Never to Love

I’ve had something cross my mind a lot lately and I’m not sure why it’s popping up now. Maybe it’s living closer to my sister and that’s because I can see the wonderful relationship that she has with her husband. I’m not jealous by any means and am truly happy for her, maybe the word is envious?

My life has always been doing what I have to do in order to survive. My siblings have all been able to go about leaving and growing their lives with relationships and children. I stayed and took care of my mother and then again my nephew when my mother passed. Now I am taking care of him and his daughter and in no way would ever change having them with me.

Sometimes I just miss the feeling of a companion that I can confide in and feel like a partner with. It’s not that I’ve never felt it, just that it’s been a very long time. To be honest, my reference to the feeling is something that I’m not sure if it was what it should have felt like. You see, he was leading a double life and I didn’t know for part of it and for the other part I thought I loved him and tried to work through it until it died out finally. So for me to say that I was in love with him, how could that be when I don’t know who he truly was. With that being said, were my feelings the way a normal relationship should feel or what is different since he was lying to me the entire time?

It’s weird, there are a lot of memories but one that always stands out is of my sister seeing us together. She was picking me up for some reason and we were in an apartment on the 2nd floor. This was a friends apartment but I don’t remember why we were there. I can see my self coming down the stairs in an amazing dress that just seems to flow across the steps. Then my memory stops but I can hear my sisters voice telling my mother that we really looked like we were in love. My mother didn’t like him and I’m pretty sure that she got a read on him the first time she met him. With the history that she had with my father, I think it’s just something that you instinctively know.

This was some time ago and I did date other guys after that, I’m thinking three or four. However, when my mother became too ill to work, I stayed with her more and only had one male friend that I would sometimes be able to see. We worked together previously and that was how we met. But when mom went into the hospital, he dropped off and found someone to occupy his time. I’m okay with him not following through because with him doing that, I had the chance to see what he was not made of. This was when my mother passed and it’s just been even more diligent survival since then.

This leads me to now. I don’t see real love ever happening to me at this point or in the future. I’m older now and truly do not feel that I’ve accomplished anything so what would I have to offer to anyone? I’ve gained weight and am not as youthful as I used to be. There isn’t much to put towards a nice wardrobe so it’s daily clothing, which is older, for me. I can’t remember the last time I sprang for a hair cut so I keep it in a ponytail or bun. Makeup left my routine when I started having panic attacks, there was no way to keep it fresh after crying.

I miss being held and that feeling of being safe but at this point in life, I think it’s just going to be a dream or wish you might say. But I am happy for anyone that has found it and kept it for a long time. It shows me that it’s not a dying thing although I will not be blessed with it.

Thanks for letting me gab a bit, it’s been on my mind and hopefully by letting it out, it will go away. Guess we’ll have to wait and see.

 

Hope, Wish, Dream and Need

I used to think of things that I would tell people. Things that I tell them I want to do. It used to frighten me when the words would actually come out of my mouth. Normally I would say that I’m a private person but how would you know that by what I put here? In my everyday life, people that I come in contact with would not hear how I feel or my opinion on anything. In general, they might say I’m nice because I’m not rude or intrusive. My thoughts and feelings do not normally show or what they see is not truly how I feel.

So when I say something that truly rings in my heart, it is frightening. I’m bringing life to my thoughts by putting them out into the world. The power of the Universe is something that I put a bit of faith in so maybe that’s why I’m cautious with my words. Somehow, just simply saying the words will either make it a good thing or a bad thing depending on what is said.

Here is where I can say what I feel without the words actually coming from my mouth. But, does that truly make a difference; to the Universe that is? I mean, I am releasing the words from my mind into the keyboard so would that be the same as releasing it into sound? Does the Universe have ears that it has to be verbally released?

If that is the case then I would have to say that the Universe hears my thoughts? Or just that my thoughts create my direction? That makes sense to me as far as my thoughts because don’t we have to think about an idea before it’s made so why can’t something be in the back of your mind but still guiding your direction?

Maybe since I’ve been thinking about moving for a long time now and it’s really pushing in that direction. Outside influence has come into play but the thought has always been there since before my mother passed. She and I had planned on trying to move or have Extreme Home Makeover come in. We had actually filled out the application for the show and had yet to send it in when she went into the hospital. So I wonder, am I fulfilling my dream or hers? Is it a dream, wish or a need that we move. It is a definite need, there is no way that my granddaughter can grow up in a normal way here. I do dream about it and how it will be to actually have my windows open all over my house. The curtains blowing in the breeze from outside just like when I was a kid and would lay on the floor just watching and relaxing. Wish, I wish to be somewhere safe and enjoyable so it is also a wish to move.

Hopefully, in four to six months I should be writing from another home with another view to the outside world. A view that will include children playing in the yard like nothing is scary or dangerous. Now I have a hope to include my dream, wish and need.

Christmas Memories

Christmas is starting to change for me and I think it’s a good thing so please do not feel sad for me. