Tag: relationships

Silent Tears

The tears that soak my pillow at night, or mix with the water in the shower, or the ones that roll down my cheeks when I’m driving or suddenly spring from my eyes when I’m sitting at work; those are the silent tears.

I don’t want to care. 

I don’t want to feel.

I don’t want to ache.

I don’t want to cry.

I try so hard not to care, not to feel, not to ache, not to cry – ever.  Crying only makes it hurt more. And there is never a hug, never a shoulder offered, never a pat on the back.  There is just………. nothing.  Nothing but silence.  I wish feeling like nothing to them wouldn’t hurt.  It would be so much easier. 

I don’t know what else to do, what else to say, what else to give.  I walk on the eggshells that I placed in my own path. I punish myself more than any God or person ever could for my failings and my sins. 

I continue to give all of me away to them and they don’t even realize it. I wish they knew how hard I try, how fucking hard I try  

I feel the rage in me. It scares me. The rage is worse after the silent tears. It screams to be released.  It claws at my throat. I push it down.  I am scared what will happen if it gets out.  I’m scared for me. I’m scared for them. 

I will continue to cry my silent tears, but what happens when there are no more tears to cry?

Tornado Warning

There is a tornado warning today.

I want to find that tornado.

I want to run to that tornado and jump in head first.

I want to flail and rage and scream and cry while the winds whip around me. Let it do what it will to me.

I need to feel battered and bruised. I yearn for the physical pain to match the emotional pain.

I want to dance against the vortex until there is nothing left in me.

Let me float lifelessly in the fatal winds.

As the winds tire from carrying me, let it toss me into the calm, lifeless center.

Will there be peace there? Can I rest there forever? Can I live there forever?

I am my own tornado.

I will not let you see my vortex or feel my vortex. That is only for me to feel.

I created the turbulence I live in every day. Me. I did that. I own that. That is my burden to bare.

You will live in my calm lifeless center where you will feel safe. Where I can convince you and the world that all is well.

There is a tornado warning today.

I am that tornado.

Random shower thoughts

Before I started my morning routine, I had a chance to listen to the local weather forecast.  It is cold today and there is even a slight chance of snow flurries. 

For some reason, my pea brain got stuck thinking about snow.  In the area I live, it typically snows during the winter season.  Last year there wasn’t a significant snowfall and it sucked.  I like snow.  I don’t need 6 feet of it, but I think snow is beautiful and I find it calming for some reason.  There is a skylight in my bedroom, which I never really liked.  It does let in natural light, but it also lets in heat, cold and noise.  When there is a decent snowfall and the skylight is blanked in snow, it muffles the outside noises.  I feel like I am safe and cocooned from the outside.  It never lasts long, but I love it and look forward to it each winter. 

As I was showering, my mind wandered to the thought of snow and how beautiful it really is.  Each snowflake is unique and falls to the ground, joining millions of other snowflakes to create a brilliant blanket of snow.  In the first hours of a snowfall, the snow is clean, bright, and beautiful.  Depending on what the snow fall covers, flaws and imperfections are hidden.  Or the snowfall could amplify the blemishes in the landscape around us, especially as it melts and gets dirty.

And this resonated with me, as a person.  Each day, I have the option of being like the snowfall.  I can choose to blanket those around me and those I love and care about; to make them feel cocooned in my love and surround them with beauty and light.  Or I can choose to let outside entities impact my beauty and light.  I can choose to let the negative comments of others melt away my blanket of snow and reveal the blemishes and flaws that may impact those I love and care about. 

I want to challenge myself to choose beauty and light each day. 

Anyway, that was my random shower thought for today.

Permission

I called my baby girl on my way home from work yesterday.  Actually, I was on my way to my therapy appointment.  She hadn’t been interacting with me like she typically does, and I hadn’t laid eyes on her in over a month.  I can always tell, sense, feel, when my girl is struggling. 

She was weepy as soon as we started to chat.  I asked her how she was, and she said she was alive and doing the best she can.  I told her I didn’t like the way that sounded, and I can tell she is starting to spiral into her darkness.  She unloaded some of what was bothering her. 

  • Working like a motherfucker and she still can’t get ahead
  • Barely being able to pay her bills and keep food on the table
  • Doing everything for drippy dick and getting nothing but criticism
  • Being responsible for everything in the apartment
  • Knowing she needs to leave him, but not knowing how to do it
  • Wanting to leave him, but not knowing if she can
  • Knowing leaving him will take her years to get over and he will find someone new in about a week
  • Feeling like the black sheep of the family
  • Feeling like she embarrasses the family
  • Staying away from family because it’s just easier

I interjected as she spoke.  Trying to encourage her to get therapy, to have someone else to talk to and bounce things off.  I told her to remember that relationships are two sided.  Everyone is equal. 

