this morning, under a grey sky, i cracked the nut that holds the distributor in place on my 1973 super beetle (bright yellow, thank you very much), moved it ever so slightly to the right, cranked the ignition and she fired right up. this is the first time i've heard her gorgeous rumble in a year. i was thinking i might sell her but not now. nope. no way. i love this little car and i feel like such a jerk for not driving her this passed year. this passed year that was so full of hard transitions, hard lessons, constant learning, a strange flux. and life is still that way. it will probably continue to be that way for a while longer too. 2011 has not been very kind thus far.
elisabeth is right. her comment on the post below is so accurate and true. so helpful. it offered a much needed clarity and gentleness. i haven't factored it in enough... the hard hit of my mother's death and how this has impacted who i am... how it will continue to impact my life and personality for years to come. it is a rough road i'm on but it is not without Goodness and Love and all varieties of Hope, big and small.
and then, in the rain, i washed a years worth of dust off her. my Bumble Bug (that's her nic-name).
this is a powerful symbol. very.
Showing posts with label healing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label healing. Show all posts
Mar 17, 2011
Feb 4, 2011
Oct 15, 2010
confession
it's 4 am and here i am in front of the computer with my mug of irish breakfast tea...
i couldn't sleep.
i've been having trouble staying asleep all week but tonight i couldn't fall back to sleep for the life of me. the reason is that i quit smoking. yep. the entire time you've been reading this blog, you've been reading the innermost thoughts and aspirations of a damn dirty smoker. ;) until the beginning of this week anyway.
it's something i kept quiet about here because i didn't want to inadvertently encourage someone else to take up the habit or somehow praise the addiction itself, romanticize it. and then there's the fact that smokers are subjected to some pretty crass and ruthless judgment from the general public too. strangers feel completely okay about marching right up to some random smoker on the street and alerting that person to how "disgusting" they are. it's insanely rude. insanely. i've always been blown away by the fact people think it's totally alright to behave like that and i really didn't want any of that rage and weirdness happening here on my blog. and also, to be totally honest, it's something i'd become increasingly ashamed of. i was not proud to be a smoker. not in the least. i felt pretty stupid about it actually. i started smoking as a very young teenager. 14 years old. and a dumb decision i made in my adolescence was ruling my adult life. it made me feel like a pathetic asshole, to put it bluntly. and i'm afraid of chemo. i'm afraid of what this could lead to. i feel bad about how negligent i've been in terms of caring for my own life. i feel bad i let so many things get in the way. i feel bad that i willingly traded my opportunities to lead a positive and healthy life to sit down in the muck and bullshit with other people.
i'm amazed at how quickly time has passed and how distracted i've been...
and there are all the reasons, all the events, stacked one on top of the other. the long line of trauma and tragedy and every single hurdle that gets nailed down in front of you. time moves so damn fast when there is always a crisis to attend to.
and then a member of my family gets cancer. and i turn 30. and i realize how damn sad all this is... that i've spent more than half my life (16 years) living under the weight of an addiction, and that i developed an addiction of this magnitude as a child. it made me so profoundly sad. so sad i felt ill. and all i could see was wreckage. the wreckage of a family. everywhere, everywhere. i think i've been trying to grieve us... what has happened, what was lost, who we've become... for a very long time. and maybe that ball is finally starting to roll? all i know is that a year ago, on my 29th birthday, i decided i'd had enough. i decided to take the time NOW to clean up the mess, clear it off my path so that i could at least see where i was standing. i decided it was time to start building a life that felt right for me... no matter how long it might take to build. i decided it was time to take Time for myself.
that's where The Almighty Jog originated. and no alcohol. and then about a year later, The Almighty Jog graduates to The Mighty Run. No Alcohol turns into No Refined Sugar. and since that habit was way easier to kick than i thought it'd be, i thought: fuck it, girl. do it now. right now. it's time. and so i quit smoking.
and this is not my first attempt, but this is the first time i've ever lived a healthy life. between running and drinking tea and not eating sugary foods, it's a lot easier than i remember it being- quitting. A LOT easier. in fact, every day i feel better and better. i guess i was just completely ready to give it up... a horribly stupid and malicious thread of my childhood.
i need it to be GONE.
