SORRY

Do you ever find yourself apologizing for everything and everyone? I never realized how "sorry" I was until my oldest son began to say he was "sorry" for everything. Isn't it interesting that we never truly see ourselves until we have impacted someone else. I am mirrored in my son and sometimes I am ashamed of what I have taught him and sometimes I am so proud that I cry. He is truly a wonderful person and a wonderful child. I don't know where he could have learned it from because I have not been a very good mother to him so far. I have many regrets that haunt me late into the night. I chose boyfriends over him and allowed them to dictate my life as well as his. I was not emotionally available to him or for him for most of his childhood because I could barely breathe on my own. He has had to endure what most children will never see in a lifetime. He watched his daddy beat his mother and then watched his mother's boyfriend beat her. He watched his mother turn into a shell of a person and fall into delicate little pieces onto the floor. He sacrificed everything so that he could be safe when the world fell apart. I feel sorry for the pathetic life that I set out before him when he had no choice. I feel sorry that I allowed him to be put in second and even third place in my life. He is a strong and beautiful boy and a dream for a child. He is well behaved and has wonderful manners and is so talented and so smart. I wish that I could ball up all of his dreams and wrap them up and tie them with a bow and give them to him because of all the people in the world he deserves to have his dreams come true. I hope one day he knows how much I love him and that these things didn't happen because I didn't love him but because I didn't love myself. Maybe I walk around apologizing for everyone and everything because I can't seem to apologize for the things that really matter. Sorry can become as useless as "I love you"; neither of them matter if you use them often but never change the way you behave. I have become sorry for the entire world and everything that is wrong with it. I have become sorry because I cannot do all and be all. I am sorry because I couldn't get to the dishes tonight. I am sorry because I can't sleep. I am sorry because dinner didn't taste good. I am sorry because the house is a mess. I am sorry because I am not more perfect. I am sorry because I am NOT perfect. I am not sure there will ever come a day that I will not be sorry for something that is inevitable or unattainable. I strive for absolute perfection in my own messy and screwed up way but it is never enough. I am especially sorry that my son has been introduced to this cold and brutal world and that he will never entertain the illusion that this world is a wonderful place to live in. He knows the truth and sometimes I am sorry that he knows the truth. I know I am sorry that I know the truth. Life was so much better when I didn't have any concern but myself. I was the center of my universe and nothing else mattered. What a simple and easy way to live. I am now working on gluing all my delicate little pieces back together. I am creating a mosaic of what I used to be with bright and beautiful colored shards of glass. Sometimes they cut me and sometimes they fit nicely into place. One day I will be whole again and a beautiful rendition of my former self. I will still be me but remade into the person I was supposed to be before violence tore me apart. I hope one day I will not look in the mirror and feel sorry, but will feel pride in the fact that I have fallen as far as I can go and I have rebuilt myself one little shard of glass at a time. I may break, but I can always be glued back together. I hope that one day my son will understand how much his mommy loves him and how truly sorry she is that his life began in chaos. One day I hope my son will break the cycle of chaos just as his mommy has tried to break the cycle of violence. Our decisions and actions don't just affect us in the here and now; they follow us like a legacy from generation to generation. For that I am truly sorry.

FEAR

There are nights that I lie down to go to sleep and he is there. It is like a movie reel and I can see everything; all four years in slow motion. I watch as he chisels away at me until I am a sculpture; his sculpture. I let him take me away from my self one little piece at a time. I think how could I have been so stupid? How could I have let it go so far? Why didn't I just walk away when I had the chance; while I still had my dignity. There are nights that I lie down and he is there and I am scared. I am afraid for my life. I am afraid that he has finally come to get me. I know one day he will find me. One day I will open my door and he will be there. It makes me feel nauseous with fear. I think if I saw him I would immediately throw up. I plan my actions step by step "in case of an emergency". I have it all planned out. That is what is so bad about domestic violence. The abuser, he never goes away. He is there when you are asleep and he is there when you are awake. Some days I think...I am free; he cannot touch me anymore. Sometimes I don't even think about him and forget that he exists. But I know in the back of my mind that this is dangerous. It is when your guard is down that they attack. It's when you think you are the safest that they present themselves. I cannot forget this man who tried to kill our unborn child. I cannot forget this man who took every ounce of dignity from me. I cannot let it go. It haunts me; he haunts me. I am in hiding from this man. That is what led me to where I am now. I left my home, my friends, my job, and my life just so that I could be safe. I don't do a very good job at being anonymous. I have too much passion and too much to say to be silent for too long. That is what he hated most about me....my big mouth! If I don't speak it will eat away at me until I am only a skeleton with no brain; no heart. I could not survive. I put on all this weight because he cannot find me when I am fat. He will not recognize me if he does think he has found me. I will be safe. When I start to lose weight I begin to panic. I am afraid he will recognize me if I lose the weight if our paths should cross. He begins to haunt my dreams and I start to live in fear again of the inevitable. It is very scary to know that no one can protect me. Sometimes I am so afraid. I am tired of living in fear; but I am afraid. I try to be strong and just pretend it never happened. I think "he is not going to get the best of me", "he is not going to control me when he is not even here". But...he does. That is what fear does; it controls you even when danger is nowhere around. There are nights that I lie down and he is there. He is hitting me again; he is pushing me and I am screaming "you are going to kill our baby" and then everything goes black. There are nights that I lie down and he is there and time is frozen and I am frozen and my life is frozen. I cannot move; I cannot breathe; I cannot get away; he has a hold of me and I can't get away. I don't understand why he won't go away, why he keeps haunting me, why he can't let me get on with my life, why he can't give me back the freedom I had before he came into my life. There are nights that I lie down and he is there and he tells me his famous line "I will never let you go". There are nights that I lie down and he is there and I wish it was all a dream; I wish he was all a dream; I wish my past was all a dream...

