i've returned 3 x's here today to this, my comfort zone. sometimes, i feel writing is the only one and true thing that makes me feel whole. validated. heard. it is my voice in the void. my thoughts and prayers and confessions of a soul broken, tattered. torn. but healing. surviving.
this is the one place i feel i have breathing room. enough space to slowly let it out.
let it go.
i used to frequent a certain tennis court when we lived in california. i seemed to have a knack for showing up when it was vacant, and i always breathed a sigh of relief when i rounded that corner. at such a challenging time in my life, that piece of concrete was like the span of the ocean, in my eyes. it was mine, that space. i could run up and down the court, at my pace. i could slam the net again and again. i could sit, in the cool of the shade.
those closest to you don't always want to hear that sound in your voice. the sound that tells them its one of "those days". its hard to listen to pain and easier to wax over the complicated confusing details of life, replacing it instead, with the normal and the mundane. and here, in so many words, i think there is a kinship. here, where the broken-hearted come to speak.
candace called late the other night while i was at work. i was in the middle of mopping. 'stopped mid-stride and answered "hello".... her voice was on the other end. as it always does, my throat
involuntarily catches when i realize it is her.
we talked for well over an hour that night. inevitably, the conversation always turns towards k. she mentioned she'd gone to a ballgame with an aunt. between innings, this particular aunt shared bits of wisdom on her understanding of the balance between love and loss in marriage. and she'd made the comment to candace that the day she'd finally realized her marriage could be salvaged, was the day she recognized that she didn't need to be there. but that she wanted to.
candace said she wasn't sure if she was there yet. at that point. and surprisingly, i was able to understand that. often, when she calls, i'm transported back to the tender age of 15, standing in front of my stepmother, 80's bangs in my eyes, her hands on my shoulders. pleading with me to " give your dad a chance. he's not the same man...." the rest of the conversation always trailing off there in my mind. where i ceased listening, instead only remembering the hurt. the pain and betrayal and abandonment and abuse. he could never be any different, in my child-like mind. it has been the same, when candace brings k into our conversation. as tho she is silently begging my understanding. my acceptance. my forgiveness, in spite of.
she needs me to share in this journey, because of the tainted connection that brings us here. because noone else ever can truly understand. there have been so many instances along this road where i've wanted to slap her dead in the face. because her husband raped me. because he single-handedly tore apart lives and marriages and simply walked away. because she chose to stay. because she loves him in spite of his indescretions, his affairs, his addictions. because she needs so desperately for me to validate her pain. her struggle. her story, tho she incapable of doing the same for me. finding the objective in the face of such crappy circumstances, is not so easy, my friends.
i mentioned to jason that we'd spoke again. he took a long, deep breath. "what did she want?"
i answered simply, "she wanted to be heard."
i haven't needed to be caught up in the thick of her issues. there are moments when i've wanted to point out in detail, the obvious flaws to her fairytale. that i know far too much about this life. this betrayal. about lies and sex addiction and actions gone too far and demons not faced.... that i've been there.
i haven't needed to hear her hurt and anger. to deal with hers, on top of my own. after all, its not fair. its never been fair. it will never be fair. i was the one wounded, yet she's the one that cries.
but its funny, after all this time, that in the process of me letting go. of turning it over to God. of forgiving....my own needs to be heard and validated and justified and defended have slowly crept away. and i'm left, not with the need, but the want to just be here.
oh, i have my days. i always will. its a daily struggle to remind yourself to just be. in the moment. in the now. to trust when that trust is no longer sacred. when that trust is broken.
and i realized this, the other night, as i let her talk. i found myself somehow grateful for this understanding, along this road that has been so painfully traveled. it is what it is. and if i hadn't had the grace of people willing to listen to me along my way in life....well, i don't know where i'd be, today. i recognized it in the coming home from christy's the other night and admitting to jason that i wanted to be here.
not to need, but to want. and it is a powerful thing. one that makes all the difference in the world.
Monday, May 5, 2008
the bad news bearer
jason arrived home from the scrap-yard tonite, pulled off his boots and then desecrated my bed with the clean sheets by plopping his filth and foul right down on top of it.
"reckon i should take a shower?"
"why no. i'm sure there's a dryer sheet hiding in one of the pillowcases. you could just roll around in peach blossom scent. "
so we fill in the cliff notes versions of our days while he still lays there and my eyeball uncontrollably twitches. he then declares he "has an announcement". and would i "like the good news or the bad news first."
i have never liked these particular words coming out of his mouth. we've been down that road far too many times. usually its followed by the announcement that we're back down to one income or he's brought a boat home.
but because i am nothing if not a glutton for punishment, i close my eyes and whisper, "the bad".
"ok. here goes. the bad news is, you're probably stuck with me for the rest of your life."
i pry open one squinty eye as he continues, "the good news is, i've decided to quit smoking. and no, not that 'i'm gonna try to quit smoking' or 'i'll give it another whirl', crap. i'm officially quitting. cold turkey. as of noon today, i've smoked my last one."
i now turned to stare at him, long and hard. finally i nodded. "thus, the bad news?"