all this to say: sleep disturbances are a very common withdrawal symptom. :)
good morning!!!!
i couldn't sleep.
i've been having trouble staying asleep all week but tonight i couldn't fall back to sleep for the life of me. the reason is that i quit smoking. yep. the entire time you've been reading this blog, you've been reading the innermost thoughts and aspirations of a damn dirty smoker. ;) until the beginning of this week anyway.
it's something i kept quiet about here because i didn't want to inadvertently encourage someone else to take up the habit or somehow praise the addiction itself, romanticize it. and then there's the fact that smokers are subjected to some pretty crass and ruthless judgment from the general public too. strangers feel completely okay about marching right up to some random smoker on the street and alerting that person to how "disgusting" they are. it's insanely rude. insanely. i've always been blown away by the fact people think it's totally alright to behave like that and i really didn't want any of that rage and weirdness happening here on my blog. and also, to be totally honest, it's something i'd become increasingly ashamed of. i was not proud to be a smoker. not in the least. i felt pretty stupid about it actually. i started smoking as a very young teenager. 14 years old. and a dumb decision i made in my adolescence was ruling my adult life. it made me feel like a pathetic asshole, to put it bluntly. and i'm afraid of chemo. i'm afraid of what this could lead to. i feel bad about how negligent i've been in terms of caring for my own life. i feel bad i let so many things get in the way. i feel bad that i willingly traded my opportunities to lead a positive and healthy life to sit down in the muck and bullshit with other people.
i'm amazed at how quickly time has passed and how distracted i've been...
and there are all the reasons, all the events, stacked one on top of the other. the long line of trauma and tragedy and every single hurdle that gets nailed down in front of you. time moves so damn fast when there is always a crisis to attend to.
and then a member of my family gets cancer. and i turn 30. and i realize how damn sad all this is... that i've spent more than half my life (16 years) living under the weight of an addiction, and that i developed an addiction of this magnitude as a child. it made me so profoundly sad. so sad i felt ill. and all i could see was wreckage. the wreckage of a family. everywhere, everywhere. i think i've been trying to grieve us... what has happened, what was lost, who we've become... for a very long time. and maybe that ball is finally starting to roll? all i know is that a year ago, on my 29th birthday, i decided i'd had enough. i decided to take the time NOW to clean up the mess, clear it off my path so that i could at least see where i was standing. i decided it was time to start building a life that felt right for me... no matter how long it might take to build. i decided it was time to take Time for myself.
that's where The Almighty Jog originated. and no alcohol. and then about a year later, The Almighty Jog graduates to The Mighty Run. No Alcohol turns into No Refined Sugar. and since that habit was way easier to kick than i thought it'd be, i thought: fuck it, girl. do it now. right now. it's time. and so i quit smoking.
and this is not my first attempt, but this is the first time i've ever lived a healthy life. between running and drinking tea and not eating sugary foods, it's a lot easier than i remember it being- quitting. A LOT easier. in fact, every day i feel better and better. i guess i was just completely ready to give it up... a horribly stupid and malicious thread of my childhood.
i need it to be GONE.
all this to say: sleep disturbances are a very common withdrawal symptom. :)
good morning!!!!
Mar 29, 2010
the cost
i suppose the time comes for everybody... and maybe numerous times throughout a person's life- the need to evaluate, re-evaluate, define, and re-define the mode and means of one's own life. to discern a path that is true and respectful of who they are.
all my life, i have tried to be the bright spot in the lives of others. the thing that produced laughter and acceptance. the thing that was never disappointing, never hard. the thing that never called for struggle or extra attention, that never got in the way, that never made another person feel bad about themself. the thing.
the thing.
but i don't want to be a 'thing'. i want to be a human. i don't want to feel ashamed of being human. 'things' are perfect. 'things' make no mistakes because they have no desires, no goals, no dreams of their own. they don't learn, they don't make plans, they don't love, they don't hate, they don't aspire to anything. there is nothing for a 'thing' to figure out. they don't need to navigate, they sit in one place. they perform functions that are pleasing to the one who owns them. they do not ever dissatisfy or question or assert a will.
i am talking about the role each person plays. i am talking about waking up one day and seeing yourself, even if just for a moment, as you really are- flaws and successes, traumas and resilience, fear and pride.
