We have all heard the saying, The truth shall set you free. But what many people may not realize is the truth doesn’t set us free from others. It sets us free from ourselves. Like our characters, we are often blinded by our own lies and since we aren’t facing the truth and admitting it, […]
Everything you read in this post is an emotional, hormonal dump. I am not having a nervous break down, nor am I in desperate need of attention. I need to post to my blog this week and it’s going to look like spring cleaning. Sometimes I get lots of odds and ends piled up in the corners of my mind that need to be swept away so that I can find a comfy place to sit and write.
I read a quote once that said Write as if no one will ever read a word of it. It’s brilliant advice, I wish I could follow. But in the back of my mind, I can see the light of my candle reflected in their glittering eyes. I see you all back there, you who think you know me, have known me, knew me once upon a time. I’m not that girl anymore. I made her up, she came out of my head like all this other stuff does.
I know, I know, she was so sweet! There was nothing wrong with her. That’s how it looked to you.
It never looked like that to me.
I wondered why I had to work so hard to fit in, why don’t they care about me? What is so wrong with me? I thought inappropriate things were hilarious. I wanted to read, all the time. I hated school. I didn’t love planting trees, weeding the garden, cooking dinner, hanging wet laundry on the line, cleaning to mom’s specifications.Yeah, I know, you all had a similar childhood, so whats the big deal? I don’t know, that’s the first pile I’ve just moved.
Next, hm, here we go, Passion. Oh, I really love this pile! Everyone talks about Passion. Live your life with Passion. Find a job that feeds your Passion. Whatever you do, do it with Passion. Write your Passions. In fact, you might as well kill yourself if you’re not living with Passion. Let’s disregard that last sentance for a bit. I’ll let you all in on a secret, sometimes Passion sucks.
This is my Passion
That is, this is the glance I’m willing to share with you all. There will be no touching, no further peeking, don’t even think about it!
I keep expecting it to fade. Sometimes I wish it would disappear. I wish my Passion was exercise. That would be totally awesome, then all my other Passions would be so much simpler. I should be saying my children are my passion. No, they’ll grow up and have their own lives. Perhaps I should say my job is my passion, no, my current job is just the latest in a string of jobs I do very well but does nothing to inspire or challenge me. I’d love to say that writing is my passion but that’s backwards for me. My characters are my passion, and what I see, inspires my characters. I never know when or where they’re going to appear. Being nosy, that’s really my Passion. Enough of this pile. If I can’t sit on his lap I don’t want to sit anywhere over here.
It’s getting warm up here and I’m starting to remember how much I hate cleaning. One last pile then I’ll take a break. Over there is mom’s pile, not touching that today. Lessons learned in twenty-one years of marriage, nope, not tonight. Bitter Recriminations Against Myself, and its twin pile, Against Others, too depressing.
Here we go, how about this one, right behind my eyes. If I clean this up or sweep it a little to the left, I can sit and look out at my world. And if I’m really lucky, my left brain will assimilate it like some science fiction horror flick and I will regurgitate it into a book and it will be funny and have a happy ending. What pile is this? This is this year. The first three and a half months. The frustrations at work, the mistakes already made, the diet and exercise that is effective but taking waaay too long, I think, every time I look in the mirror. And look, right here on top, that adorable sundress I bought that ruined my day today. I hate shopping for clothes, I hate dressing rooms, I hate mirrors and chirpy sales women. I love this dress but I don’t love the body or the face that will wear it. She made me throw up in my mouth a little today in that dressing room. Maybe by the time summer rolls around it will look like this on me. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.
I know my diet and exercise plan have it in them to achieve it. In their own damn sweet time. I know a lot of things that don’t make me feel any better. There is this one last thing. This Whisper I saw today, this made me feel a little better, well enough to sit back down at the computer and do a little spring cleaning. A few words strung together, written down that made a difference today. Reminded me of the people I have now that are patiently waiting for my chrysalis to finally open. A little giddy with wonder at what new colors will show, the people who can love me, until I can love myself.
Well, I was going to put a picture here of me with braces. Apparently I never opened my mouth the entire year I had them. The closest I could find was my senior picture, get out your magnifying glass, ’cause there’s no way anyone was getting the full glare of my metal.
That was then, today I became the other kind of Metal Head.
Today I heard this for the first time.
I clicked on it for fun, I like Conan, maybe I would laugh, what’s Disturbed?
Less than five minutes later, I was addicted.
