Posts Tagged ‘Parents’

Having been to many medical specialists, I know who cares rather than see me as a statistic. I change doctors and specialists when they make me feel like a blob of flesh riding on the conveyor belt. A few doctors lost my trust just by their pernicious wording as pertaining to my life expectancy. For instance, the breast surgeon who cut away me cancer (And breasts) spoke only about my 80% chance to live. I changed doctors and my new doctor gave me a hug. I am not a statistic. I’m a person with emotions. So. Here are some people that Have earned my respect.

My sister: We had a rocky start. She is day and I am night but we are true family  linked by twilight. Our children brought us closer, but my cancer revealed the depth of our connection. During chemotherapy, though I looked like the walking dead, with no hair, she called me up every day to walk. I know, now, because of our stressful childhood, that she is good at hiding her emotions. I learned last year that our father’s antics hurt her emotionally. We all suffered differently. It’s sad we had to do it alone until then. Anyway, she kept me going through a hard time and I can’t thank her enough.

My brother George: Keeps me on my toes. I call him my human autocorrect. He’s hysterical and so fast with his wit. He’s there when I need to vent. He doesn’t mince words or placate me, and tells me what I should hear rather than what I want to hear. George was there The Whole time during our mother’s illness. Stayed by her side when the rest of us couldn’t be there. I thank him dearly for that. His husband is the straight-man in their relationship….LMAO see what I did there?

John: Johnny boy. No longer a boy, but a man with two beautiful, smart, and amazing daughters. He’s loyal to the core, despite being betrayed by a man who hid his true nature from John, for years. Since I started caring for his daughters, I’ve gotten to know the man and stopped seeing him as a boy all together. He works his ass off and takes care of his family.  His children are his Breaths and his wife, a wonderful strong woman, is his heart. It’s wonderful to see him mentally escape the corruption that was our father. I know that emotionally he still struggles, but he’s winning the fight. We have a family history, on our father’s side, of a cycle of breaking up families. He single handedly broke the cycle last year. John Weissinger is an amazing person indeed.

Jan my friend: Single-handedly restored my faith in friendships. She speaks her mind, understands and voices her vulnerabilities. We can agree to disagree and there are no requirements to being her friend. What a nice change of pace. I’m not perfect. I make mistakes. I get emotionally all warrior at times, more and more infrequently now, but she doesn’t attack me because of it. She offers different perceptions and strategies to go about facing whatever it is disabling my intellectual brain. I love her for it.

Shout out: To Melissa, my physical therapist who, with an amazing team, got me looking forward to being tortured( LMOA) and walking again. I had a knee replacement last July. I knew I needed to exercise to get my knee working again, but I didn’t realize the physical and emotional toll it would have on me. You get the physical part, I’m sure, but emotional? Let me explain…During Chemo your body is poisoned and your insides start to mush up because of opoptosis (Cell death) all you want to do is sleep. The pain from the knee replacement caused that same reaction. I wanted to sleep. Didn’t want to go out, but walked anyway because… well, I did want to walk again. And then I started Physical therapy. Melissa turned that pain into motivation. She treated me like a human being. Talked about her life and her struggles, both good and bad, and made me feel like I was going to a coffee house with a friend, (replace the coffee with painful stretches) instead of see pain as a negative. I think only people who’ve been through this truly understand what I’m saying. Like I mentioned previously, I only stick with people who are true to their purpose, themselves and their lives. People who are heroes in their fields because they care. From day one, I knew she did.

More to come…. People are inspiring me a lot lately.

 

 

Giving up a limb, young looking hair and a good portion of our sanity are what mother’s do for their children and the world. No questions asked. For ten months we deal with hormone spikes, horror stories, remolding of our bodies and criticism of ignorant men (and some women). Or after applying for motherhood, we wait with bleeding fingernails and flesh trembling anxiety hoping we get the call that fills our dream. That female spark extends to aunts who love their nieces and nephews as if they were their own. Grandmas. Sisters. Women are innate warriors and peacekeepers. We welcome children, infants and even hurting adults into our lives knowing our hearts will be put at risk of breaking and still we welcome that future with open arms. Why? It’s part of who we are.

Mom’s are the backbone of all families. We give without taking. We love with no expectations and we do our best to teach our children to grow into responsible compassionate adults. This is no easy feat. It took us decades to fight through fear and oppression to get where we are today, proving that we are strong and untiring. We are not where we should be in nature, as an equal provider with our counterparts, yet, but we are ascending slowly and constantly.  I call it the “Awakening”. The more of us who find our voices the more eyes will be opened to paths hidden from us by weak and fearful obstructionists.

