place anyone other than the elephant in the situation (any situation) and the response from my mates would be different, but because the elephant is the elephant the elephant is being brutalized and I am the one doing it, which is in fact only a smidgen true. 

My 50 years of experience with this elephant means nothing comparatively. Mother doesn't know best in the eyes of the lambs.  Mother is just being a hater.  Forget that Mother is concerned that the elephants behaviour is borderline and the wolves, dressed in sheep clothing as they graze around the elephant, lie in wait for their moment to swoop in and bleed him dry. 

For me it is hard to watch the elephant being set up. The elephant and the lambs are all important to me. The elephant expects nothing until he has an itch on the back  and cant find a branch.  He hold those wolves up on a pedestal. He gives his time and energy to those wolves and I have seen the outcome of this before. I don't have to divert my eyes because the kill won't be in front of me, but in the end the elephant will be blindsided and call on me to be sympathetic and fill the void.

I could behave as the elephant has taught me. To walk away from those things which are not easy or which require time and attention, love and nurturing. Afterall, you live what you learn, although the elephant was not taught that from his own parents, but that is what he taught his children. His children in turn thought that behaviour was normal, as it was also reinforced by the elephants wife, who also selectively picked and chose her obligations to suit herself and not that of the whole unit. 

Life was always fun when the circus came to town.  The tent went up, the stage set, bells, whistles, clowns and theater. I was fooled and thought the circus was the life and didn't realize that it was all just one giant show and you two can step right up, get your ticket and have a ball. Life is just one big game right?

Not to me, anymore, as my feet have been planted on the ground. When the lambs were little and the circus came to town I had to review the contract and set rules and limits on the content of the show. My lambs could go to the circus for the experience but the performances needed to be scaled back because I didn't want them exposed to the dark side of the circus, metaphorically, as I was. 

Maybe I should have let them buy the ticket and take the ride when they were younger. Now the lambs are grown and the elephant ages and I do too. The lambs look at the elephant as cute and nice and able. I see the whole elephant. Well, the parts that he lets me see on occasion, but not too often because the elephant knows that I will see him how he is. I think he fears that.  The elephant likes it when I have my head in the clouds way better than when my feet are on the ground. 

The elephant also likes the company of the lambs.  They don't see the whole picture.  They see what he shows them.  He shows them a different picture than the one he shows me.  They hear complete sentences, detailed conversations.  They don't get none of your business when you ask how their day was.

It is difficult for me in this role and no matter what I do I see the whole elephant.  The more I see what that elephant is doing the less I care (?) or rather the less I WANT to care.  It is a battle within myself.  It is not a thing I take lightly.  Whether I am biting my tongue until it bleeds or sitting on the end of a phone listening to empty air instead of words their is no middle ground. 

I know I am different from the elephant and his wife. They had the ability to not care about not caring. I care too much.  I have caring children who also care enough, not too much, but just the right amount, except when it comes to their understanding about the new and unwelcome dynamics between me and the elephant (and his long departed wife; not dead, just in the wind).

Regardless of how the elephant or his long gone wife behaved in the past to me or to them, now that the elephants are aging it seems as if age gives a pass for past indiscretions, I am not old enough to get such considerations, and while they do, it is always pointed out that one day I will also have odder behaviours than I do now. I say possibly, but not probably....probably will if they continue to wear me down with the inability to try to be concerned about the elephants behaviour (even though he is an adult and it is none of my business).  No doubt, when they look at me they already think I am demented.  The elephant has been demented all my life, so the odder behaviour should be overlooked instead of examined? Sure thing boss. I am sure these lambs will send me to slaughter the first signs I may display as I am also a female which is a shot against me also. Makes me sound crazy and feel crazy when it is crazy, straight up. 

Last year I went to an event and sat with a stranger and had my tarot cards read.  Two takeaways from that were that I was surrounded by the beat of a drum.  At that time we were in a death watch time, just days away as it turned out and I stated that they were death drums, and the second was about yelling. Yelling is an interesting subject for me, as I used to have sudden emotional outbursts, kinda like I do a facebook rant when I am LIVE and out of control. (or feeling very strongly about something as passion has two sides like everything else). 

I have always been pretty quiet and mellow in general.  A listener. An Advisor.  A comforter. I have not always had it easy growing up, but I had all the comforts of a home and food and clothes until 7th grade, a couple of presents at Christmas until a teenager and a cake and dinner on my birthday until I was 16. As long as you were walking the path of the rules you were good. Step out of line and the elephant mom gets involved and trouble with a capital T. 

I only got vocal or riled when I got overloaded with bullshit that I would take until I couldn't and then explode and then everything was all good once again. Not very healthy I know. I can recommend D.B.T. and mindfulness, both great tools. So I had periods of time when yelling seemed like a regular,but only to shed that excess emotion. By the point I had gotten the reading I was not a yeller. Not externally. Inside my head I was and I think that is what he picked up on. It was from two years of not responding to that elephant and the ridiculous things that came out of his mouth and the obvious misleading information to me as confirmed randomly from conversations with one of the lambs. 