"aaaaaand how" he rolled over and gave me the twin borat thumbs-up. "so i personally would like to take this fleeting opportunity to thank you, in advance, for putting up with the apocalypse that is undoubtedly now upon us. "
***********************
still. its better than a boat.
maybe.
decisions, decisions
bella's concert "simon says" was cute. she had a speaking part and was one of the dancers.' had a ball. my favorite line was when they were trying to reach mary magdalene as a witness for the trial of simon peter. a little girl pulled out a cell phone and dialed, then got this recording: "for hebrew, press 1. for greek, press 2. to continue this call in english, remain on the line." then, "i'm sorry, but the person in your samaritan network is outside the service area". :)
usually the hours between 2 & 4 in the morning are always the worst at work. my cleaning and paperwork is done and my ladies are usually asleep. so its hard to keep myself occupied quietly. but this weekend i discovered a new channel: theN. have you seen this? its sad, really. kind of like watching a train wreck~ you can't pry yourself away. i watched copius amounts of the series "degrassi". man, they cover everything on that puppy, don't they..... i don't quite remember high school that way.
i was also offered a different position in my job over the weekend. a position that i've secretly and not-so-secretly pined after for quite some time. mostly, i never really expected it would come available.
i've mentioned before that i work for the state in the mental health field. my proper title is *dsp* or direct service provider, as i work in-home, one-on-one, with adults with mental retardation. so as to not out-dooce myself , (yet coincidentally, please do read her latest newsletter to her daughter, leta.) i will never share names or intimate details. but for the sake of my sanity, i will share their stories, from time to time.
i work with many different recipients but primarily in-home with 2 ladies that, for story-telling purposes, i will call ebb and flow.
i've always had an interest in this field. even as a child. i was lucky enough in my jr.high/high school years, to have lived next-door for a time, to a director of just such an organization, who included me on outings, and then actually chose as one of my electives in the 9th grade, to spend 2 hours out of my day, working in an adult day-care facility.
its not a job for everyone. in many aspects, its a very thankless job. and it doesn't make me any more special, that i can hack it. its challenging and rewarding, yes. but its exhausting, humbling and just plain hard, many days. it's not pretty. not delicate. i've heard the term used: "glorified butt wipers" on more than one occasion. and yes, there's that too. plenty of that. trust me. but i signed up for that when i became a mom, thanx. i feel i'm now quite immune to the embaressment of the loud "I POOPED" declaration in a crowded store. never-mind if it comes out of my 2 year old or my 70 year old.
there are days when i feel like i've used up every last ounce of patience i can muster, in this line of work. so much so, that i wonder sometimes if i have any left by the time i get home and my real life sets in.
so this job offer, although really tempting, is also one i'm on the fence over. for those of you pray'ers out there, mama could use a lil' sump'n sump'n this-a-way.
its easy for the crusader in you to overshadow your own well-being sometimes. and for awhile now, that's kind-of how i've felt. for any small hurdles this field has climbed over, there are mountains more, to be moved. we've come a long way since abusive institutions. but the ratio of discarded people out there to caregivers is staggering. its almost painful to realize how many get lost thru the cracks. every single day.
you become their voice. their staunchest supporter and defender when they can't speak for themselves. you rejoice and sorrow with their achievements and the very raw emotions that sometimes they can only communicate thru you. in a world where people pass in and out of their lives like a revolving door, sometimes your presence is the only stabilty they have ever known.
you hold their hands in the hospital as they lay dying. you clothe and feed and comfort them. you're there to take care of them thru holidays, birthdays, when they're sick and afraid. you accompany them to family events when their families can't deal with the effort it takes to do so. you love them.
ebb and flow are lucky enough to live in their own home, provided by the state. they have round the clock staff. both cling ferociously to routine and are as different as night and day.
ebb will turn 51 this month. tiny and precious. born blind, she never ceases to amaze me with the clarity of her other senses. she has an affection for rain, country music and reece cups. she will repeat the same phrases over and over in the course of a day: "looks like rain." "i've been good, hadn't i?" "i feel better now" "you tell my mama?" every time, she expects your response.
she will tell you 50 x's in an hour that she loves you.
she is an accomplished pianist, having never read a line of music. she recognizes voices she hasn't heard in 15 years and calls them by name.
flow is the meanest ninety pound 72 year old woman i have ever known. institutionalized for over 30 years of her life, i have seen it it take 3 women and 2 grown men to hold her down. she will bite, scratch, kick, scream and hit when she is displeased and i believe whole-heartedly that she loves nothing more than to give a new staff member what i fondly refer to as a true introduction to this line of work. she is non-verbal, yet can cuss as clear as katt williams.
she is as manipulative as they come.
when you go into this kind of job like me, completely blind, you're given this whirlwind training introduction to mental retardation and certified in this, this and this, you're then plopped down in a situation that forces you to either sink or swim. nothing ever fully prepares you because its something you learn as you go, if you decide to stay. i remember when i first started at this particular house. they gave you a summary of what to expect for this and this person, which never does them justice, by the way, and off you go. even in my training class, when asked which house i'd be working at, there were painful winces, when i mentioned "flow". the hype was pretty intense.
for 2 months, at bedtime, i would literally pick her up and carry her. i didn't know any better and did so because she would lay flat down on the couch and raise her arms up when it was time. i thought she was physically unable to do so by herself. then one night, i heard noise coming from her room and i peeked in. she had gotten out of bed and was bookin' it to her bathroom. she did her business, washed her hands and then trotted back to bed, hopping back in, easy as you please. after she'd tucked herself back in, she noticed me standing there. probably with my mouth open to my kneecaps. she just grinned and closed her eyes.
this has very much defined our relationship. to this day, she has never once been mean to me.
i call her mama.
she has an affection for baby dolls and likes her shoes just so. in the moments before bed at night, she chatters quietly to me. i like to imagine she's telling me everything about her day. she likes me to comb out her afro into soft curls. she loves the song "amazing grace" and that i sneak splenda in her coffee. when i wear shorts, she laughs. and when i have cleaned her for the umpteenth time after an *accident* he hugs me so tightly, as tho her life depended on it. i like to think its because i don't compromise her dignity. because, tho i have never understood her, i know her.
the job i've been offered is to be her personal assistant. and the job has its pros and cons. my biggest issue right now has not so much to do with her, but me. with the place i'm at in my life, right now. and i think the fear of the unknown comes very much into play. aside from our short stint in nebraska, in our life together, i have always worked. and i have never had *normal* hours or weekends off. the idea of a 9-5 kind of job, or in this case 8-3, is actually kind of scary to me. and the very real truth is, sometimes i don't know how long i want to be in this kind of work.
so....keep me in mind, no? more, later....
usually the hours between 2 & 4 in the morning are always the worst at work. my cleaning and paperwork is done and my ladies are usually asleep. so its hard to keep myself occupied quietly. but this weekend i discovered a new channel: theN. have you seen this? its sad, really. kind of like watching a train wreck~ you can't pry yourself away. i watched copius amounts of the series "degrassi". man, they cover everything on that puppy, don't they..... i don't quite remember high school that way.
i was also offered a different position in my job over the weekend. a position that i've secretly and not-so-secretly pined after for quite some time. mostly, i never really expected it would come available.
i've mentioned before that i work for the state in the mental health field. my proper title is *dsp* or direct service provider, as i work in-home, one-on-one, with adults with mental retardation. so as to not out-dooce myself , (yet coincidentally, please do read her latest newsletter to her daughter, leta.) i will never share names or intimate details. but for the sake of my sanity, i will share their stories, from time to time.
i work with many different recipients but primarily in-home with 2 ladies that, for story-telling purposes, i will call ebb and flow.
i've always had an interest in this field. even as a child. i was lucky enough in my jr.high/high school years, to have lived next-door for a time, to a director of just such an organization, who included me on outings, and then actually chose as one of my electives in the 9th grade, to spend 2 hours out of my day, working in an adult day-care facility.
its not a job for everyone. in many aspects, its a very thankless job. and it doesn't make me any more special, that i can hack it. its challenging and rewarding, yes. but its exhausting, humbling and just plain hard, many days. it's not pretty. not delicate. i've heard the term used: "glorified butt wipers" on more than one occasion. and yes, there's that too. plenty of that. trust me. but i signed up for that when i became a mom, thanx. i feel i'm now quite immune to the embaressment of the loud "I POOPED" declaration in a crowded store. never-mind if it comes out of my 2 year old or my 70 year old.
there are days when i feel like i've used up every last ounce of patience i can muster, in this line of work. so much so, that i wonder sometimes if i have any left by the time i get home and my real life sets in.
so this job offer, although really tempting, is also one i'm on the fence over. for those of you pray'ers out there, mama could use a lil' sump'n sump'n this-a-way.
its easy for the crusader in you to overshadow your own well-being sometimes. and for awhile now, that's kind-of how i've felt. for any small hurdles this field has climbed over, there are mountains more, to be moved. we've come a long way since abusive institutions. but the ratio of discarded people out there to caregivers is staggering. its almost painful to realize how many get lost thru the cracks. every single day.
you become their voice. their staunchest supporter and defender when they can't speak for themselves. you rejoice and sorrow with their achievements and the very raw emotions that sometimes they can only communicate thru you. in a world where people pass in and out of their lives like a revolving door, sometimes your presence is the only stabilty they have ever known.
you hold their hands in the hospital as they lay dying. you clothe and feed and comfort them. you're there to take care of them thru holidays, birthdays, when they're sick and afraid. you accompany them to family events when their families can't deal with the effort it takes to do so. you love them.
ebb and flow are lucky enough to live in their own home, provided by the state. they have round the clock staff. both cling ferociously to routine and are as different as night and day.
ebb will turn 51 this month. tiny and precious. born blind, she never ceases to amaze me with the clarity of her other senses. she has an affection for rain, country music and reece cups. she will repeat the same phrases over and over in the course of a day: "looks like rain." "i've been good, hadn't i?" "i feel better now" "you tell my mama?" every time, she expects your response.
she will tell you 50 x's in an hour that she loves you.
she is an accomplished pianist, having never read a line of music. she recognizes voices she hasn't heard in 15 years and calls them by name.
flow is the meanest ninety pound 72 year old woman i have ever known. institutionalized for over 30 years of her life, i have seen it it take 3 women and 2 grown men to hold her down. she will bite, scratch, kick, scream and hit when she is displeased and i believe whole-heartedly that she loves nothing more than to give a new staff member what i fondly refer to as a true introduction to this line of work. she is non-verbal, yet can cuss as clear as katt williams.
she is as manipulative as they come.
when you go into this kind of job like me, completely blind, you're given this whirlwind training introduction to mental retardation and certified in this, this and this, you're then plopped down in a situation that forces you to either sink or swim. nothing ever fully prepares you because its something you learn as you go, if you decide to stay. i remember when i first started at this particular house. they gave you a summary of what to expect for this and this person, which never does them justice, by the way, and off you go. even in my training class, when asked which house i'd be working at, there were painful winces, when i mentioned "flow". the hype was pretty intense.
for 2 months, at bedtime, i would literally pick her up and carry her. i didn't know any better and did so because she would lay flat down on the couch and raise her arms up when it was time. i thought she was physically unable to do so by herself. then one night, i heard noise coming from her room and i peeked in. she had gotten out of bed and was bookin' it to her bathroom. she did her business, washed her hands and then trotted back to bed, hopping back in, easy as you please. after she'd tucked herself back in, she noticed me standing there. probably with my mouth open to my kneecaps. she just grinned and closed her eyes.
this has very much defined our relationship. to this day, she has never once been mean to me.
i call her mama.