Growing up, hard rock was a no no, heavy metal was a he** no. My parents said it was the music of the devil and made teenagers prone to crashing their cars and running into trees while skiing and listening to it on their Walkman. Don’t even get them started on the swear words. If we listened to Heavy Metal we would certainly hear words we shouldn’t. So I’ve never listened much to metal and never heard a song by Disturbed. Granted, this cover of The Sound of Silence, isn’t metal, it’s acoustic, but the voice of David Draiman, how have I never heard him sing before? My ITunes has just received a much needed shot of life with titles like Inside the Fire, You’re Mine, Indestructible, and Stricken.
It’s been years since the sound of a voice has stopped me dead in my tracks, gripped until the song ended. I’m gratified I still have it in me, that part that can be moved to stillness by a single voice. I love how he’s taken a song I’ve known as long as I can remember and vitally changed my emotional response to it.
Day 3 I’m a little tired today, is it really only 7:30 P.M.?
Day 4 I think I’m coming down with the flu.
Day 5 I’m taking a mental health day tomorrow. YES, I know it’s only Tuesday. Fuck off. Don’t talk to me, don’t touch me, why are you talking to me. I HATE everyone I have ever known.
Day 6 I wanted to write, I wanted to shop, I wanted to take myself out to lunch and watch Gerard Butler run around in an Egyptian skirt while I drool uncontrollably. Why the hell is it noon and I can’t drag myself out of bed? Everything hurts.
Day 7 I hate my job.
Day 8 I hate my job. Dammit, where’s my purse?
Day 9 Thank heaven for the weekend! Jeez, another trip to the bathroom, might as well not even bother getting out of the pajamas.
Day 10 I’m going to bleed for the rest of my life.
Day 11 Just like that, it’s over.
Day 12 What the f**ge?!?
Day 13 I’ll wear one just in case.
Day 14 Well, thanks Mother Nature, you soulless bitch, see you in two months.
Above is what I would call the quintessential mom picture over the past ten years. This was her favorite spot, tucked up in the recliner in her bathrobe, crocheting. Watching a bit on the TV, she really liked the re-boot of Hawaii Five-O, America’s Funny Home Videos and cooking/gardening shows. She probably crocheted enough stitches to circle the globe, more than once. She came from that generation that always had to have their handwork in their lap, hands always busy.
In the spring of 2005 she was diagnosed with Stage 4 Cervical Cancer. Against all odds, she survived the initial surgery and hellacious first round of chemotherapy. She went on being invincible for the next ten years. She died of complications from hernia surgery on November 3, 2014, the cancer in remission, of course.
So today, as a little nod to mom, my siblings and I all take our kids out and get ice cream. Mom’s favorite was a strawberry shake. Mom loved ice cream, well, sugar, in any form.
Though I knew her death was coming, it still managed to shock me. I was at work when it happened and had just gotten home at 130pm, sat down on the toilet to pee for the first time since 730am (elementary school kids are merciless) and looked at my phone. I had missed calls and texts from all three of my sisters. I was crying before I read the first one.
The next day at work, I got my first inkling of how insulated my life had become. My boss walked over to where I was monitoring a kindergartner in headphones on the computer. He asked how I was doing.
I said, “Okay. Hey, I need to take off the rest of the week, my mom died last night.” My voice broke a bit at the end, I cleared my throat and shook my head a little.
He stared at me for half a breath, “Oh my God, why are you here today?”
“I’m fine,” I shrugged, appalled by the tears pooling.
He shook his head at me, “Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine. Is there anything I can do for you? Should you go home?”
“No, the girls are here and we’re still making arrangements to leave tomorrow.”
He nodded, offered any help I needed again and we both went back to work.
My co-workers took good care of me and my family, something I didn’t expect. It really surprised me. I’ve never been so cared for, not in the city I grew up in, the city I lived in for five years, the city I lived in for ten years. I’d been in North Dakota for less than three years, been working just over a year. It was an experienced that changed my heart.
So now, it’s all aftermath. I’m sure bits and pieces will come to this blog from time to time. Today this is all the energy I have to spend. I’m going to go shower and wrap up in that ridiculously time consuming quilt my mom made for me, over 250,000 hand stitches. The quilt pattern is Grandma’s Flower Garden. Mom was a Master Gardener. My thanks didn’t seem adequate when she gave it to me, though I treasure it.
I admit it. My sense of humor is perverse at best. I love to laugh and nothing gets me smiling quicker than a wink and nudge. So today as I looked through my Twitter feed I noticed a particular tweet that made me laugh out loud, certainly without meaning too. I wanted to re-tweet it with my response but I don’t want to offend the Tweeter, I really don’t.
I cannot be the only one who read this and laughed her head off, right? I mean, it is pure gold!
A Facebook friend of mine offered a description of himself when I teased him about one of his posts there, he said, I have a dirty mind but a good heart.