Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Clawing My Way Out

I am slowly clawing my way out of the hole. It was a rut that became a hole. It hasn't been easy with two teenagers who are trying to find their own roads. It hasn't been easy without much change in my pocket. But, thanks to Julia Buckley, my body is getting stronger and thanks to the love of friends and family, my soul is too. It's been a long few years. I've felt more alone than ever, but I've learned to turn that into a reason to move forward. Amazing things have happened when I've least expected it. I know I can keep going. I know that I am strong enough and I know I am getting stronger.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Too Many Keys

Keys used to be a source of comfort for me. They meant home. They meant safety. Right now, there are too many of them and it is leaving me feeling homeless. I have keys to my old house, keys to a friend's house and keys to the place I've been living for the past nine months. Now I'm moving again and picking up more keys.

Even though I know that this move is for the good and will be best for me, I am struggling with my loss of sense of home. There really is no place I would call home right now. I know I'll make a home for myself again in the future, but right now, I feel like I don't have one. I feel beholding to a lot of people. I feel like I can't stand on my own two feet. I know I'm over dramatizing this, but I'm scared. Scared to leave yet another place that has felt sort of like home, but isn't. Scared that I will feel this way for far too long. Homesick for the place I used to live, where I raised my kids. Just homesick.

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Shoulder of the Road

I've spent most of my life developing what I thought was a comfortable rut. I knew the ride was bumpier than expected. I adjusted the shocks on my car. I drove a little slower. I turned up the stereo to block out the noise.

Many years later I've realized that I was in a bad rut. The bridge ahead was out. I've pulled onto the shoulder to figure out what to do next.

I've been amazed by how many people have come to the aid of my vehicle. I've been overwhelmed at the options available for recharting my course. I may even just need to rest in my car at the side of the road for awhile before I make any decisions about where to go.

The reality of the situation is that after driving along uncomfortably for a very long time, the ride made me weary. I'm not sure if I need a new car or if I just need to find a new road. Either way, I am in the midst of the biggest change of my life. I believe that change is good.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Lost: One Life, Please Return to Owner

OK, so the school thing is almost over, but not quite. So the work thing has grown three heads and become a life-sucking beast. Between the two of them, I've given up on sleep, eating and having anything that resembles a life. Most women my age would be totally psyched to lose five pounds in a month. I'm personally horrified. I wasn't trying to or even wanting to lose weight. It was just a consequence of far too many 12 hour plus days of work followed by hours of schoolwork. I wish I was happy about it, but instead I'm a little scared because I don't feel healthy and I miss eating something that resembles food. I'm here to tell you folks, goldfish crackers are not a tasty dinner.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Miss You

Poor kitty. Every time I think I can do it all on my own, I realize that when I am done, I am all alone. I miss my friends that write. I miss writing something other than a paper for school, which I am almost done with! I miss my friends that rock. I miss being connected even when my life offers me few chances. I miss all of you.

You can all thank INXS for a sharp blow to my head that made me remember something that I loved. Life is funny that way.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Five for Fighting

Five years. How is it true? And yet, I feel every day of those five years. The wishing for is gone. The pain has dulled to a quiet throb that just murmurs in the background. One that you become comfortable with, ignore, accept and claim as your own. It isn't even really about that anymore. It's about the aftermath. It's about the redefinition. It's about the novacaine numbness that feels better than it should.

The new normal takes center stage and everyone plays their parts. It is a lovely play. Life proceeds and joy exists. And yet, for me, in the background is this idea that I was somehow elementally changed five years ago. Not only did I lose her, I lost part of myself. In losing the comfortable warm place that I landed on the worst of days, I was left to face myself. All the words that had been spoken to me became more true.

I'm a fighter. It's what I do. I'm very good at fighting for others, but maybe not so good at fighting for myself. I give too much to everyone, and I mean everyone. Sometimes I wish I didn't. I'm better about taking care of myself, but still not so good at asking for what I deserve. I don't understand the rules of honesty. I often tell the truth when I probably shouldn't. I'm a terrible liar. I wish she was here so that I could understand how I got this way.

I fight all the time. Sometimes I win. The one fight that I struggle with all the time is a nagging loneliness since she left. Happiness has been elusive these past five years. It feels like it is there and yet it feels like a phantom. Maybe it's the part of me that disappeared on that day.

Monday, September 07, 2009

The Seether Part Drei

Back to the story. The defining moment of my relationship with my mother was when we went to see the movie "Ghandi." By this time I had learned that my mother was someone I could actually be honest with and I stumbled upon a moment that I will never forget. As we drove home from the local theater together, I wondered aloud how someone who was clearly so good could be going to hell according to my religion. Even though my mother up to this point had allowed me to ask, there was something different in her answer that night. It was the first time I heard her voice questioning as loudly as mine. How could it be? Even though my mom never gave me what many would call an answer, her ability to discuss and question out loud without accusations flying was a novelty in my world and I felt like I had finally broken free. I was now free to think and to question. For the first time, I felt like God gave me a mind to seek truth and that truth might not always be exactly what I was expecting. And that was exciting.

By the fall of 1983, my bags were packed and I was off to college. It was no surprise that I was heading off to Calvin College, a small Christian liberal arts school. I opted out of Wheaton for many reasons. It was too close to home, I knew too many people there and they made the sad mistake of asking me about some of my past "sins." Even at 18, I knew that I didn't need to be judged for things that I had done in the past. I already knew that part of growing up is learning and changing. I didn't want to be dragged down by things that I had done in the past. I'm all for personal accountability, but what's the point if there are no lessons to be learned and only punishments to be dealt out.

So off to Calvin I went. Little did I know, but my faith was about to be rocked to the core, not by the "world" that I had been warned about, but by the Christians I went to class with every day. Those three years taught me the real world meaning of the word hypocrisy. I saw people who in the name of the same god I was claiming, behave in ways that I found shameful and yet, they turned around and called me a heathen because I wasn't a member of their church. Suddenly, all the words I had spoken to others flooded me in a sea of regret. The judgementalism that I had grown up embracing was a little harsh on the receiving end. Suddenly I realized that our beliefs when taken out of the context of our personal culture, became a target for others, who believed their agenda to be as valid as my own.

And so it was at Calvin College, the safest place my parents could have put me, I learned to think for myself for a change. I was fortunate enough, or intuitive enough to find a group of people who helped me to think for myself. They were all Christians, but a kind of Christian I had never met before. For the first time, I met people who put action before words and reserved the judging for God. I had my fill of being judged by people here on earth. My ego had been torn down again and again by people for whom I never seemed good enough. I had been given a chance to really examine what my foundation was made of and if some repairs were in order.

Next time, The Seether Part Quatro, where yours truly thinks she has figured it all out.