i am talking about how one fits in... or how one goes about fitting in... especially within one's own family. how the time comes to create adult relationships, to overcome childhood, and relieve yourself of the expectations that came along for the ride back then. the survival techniques children learn to use become destructive and self-sabotaging if allowed to be used in adulthood. and so... i'm thinking there comes a time when detachment becomes (sadly) necessary. i'm thinking there comes a time for flying solo and enduring the confusion, the hurt, the rumours, the disappointment, the accusations... in order to finally be accepted for who you really are, not who you're expected to be.
the old role is no longer useful. in fact, it is only damaging.
this is something most people go through as teenagers. for some reason i thought that once you got through those years, the need to assert yourself, to find the courage to be true to yourself, to stand on your values and not lift your foot, would be assuaged. why did i think that this declaration would only need to happen once? and i'm not talking about being pig-headed or arrogant, i'm talking about the steps one takes in order to finally be healthy.
i have a deep, bad problem of remaining silent. maybe that is what motivates my practice? to speak somehow. to drop the role of "secret keeper". to expose the fissure, the crack that runs right down the middle of me. to expose the fault-line, the damaged joint, the wound that goes on weeping and weeping... in silence, undercover, hidden, ashamed, humiliated. the trigger.
hiding the wound does not help it heal. it causes it to fester.
exposure... letting in the air... becomes a need.
i have been warned, over and over and over again, that when a person decides to remove themself from the chaos and work toward health, that there will be people who respond to this good act with malice and spite. they will attempt to sabotage your attempts toward health through manipulation and out-right blackmail, whether emotional or otherwise.
most people in my life are so wonderfully supportive of my work and desire to repair the effects of trauma that i am overwhelmed by such a huge sweep of gratitude, an endless appreciation for who they are, a massive swell of love and happiness and playfulness even... but there are a few who aren't. and that cuts deep. they see my repair as a punishment for them and they are not pleased.
i was talking to a close friend about their experiences in AA and what they learned about addiction and toxic relationships- that they must be cut off instantly, swiftly, completely (at least for a time) in order for you to focus on yourself, your life, and how to heal. that just as alcohol isn't going to run away from the alcoholic, the enabled won't run away from the enabler. just as a recovering alcoholic does not hang out in bars, the enabler does not hang out with the damaged people who play on their compassions. the role must be set down and walked away from. the hook must be pulled out and let go.
this is a horribly painful thing to do.
the hook is in deep.
there is an empty place now where the hook used to be.
it would feel better to stick the hook back in than be left with such a huge gaping emptiness.
but the answer is no.
the hook stays out. the foot stays down.
it is horribly painful to maintain such an action. horrible, horrible, horrible. and shame and guilt leak thickly from the wound where the hook was... like a phantom limb, an ache that will not leave, that won't be ignored, a call that gets louder and louder and louder. love twisted by such deep regret, such guilt... the bad lesson that love requires sacrifice of self. the bad lesson that to care about one's own life in 'selfish'. that "if you really loved me..."
i spent 2 years locked inside a major depression. i will not walk back in to that. relationships that require me to be someone i'm not, to do what i'm told without question, without thought as to my total right to be healthy and safe, that pray on my compassion, that force me in to a life of secrecy and shame and overwhelming expectations for perfection, will be let go of. i do not care what it costs me. the cost of not doing this is so much higher.
i am so grateful my mother sprang in to action when she did... the gentle word, the offering of non-judgemental truth brought the lie down and i had a hand, finally, to grab and pull myself up.
it was a choice between my life and my continued obedience to someone else that put me in that big bad depression in the first place... the crushing guilt that followed my decision to choose my own life. the price of being someone else's savior is too great. it is your own life. this is not an exaggeration and it is not dramatic. it is the cut and dried truth. anyone who's ever lived under the crushing weight of perfectionism and obedience knows exactly what i'm talking about: that you are living a lie. that, after a certain point, you are not just a victim anymore, you are an accomplice as well. in order to live, the lie must be brought down.
there are people that think i am cruel. they don't know what i know. and i can take half the responsibility for that because i'm so good at being quiet. i'm so good at being a 'thing'. i've been so concerned with not disappointing anyone, never letting on about what the stakes really are, that of course they don't understand. i have to trust that, in time, amends can be made, and mistakes can be forgiven.
i will trust that healthy relationships are possible and i will not abandon that hope. i won't.
that hook... i won't even look at it.
all my life, i have tried to be the bright spot in the lives of others. the thing that produced laughter and acceptance. the thing that was never disappointing, never hard. the thing that never called for struggle or extra attention, that never got in the way, that never made another person feel bad about themself. the thing.
the thing.
but i don't want to be a 'thing'. i want to be a human. i don't want to feel ashamed of being human. 'things' are perfect. 'things' make no mistakes because they have no desires, no goals, no dreams of their own. they don't learn, they don't make plans, they don't love, they don't hate, they don't aspire to anything. there is nothing for a 'thing' to figure out. they don't need to navigate, they sit in one place. they perform functions that are pleasing to the one who owns them. they do not ever dissatisfy or question or assert a will.
i am talking about the role each person plays. i am talking about waking up one day and seeing yourself, even if just for a moment, as you really are- flaws and successes, traumas and resilience, fear and pride.
i am talking about how one fits in... or how one goes about fitting in... especially within one's own family. how the time comes to create adult relationships, to overcome childhood, and relieve yourself of the expectations that came along for the ride back then. the survival techniques children learn to use become destructive and self-sabotaging if allowed to be used in adulthood. and so... i'm thinking there comes a time when detachment becomes (sadly) necessary. i'm thinking there comes a time for flying solo and enduring the confusion, the hurt, the rumours, the disappointment, the accusations... in order to finally be accepted for who you really are, not who you're expected to be.
the old role is no longer useful. in fact, it is only damaging.
this is something most people go through as teenagers. for some reason i thought that once you got through those years, the need to assert yourself, to find the courage to be true to yourself, to stand on your values and not lift your foot, would be assuaged. why did i think that this declaration would only need to happen once? and i'm not talking about being pig-headed or arrogant, i'm talking about the steps one takes in order to finally be healthy.
i have a deep, bad problem of remaining silent. maybe that is what motivates my practice? to speak somehow. to drop the role of "secret keeper". to expose the fissure, the crack that runs right down the middle of me. to expose the fault-line, the damaged joint, the wound that goes on weeping and weeping... in silence, undercover, hidden, ashamed, humiliated. the trigger.
hiding the wound does not help it heal. it causes it to fester.
exposure... letting in the air... becomes a need.
i have been warned, over and over and over again, that when a person decides to remove themself from the chaos and work toward health, that there will be people who respond to this good act with malice and spite. they will attempt to sabotage your attempts toward health through manipulation and out-right blackmail, whether emotional or otherwise.
most people in my life are so wonderfully supportive of my work and desire to repair the effects of trauma that i am overwhelmed by such a huge sweep of gratitude, an endless appreciation for who they are, a massive swell of love and happiness and playfulness even... but there are a few who aren't. and that cuts deep. they see my repair as a punishment for them and they are not pleased.
i was talking to a close friend about their experiences in AA and what they learned about addiction and toxic relationships- that they must be cut off instantly, swiftly, completely (at least for a time) in order for you to focus on yourself, your life, and how to heal. that just as alcohol isn't going to run away from the alcoholic, the enabled won't run away from the enabler. just as a recovering alcoholic does not hang out in bars, the enabler does not hang out with the damaged people who play on their compassions. the role must be set down and walked away from. the hook must be pulled out and let go.
this is a horribly painful thing to do.
the hook is in deep.
there is an empty place now where the hook used to be.
it would feel better to stick the hook back in than be left with such a huge gaping emptiness.
but the answer is no.
the hook stays out. the foot stays down.
it is horribly painful to maintain such an action. horrible, horrible, horrible. and shame and guilt leak thickly from the wound where the hook was... like a phantom limb, an ache that will not leave, that won't be ignored, a call that gets louder and louder and louder. love twisted by such deep regret, such guilt... the bad lesson that love requires sacrifice of self. the bad lesson that to care about one's own life in 'selfish'. that "if you really loved me..."