And then I stopped talking.  I realized that I had inadvertently created a mini me.  My girl watched me for 18 years.  She watched me being the problem solver.  She watched me cleaning, cooking, doing wash.  She watched me handle a full-time job, kids, activities, family.  She rarely heard me complain, rarely saw me cry and almost never saw me and her dad fight.  I let my daughter grow up to be a pleaser, just like me.  I let my daughter feel she needed to take on the weight of the world because that’s what she thought she was supposed to do.  I let my daughter grow up thinking she was responsible for everyone else’s happiness.  I let my daughter grow up thinking the woman handled her shit, the house shit, and everyone else’s shit without complaining or thinking twice about it. 

Wow.  That’s fucked up.  Seriously fucked up.  I did my girl a huge disservice and I hate it.  I apologized to her yesterday.  I wish I could make it up to her in some way.  I did tell her that relationships need to be a give and take.  No one person should be responsible for the majority of what needs to be done.  It’s a partnership.  Communication is key. 

How can I give my girl advice when I showed her how to survive in a dysfunctional relationship.  I gave her all the tools to play pretend so anyone looking in sees nothing, senses nothing.  I showed her to just keep smiling and doing what everyone expects of you.  It’s easier that way. 

I am so sorry, baby girl.  Your mom is trying.  She is trying to stand on her own two feet, to stop asking for permission to be happy, to stop looking for acceptance in the way she wants to live her life and to just do it.  She will hopefully show you how to run full speed at your dreams no matter what your age.  She will show you that she doubts herself, that she is scared to fail and be the butt of family jokes.  But I think she is going to do it anyway. 

Stay tuned, baby girl.

My apartment

From my office window I have a pretty fantastic view of the city I work in.  It’s a romanticized view from my third-floor window.  It’s a nice part of the city.  Lots of small shops, restaurants, etc.  Catty-corner from me is a building I look at quite a bit.  It is a three-story brick building.  Painted a deep red.  The first floor is commercial and I’m guessing the second and third floor are apartments. 

I want to live on the third floor of the building.  There are big, old windows looking over the city.  I stare at the third-floor windows.  Today, the white curtains are closed.  I wonder what is behind those curtains.  What does the apartment look like?  Is it as glorious as I imagine it to be? 

Could I live alone? Alone in the city?  What would that be like?  Would I actually like myself? I feel like I have allowed so many others in my life to define me; to define my importance.  What am I if I am not needed?  Am I still important?  Am I still relevant to my family and friends if I am not actively doing something for them?  Will I be forgotten?  What do I become? 

Am I then just a lonely, sad, middle-aged woman with nothing?  Maybe?  I would be able to paint and write.  I would come and go as I pleased.  Where would I even go?  Would I have the courage to walk into different places alone?  Sit down and eat alone?  Try and meet new people alone? That is a terrifying thought.  

How alone would alone be?  How would I redefine who I am when I have always been something to someone?  Could I find a new purpose for my life?  Isn’t it a bit late to try and figure out who I want to be or who I actually am?  I wonder who I would lose along the way?  Is this my mid-life crisis?  Why am I questioning so much about my life?  What the hell is wrong with me? 

The curtains just opened.  I wonder what’s next for whoever lives in my apartment.

Dream with me…

I think it was yesterday morning while I was in the shower a song came on that immediately brought a bright, beautiful visual bursting in my head.  Take My Breath Away was the song.  Everyone should know that is from the original Top Gun movie.  And everyone should picture Maverick and Charlie in a dimly lit room, white curtains floating on the breeze coming through the open windows.  You can feel the need, the want, the desire………….sigh. 

I don’t care what you say, if you are or ever have been in an intimate relationship – you want to feel that way.  To feel lost in the moment, to feel the love, the passion, the desire from the person standing so close to you.  To feel the jolt of electricity when their hand lightly brushes your cheek.  To feel their breath on your cheek before your lips meet.  The light, tender brush of their lips on yours………….sigh.

The beautiful feeling of butterflies fluttering in your belly.  You are ready to be open, exposed, and real with the other person.  There is no thought of being embarrassed or ashamed of who you are or what you are.  You feel free and light and effervescent………….sigh.

And of course, me being me, this makes me analyze everything.  I am not so vain or careless to compare my life and life experiences to something that is in a movie.  But don’t we all deserve that?  Our own little piece of feeling all those feels.  A time to forget about all the problems we shoulder.  A respite from sadness and guilt.  To just let go, feel love, give love, be love.  Savoring every touch, memorizing every touch.  Being so present in the moment that everything else fades away…………sigh. 

This is the shit that gets my mind and heart in trouble……….sigh.