Or maybe he was just having a premonition of what was to come the next evening, I don't know. That is another story which I am not going to share right here and now, as that is down another rabbit hole and this Alice is too tired for that trip today despite it being 9:30 in the morning. 

I just want to live my days with the lambs and the elephant in calmness and drama free and not be the cause of drama without having to ignore the elephant in order not to be reactive to the elephant or cause the lambs to crucify me and feed me to the wolves.  I am tired of those wolves and tired of the drama the elephant causes by his behaviour. I struggle to not care. If that is a crime I am guilty but I do wish at times I could just hit the highway and run away from the elephant but that is using the taught behaviour which is what is also conflicting. Good old do as I say not as I do. That doesn't work for me. I have always taught by example and what kind of example would I be then???

Friday, May 14, 2021

REALITY IS....WHATEVER YOU CHOOSE TO FOCUS ON

 What is this nonsense?, I wondered as I lay wide awake n the early morning sunlight.  I lay in bed thinking about the course of the past month and down that slippery slope of years gone past.  Where, when, how? Experiences and happenings of the past eleven years, scanning back 15 even 20 years to see where the original glitch blipped in and past without a flicker of recognition. Or, was it on the radar and fell off when more serious and life threatening in their own way, non medical survival, pushing the medical thing onto the very back burner and then ignored, explained away, a concern no longer a concern, just melted away back into the wonderful machine of my body? 

My thoughts race to the next month ahead.  How? What? Who? What? Single word questions which go deeper in my thoughts flicker back into the yesterday.  A day of days.  Ordinary by the past months standards, but not ordinary for me on the regular. My second opinion appointment. My first opinion appointment led to questions and tests and the need for fresh eyes or someone to tell me what all of the tests and things equaled with the assurance that we don't want to step on the toes of this other doctor in case their plan is more than the first opinion guy.

It got weird firstly when I was asked repeatedly if I would like them to call someone. I didn't have ghostbusters on speed dial so the question became Who you gonna call?  The answer - no one.  Who would I call and more importantly why do I need to call someone? Why do  I need to call someone? There is nothing you can tell me from the results of any of the massive tests and blood works that are going to be conclusive enough for me to panic any of my loved ones. I had been leaving them with minimal info, as I only had minimal information until I had diagnosis and game plan and we were only on that unless someone isn't telling me something.

The fact that Oncology was in this doctors title didn't really bother me, the first opinion guy and the second opinion gals office made light of it, saying it was a part of what she does.  She in person again, asking if I had someone to call, and me again like no, why? even with, you know you are in a Oncology office, yeah, in my head that part was nicely glossed over, but my  question was, did any of those tests say I have cancer? of course I knew that none did.  They didn't take samples and without a biopsy you are just speculating. So of course, the answer was NO. So then why are you trying to scare the living shit out of me??? (Unasked)

So then I begin to question myself.  No, I walk alone, no I do not have a girlfriend to discuss girl issues with, no partner to discuss life issues with, no, no and no.  I have adult children, male adult children and a elderly father and a brother. My female relatives are in the ether. My mother doesn't even answer the phone on Mothers Day or the door for homemade chicken soup. The last time I was around her she was in the hospital out of it and didn't even know I was there, something I would not have dared do if she wasn't unconscious. 

Two hours after walking in, or was it longer?, pre-op surgery blood work drawn in a lab downstairs, a walk to the car, gps on and back on the road.  If I ever needed a back road ride it was then and there. The GPS had different ideas and kept trying to get me on the Pike. I defied it's order to take exit 11 and took the next exit to Lower Westfield Road to connect to my now familiar mostly without GPS (sortof) enough that even when I accidentally took a scenic route through the small town with 150 residents, I didn't panic, I just thought, wow, this town has little but they have some really nice houses and intersected at a familiar spot on the road I normally take. 

(I chuckle at the use of the word normally in the above paragraph, normally I am in my small city, on my little street in my apartment. There is some irony in that word. )

So, again I return back to my question...what am I doing up? Too many of these recent days have been up with the sun days. Is there a thread of a whisper in my head saying hurry, hurry, time is short, hurry, hurry, time is short and I just don't hear it yet.  Did I hear it in that dream? Was that premonition a foreshadowing? Is it better to be safe than sorry?  Do I need to hurry? how short is time?

Questions, and more questions. Of course I have no clue, as do any of you. I know that there isn't time to do all that I would hope to do in case this goes tits up on me. For right now in the moment there is time for me to purge these thoughts and think about the decisions I need to make in the now like who the hell is going to drive me home from the hospital?  Why change what has so obviously worked so well for me in the past? (Sarcasm) So, for now I think I write, I make a tea, I pull up a chair in the sun and enjoy the beautiful morning.  It seems so much nicer than feeding the demon that feeds on the fear of the unknown.  That is about the best for a silver lining that I can do for now. Tea is ready and I am as ready as I can be for that tea. 