i spent 2 years locked inside a major depression. i will not walk back in to that. relationships that require me to be someone i'm not, to do what i'm told without question, without thought as to my total right to be healthy and safe, that pray on my compassion, that force me in to a life of secrecy and shame and overwhelming expectations for perfection, will be let go of. i do not care what it costs me. the cost of not doing this is so much higher.
i am so grateful my mother sprang in to action when she did... the gentle word, the offering of non-judgemental truth brought the lie down and i had a hand, finally, to grab and pull myself up.
it was a choice between my life and my continued obedience to someone else that put me in that big bad depression in the first place... the crushing guilt that followed my decision to choose my own life. the price of being someone else's savior is too great. it is your own life. this is not an exaggeration and it is not dramatic. it is the cut and dried truth. anyone who's ever lived under the crushing weight of perfectionism and obedience knows exactly what i'm talking about: that you are living a lie. that, after a certain point, you are not just a victim anymore, you are an accomplice as well. in order to live, the lie must be brought down.
there are people that think i am cruel. they don't know what i know. and i can take half the responsibility for that because i'm so good at being quiet. i'm so good at being a 'thing'. i've been so concerned with not disappointing anyone, never letting on about what the stakes really are, that of course they don't understand. i have to trust that, in time, amends can be made, and mistakes can be forgiven.
i will trust that healthy relationships are possible and i will not abandon that hope. i won't.
that hook... i won't even look at it.
Jun 26, 2009
i have no answers or insight or relief to offer. give me yours...
this post has taken hours to write... and it's not nearly what it should be. i'm sure there are flaws and confusion all through it. i'm sure i've said it wrong.
but every now and then, it becomes necessary to talk about my private life here. every now and then...
i know that it's everywhere and that there's no real, dire need for yet another blog post about all the death in the news lately... and honestly, i need a bit of a break from it too... and honestly, i don't really feel ready or even equipped to speak about those deaths in any specific way... and honestly, i feel beaten up and weary and useless and confused...
and i feel this way because of the work i make. a lot of my work deals with death... and it all deals with loss in one way or another... with grief and identity and victimization and robbery and abuse and marginalization... a lot of really uncomfortable subject matter in general. and so the news of late and watching the world stop and stare and cry has effected my mood. i woke up feeling a bit lost today... dazed... like a piano has been dropped on me...
i called my sister and we talked for hours. conversations weaved in to one another and we covered as many topics as possible until the battery got too low and the call was dropped. we talked about grief mainly. how it is a different experience for everyone and yet there seems to be a culturally prescribed way to deal with loss... and a very dominant expectation for everyone to feel the same way about the same thing. it's not a moment to rock the boat or go against the grain in any way... all cultures have it to one degree or another... appropriate displays of grief are a culturally mandated thing... and it's hard to watch. at least for me, it is. i'm not pointing any fingers or making any judgements here... it's just that the prescribed model doesn't fit me and it feels bad not to fit in sometimes.
i'm coming face to face with one ethical or philosophical or emotional dilemma after another and it's a lot to contend with. my boat has been rocked. my grain has been splintered.
i don't know where i stand and i'm tired of thinking about it but i can't stop thinking about it and it's reminding me of leah's death. it's reminding me how i felt when i got the news and how, to this day, i'm still angry with her over a great many things she did during her life... cruel things, mean things, and lies.
and it feels mean of me to still feel angry, to harbour resentment...
she's dead.
who am i screaming at?
does all the crap from the past even matter? exactly what am i having such a hard time getting over? of what nature is my loss?
i don't want to become bitter. i never want to become so soured against humanity that compassion becomes impossible. i want to be compassionate and extend forgiveness and love and understanding...
leah used to say, "if you came looking for sympathy, you came to the wrong person". i don't want to be like that... but i know that i have been in regard to her life and her experiences... experiences that made her sarcastic and mistrustful and hateful and judgemental and manipulative. i've tried to take my knowledge of her and make it explain how she could do the horrible things she did. i've tried to excuse it all. i've tried to find a path of forgiveness. i've tried. and i've failed and failed and failed. i guess i'm not done trying...
but it's hard when your heart has been eaten by a person you loved and trusted and admired... a person whom you felt safe with, whose presence in your life was prized, a friend you wanted forever and talked with about being two old ladies together, laughing in our rocking chairs on the front porch and giving children a hard time...
