Maybe I'm Just Needy

I don't know if it's in the upbringing or if people are just a certain way. I kind of think it parallels my OCD tendancies. I just think that things should be equal. I think if I do something a certain way then I expect to receive an equivalent in return. It could be something simple like tossing the clothes from the washer to the dryer and the next person comes along and does the same. Or, you check on me when I'm sick and I'll make sure to check on you when you're sick. Perhaps it's something trivial like I'll hand over my whole being (thoughts, emotions, chaos, all included) in exchange for a piece of you when I need it.

Now, I don't say this because I do things simply out of duty or expectation or because I have that in the back of my mind when I'm doing something. No, I do everything I do because I need to. I really need to. If I don't, I just won't be right with myself. It will consume me like a person with OCD that needs to touch the stove 5 times with the left hand and 5 times with the right at least 5 times in a row (no, no, I don't do that, silly...my number is 3).

So, I do what I do out of my own necessity. I guess I sometimes wish that I was someone else's necessity too.

C.

On Rare Occasions I'm at a Loss.

It doesn't happen often, but there are times when I just don't know where to begin. I can't seem to find a single word to begin my sentence. But, I'll give it a shot.

In my trolling of online news I came across one of those stories midway down the list of nationwide news. Not a headline or even within the first handful of stories. No, this must be a "filler" story. I'll paste the link at the bottom just in case you want to see the whole thing, what there is of it.

Apparently, a 39 year old mother with depression (hey, I'm almost 39 and I have depression) decided that she'd stab her 2 year old daughter with a pair of scissors. When she was stopped by a security guard, she then tried to strangle her with an electrical cord until she was pulled off of her again. I don't know if I should say that "luckily" the little girl survived because I'm way too much of a pessimist to state that. But, the little girl did survive.

I am horrified, throat-locking-horrified, at the thought of being that two year old little girl looking into her mother's psychotic eyes, seething with a venom that none of us should ever know. I move from horrified to that pit-in-your-stomach-sadness to think that she looked at her mother and screamed in agony, as she felt such pain each and every time that pair of scissors went into her little body. What the hell? Didn't she hear her little girl screaming? I don't care if you didn't take your medicine! I don't friggin' care! Didn't it snap her out of it when she got past the first stab? No? C'mon! I just can't relate! I don't get it, and believe me I have been severely depressed over my lifetime.

But, depression isn't psychotic. Depression isn't something you take out on other people. It's something you direct inward, self-inflicting, if you will. If this is a result of depression then some revisions need to be made to medications, treatments, diagnosis, medical books, etc.

Because, and this is what I find repulsive...this woman, this "mother" has bail set at $100,000. Un-frickin'-believable! Who does this?! Who sets bail for someone so unstable and crazed that they are capable of such atrocities?

Granted, she may not have the cash, but what the hell are we doing? You cannot tell me that we can rest easier tonight knowing that this nation demonizes same-sex marriage and people actually praise George Tiller's murderer (or his profession, for that matter) and Chasity Bono's sex change is making the top of every gossip column. And, I can't even get in to the museum shooter! This, THIS is what we are made of, this wonderful nation of freedom and liberty. Puhleeze!!

I don't want to be this! I don't want to be numb to this ever! I don't want to read a story about a little girl stabbed by her mother and just move on to the next story without crying, not ever! This is not how we should be teaching our kids or anyone's kids to be. We need to be kind and caring and all we seem to grab hold of are the bars that keep us safe from everything beyond our big bay windows. Neighborhood watch as I like to call it. Well, I don't want to just sit and watch during commercial breaks. I want to live in a great big world where little girls aren't stabbed by their mother's. Where there would be no such thing as bail for anyone doing something so horrific.

I don't know where that place is but I just have to believe that we're more than this.

C.

http://www.telegram.com/article/20090611/NEWS/906110665/1101

It's All in the Details...

When you wish for something make sure to include the details. Because I do believe it's all about the little things that will ultimately determine whether you'll actually want what you wish for after you get it.

For instance:

That great job, with great pay, doing what you love the most? Make sure the details specify that you don't surrender every weekend with your kids and late night conversation with your spouse.

Those adorable kids, one boy and one girl, of course? Specify in the details that they're not maniacal leeches sucking the last bit of patience and energy from your exhausted mind by way of what must certainly be invisible tentacles (that's the only reasonable explanation).

That charming husband or wife? This is where detail is imperative...enough said.

Those moments of silence that you wish for? Make sure the details include that they're rare and in times of need. Otherwise, it's just deafening and kind of sad, really.

That family and those friends that you love to death? Make sure that they love you back.

That beautiful house with a wonderful view? Absolutely make sure the details layout the days the cleaning crew will come in to take care of the path of destruction that follows your children.

That sexy car you've always wanted? The details must include that it's only yours. No teenager can incessantly pester you to drive it. Nor can they take it without permission whether you find out about it or not. It's got to be all yours.

The wonderful insurance benefits offered with low co-pays and a minimal premium? I think it goes without saying that the details must outline that it cannot be in place because you need treatment for any illness other than that which is short term and pain free. Or, if there must be pain, it must be written that you have the most excellent pharmacy coverage.

The energy of your children that you wished you had? For God's sake make sure, make sure, it's clear that you don't get that energy so late at night that you're wide awake with a mind that never stops!
But, if you do...please forward the link to your blog so that I know I'm not alone...

C.

Like A Wave...

Like a wave in the ocean, only without the grace and beauty.
Without the calming effect until long after and only by default.

This feeling of hopelessness drowns me.
I can't get my footing or catch my breath.
I don't know which way is up, down, or if I want to find either one.
I'm consumed.
Consumed by something so much greater than myself.
A haunting vision that rears it's ugly head far more often than I care to acknowledge.
I know survival mode will carry me out.
To the surface where I can see...and breathe.
I'm exhausted.
So tired of holding my breath.
So tired of trying to just get a grip and stand in one place for a minute in a state of rest.
So tired of not having learned after all these years, how to ride that wave.

God damn it, why can't I figure it out!
That frustrates me.
I frustrate me!

But, after that wave has swallowed me whole and spit me back out, I am washed ashore.
I lay there, for my daily eternity, with only my eyes having the energy to move.
Possibly a calming effect by default.
Survival mode seems to zap me of my super powers to put on a happy face right now.

C.

I wanna be...

I wanna be so many things. So many things, I thought I'd make a list.


I wanna be smiling when I wake up tomorrow.

I wanna be inspired by a stranger who can offer nothing but conversation.

I wanna be worth breaking plans with a best friend.

I wanna be worth a long distance phone call really, really late at night.

I wanna be the little girl chasing fireflies late into the summer evening.

I wanna be who I am, only good at it.

I wanna be happy even when I feel sad.

I wanna be so far beyond my childhood fears.

I wanna be good enough for everyone that matters, especially myself.

I wanna be able to hug my children when I need it most.

I wanna be in the presence of people that love me...all the time.

I just wanna be.



C.

Tough love is tough on who?

It's so difficult to sit across from my son with a stern look and dry eyes. He's such a little boy, toying with my shoelace. Always will be, I suppose. He can barely speak he's so emotional and so in need. In need of so much he can't even wrap his brain around it all. In need of something as simple as a hug and in need of things he isn't even aware of. But, he's in need. I so badly want to make it all go away and replace it with laughter and smiles, that's what I'm in need of.

But, tough love is what I've always heard about, and believed in. You can't just love them, they'll use it as ammunition. But, it's so difficult to love someone so conditionally when you have always loved them without reservation or explanation. There's no rhyme or reason why those cute things they do make you love them even more. No one even asks why or what makes your child so endearing. It's your child, just as simple as that. To attempt to define it would be time taken from other, more important, tasks. So, why bother?

Now, I'm supposed to reserve my love for good behavior and gestures of love in exchange. This is a love that I need. For almost half my life, this is what I've gotten out of bed for. Those days before I had children and all I wanted was to stay in bed and be non-existent, that was no longer an option once I knew what was there for me. A toothless grin, a work of art created with markers (the same markers that "accidentally touched" his face), a cartoon-rehearsing-cheerio-eating-sleepy-eyed-kid. Something. Chaotic or not, it was something. In those days, it's funny how I thought permanent marker on the wall was a problem! HA! Naivity can take you much further than you could go, otherwise...

I digress.

Now I'm forced to hold back on being loving and give it out sparingly? How? How do I do that when that is the one thing that he surely needs more than anything else? How do I sit across from him with a stern look and dry eyes?

That's a tough way to love, alright.

C