Woman are more than mothers. We are hard workers, compassionate caregivers, and inspirational human beings outside of our homes. Why? Because we never let go of who we are on the inside. We work harder and sacrifice more today because of the narrowed minded men who created this country. We fought through decades of abandonment, suffering, belittling, being objectified, betrayal, to get where we are today and we have a long way to go. And we will get there. Next, I will write about strong women in my life.

 

It starts inside. Loneliness. You own it. A seed you plant before awareness of the world, the truth of family and tradition. We all seek to fill the void we’ve created, but is it real? Some will tell you it’s not. Confusion will dizzy your mind and make you question what you feel.  You ask, “How do they know?” Because up until now, they knew everything. The older you get the more questions arise building a thick barrier made up of 100x more questions than answers. What once was simple is now a wind storm knocking you back making you rethink your true self. Your goal is at the end of your path that is littered with everyone else’s obstacles, fears and challenges. The journey is daunting and proved so far to be painful. Should you move forward? Yes. Traversing the warnings and forbidding’s from the inside of others is just one of your challenges. Set out to get to where you want to be. In the beginning, if you choose YOU, you will be more alone than you’ve ever felt, especially if fear is the glue that sticks your family and friends together. Truth be told, there is always someone who will try to talk you out of your journey. They will talk about the safety of home and their personal choice. Show you the world ahead through their eyes… their perspective. Remember, you have your own thoughts, desires and goals and you’re already scared and looking for that one reason not to take the first step away from home and the world you know. It is more than likely that their compassionate guidance will turn on you, especially if they were fear-talked out of seeking their hearts desires and the comfort of your stationary presence confirms their choice not to reach their goal. There’s no one more battle worn than someone fighting someone else’s battle. Understand that, when you are where you want to be, there is no fighting and no defending . Your armor is your heart and your weapon… five simple words. This. Is. Who. I. Am.

In return to learn

My spirit hungers for knowledge greater than any pain a challenge offers

Lessons are brutal

The scars I bear are the badges I display in every life I live

I chose them to lift me up or break me into little pieces of reflection

The more times I return insures deeper wounds

Greater feelings

Those around me and with me are handpicked by me

They’ll catch my tears or shove me into the hole I’ve dug for myself

and sometimes are the guides I refuse to hear

I started out a speck of barely anything

My steps forward were short and strenuous

Simple but momentous results did occur

They took on momentum the more I succeeded or failed

A diamond is coal under pressure for billions of years before becoming more

Not difficult to see the similarities

Nature is a blueprint of what we could be

Pay attention

Don’t take nature for granted

We are all part of each other

And never forget

Failure is part of learning

*Write about a moment in childhood when you suddenly caught a glimpse of the adult world.

(When my mom had cancer)

-she wore beautiful colorful bandanas
-she was so strong even when weak

She walked through the front door… For the first time in what felt like forever, I got to see her. The image of her weakness did not hide the strength hidden within her. The battle scars were out to show the world what she had endured and conquered. She wore the colorful bandana that covered what once sprouted thick dark brown locks and her body was now frail though just a year before, she could carry a child in each arm with one more pulling at her leg.
Standing on the carpeted blue steps just 10 feet away from the door, my ignorant seven year old legs shook. Was it excitement? Was it pain? Maybe they were eager to run up to her so I could hug her and never let go. What was stopping me? Frozen in my own mind, I could only think of how happy I was to see her. Though I was not told, maybe I knew deep down that what was only three days in the hospital, was almost a lifetime of loss. Almost a year of staying at my cousins house on and off and being taken care of by my dad yet nothing ever occurred to me farther than “mommy is sick.” Almost a year of doctors’ appointments and chemotherapy.
The welcome home banner above my head, decorated by family as what we treated as an art project, represented what was rather than what could have been. Pictures of rainbows, colorful houses and happy stick figures covered the grateful banner. The representation of returning strength and a future with her, rather than without. A future full of hope rather than loss of the most important woman in my life. The woman that took care of me when I was hurt or sick. The one that refused to leave my side when I needed her. That moment is drilled into my mind, will never be just a memory, but a reminder of what I have and what matters. A memory that drives me to hold on to what I have for as long as I can and to not take anyone for granted. A memory that once in a while shows itself to remind me of the moments that could have been lost if things would have been different.
I jump off the stairs and run to her. I have never let go since.