I Wish They Knew

I wish my family knew a few things about me.  About the real me.  The person I am now, not the person I was 20 years ago. 

 

I am not perfect.  Not that anyone in my family was thinking that I was.  No one is perfect.  We are all flawed in our own ways.  My flaws are much different and were created through different life experiences.  Some experiences they know about, some they don’t.  And that’s okay. 

 

I love my family.  I would do anything to protect my family.  Anything.

 

I am not strong.  Everyone thinks I’m “strong like bull” and nothing can hurt me or phase me and I can take on the problems of the world.  That is not at all who I am.  I tend to take on the stressors of others.  I carry them like they were my own.  I try to fix the stressors, fix the ones that I love and fix those that are hurting.  This hurts me in the long run.  I have maxed myself.  There is nothing left for me to give of myself.  I am numb to the hurt and heartache.

 

I do not want to disappoint anyone, ever.  Especially, my family.  I feel like I disappoint others when I don’t do or say or act the way I am expected.  It was hard for me to break free from the prison of always doing the right thing.  The right thing was typically someone else’s idea of what was right, not necessarily my idea of what was right.  I put many very important relationships to the test by not following what I knew to be true in my heart.  Some relationships were lost, some are okay, and some are still struggling.

 

I have a problem standing on my own two feet and saying no.  The is very true when it comes to possibly hurting someone’s feelings.  I overextend myself quite a bit.

 

I would much sooner ignore problems that might be creating friction and wait for it to pass.  Of course, this ultimately causes more problems and creates something I like to call the cycle of guilt.  I’m sure I am not the only one familiar with this cycle.  

 

I am not cold hearted or mean. I care more than I should at times. I guess I can come off that way when I’m doing all I can to stay afloat in my life. I have donned my armor over the years to help protect myself. No one wants to hurt or be the reason someone is hurting. Pushing others away is far easier than continually hurting the people I care about.

I am different. I am semi-okay with that. I am not traditional, but I am also not a rebel. I think I fall somewhere in between. I like my short, edgy hair. I like my tattoos and I will get more. I swear, a lot. I am probably not always socially correct. I can behave when society requires it.

I have different views on life. I am intrigued by spiritual healing. I have always had a bit of an ability to feel or sense things. I want to hon that skill. I want to expand my mind in various ways and not feel like I will be made fun of.

I want to live freely, without judgement, criticism, or punishment. I want to agree to disagree and keep moving forward. I want the decisions I make to be respected. In turn, I will do the same for others.

The Brady Bunch, Partridge Family and the Walton’s were not REAL!  No family is perfect.  Let’s accept that imperfection and just love each other.

Answers

I want someone to give me the answers.  I want the universe to show me the answers.  I want whatever God(s) are out there to slap me upside the face and shove the answers down my throat.

I need answers. 

I need to feel peace.  I need to feel comfort.  I need to feel stability.  I need to feel rooted. I need to feel safe.  I need to feel secure.  I need to feel heard.  I need to feel understood.  I need to feel love.

I need all those things.

Do I deserve all those things?

Am I worthy of all those things?

Do I deserve answers?

Am I worthy of answers?

Marks

I see the marks, feel the pain from the marks. Marks that I never thought I would have. No one would believe that I would have these marks. I still can’t believe I have these marks. I never thought I would understand the marks I see on others. I now understand. I understand the extreme mental anguish and despair that evoke the marks. I always thought I could handle it, handle my emotional pain. I never thought it could get worse. It got worse.

Was that day my rock bottom? I keep thinking about that day. I see it clearly; I hear it clearly. I remember. I remember fear, hurt, regret, disappointment, pain, embarrassment, despair, hopelessness. What I wanted was the darkness. The darkness of nothing. Was that the answer? Nothing? I wondered how long I would need the darkness; need the nothingness to last. Would it be for an hour, a day, a week, a month, a year? Would it be forever? Should it be forever? What would it be like, the darkness? Would it be like floating? Seeing everyone I loved, but I can’t get to them? Would I feel nothing? Would I feel the people I loved? Did the marks keep me from darkness, from nothingness? Maybe the marks saved me in some fucked up way. Did they?

It was a week ago that the marks showed up on my body. A week is not enough time to answer all the questions or figure out all the answers. Some days, waking up is the best I can offer. Other days, I want to conquer the world and give a big fuck you to all those judging me for trying to figure out my world. Why am I not allowed to be me, EVER? Always dancing the line between acceptable and hearing the disappointed tsk. Live for me, live for them. Live for me, lose them. Live for them, lose me. Why are there only two options?

Fuck. Do you see? This is where the marks come from. The exasperation, the desperateness, the hopelessness. My marks are mine. I own them, I understand them. I needed my marks.