it's hard when that person puts all your secrets on display... removed from it's context and twisted to get the biggest laugh. it's hard when you've been victimized by someone so close, so trusted, so elite in your life. it's hard when you've got no recourse, no power and no voice... no way to explain yourself because no one cares to hear it... the damage has been done and everyone believes the worst and no one cares about the truth. it's hard when you've been humiliated and used and your pain gets laughed at. it's hard to have your private life and emotions put on stage by the one person you trusted most in the world. it's very hard to know what to do or how to feel or how to forgive when then that person dies and you never had it out with them, never called them out on their bullshit, never defended yourself...
i never defended myself.
not really.
i chose to leave her life quietly.
i was tired of all the yelling and i was tired of defending myself against the opinions of strangers and co-workers, whoever. i was tired of the cruelty and i knew i couldn't win and that it'd never stop as long as i kept responding. i was tired and beaten down. i handed her the crown and i walked away. when she died, i hadn't seen or spoken to her in over 5 years.
5 years. i didn't think of her very often and i didn't care about what was going on in her life. i had no curiosity, not even the morbid kind and, as far as i was concerned, no news was good news. i felt betrayed. still. and i referred to her as Brutus in the corner of my heart and mind and memory. i did not regret letting go of the friendship. it'd hadn't been a real friendship after all. i did not miss her... but i really missed who i thought she was when we first met. i really missed the persona... the late night conversations and silliness and sharing and kinship i had felt... that mask she built from lies and deceptions- i missed it horribly.
and so today, the weight of all that hurt is back on me... and i don't know what to do with it or how to set it down. it feels like shit to admit that after all these years i'm still hurt and i still feel betrayed. it feels like shit to be mad at a dead woman... to still be afraid of her.
leah is the person who first exposed me to earth, wind, and fire... to de barge... to billy ocean... and to old michael jackson. i learned all the words to P.Y.T because of her... to make her laugh at karaoke. she would be in bed crying her eyes out right now if she were alive. she'd refuse to eat or leave the house or get out from behind her quilt. she'd collapse and stay collapsed for a week or two and call off from work and just crawl inside herself and hide. she'd be wounded by yesterday's news in a huge, horribly deep way. she'd have been traumatized and it would've taken her a long, long, long time to crawl back out of her cave.
i need to learn how to forgive her. i need to learn how to tell good, happy stories about her. i loved her best when she was in my life. i need to find a way to move passed everything else. it does no good to hold on to all this. it has no value anymore. some one's daughter is in the ground and i'd never wish it on anyone to have to bury their own child. no one. and my heart broke for leah's mama. it still breaks for her. i need to learn how to set it down and be okay and remember her in a better way and hold on to the good that was in her in spite of everything else. i think i'm finally mourning her... and i feel inappropriate and too late and my grain is flying all over the place- splintered and useless and adding up to nothing.
but every now and then, it becomes necessary to talk about my private life here. every now and then...
i know that it's everywhere and that there's no real, dire need for yet another blog post about all the death in the news lately... and honestly, i need a bit of a break from it too... and honestly, i don't really feel ready or even equipped to speak about those deaths in any specific way... and honestly, i feel beaten up and weary and useless and confused...
and i feel this way because of the work i make. a lot of my work deals with death... and it all deals with loss in one way or another... with grief and identity and victimization and robbery and abuse and marginalization... a lot of really uncomfortable subject matter in general. and so the news of late and watching the world stop and stare and cry has effected my mood. i woke up feeling a bit lost today... dazed... like a piano has been dropped on me...
i called my sister and we talked for hours. conversations weaved in to one another and we covered as many topics as possible until the battery got too low and the call was dropped. we talked about grief mainly. how it is a different experience for everyone and yet there seems to be a culturally prescribed way to deal with loss... and a very dominant expectation for everyone to feel the same way about the same thing. it's not a moment to rock the boat or go against the grain in any way... all cultures have it to one degree or another... appropriate displays of grief are a culturally mandated thing... and it's hard to watch. at least for me, it is. i'm not pointing any fingers or making any judgements here... it's just that the prescribed model doesn't fit me and it feels bad not to fit in sometimes.
i'm coming face to face with one ethical or philosophical or emotional dilemma after another and it's a lot to contend with. my boat has been rocked. my grain has been splintered.
i don't know where i stand and i'm tired of thinking about it but i can't stop thinking about it and it's reminding me of leah's death. it's reminding me how i felt when i got the news and how, to this day, i'm still angry with her over a great many things she did during her life... cruel things, mean things, and lies.
and it feels mean of me to still feel angry, to harbour resentment...
she's dead.
who am i screaming at?
does all the crap from the past even matter? exactly what am i having such a hard time getting over? of what nature is my loss?
i don't want to become bitter. i never want to become so soured against humanity that compassion becomes impossible. i want to be compassionate and extend forgiveness and love and understanding...
leah used to say, "if you came looking for sympathy, you came to the wrong person". i don't want to be like that... but i know that i have been in regard to her life and her experiences... experiences that made her sarcastic and mistrustful and hateful and judgemental and manipulative. i've tried to take my knowledge of her and make it explain how she could do the horrible things she did. i've tried to excuse it all. i've tried to find a path of forgiveness. i've tried. and i've failed and failed and failed. i guess i'm not done trying...
but it's hard when your heart has been eaten by a person you loved and trusted and admired... a person whom you felt safe with, whose presence in your life was prized, a friend you wanted forever and talked with about being two old ladies together, laughing in our rocking chairs on the front porch and giving children a hard time...
it's hard when that person puts all your secrets on display... removed from it's context and twisted to get the biggest laugh. it's hard when you've been victimized by someone so close, so trusted, so elite in your life. it's hard when you've got no recourse, no power and no voice... no way to explain yourself because no one cares to hear it... the damage has been done and everyone believes the worst and no one cares about the truth. it's hard when you've been humiliated and used and your pain gets laughed at. it's hard to have your private life and emotions put on stage by the one person you trusted most in the world. it's very hard to know what to do or how to feel or how to forgive when then that person dies and you never had it out with them, never called them out on their bullshit, never defended yourself...
i never defended myself.
not really.
i chose to leave her life quietly.
i was tired of all the yelling and i was tired of defending myself against the opinions of strangers and co-workers, whoever. i was tired of the cruelty and i knew i couldn't win and that it'd never stop as long as i kept responding. i was tired and beaten down. i handed her the crown and i walked away. when she died, i hadn't seen or spoken to her in over 5 years.
5 years. i didn't think of her very often and i didn't care about what was going on in her life. i had no curiosity, not even the morbid kind and, as far as i was concerned, no news was good news. i felt betrayed. still. and i referred to her as Brutus in the corner of my heart and mind and memory. i did not regret letting go of the friendship. it'd hadn't been a real friendship after all. i did not miss her... but i really missed who i thought she was when we first met. i really missed the persona... the late night conversations and silliness and sharing and kinship i had felt... that mask she built from lies and deceptions- i missed it horribly.
and so today, the weight of all that hurt is back on me... and i don't know what to do with it or how to set it down. it feels like shit to admit that after all these years i'm still hurt and i still feel betrayed. it feels like shit to be mad at a dead woman... to still be afraid of her.
leah is the person who first exposed me to earth, wind, and fire... to de barge... to billy ocean... and to old michael jackson. i learned all the words to P.Y.T because of her... to make her laugh at karaoke. she would be in bed crying her eyes out right now if she were alive. she'd refuse to eat or leave the house or get out from behind her quilt. she'd collapse and stay collapsed for a week or two and call off from work and just crawl inside herself and hide. she'd be wounded by yesterday's news in a huge, horribly deep way. she'd have been traumatized and it would've taken her a long, long, long time to crawl back out of her cave.
i need to learn how to forgive her. i need to learn how to tell good, happy stories about her. i loved her best when she was in my life. i need to find a way to move passed everything else. it does no good to hold on to all this. it has no value anymore. some one's daughter is in the ground and i'd never wish it on anyone to have to bury their own child. no one. and my heart broke for leah's mama. it still breaks for her. i need to learn how to set it down and be okay and remember her in a better way and hold on to the good that was in her in spite of everything else. i think i'm finally mourning her... and i feel inappropriate and too late and my grain is flying all over the place- splintered and useless and adding up to nothing.
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