she has an affection for baby dolls and likes her shoes just so. in the moments before bed at night, she chatters quietly to me. i like to imagine she's telling me everything about her day. she likes me to comb out her afro into soft curls. she loves the song "amazing grace" and that i sneak splenda in her coffee. when i wear shorts, she laughs. and when i have cleaned her for the umpteenth time after an *accident* he hugs me so tightly, as tho her life depended on it. i like to think its because i don't compromise her dignity. because, tho i have never understood her, i know her.
the job i've been offered is to be her personal assistant. and the job has its pros and cons. my biggest issue right now has not so much to do with her, but me. with the place i'm at in my life, right now. and i think the fear of the unknown comes very much into play. aside from our short stint in nebraska, in our life together, i have always worked. and i have never had *normal* hours or weekends off. the idea of a 9-5 kind of job, or in this case 8-3, is actually kind of scary to me. and the very real truth is, sometimes i don't know how long i want to be in this kind of work.
so....keep me in mind, no? more, later....
Saturday, May 3, 2008
and then
crickets, i've a crap-ton to share with you all. mainly the absolute chaos of the last week and how i've yet miraculously survived. redheads of the world unite. can i get a witness. a little hooooooraaaah. continuing to rock your socks off, one easily sunburned heroine at a time.
you are welcome.
but i'm tired and its the weekend and while you're all thinking long and hard about the wonder that is me, i have work to do and bella's music makers concert tomorrow at church.
so instead, i'm hittin' the sack. its 9 on a saturday morning and past my bedtime. i leave you with this:
whoever thought up the "substitute plain yogurt for sour cream to make a fat free yet tasty dip?" needs a lobotomy. i was intending on some baby carrots and ranch *dip* for breakfast, thank you. and instead, because of the great taste bud revolt of 2008, i've been reduced to eating leftover greasy, cheesy tacos this morning. and because you cannot eat a taco without a pepsi, well just shoot me now.
needless to say, my fat intake is all your fault today, buddy.
i hope you sleep well at night.
you, with that conscience.
you are welcome.
but i'm tired and its the weekend and while you're all thinking long and hard about the wonder that is me, i have work to do and bella's music makers concert tomorrow at church.
so instead, i'm hittin' the sack. its 9 on a saturday morning and past my bedtime. i leave you with this:
whoever thought up the "substitute plain yogurt for sour cream to make a fat free yet tasty dip?" needs a lobotomy. i was intending on some baby carrots and ranch *dip* for breakfast, thank you. and instead, because of the great taste bud revolt of 2008, i've been reduced to eating leftover greasy, cheesy tacos this morning. and because you cannot eat a taco without a pepsi, well just shoot me now.
needless to say, my fat intake is all your fault today, buddy.
i hope you sleep well at night.
you, with that conscience.
Thursday, May 1, 2008
thursday thhhbbbttts
oh this is gonna be a doozy.
i'm always a procrastinator. plus, i think its a cliche' to make new years resolutions. nothing like the kiss of death. i've always wanted to make one of those cool lists...you know....like the top 100 things i'd like to do before i'm 40. or before i die. or the top 100 things you can't possibly live without knowing about me. like i can pick things up with my toes. or i can't hock a loogie without drooling on myself.
but i always feel like i'm a day late and a dollar short. all these bloggers with their special projects for every day of the week and such, now. bunch of over achievers.
people.
i do good to remember if i've changed my knickers & fed the dog. let alone my child.
so instead, i figure what better day than thursday to kind of clear out the cobwebs. during her brief stay with us, christy initiated this great idea, to go outside every night after the wild child went to sleep. we would "light a proverbial candle and purge". nevermind her candle of choice was a cigarette, but you win some, you lose some, in the interpretation.
anyway.
its a good idea. worth trying sometime. oh, its awkward at first. especially if the people you're surrounded by are not neccesarily stellar in their comprehension of All That Is You. but its freeing, to get stuff aired. out in the open. to voice it, talk about it, if need be, much to jason's dismay. to Let It Go. similar to that kind of thing where you write down all the sad, sorry, terrible, heinous things you've done, once every 7 years and throw it in a big bonfire and you're magically redeemed and all God's people shout halleluiah. what, you didn't watch dharma and greg? nevermind.
all joking aside, it really is very healing. sometimes, i think we need to just say something out loud, for it to make sense. or to look at it objectively. and to decide if there's anything you can do to change it right now or in the immortal words of the Eagles: learn to be still.
at any rate. today, these are the Things On My Mind.
bella
therapy
jason
christy
and before i get going, do me a favor and go navel gazing. you'll be glad you did. you'll thank me and even give me props. and maybe i'll get a free hoover out of the deal too.
http://borrowedlight.blogspot.com/
so i was going thru bella's papers today. with it being officially may, the countdown has begun, and i figured what better time to organize, before its pool time and i just really won't care. i regularly sort thru and decide which school papers need saved for all posterity and which ones well, don't. which is why i do this when she's not around. my mother thinks this practice is unholy and wrong and that God may just see fit to it that i'm forever banned to the kids table if i make it to heaven. heavy on the if. she believes bella and i will be sitting in therapy one day all because i threw out her potatoe head drawing. maybe so. but they won't have to go thru eleventeen cartons of crap when i keel over. eh? eh? ya follow me?
its so funny how your kids are sometimes so amazingly opposite of how you imagined they'd be. bella was born with personality plus. the perfect baby. she came out singing, if thats possible. happy. never knew a stranger. bold. fearless. free. so it was no real surprise when she took to school like a fish to water. she was off and running without so's much as a smooch goodbye. 'breezed thru kindergarten and 1st grade....loved everything about books! and learning!
and then we started 2nd grade and she hit puberty or a brick wall, one. all of a sudden she forgot how to read and hated everything but recess. nightly homework assigments intended for 20-30 minutes, lasted painstaking hours. and reading was like lining up for your nightly beating with a "please, sir, may i have some more?"
i came across a spelling test this morning. she'd received a hundred on it, incidentally. but she must've got bored in the process, looping each of her letters into elaborate decorative hearts and at the top of the page by her name, she'd lovingly written: "i hate thes crap". and while i know, i know...that i am largely the one responsible for the potty mouth and that this is precisely whats wrong with society's children today, i admit to a snicker, just then.
and then, the 5th grade spelling champion in me cringed. *thes* ? oi vey.
so bella. my daughter. my beautiful, brilliant wide-eyed wild child. fiercely independent. dramatic. boisterous. with a heart bigger than the universe. seeing only the real. only the now. always educating me. always inspiring me. always surprising me.
my daughter who has struggled, so much, this year. days of insanity. temper tantrums, out of control behavior. pushing to the limit. not my child.
my former boss, bless his sarcastic yet enormous heart with a soft spot for a woman bawling snot boogers, who has been a God-send over the past year & listened to more than he ever needed to, about my ongoing saga in this department, asked in passing the other day, "so how's the boo?". i gave him a thumbs up and he stopped dead in his tracks and mouthed "exorcism?" without missing a beat, i nodded, with an "its amazing what holy water can do."
seriously tho? "add. adhd. early hormones. bipolar." all labels spit at me over the course of these last many months. by a schools lazy approach to my concerns and their frustration with repeat offenses. by doctors that find nothing wrong with her, but can offer magical catatonic pills.
i struggle with this one. with categorizing my child. i always think there's some way i can fix her...that i just haven't tapped into it yet. i just haven't prayed hard enough. i don't want to make her feel labeled. peers will help do that for her, all too soon.
the solution:
well i don't know what the answer is. surprise!! and maybe there isn't one. maybe this is a phase. maybe its something bigger than all of us. maybe this means actual puberty will be a breeze, complete with angels singing in heavenly choir.
a woman can dream.
with only weeks remaining of school, maybe i can just hope for a fluidity to our summer. maybe, we'll find a connection and have a break-through..... maybe my exasperation and concern over my own personal issues involving what's left of my sanity haven't helped find a solution, either. i've been on the fence about switching schools. but she's all for it, and jason and i have talked and prayed this one into the ground. with every day i pass by the potential new school, i feel just a little more hope. so leave her in Gods hands. and try, try, try. i called to setup registration this morning.
therapy, i find myself entirely disillusioned by. y'know...we're in a church that has been an absolute blessing. jasons' mom has even been coming with us...they have an awesome kids program, a rockin' praise and worship. its a church home thats been a long time coming, for us. one that jason and i both really feel comfortable in, for probably the first time in our marriage. where the emphasis isn't so heavy on the doctrine and dress code and the building fund, but more on the Bible and where you need to be with the Big Guy Upstairs. where jasons's tattoos don't automatically condemn him sideways, and flip-flops are accepted.
which is huge. HUGE, i tell you.
the thing is, i'm not laying my *stuff* on anyone. and most certainly not the church. but it does make me realize some cracks in our churches today. i love the song by Casting Crowns, "does anybody see her". in the past couple of years, the lyrics in that song have taken on an entire new meaning to me. namely, how easy it is not to notice those faceless ones in our midst. or worse yet, turn the other way when we do notice. because of our own lack of understanding. or wanting to. we don't want to get our hands dirty. acknowledge the ones that hurt. the ones that need more than just a "go with God".
it took ALOT for me to actually reach out and ask for some help. to officially talk about my rape. and initially, i was lovingly looked after, don't get me wrong. i submitted a prayer request, which jumpstarted a chain of emails from deacons to elders, that then put me in direct contact with our womans coordinator, whose hug was like that of God himself. the church actually assisted me with getting in contact with a therapist. but, after the whirlwind of love, i can't help but feeling like i've now been kind-of "dropped off at day-care, see ya later".
maybe that's ignorant and childish. i realize i'm not the only wounded soul out there. we're in a large church and at some point, "God helps those that help themselves" does come in to play. the therapist i see, is based out of a christian organization that takes cases, largely out of the donations of churches like mine. which, let me be frank, is awesome. but when your therapy sessions range a month apart and your issues don't.....well, there's alot i can say about overbooking. if you'd like a long entertaining story about northwest airlines some day, for instance....
but my point is, it kinda makes me want to "bounce". or for all you kids not up on my street talk, "drop-out". and its not that i don't need it. jason and i both do, quite frankly. but i feel like i need to look at the bigger picture. am i going here simply because the church is assisting in my $50 copay.... because i was desperate and didn't know any other way to go about asking for help? and if all that is true and i still want to stick with it, then can i be patient with that kind of schedule. not really getting ANYthing figured out, 4 weeks at a time. or is that Gods' intention. and am i actually getting more out of it than i bargained....
so solution: don't really have one. will think on this some more. for now, let it go. allow myself to be psyched up for my session the end of may.
speaking of therapy and all that "more than i bargained for" stuff, my issues with jason and christy as it turns out, go hand-in-hand, this evening.
christy's sister phoned this afternoon, concerned as she hadn't heard from her. before christy hung up on me the other day, she'd said she was going to stay with her sister for awhile. as it turns out, she never showed up. i sighed, today, wondering if this was really a conversation i wanted to get into. but i think it was needed. my hope is that God works his wonders there. that maybe i was able to give her sister some insight into Christy's broken-ness. i told her i hadn't heard from Christy. but if i did, i would let her know. i called the only number i had and left a message. and i let it go.
but she called, shortly after. asking if i could bring her cigarettes.
blaaaaaaaargh.
jason and i had just settled nicely into our newly used boxset of "dexter", episode four....bella was asleep, frank was between us, being the weiner that he is, smelling like cornchips and chewing on rawhide. after i hung up the phone, i faked my death and slid onto the floor. jason shook his head. "go. but don't think i'm not going to ruin the ending for you. because i totally will. serial killers wait for no man."
i told him if he really cared, he'd go watch "sweeney todd". which, by the way, was a real bummer in my opinion. and who knew it was a musical? did you know this?
so i went. and because i didn't particularly want God's input right then, i turned up the contemporary christian station just a little too loud and jammed to this song by jars of clay:
There is a river that washes you clean
There is a tree that marks the places you've been
Blood that was spilled, although not your own,
For all of your tears, are the wages for things you have done
And all of those nights
Spent alone in the darkness of your mind
Give it up, Let go
These are things you were never meant to shoulder
There is a river that washes you clean
There is a tree that marks the places you've been
Blood that was spilled, although not your own
For all of those tears, love will atone
So, give up the right
To control the waves that empty out your life
Above wild skies
Are the rays that break, the shadows we design
Give it up, let go
These are things you were never meant to shoulder
Give it up, let go
know the world can turn in different ways
Most of the time, we're simply hanging on
And under the signs of how we all behave
We might find the place that we belong
For all of those nights, that you cried all alone
All of your tears, love will atone
fine. score one for the Big Guy. gotcha.
i got there and walked up the steps, as slow as i could. i took a deep breath and i knocked. she came immediately to the door, and sobbing, threw her arms around me. she reeked of alcohol. the apartment, inside and out, as chaotic as her life has become.
she said she was sorry. that she doesn't know who she is anymore. that she can't leave morgan. that she can't go to be with her sister and look her in the eye and be honest.
i said, what better time than now. that no matter how perfect she tries to portray her life and do everything right, at the end of the day, there's always going to be that one person that doesn't agree with you. that condemns you. that misunderstands. that judges. and only you can get yourself right. only you know where you are with yourself, with God. only you can start fixing you, by opening that door. by facing those demons, head-on. that noone, no matter how much they love you, can ever do that for you. can ever make you feel good enough about you.
she argued that her sister will throw her out, if she admits her lies. if she tells her she's gay. what if she tells her she's going to hell?
i asked, so what if she does? and what if you are? is that what you want to hear? is that what defines your life, the opinions and expectations of others? is that why you run from everything? because her sister can think that all she wants. but she can't answer that question for her.
i told her i know what its like to be flat on your belly, your face in the mud. and the last thing you want to hear is someone telling you, "hey. you're flat on your belly, face in the mud". but thats the danged truth. and it sucks. and you want out. but this is the stuff, kiddo. don't tell yourself that you're so far gone and not worth it, because you're here, right now, in this moment, for a purpose. so take that long hard broken look in the mirror. face it head-on. and stop running. does she really want to be here in this place. drunk, stoned, donating plasma twice a week for her next high? or does she want it all to stop. now.
alot of stuff was said, actually. i'm nothing if not to the point, as we all know, chapter 798 in. and i don't know that she was ready to hear any of it. or that it will ever make a difference. the more important thing, was that i prayed about it, each time i opened my big fat mouth. and thats not something i've done in a long while. and when i left, she thanked me for loving her.
and as i drove home, i was flooded with this overwhelming realization that this is exactly what love looks like. imperfect. and broken. exasperating. no magic wand. its intense and flawed and messy. and sometimes you have to look it in the eye. and sometimes you have to walk away.
when i got home, jason was in bed watching "sweeney todd".
"i don't have a clue what these people are saying. and by the way, thanks for not telling me this was a MUSICAL. "
i probably responded with a really innocent "whaaa?" and climbed into bed, beside him. we switched it over to "miami ink" and watched in silence for awhile. i told him i've been angry with him. for a really long time. but tonite..... for the first time in a long time, i couldn't get home fast enough to him. that i realized he was right where i wanted to be.
he said he really needed to hear that.
i asked if he realized how long we'd been married. he didn't even pause, "not long enough".
good answer.
i'm always a procrastinator. plus, i think its a cliche' to make new years resolutions. nothing like the kiss of death. i've always wanted to make one of those cool lists...you know....like the top 100 things i'd like to do before i'm 40. or before i die. or the top 100 things you can't possibly live without knowing about me. like i can pick things up with my toes. or i can't hock a loogie without drooling on myself.
but i always feel like i'm a day late and a dollar short. all these bloggers with their special projects for every day of the week and such, now. bunch of over achievers.
people.
i do good to remember if i've changed my knickers & fed the dog. let alone my child.
so instead, i figure what better day than thursday to kind of clear out the cobwebs. during her brief stay with us, christy initiated this great idea, to go outside every night after the wild child went to sleep. we would "light a proverbial candle and purge". nevermind her candle of choice was a cigarette, but you win some, you lose some, in the interpretation.
anyway.
its a good idea. worth trying sometime. oh, its awkward at first. especially if the people you're surrounded by are not neccesarily stellar in their comprehension of All That Is You. but its freeing, to get stuff aired. out in the open. to voice it, talk about it, if need be, much to jason's dismay. to Let It Go. similar to that kind of thing where you write down all the sad, sorry, terrible, heinous things you've done, once every 7 years and throw it in a big bonfire and you're magically redeemed and all God's people shout halleluiah. what, you didn't watch dharma and greg? nevermind.