4/16/18

Discord is nothing new to me

The place I grew up a toddler’s finger painting called chaos

Innocence dragged through the mud

Hosed off and kissed on the forehead

Pretend that didn’t happen

At intervals it didn’t

Until

Innocence was stripped to the bone at thirteen

Came out of the womb with my hand raised in the air

I’ve been on to you from day one

So, you think I don’t see the lie?

Even though I love you

I won’t let your false tears pass my guard

My tears are real, but you’ll never understand them

Just like I don’t know you

You don’t know me

Never will

Your decisions are forgiven

because

To see you there

Frightened 

The child in you peering out through your eyes

My mind surrenders to my broken heart

No one should be alone

Not even you

Not now

“I am your father.” His body language turned sinister as he stepped forward, gripping the back of an old wooden chair. “You’re in my house,” he said through clenched teeth. “You will respect me.”

She stepped back off the step and engaged him with a hostile sneer. “You have no idea what that word means,” she said. “Come down here,” she shouted up the stairwell to the child that hid. “I’ll help get you out.”

“Get out of my house … now.” His saw-like voice ripped through the small space of the living-room, shaking the frightened child inside her.

She swallowed. “I’m not leaving without her.”

“Oh. You’re leaving alright, if I hafta throw your crazy ass out a window.” He lurched forward, taking off after her.

Lu bounded up the steps, taking three at a time, and then turned right, skidding to a halt in a large room with yellow paneling, rust-red carpeting, and two canopy beds. She turned as her father ran for the door. She shut it within an inch of his face. The wood trembled and cracked as he attacked the door. She jerked backward. Terror struck and she dropped down, scrambling backward to hide under the bed.

“You think he’ll get in?” asked a little boy lying by her side.

Lu blinked again and again, her mind trying to figure out where he’d come from.

“Who are you?” she asked. “Is there anyone else here?”

“No. Just me. It’s always just me. My name’s Johnny,” he whispered his eyes fixated on the bedroom door.

Lu swallowed the lump in her throat. “What are you doing here, Johnny?”

He turned his head to look at her, his eyes punching confusion deep into her chest. “Same thing you’re doing.” He looked at her more closely. “You’re an adult,” he said making it a statement. “Adults don’t get scared. Adults don’t hide under beds.”

“No. Not under beds,” she said her voice trailing off. “But don’t worry. I’ll get you out of here.”

“You can’t,” Johnny broke down, his chest heaving with despair. “Only he can, but he’s forgotten why he chose this path.”

Lu, stunned by the sudden maturity strengthening his tone, waited until she realized he’d finished talking. Everyone had lectured her about her choices and about the paths she chose. Another coincidence. No. Coincidences didn’t exist. Mia had said so and she believed her. What did this mean? Who was this child? Possibly a psychotic break within a nervous breakdown? And then she noticed the thickness of his lips and two large front teeth, and a sickening heat clutched her stomach.

“I’m stuck here,” he said, sounding defeated.

“You can’t give up,” she mumbled toying with the notion that this was her father at a younger age. Tears pooled in the little boy’s eyes, releasing a new flood of guilt in Lu that washed away years of old anger, leaving her drained. It couldn’t be him. It just couldn’t. What did it mean if it was? Lu searched the little boy’s face, her examination spotting a mostly healed inch-long, red cut on his forehead. It was in the same place and the same size as the one on her father’s forehead.

“Did you answer the phone when I called before?” She didn’t want him to say yes. Saying yes would mean too much. Hearing yes would knock her off the high horse she’d proudly ridden hard for most of her life.

He nodded and poof, the last leg of her belief crumpled.

“I’ve got to get out of here.” She made it halfway out from under the bed when little boy-sized sneakers stopped her.

“You’re going to leave too?” he asked, bending down to look at her face. “What is wrong with me?” He sniffled, wiping his nose on the back of a hand.

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you.” And she meant it. At one point in her father’s life, he had been innocent—blissfully unaware of the cruelty that lurked beyond his awareness. Innocent like she’d once been. She scrambled the rest of the way out from under the bed and took his small hand.

She started when he jerked away from her. “Yes, there is!” he yelled, and then stamped to the door. “My mother hated me, my father couldn’t have cared less, and my brothers could do no wrong.”

“No————” Lu began, but the air thickened, choking the rest of what she wanted to say.

“Yes!” He screamed. “She let them hit me. Told them to.” He coughed. “Even after I was a man, my mother sent them to beat the crap out of me when she found out I visited an aunt she held a grudge against.”

