Being Grounded is Good and All But...

I'm calmed by the peacefulness that being "grounded" provides.  That feeling of being home and wrapped in a Snuggie of familiarity, ahhhh, who doesn't enjoy that?

For me, finding that peacefulness was as unattainable as that damned brass ring on the Merry-Go-Round at Pier 39 (such a tease for short chicks, just sayin').  Until this point, I actually thought that I was grounded whenever I was surrounded by my friends, doing old school stuff.  You know, back when I was cooler, cuter, and the "real" me.  It's beyond ridiculous to think these past 30 years have had zero impact on the "real" me and that I was all I'd ever be back in my cute high school days.  Sigh...  I now realize that I've had it all wrong and it's actually locations, places I've been, that ground me.  Places that push the breath right out of me, creating the most delightful exhalation.  Places free of agony or defeat.  That. That is what grounds me.

I need more than peacefulness, though.  I'm excited to chase all the incredible, hot, sexy, delicious experiences and feelings now.  I'm finally able to allow myself to be swept off my feet by people who continue to love me.  My people.  My family, my Bestie, my boyfriend.  I swoon every time they make me laugh to tears, speak words of kindness or hilarious vulgarity, and when they just "get" me.  A bajillion bubble hearts pop up above my head on a daily because of them, it's become my new addiction.

Of course, as it happens time and again without welcome, I'll just accept and set a place at the table for whatever it is that may destroy me. This as-yet-to-be-unveiled, requisite never fails to make an appearance and thus, shall be seated amongst it's nemeses. Kinda like The Wonder Twins if they weren't so freakin' adorable...It'll always be something, in some shape or form, it's just the way it is.

So, I'll keep the supplies, tools, equipment on hand so that I can rebuild as I always do.  I've no use for a drafting table as I won't be drawing up any plans.  Rebuilding, according to a preconceived vision, hasn't really worked all that well for me so I'll just go with it knowing that I've been crushed, shattered, obliterated and I'm still here.

There's a security, an absence of risk, with being grounded that I adore, and often crave.  I'm just fully prepared to stumble and fall, more likely to crash and burn, during moments when my feet touch the ground and life's bullshit demands attention.  It's totally worth the fall just to have the bubble hearts pop up all around me.

C.

Arriving ~

Not long ago, my days felt so very long.  So long, in fact, that I didn't even want to finish them.

Lately, I'm quite certain they aren't even 24 hours!  What the hell?!  Nope, it has nothing to do with daylight savings, either.

I would totally schmooze Time if it would help lend just one, two, five more hours, my way.  

I actually believe all of this has so much to do with arriving.  Arriving just as I am, wearing whatever I want, with or without makeup or brushed hair.  Arriving without the memo, via text or voicemail, explaining the necessary changes that I'll need to make all in the name of "self-improvement".  Arriving empty-handed and being enough.  Arriving right where I am without using my misguided GPS.  Arriving on his doorstep or my own doorstep, just so long as I arrive.

Yes, I have arrived without loss of life and exactly who I want to be today.  Greeted with smiling eyes and an open heart, I never want to finish this day.  Or, any others...


C.

Why Doesn't 35 Years Heal Me?

Why doesn’t 35 years heal me?  Exactly how long will I feel as if I'm still that little girl hiding in the closet?  How long will the screaming and pleading of my Mother being attacked echo in my head?  I covered my ears, it was just so loud!  I squished my eyes together so tightly and rocked back and forth thinking, "Please don’t find me. Please don’t find me.  Please, please, pleeeease don't find me!"  Those words ricocheting throughout my 7 year old head so loudly, I was sure he had heard them too and that's how he found me. 

I hate him for terrifying us that night, and all the others.  I hate him for causing my Mother to scream and beg until she bled.  I hate knowing that our only escape meant running from the house, leaving my brother behind in the closet he had claimed as his hiding spot. I hate that my Grandparents allowed this to become a norm in our family.  I hate that no matter the circumstance, holiday, or visitors surrounding us, he still came into my room when the house was quiet.  Late at night, middle of the day, no matter.  Always, with that same whisper of instruction…”don’t scream”.  “Don’t scream and I’ll just lay here” was offered up as a deal and I took it. 

 

Strangely, it’s not so much the recollection of his actions that invade my thoughts but, rather, why no one kept me safe from this.  I was a little girl.  All those times, I was a little girl and it just kept happening.  Regardless if he was invited or forced his way in or even if he entered holding a machete, a bayonette or some other kind of weapon the day before, if he came to the door, he was almost always allowed right back in.  No discussions of intolerance or even an acknowledgment that our lives, my childhood, had been altered.  No, the only acknowledgment or discussion came with the generous offer, from my Grandfather, of $25 dollars to drop the charges.  Charges brought from a physician, after more than 6 years of random but frequent "visits".  Yep, $25 bucks, to make it just go away.