Wild Words from Wild Women

This is from my page-a-day calendar dated 1/17/07. I think it is really great!

"I can't stand makeup commercials. 'Do you need a lipstick that keeps your lips kissable?' No, I need a lipstick that gets me equal pay for equal work. How about eye shadow that makes me stop thinking I'm too fat?" - Maria Bamford

DREAMS

Isn't it funny how just when you think you have figured everything out something changes. I thought I had finally found my calling, my purpose, my reason for being on this hopeless earth and then I read a book. Strange but true, I read a book and a light came on. I guess that might be the epiphany I have been waiting for my whole life. Funny, I thought it would be much more earth shattering. Anyway, I'll take what I can get. I realized while reading this book that I want to be a writer more than anything else in the world. The book I was reading was about tuning in to your intuition and sixth sensory capabilities and out of nowhere it just hits me. I WANT TO BE A WRITER! This is quite an inconvenience because I have been dreaming, scheming, and preparing for law school for the last two years.

I can remember (I have very minimal memories of childhood) writing illustrious stories in grade school. I would just write and write and write. As I grew older and the world became more ominous I wrote poetry. Sad, depressing, heart wrenching poetry. Only pain could make me write poetry. If there was no tortured soul...there was no poetry. I eventually grew out of poetry and just stopped writing when I learned how to numb the pain.

I dream of writing, I buy lots and lots of journals; all empty of course. I think that if I buy the right journal or the right pen I will be able to sit down and write again. This never happens. If it did I would have filled many journals by now. Believe me, I have lots to say. Those who know me know this! They can't get a word in when talking with me! I have a weird writing block or phobia or something that keeps me from writing in journals. Probably some way to keep from dealing with issues and prolong my misery. I can't seem to write the first word. I just let thoughts run through my head like a news ticker and it just goes on and on. My mind moves so quickly that I could not write fast enough to get everything down. I would forget that wonderful line I had or that life altering thought if I took the time to write it down. Unfortunately I forget anyway...because I didn't write it down. Go figure!

I wonder...what do you do to become a writer? I have plenty to say but I'm not sure people want to hear about it. I have plenty of opinions but I am sure no one wants to hear about them. I have a sad history that keeps repeating itself that gossipers may want to hear about; but what do I really have? What peaks someones interest enough to be swallowed up by what I have to say? Hmmm.... Dreams..... why are they so difficult? I would really like a dream fairy to stop by and drop off my dream list with the "how to" instructions still attached! Do I really have to figure this out on my own? I don't even know where to begin. Sadly, I will be graduating soon with two degrees not remotely intertwined with writing. Well, I guess that depends on what you are writing. I don't want to write the world's best novel. I just want to write things that make people think. Real life things that people can relate to. Things that people think in their minds but are too afraid to write in a journal or tell their friends and family. I want to inspire someone to help change the world. I want to show people who I really am; something I cannot do in person. Hmmm..... Dreams..... Where's my fairy godmother??? Uh...I guess if I am going to ask that I might as well ask...where the hell is my prince???

BREATHE

Wow! Winter break is almost over and it feels like it has hardly begun. One more week and school will be back in session. I will be back to stumbling over myself with busyness and losing myself because of lack of time. There are so many decisions to make and sometimes I like to just crawl into bed and put my blanket over my head and hide. I read and I read and I read hoping to find the big answer; to have the life-altering epiphany. It hasn't come. Though I feel my brain progressing towards a mind, body, spirit connection. Sometimes I do things based purely on the reward that I may receive for doing them. I guess we all do, but I have started to question how much I really get out of doing these things. Is what I am doing really nurturing my spirit and my soul? I come back with a resounding NO! I guess it is not a matter of how to give these things up, it is more a question of what rewards will I lose. Do I think I will disappoint someone...no. It is more about my future. I have a hard time deciding what impact dropping these activities will have on my future success. Will what I do without these things be enough? Will I lose prestige and opportunity for not participating anymore? Can I really explain that I dropped out of these activities because they were not nurturing my soul and spirit any longer? Maybe all of this suffering will pay off in long run? Is that how things work? You suffer and suffer and then the reward is so great that you are glad you stuck with it? Or...is it that you take care of yourself and you nurture your soul and your spirit and everything falls into place? Am I really willing to take a chance with my future? Will I even be around in the future if I keep stressing myself to my limits? So many questions...not too many answers.

I have decided to attempt to lose weight again. I don't want to diet, I just want to get healthy. I am tired of dieting, but I am also tired of being fat. However, being fat works for me. It keeps me safe. I liken it to bubble wrap. If I stay fat everyone will stay away from me. Guys do not talk to me unless they have to or really want to and women actually talk to me and I have female friends. This is quite the opposite of what I had when I was very thin and beautiful. I have to face my fear of men and their devastating effects on me and learn to trust myself. I could not decipher between the creeps and the good guys (never actually met a good guy) and it led me down a path of unspeakable things that still haunt me today. As I lose each pound I become more anxious; more fearful. I want to be around though, I want to live. I have so much to do. Being this overweight will not allow me to pursue my dreams like I need to pursue them. I am too disgusted...too self conscious. I feel like I am a fraud because I am presenting myself to others, not as I truly am, but as a fake. This overweight, bloated body is not me. It is a mechanism I have created to keep others away, to isolate myself from hurt and pain. Funny...it still feels the same. I have not saved myself from anything. I hurt the same, just from different things. I want to find me again. I am hidden under the pounds...somewhere. I hope I am not too late to find myself.

I could write forever and ever. I have so much that goes through my mind. However, I have one wish for this next week. I hope through all the errands and preparations for another semester I will remember to BREATHE!