must be because of the holiday 1 month ago
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to the holder of hands this morning.
During our gabfest he said such and such will be the name of your book. I said “you want me to write a book so people can just laugh at my life?” He said “no, I want you to write a book because your say things so well and in such a fashion that makes every story you tell so poetic. It’s a gift.”
I think I am long in to this journey. It road feels smoother now. 2 months ago
I want to say to lock behind a thick wooden gate, so everything that should stay in the past, indeed, stays in the past. But it shouldn’t really. It should, somehow, be released to vanish into a universe that isn’t part of my universe.
Maybe it’s more like having managed my way out of quicksand and I need to get as much hard ground between me and the quicksand. That peace comes from knowing how to identify and avoid quicksand in the future. It’s knowing that I am safe because I know that. And I know how to release myself from the quicksand and wash off the residue. There is peace in that.
Maybe it’s that I have walked close enough to the light and a monster has reached through the darkness to grab my ankle and I just need to find a way to release that last hold on me. It’s not so much now. Not like it once was. 3 months ago
My two summers past summer bridge student that adopted me came round tonight. I haven’t heard from her in 6 months. The last time I heard from her is when she was moving in to her own apartment and came over to see if I had extra things to give her. (I did.)
This time it was to ask to be able to stay with me until March. I was determined to say No. It is such a bad idea for me. Miss Lily Belle doesn’t like her at all. (!) Which will cause her more stress.
This will cost me cash in terms of utilities. =/
There is nothing in this for me. I have vowed to stop doing what is not best for me simply to solve another person’s self made problem. And yet, I reluctantly said yes.
When am I going to put me first? Live my life the way it should be lived?
Sigh…..... 4 months ago
mind you, it’s a really small light and a really long tunnel. 4 months ago
Without my laptop working point out to me that i have no local, real life people i am solidly connected to. :( 4 months ago
This has always been one of my favourite photos of my nephew.
You can change your life. Such deep meaning to those words, given the events of our road trip.
and wise ones.
I think today I will change me life.5 months ago
the journey is stranger every day.
Is there any wonder I don’t trust. I know it seems like there should be more to that sentence, but honestly, it most appropriately ends right there. 6 months ago
I think because a tiny, tiny check for a class action lawsuit came to Mom. Coupled with unpacking a photo album of her of our trip to Paris.
Topping off the day was a housewarming where I was stuck at a table with 3 people venting on their Dad. I tried to turn the tide and when they inquired after my parent (in a negative sort of way) I said they were both dead. One said “You’re lucky” and went on to complain about her Dad. I wanted to shout “NO, I’m NOT! YOU’RE the lucky one, to still have you’re Dad. And a bunch of other ranting back thoughts went through my head.” But… instead, I smiled without using my eyes. Luckily, a covering of a food dish on a nearby table blew to the ground in the breeze. I got up to tend to it, taking my own dish and cup with me. As I threw those out I realized I couldn’t stay and went and said my goodbyes. As I said my good-byes to my VI friend, I thought again of how he doesn’t have the luxury, which is sometimes a curse, of seeing non-verbal communications. I have think (hope) those three people venting on their Dad must have realized they chased me out of this housewarming.
Yay! for me, for not spending any more life minutes in an unsuitable way. I get that I keep a small life….. and, mind you, it’s a good one! 8 months ago
with Paul McCartney. Mostly because I knew the time we would know each other would be brief. It was like a science project. Seeing how someone might react or treat me with this information known.
Plus, he is so private, I was confident it would never be shared with another soul. It’s a two way street. What I don’t want known about me and what he doesn’t want know about him, being such a … well known person in these parts. (Not that there’s anything TOO dreadful about him, mind you. But everyone has something!)
It was way better than I ever imagined. I think my mind imagines the worst. But it wasn’t at all what I was thinking. I know each person might respond differently, but it was very … reassuring that this stuff wasn’t the deal breaker. i guess just other things about me are!