Blessings on your day 

                                                             photo JMG 2021
 



Saturday, March 27, 2021

A BOX WITHIN A BOX

 

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Photo by Ivan Bertolazzi on Pexels.com

Beatrix looked back over the journal entry of the previous day. Anyone reading her words would think she hated her father, which was so far from reality. It's what she didn't write down that was so frustrating and connected more dots than she would have liked.

She was angry, wasn't she always? Beatrix got accused of being angry even when she wasn't which led to actual anger when she tried to defend the fact that she wasn't angry to begin with. Was she just a toy to be played with? Sometimes I wonder, she thought.

One thing from the previous conversation that stood out in her head was her dear old Dad telling her " I never said that". Was the lack of comprehension in her head? Words are not the only way we express ourselves. Body language, actions, lack of actions....they all factor in.

The daily phone calls had gotten rough over the past few years. It was fine if he called and wanted to chat. She spent over an hour a day on those days listening to things that really didn't interest her...sports mostly, but listened with a yup, and an oh yeah here and there.

When she called him, he would listen, if he answered his phone at all. Some people should just stick to a landline. His inability to answer his phone all but drove her crazy and those times when he finally finds his phone log and all those missed calls and doesn't notice they were over a period of weeks are not pointing out his inability to use a simple phone, rather an indication of a nagging daughter.

She could see his eyes glaze over through his voice, distant in the phone as she checked to make sure he had everything he needed or to tell him about the covid numbers or covid safety trying to feel out if he was actually protecting himself.

Beatrix thought about all the hours in therapy trying to work out new ways to communicate which would not set him off. The two years she had literally bitten her tongue when he said outlandish things so he wouldn't misconstrue her response. ..

The words cutting like a knife through her heart..."are we friends or enemies." Daughter I am, daughter I have always been and daughter I will always be. Sometimes I feel like his answer would be different than mine.



Friday, March 26, 2021

A BOX WITHIN A BOX

 https://wordpress.com/post/


/1070

I find myself changed. It is more than the grayer hair, the wrinkles on my forehead or etched under my eyes, especially on days like today, awake now at 10:30, longer than I actually slept.

It wasn't my intention to be awake before the day had come to light, but that is where I found myself. Something I regret today, more than most days that I am up early against my will and not just because of the exhaustion I feel.

Would I have been able to crawl back to bed and fall into deep sleep if I hadn't looked out the window? If my brain hadn't connected dots from last nights conversation? If that conversation hadn't revealed the box inside the box?

Did you ever just have a general conversation regarding something as benign as one's day, what they did, how it was? Of course, you have, we all have. Then have that same conversation in the conversation where the story has changed, although the event didn't, you were just given more details of the actual event.

Expand it a little further to be told that the details, which were omitted in this still benign conversation, of a trip to the eye doctors, benign because you, the listener, do not like a person in the story, who was omitted and as such, so were the details of the actual day.

Imagine being the listener, daughter of subject, neighbor as well and after the revelation be told, you know my comings and goings, as if said daughter was the guard at the gate. As if!!!!

Then a random inquiry - what are you doing tomorrow? Making conversation... have to be somewhere at 6 - I mean 8 (with said he whose name is not spoken).

No biggie to me. Like I said, until I looked out the damn window. 6 a.m. the car is gone. No biggie, except for the box within the box, or is it a box within the box, within the box and so on and so forth?

Rewind the past 4/5 10/20/45 years. Okay, stop at the 4/5 year mark, but you get my point (boxes within boxes) A total breakdown of ability to communicate to the revelation of last night/this a.m. why? because keeping track of lies is a bitch and it is easier to avoid a person and talking to them because you are involved in some ridiculous subterfuge.

The best part...being made out to be the problem and casting shade on your daughter because you choose to lie about stuff that doesn't matter to begin with.

And that, boys and girls is why truth matters.







Wednesday, March 24, 2021

 

This is my second week in the


#SixSentenceStory; Service




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Photo by Maria Orlova on Pexels.com

I was both full of eager anticipation, and extreme trepidation as it was the first time I was relinquishing the cooking of the Easter Ham.

My son had practically begged me, but let me have the fun of the mashed potatoes, other vegetables and dessert. He is a novice at cooking but I had absolute faith that he could pull it off.

We arrived home to the delicious aroma of baked ham and the table was set and ready to go. I sat and had the best service ever from dinner to dessert. It would be a disservice not to acknowledge what a great job he had done.









Saturday, March 20, 2021

FILTER

hello, it has been a while,  my fingers are rusty on the keyboard.  I am writing this prompt from https://girlieontheedge1.wordpress.com /six Sentence story word prompt.

FILTER


When I was little I learned to read early.  My Mom got me into kindergarten early because of it.  I was younger than everyone else.  Looking back now, I realize it wasn't my classmates fault that they picked on me like they would a little sister, all I know is that I didn't take it lightly and I would chase down the offender and kick them for picking on me.  I don't remember if it always was that way.  Now I realize that my brain filtered my memories, good and bad, in that way it enabled me to continue on the path of life.