all joking aside, it really is very healing. sometimes, i think we need to just say something out loud, for it to make sense. or to look at it objectively. and to decide if there's anything you can do to change it right now or in the immortal words of the Eagles: learn to be still.
at any rate. today, these are the Things On My Mind.
bella
therapy
jason
christy
and before i get going, do me a favor and go navel gazing. you'll be glad you did. you'll thank me and even give me props. and maybe i'll get a free hoover out of the deal too.
http://borrowedlight.blogspot.com/
so i was going thru bella's papers today. with it being officially may, the countdown has begun, and i figured what better time to organize, before its pool time and i just really won't care. i regularly sort thru and decide which school papers need saved for all posterity and which ones well, don't. which is why i do this when she's not around. my mother thinks this practice is unholy and wrong and that God may just see fit to it that i'm forever banned to the kids table if i make it to heaven. heavy on the if. she believes bella and i will be sitting in therapy one day all because i threw out her potatoe head drawing. maybe so. but they won't have to go thru eleventeen cartons of crap when i keel over. eh? eh? ya follow me?
its so funny how your kids are sometimes so amazingly opposite of how you imagined they'd be. bella was born with personality plus. the perfect baby. she came out singing, if thats possible. happy. never knew a stranger. bold. fearless. free. so it was no real surprise when she took to school like a fish to water. she was off and running without so's much as a smooch goodbye. 'breezed thru kindergarten and 1st grade....loved everything about books! and learning!
and then we started 2nd grade and she hit puberty or a brick wall, one. all of a sudden she forgot how to read and hated everything but recess. nightly homework assigments intended for 20-30 minutes, lasted painstaking hours. and reading was like lining up for your nightly beating with a "please, sir, may i have some more?"
i came across a spelling test this morning. she'd received a hundred on it, incidentally. but she must've got bored in the process, looping each of her letters into elaborate decorative hearts and at the top of the page by her name, she'd lovingly written: "i hate thes crap". and while i know, i know...that i am largely the one responsible for the potty mouth and that this is precisely whats wrong with society's children today, i admit to a snicker, just then.
and then, the 5th grade spelling champion in me cringed. *thes* ? oi vey.
so bella. my daughter. my beautiful, brilliant wide-eyed wild child. fiercely independent. dramatic. boisterous. with a heart bigger than the universe. seeing only the real. only the now. always educating me. always inspiring me. always surprising me.
my daughter who has struggled, so much, this year. days of insanity. temper tantrums, out of control behavior. pushing to the limit. not my child.
my former boss, bless his sarcastic yet enormous heart with a soft spot for a woman bawling snot boogers, who has been a God-send over the past year & listened to more than he ever needed to, about my ongoing saga in this department, asked in passing the other day, "so how's the boo?". i gave him a thumbs up and he stopped dead in his tracks and mouthed "exorcism?" without missing a beat, i nodded, with an "its amazing what holy water can do."
seriously tho? "add. adhd. early hormones. bipolar." all labels spit at me over the course of these last many months. by a schools lazy approach to my concerns and their frustration with repeat offenses. by doctors that find nothing wrong with her, but can offer magical catatonic pills.
i struggle with this one. with categorizing my child. i always think there's some way i can fix her...that i just haven't tapped into it yet. i just haven't prayed hard enough. i don't want to make her feel labeled. peers will help do that for her, all too soon.
the solution:
well i don't know what the answer is. surprise!! and maybe there isn't one. maybe this is a phase. maybe its something bigger than all of us. maybe this means actual puberty will be a breeze, complete with angels singing in heavenly choir.
a woman can dream.
with only weeks remaining of school, maybe i can just hope for a fluidity to our summer. maybe, we'll find a connection and have a break-through..... maybe my exasperation and concern over my own personal issues involving what's left of my sanity haven't helped find a solution, either. i've been on the fence about switching schools. but she's all for it, and jason and i have talked and prayed this one into the ground. with every day i pass by the potential new school, i feel just a little more hope. so leave her in Gods hands. and try, try, try. i called to setup registration this morning.
therapy, i find myself entirely disillusioned by. y'know...we're in a church that has been an absolute blessing. jasons' mom has even been coming with us...they have an awesome kids program, a rockin' praise and worship. its a church home thats been a long time coming, for us. one that jason and i both really feel comfortable in, for probably the first time in our marriage. where the emphasis isn't so heavy on the doctrine and dress code and the building fund, but more on the Bible and where you need to be with the Big Guy Upstairs. where jasons's tattoos don't automatically condemn him sideways, and flip-flops are accepted.
which is huge. HUGE, i tell you.
the thing is, i'm not laying my *stuff* on anyone. and most certainly not the church. but it does make me realize some cracks in our churches today. i love the song by Casting Crowns, "does anybody see her". in the past couple of years, the lyrics in that song have taken on an entire new meaning to me. namely, how easy it is not to notice those faceless ones in our midst. or worse yet, turn the other way when we do notice. because of our own lack of understanding. or wanting to. we don't want to get our hands dirty. acknowledge the ones that hurt. the ones that need more than just a "go with God".
it took ALOT for me to actually reach out and ask for some help. to officially talk about my rape. and initially, i was lovingly looked after, don't get me wrong. i submitted a prayer request, which jumpstarted a chain of emails from deacons to elders, that then put me in direct contact with our womans coordinator, whose hug was like that of God himself. the church actually assisted me with getting in contact with a therapist. but, after the whirlwind of love, i can't help but feeling like i've now been kind-of "dropped off at day-care, see ya later".
maybe that's ignorant and childish. i realize i'm not the only wounded soul out there. we're in a large church and at some point, "God helps those that help themselves" does come in to play. the therapist i see, is based out of a christian organization that takes cases, largely out of the donations of churches like mine. which, let me be frank, is awesome. but when your therapy sessions range a month apart and your issues don't.....well, there's alot i can say about overbooking. if you'd like a long entertaining story about northwest airlines some day, for instance....
but my point is, it kinda makes me want to "bounce". or for all you kids not up on my street talk, "drop-out". and its not that i don't need it. jason and i both do, quite frankly. but i feel like i need to look at the bigger picture. am i going here simply because the church is assisting in my $50 copay.... because i was desperate and didn't know any other way to go about asking for help? and if all that is true and i still want to stick with it, then can i be patient with that kind of schedule. not really getting ANYthing figured out, 4 weeks at a time. or is that Gods' intention. and am i actually getting more out of it than i bargained....
so solution: don't really have one. will think on this some more. for now, let it go. allow myself to be psyched up for my session the end of may.
speaking of therapy and all that "more than i bargained for" stuff, my issues with jason and christy as it turns out, go hand-in-hand, this evening.
christy's sister phoned this afternoon, concerned as she hadn't heard from her. before christy hung up on me the other day, she'd said she was going to stay with her sister for awhile. as it turns out, she never showed up. i sighed, today, wondering if this was really a conversation i wanted to get into. but i think it was needed. my hope is that God works his wonders there. that maybe i was able to give her sister some insight into Christy's broken-ness. i told her i hadn't heard from Christy. but if i did, i would let her know. i called the only number i had and left a message. and i let it go.
but she called, shortly after. asking if i could bring her cigarettes.
blaaaaaaaargh.
jason and i had just settled nicely into our newly used boxset of "dexter", episode four....bella was asleep, frank was between us, being the weiner that he is, smelling like cornchips and chewing on rawhide. after i hung up the phone, i faked my death and slid onto the floor. jason shook his head. "go. but don't think i'm not going to ruin the ending for you. because i totally will. serial killers wait for no man."
i told him if he really cared, he'd go watch "sweeney todd". which, by the way, was a real bummer in my opinion. and who knew it was a musical? did you know this?
so i went. and because i didn't particularly want God's input right then, i turned up the contemporary christian station just a little too loud and jammed to this song by jars of clay:
There is a river that washes you clean
There is a tree that marks the places you've been
Blood that was spilled, although not your own,
For all of your tears, are the wages for things you have done
And all of those nights
Spent alone in the darkness of your mind
Give it up, Let go
These are things you were never meant to shoulder
There is a river that washes you clean
There is a tree that marks the places you've been
Blood that was spilled, although not your own
For all of those tears, love will atone
So, give up the right
To control the waves that empty out your life
Above wild skies
Are the rays that break, the shadows we design
Give it up, let go
These are things you were never meant to shoulder
Give it up, let go
know the world can turn in different ways
Most of the time, we're simply hanging on
And under the signs of how we all behave
We might find the place that we belong
For all of those nights, that you cried all alone
All of your tears, love will atone
fine. score one for the Big Guy. gotcha.
i got there and walked up the steps, as slow as i could. i took a deep breath and i knocked. she came immediately to the door, and sobbing, threw her arms around me. she reeked of alcohol. the apartment, inside and out, as chaotic as her life has become.
she said she was sorry. that she doesn't know who she is anymore. that she can't leave morgan. that she can't go to be with her sister and look her in the eye and be honest.
i said, what better time than now. that no matter how perfect she tries to portray her life and do everything right, at the end of the day, there's always going to be that one person that doesn't agree with you. that condemns you. that misunderstands. that judges. and only you can get yourself right. only you know where you are with yourself, with God. only you can start fixing you, by opening that door. by facing those demons, head-on. that noone, no matter how much they love you, can ever do that for you. can ever make you feel good enough about you.
she argued that her sister will throw her out, if she admits her lies. if she tells her she's gay. what if she tells her she's going to hell?
i asked, so what if she does? and what if you are? is that what you want to hear? is that what defines your life, the opinions and expectations of others? is that why you run from everything? because her sister can think that all she wants. but she can't answer that question for her.
i told her i know what its like to be flat on your belly, your face in the mud. and the last thing you want to hear is someone telling you, "hey. you're flat on your belly, face in the mud". but thats the danged truth. and it sucks. and you want out. but this is the stuff, kiddo. don't tell yourself that you're so far gone and not worth it, because you're here, right now, in this moment, for a purpose. so take that long hard broken look in the mirror. face it head-on. and stop running. does she really want to be here in this place. drunk, stoned, donating plasma twice a week for her next high? or does she want it all to stop. now.
alot of stuff was said, actually. i'm nothing if not to the point, as we all know, chapter 798 in. and i don't know that she was ready to hear any of it. or that it will ever make a difference. the more important thing, was that i prayed about it, each time i opened my big fat mouth. and thats not something i've done in a long while. and when i left, she thanked me for loving her.
and as i drove home, i was flooded with this overwhelming realization that this is exactly what love looks like. imperfect. and broken. exasperating. no magic wand. its intense and flawed and messy. and sometimes you have to look it in the eye. and sometimes you have to walk away.
when i got home, jason was in bed watching "sweeney todd".
"i don't have a clue what these people are saying. and by the way, thanks for not telling me this was a MUSICAL. "
i probably responded with a really innocent "whaaa?" and climbed into bed, beside him. we switched it over to "miami ink" and watched in silence for awhile. i told him i've been angry with him. for a really long time. but tonite..... for the first time in a long time, i couldn't get home fast enough to him. that i realized he was right where i wanted to be.
he said he really needed to hear that.
i asked if he realized how long we'd been married. he didn't even pause, "not long enough".
good answer.
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