Now that it’s over, I deem the experiment successful. 10 months ago
and being a bit more at peace with the past, having found a vague enough phrase to utilize, should I ever need to. Someday I might need to. 11 months ago
it’s a journey. sometimes, because i have no idea where i am going, (i mean, heck, it’s not like i’ve ever been there before)i think am i there? or at least kinda sorta close enough? let me stop and rest. let me go over there and play with the other children. they’re having fun!
and in playing with the other children i learn this isn’t the stop where my journey ends, but I am so much closer than before.
yay! me! 11 months ago
I did it 4 times, in fact. Because each time I did the homework I knew it wasn’t coming out how the Holder of Hands had intended. But I couldn’t really make what he intended come out of anywhere inside me and therefore to my pen. And I looked really hard too.
“What have you learned from (....)”
I know it was supposed to be good things. The silver lining things. The ways that those …. things that happened…. made me something good or made some future good in my life. But really, there was nothing good. Nothing good comes from things like that. EVER.
I know I flabergasted him. I read the first page. I’d left blank pages between my gos at the homework. I turned the book and showed The Holder of Hands the blank page and said “This is where you respond.” (Really, I just needed a moment to compose myself to be able to speak steady again.) All The Holder of Hands quietly and gently said was “I think I’m going to need a tissue.” I handed the tissue I had pulled from the box before I had begun reading over to The Holder of Hands. I reached back over my head as I lay on the couch (having chosen not to actually face The Holder of Hands as I read my homework) and pulled two more tissues for me, just in case.
I read my second go at the homework, turned the page to two blank pages and said with a smile “This is where you respond”. He stutter and spurted a moment and I could see his mind was without speech. He was not expecting to hear what he heard. He didn’t know. He didn’t really know. Even though I’d brought that letter that seemed to tell so much of what it was like for me. He didn’t really know. But, how could he. So, of course, he didn’t expect my homework to be like this.
So, I left him speechless and began to read the third attempt I’d made at my homework. And, I swear, each time I really did try to find the good. And this time I started well. “I learned to preserve.” if preserving is good. And when I was done The Holder of Hands, eyes red and briming with tears said “It wasn’t what he had intended. I didn’t know it would be so dark….. “
A new homework assignment was given, always if I choose to accept it.
I know that I am always positive. I know I have tried to work this out by myself. Using the Holder of Hands more as a wise person that I can question my thought patterns and logic, more of a wizard of magic that can teach me how to heal myself really rather than as being a Moaning Minnie or a Damsel in Distress throwing myself as Princess trapped in a high tower needing to be saved.
I can see that one approach maintains privacy and control while the other is full disclosure and trust.
oh dear12 months ago
singing. =) Not to the radio. Just singing. I hadn’t even noticed I had started. Its been ages since I’ve sung like that. Since …
I must be getting better. I must remember to the The Holder of Hands. It’s working. 13 months ago
and it held a couple of unexpected random things that startled me.
I took them to the holder of hands. It was Very Brave and Trusting of me.
The Holder of Hands was immensely helpful and I can feel this journey has covered more ground and while most of it has been very dark, it does seem to be a new land, a land of light and sunshine and freedom not to far in the distance. 13 months ago
Even the beautiful drive couldn’t pry my mind from it. It was a dreadful day at work. Thank heavens I have a private office and kleenex boxes and have long been known to be having a cold just now. My eyes seem to leak and my heart seems to be broken. I am a bit despondent really. I am looking forward to my meeting with The Holder of Hands where I can say (some limited) things right out loud and sort out some thoughts in four walls that are safe where I am fairly certain he has never thought (or written down) I am crazy. Or wrong.I don’t even think he will say “I told you so”. I do think he will continue to keep on with me on the journey towards freedom which I hope is soon to be complete. 14 months ago
as a natural part of the course of my work. This particular happenstance is not a frequent event, but does happen every year, so it seems. The letters require action on my part and generally jobs are lost for a portion or all of forever. I am the bearer of the news, although it is rarely unexpected, it is never a pleasant task.
In all these years, this particular penal code has never surfaced, nor has any letter been as graphic as this one was today.
It shocked me because of what I call here my own long sustained trauma. I have come to admit all that happened should not have. That it was wrong to have happened and that it happened to me. That IT WAS WRONG. How could that have happened to me? But I have honestly never thought of all of that as a crime. And there it was all written in black and white in the penal code.
It is so hard to live through something like that.
How could anyone live through what you would have to go through to admit this was a crime to yourself. To go to the police and believe they would believe this was a crime. And press charges. And live through that and all that would bring upon you for all the years the legal processes would take. How public it would be. In small communities. What would happen to you when all that was happening? How would you bear it? Haven’t you endured enough without making life harder still?
I see what the penal code is saying. It made me shake and if my telephone hadn’t started ringing I would be staring dumbfounded at it still.
I admire the person that has the strength or whatever it takes to pursue that penal code. Whatever it is inside someone it takes to do that, it isn’t what I had. It isn’t what I have.
Perhaps, seeing, in black and white, the penal code rather proving what happened was without a doubt something that never should have and something that was wrong and no matter what my mind says, was not my fault, will help convince every part of my being to stand down. To finally drop its guard against … everyone….. That (maybe) I really am safe alone in the world. And I can trust that. I can trust me to be safe on my own around other human beings that I don’t know and that I do know.
I’m somewhat surprised at how angry I am tonight. and how hurt I feel inside. AT how wronged I feel. I know I have disassociated the responsible party from the actions for so long. That I have never really connected the actions and the responsibility for the actions together in my head. It’s like I only have myself to be angry at. I think that is why I am the only one that suffers the cost. Why all these years I have become who I am.
I am exhausted. 14 months ago
with saving their life when they wanted to end it stopped in on messenger today, as they sometimes do, will and have in these couple of years since. Today they told me what the demon they live with is. I am So Proud of them. For how far they have come to be able to say that right out loud to someone. To anyone. Even to me, that they trust and know will be positive and supportive No Matter What. I admire their bravery. I have my own demon. I wonder if I will ever be able to say it right out loud to someone some day, as they did to me today. I can’t imagine believing anyone loves me enough to have built the trust it would take for me to say that right out loud. Or even type it right out loud. Because I can’t even imagine that for myself, it echos at how proud I am for this person. 14 months ago
Clear, firm boundaries and no hesitation on saying them in a strong, bold font (so to speak) that left no room for doubt. The boundary could not be moved if you ignored it or pushed a wee bit.
I don’t ever want to hurt someone’s feelings. I value playing well in the sandbox. I tend to put myself last, instead of first. It is difficult for me to know where the balance is between selfless and selfish. 14 months ago
ideally…....... for all time. 15 months ago
sent me some texts tonight, inquiring within. Very nice to have this be an interactive journey. 15 months ago
the prison of my own making, built from events that were not my own doing a long time ago.
I didn’t race to leap into this small and confining boat, seemingly smaller than my self-constructed prison. It was suggested when I once mistakenly asked some nonsense about life outside the prison. Like… did it exist? Was it possible? Could I survive outside the prison as well as I did inside? Would I be better off?
With urging and reassurance from the Holder of Hands, I came to decide to undertake the perilous journey even though the path wasn’t clear, as all paths upon the sea are not. The sea on which I journey is unpredictable at best. At times calm, offering moments in which I gather strength to remain calm and carry on. Enjoy the ocean view and the sunset to come. Encouraged to keep sight for The Land of Freedom and those that dwell within.
At times the ocean tumbles and churns and tosses up a monster from the long forgotten deep, scaring me as I stare at the yellow eyes and the scales dripping with seaweed that are caught as sure as the memory of the monster from long ago has me caught. And as quickly as the monster surfaced, it submerges beneath the tumultuous sea and once the water calms, I calm and soon the tiny boat seems stayed on its course in spite of the creatures of the deep. Perhaps the waves the creatures create when they submerge push the wee boat forward with renewed power to be free. 16 months ago
I was watching a tivoed show of a crime drama. Once I had the flashback I realized that there was a reason I didn’t watch shows such as this. That there was a reason I only watched “happy” shows.
I tivoed this show because someone here had begun a psuedo-friendship with me where we visited about television shows. I think it started over the Bachelor, one season. As we visited about television and shows I was prodded to watch this show as it was one of her favorites. In effort to develop a friendship I tivoed and watched so we could chat about that show too. That psuedo-friendship vanished and I never thought to stop the tivo of the show.
When I was watching the show something happened that caused a flashback. I was startled and shaken and glad I was alone.
I’m glad it happened for two reasons. One, because it has reminded me to stop tivoing the show. Secondly, because I thought the other recent flashbacks happened because I was exhausted and in a stressful situation. I thought the next one was sort of still on the heels of that one, even though my situation was somewhat different then. This one, this one leads me to believe that these flashbacks aren’t because of stress not allowing my mind to hold the strong gate that locks these memories up in place and one slips through in the moment of an exhausted and weak mind, but because the gate is broken.
The Holder of Hands thinks there is something better than trying to lock these behind a heavy gate in your mind. Something less costly. I thought I would trust the Holder of Hands on this and see if I can be free of the locked gate and all that lies behind it. Especially since it doesn’t seem to be very effective any more. Which could make the cost much, much higher. 16 months ago
the flashbacks. I’ve never had them like that before. Not in that way. Not so many. I was so exhausted during my traveling alone. It was much more difficult than I had expected it to be. Especially once I arrived and the second day the reservations I had made fell through and I just was winging it from that moment forth. Once they started to occur, of …. events…. I have long repressed… I thought that must be what they do in therapy. Simply exhaust or press you and press you until you are under so much stress the gates your mind spends so much time locking up the memories behind are too heavy to hold shut any longer and the memories of… all that stuff… slips out to scare you.
It seemed once the first one slipped out, more did. Even when I wasn’t tired and alone. When my nephew’s mother was talking to me, about I can’t even remember what, another …. incident… flashed through my mind. As quick as that. One that I had (thought) I had long forgotten. As soon as it had flashed across my brain and I got over the shock of it (and kept nodding politely in the conversation) I tried to fetch back the memory to more analyze it. See if I could take it out, dust it off, hold it up to a light and make sense of it from an I’m wiser now and not the same person i was then now point of view somehow, but as quickly as the memory unexpectedly came, it was gone. I can only fetch back… a small segment of the picture, as if it were a watercolour washed away with the rain and only a bit remains unsmudged.
I did the wisest thing and went to see The Holder of Hands. I think if the locked gates have begun to weaken like this I had better do what is necessary to heal myself. I have danced around this for a very long time. Simpy glancing over and trying to patch up the edges of it all. Perhaps I can stand fixing everything within myself properly. After all, this IS The Year of Freedom. Its time to be free of this. 16 months ago
As a Phoenix RisingIt's the holiday season. Christmas. Family. I hardly know when Christmas actually is, really.
I know it is the 25th. It simply isn’t in my reality as, well, Christmas. I notice that as I read other peoples posts about Christmas.
I know we all want to be part of Ozzie and Harriet’s family of Leave it to Beaver. That sort of family where eveyone loves each other and all troubles with life and each other are neatly solved in thirty minutes or an hour. At least I do! And we don’t.
Once I stopped trying to gain acceptance or overcome the rejection that came after Mom died, and simply embraced myself, for who I was I think I began to heal a bit.
I don’t want to be gnashing my teeth about the life I don’t have.
I want to celebrate the life I do have and be glad that it can be as nice as I can make it. That I have the freedom to have traditions, or freedom to not have traditions at all and have every year different. That it really simply is all about being as happy as I can in the moment. Just in the moment. That’s all I really have, isn’t it? The moment?17 months ago
Mitch Albom, Tuesdays with Morrie 18 months ago