 

Man, if I could give twenty-five dollars to someone, anyone, to make it all go away, I would.  I would’ve done it then and I would do it this very minute.  I would pay them daily if it would make it go away.  I would pay to just shut that closet door.  I would pay to silence my Mother's screaming that is just as deafening today as it was then.  I would pay to be let out of the car when he would take me for a "ride". I would pay to stop his late night phone calls to me discussing his desires.  I would pay to keep him from pounding on the door in the middle of so many nights in a seething tirade.  I would pay to see my Mother stand up for me.  I would pay to keep my Father from being so furious with me that his first abandonment paled in comparison to that of him leaving me in the middle of a crowded restaurant after telling him his “buddy” wasn't as great as he recalled.  I would pay not to feel so isolated by this. I would pay to have the ability to recollect this without holding my breath.  I would pay to clear the enormous lump in my throat.  I would pay to have the ability not to cry when I think about how I tried to ask someone to protect me.  I would pay to have this infantile paralysis lifted when it’s triggered all over again.

$25.  They had close to a million dollars and I was offered $25.  Not that I ever wanted money or expected money.  I never even thought of nor did I take any money.  But, I think I get it.  $25 is a tangible value that was placed on all of this.  $25 wouldn’t make them or break them the way he destroyed that part of me.  $25 would never change their lives the way he changed mine.  $25 was equivalent to an afternoon of entertainment back then.  Maybe that’s all I needed, an afternoon of fun to replace all that stuff I needed to get over anyway.  Or, so I was told.  Maybe that’s the cumulative amount of time they spent, an afternoon, thinking about the effects it would have on me.  If $25 was all it would take to buy back that piece of me...what a bargain! 

Tell me again, how I'm supposed to believe that I am of value?

 

C.

 

Just Be ~

I may be foolish, impulsive, or just plain dumb. But, I'm one of those girls that loves on purpose, without reservation. I trust just about everyone, it's up to them to lose it. I trust them knowing that I may even get hurt. Maybe I do love too often and trust those I shouldn't. But, I want to feel everything. Everything. And, sometimes hurt is what I end up feeling. Not my favorite, of course, but I'll take it in exchange for those every-now-and-again passionately, romantical relationships or those friendships that have saved me from my own self destruction.

I accept people pretty much regardless of their quirks or issues as long as they're not haters. Past wrong doings don't even matter as long as the happiness or well-being of another hasn't been imposed upon. I just believe there are so many other factors in totalling the sum of a person.

I believe that if someone is compassionate and loving at the core of them, then I say come as you are and just...be....

Be happy. Be a badass. Be silent. Be passionate. Be terrified. Be insane. Be spiritual. Be a freak. Be free. Be depressed. Be loving. Be angry. Be overwhelmed. Be religious. Be old. Be lost. Be jealous. Be in recovery. Be trusting. Be unwell. Be penniless. Be peaceful. Be suicidal. Be loud. Be a fighter. Be defeated. Be humble. Be a sinner. Be confident. Be unloved. Be forgiving. Be doubtful. Be accepting. Be hopeful. Be a dreamer. Be restless. Be honest. Be funny. Be stupid. Be a follower. Be calm. Be tortured. Be still. Be aware. Be kind. Be curious. Be self-depricating. Be regretful. Be intentional. Be selfish. Be ready. Be what you are here to be. Be the best of whatever that is. Be tolerant when someone loves you. Be a believer when I tell you that you can be all of these things and still be loved. Just look at me ~

C.

I Just Need Someone ~

Today I just need someone.

Not to take out the garbage or pick up milk from the store. I just need someone to be right here next to me for no reason at all other than it is the only place to be.  Right next to me.

No boredom, no wishing for more, no thoughts of what could be or isn’t getting done. Nope, just right next to me and alright with it, or even happy about it.

I don’t have these days often, it usually is that I need someone to pick up a kid or pick up a prescription or something because there’s just one of me and all of that mundane crap we all have to do.

I don’t want to need anyone, I don’t like to need anyone, I especially don’t like to say that I do. But, I do. At least for today.

I’ll have to convince myself in one of the myriad ways I have in the past that I’m really okay to be here alone. I’m fine, the world is still turning.

And, there’s really no option because I am clearly so very alone today.

C.

Letter to Professor ~

With arms crossed and back turned you've been teaching me all along-and I've been an honorary student, I assure.

You clearly taught me that face-forward, and not looking back, is the only way to abandon.

I've learned that even on all the days that I don't believe you love me, I continue to love you just the same.

Where would I learn to question the value of everything, especially myself, if you had not made me feel so worthless?

How could I possibly appreciate an emotionally available man if you hadn't been so completely unavailable when I needed you?

I learned that some people can sleep through anything. They can lay their heads down at night and sleep sweetly, even without the slightest inkling of their children's well-being.

There would be none better to school me on the fact that a void created by a specific person can only be filled by that same person, if at all. No matter how many positive and loving people surround you or enter your life, the void will always be there.

I've learned that just because you have regrets, or wish you could do things differently, doesn't make a damn bit of difference to anyone, especially me.

From whom would I have learned that tirelessly searching my memory bank for the faintest childhood memory of a hug or a kiss goodnight will not a memory make.

I've learned that I should've had just as much as you and your new family did. Being hungry, and pretending not to be, around all of your friends is no fun for a little kid.

You have shown me how to develop an equal concoction of love and disgust for the same person.

You taught me that hope can be life-saving and dreams cannot be limited by anyone, save yourself. Had I not the ability to remain hopeful on so many of my days, I surely wouldn't be here now. And, on the days when all hope is exhausted, I can dream without limits until hope returns.

You demonstrated that I need to accept the fact that you never have, nor will you ever, lend enough of yourself to get to know me. I am much too much work and I require emotional availability, of which you do not have.

For all of these reasons, and hundreds more, I love you. I love you for all that you are and all that you aren't. Had you not educated me in just one of these subjects, I wouldn't be the me that I am today. And, I'm okay. I'm okay right here, at this precise moment on a Saturday night, having the ability to write with my able hands and use my thoughtful mind to capture these words that have been floating around in my head. These words making a fortuitous visit from time to time searching for a place to rest. Finally, I think they have found their home.

C.

You're Free ~

Blistered from heart to hand
I've nothing left to hold over you
I'm letting it go

Strained muscles from the weight
Every whimper aches
I no longer have to saddle myself
With hurt, blame, anger, or an obligatory love

My blisters will heal
My muscles will endure

I'm okay,
I always have been

Weightless and free
I will soar above it all today
And set you free

C.

A Little Yellow Hat ~

I had a little yellow hat when I was 9 years old. I hated hats. I hated yellow. I hated hats even more than I hated yellow.

I had no need for a hat, they pushed my bangs into my eyes and made me itchy. But, this hat was okay because it had a round patch on the front embroidered with "I'm the Greatest!".

When I was 9, I believed I was the greatest even before I got this hat. So, of course, it must be just for me!

I put that hat on once and was stopped 3 steps out my bedroom door, by my future step-father. Standing in front of me as if I wasn't there, he and my Mother discussed the absurdity of such a hat.

"You can't let her wear that", he said.
"It's cute!", she said.
"She can't go around being so conceited, that's ridiculous. Go take it off", he said.

I never wore that hat again nor did I ever believe that I was the greatest, or even a little bit great. I wonder who I would be if I was allowed to believe that I was the greatest all these years.

C

I Forgive You...

~ I forgive you for doubting that I was ever good enough.

~ I forgive you for not listening to me and just doing whatever you wanted to do.

~ I forgive you for not caring about me at least as much as you do everyone else.

~ I forgive you for allowing dark and dangerous thoughts to enter my mind.

~ I forgive you for being so destructive to my soul.

~ I forgive you for giving so much of yourself, to whomever would be accepting, that there was nothing left for me.

~ I forgive you for believing all of the hurtful things that were said to me.

~ I forgive you for keeping me silent all these years and I trust that I no longer need to be.

This is the beginning of my journey to forgiveness for you. I am hopeful that it will bring me some peace and allow me to love you as I should.

As I look into the mirror, each and every day, I will remind you of this...

I Was So Ready...

I was so ready that day. That day I found you. I didn't know just how ready I was, but I was SOOOO ready!

I was ready to come alive, I was ready to laugh again. I was ready to love again and be free to do so.

Like the chains coming off of a prisoner, I felt free again. Free to just feel all of those wonderful, tingly feelings of giddiness and giggle like a school girl passing notes in class. How fun that was.

I felt reborn, rediscovered, and reclaimed! As if I was some treasure that all the others could never see and appreciate. But you did. You liked treasures. You collected treasures.

Only, I was part of a collection of your treasures, each of us getting our due attention when it met your needs. Sure, I questioned and wondered but your explanations were quite sufficient when they soared from your lips in that sweet, smooth voice of yours.

Always I wondered and always you explained. Always.

I was so ready to come alive that I jumped, free falling into my dreams of what we were supposed to be. I was so ready to laugh that I must have been hysterical in not realizing that I was the one being laughed at, and I didn't even notice. I believed you when you said you knew what it meant to be loved and to care for something so precious, encouraging me to have this enormous supply of love delivered to your door. I believed you. I believed you because I was so ready that day.

NOW, I am reborn! NOW, I know what it's like to come alive! Now, that you've exposed all that you are and who you never were, I can begin again with fresh eyes. I no longer need to be rediscovered or reclaimed, I just need to bathe in the afterbirth and be thankful you're gone. So, so gone.

C.