“Wait … what?” Her thoughts warped and spun, spiraling down. “Who would do that?”

“You know who I am.” His voice deepened, smoothing out and becoming the voice she grew up hearing. “Don’t people react the same way to you when you tell our story? Your mother showed you love, gave you enough confidence to be independent, and that was not enough for you. Instead you followed in my footsteps.”

“Why do you hate me? Why did you cheat? What made you so angry all the time?” Her voice dipped and shrunk, no longer sounding like the strong woman she’d been just a few hours ago.

“You always asked me questions I didn’t want to answer. Or couldn’t.” He turned away, digging his tiny chin into his small chest. “A small portion of the truth would have made you hate me more. So, I lied. I couldn’t stop. What was the point of admitting I was too weak and damaged to change? Eventually, I believed the lies myself.”

No longer seeing the whimpering little boy, Lu forced the words building at the back of her throat though her lips. “You lied to keep doing it. You protected yourself. You blamed mom. You blamed me.”

“Lies veil the truths we strive to keep hidden,” he said. “Everyone protects the child that lives inside each of us. Some use violence to build walls, others logic, and so on and so on.” He paused, glaring at her. “I know you understand.” Hate distorted the boy’s innocent face.

Her nails pierced the flesh of her palms. “I don’t. I never lied to anyone.”

As he turned to face her, his limbs extended, his body thickened, his lush curly hair, thinned and whitened. His cheeks drooped and skin wrinkled. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. “See. You’re good at it. Helps get you through the day. Right?”

Lu struggled to get away. Away from the smell of oil and metal she’d always associated with him. Away from the tone that stripped her of maturity and strength. She shut her eyes tight. “Don’t touch me!” she yelled. “Never touch me.”

The fingers around her wrist shrank and weakened allowing her to pull away.

“Why does everyone hate me?” The little boy moaned in anguish.

“Because you make them,” she yelled, stamping around the room looking everywhere but at the whimpering boy.

“I can’t let people close. You understand?” He forced her to meet his soulful eyes. “You try to be good. Normal. Like everyone else, but you get beaten for it. Told you’re worthless until you hear it echoed every day in your head. You try harder to be good, but the abuse only gets worse.” He sat down and crisscrossed his legs. “You know what got my mother’s attention?”

Lu calmed as his agitation grew, circling him once before sitting down, crisscrossed, facing him. “Tell me.” She’d never wondered what made her father, what she considered cold and evil. She’d never cared. Until now. Maybe her life would make more sense if she knew his story.

“Hating people,” he continued. “Being better than our neighbors. If you didn’t agree, you were out. Blood didn’t matter. No one spoke against her. If you did, you became nothing. I fought for her attention for so long I became nothing before she made me nothing.”

I loved you,” Lu pleaded. She paused and said, “I love you.”

“No. You wanted things from me I couldn’t give you. Still can’t.”

She raked claws through the carpet. “I want you to love me. To accept who I am, despite what you don’t understand, love me anyway.”

He cocked his head, “I can’t give you what I don’t know.”

She jumped up to her feet. “You make me feel worthless. You blame me for your miserable life.” Her fist hit the center of the door, shattering the wood like tempered glass. The walls fell next and then the floor. Finally, the ceiling rained down on her, the small dull shards of glass turning into water that trailed down her cheeks. “What’s happening?”

Her father stood up as the man she knew him to be. “That is what love is to me,” he said, placing a large hand on her shoulder.

“But you’re normal now,” Lu’s voice squeaked as her body returned to the age of thirteen, the year she found out how cruel her world was. “We can be a family.”

“No. I’m still lost, and you will know that once you’re free from this dream.”

The rain stopped falling and Lu looked up to see her father’s face. It hadn’t softened; his unkind eyes looked down at her the same way as they had the day he’d told Lu he had chosen his disgusting mistress over them. And it all had gone to hell from there.

“If my own father can’t love me,” she sniffled, “how can anyone else?”

“Your mother loved you. Your sister loved you. Just because they’ve passed on doesn’t mean they stopped,” he said, taking a step backward. “I’m just one fucked up person who made one bad choice after another.” He took another step away. “One day I’m going to want what I could never allow myself to have … and worse still, I will die knowing you will never forgive me.” His image shimmered and began to fade against a wall of darkness. “No one will come to my wake. And I deserve that.”

“Don’t go, Daddy!” Seven-year-old Lu screamed and ran forward. “I forgive you.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, and as they passed through, she yelled, “I do!” And then she fell forward into nothing and became nothing.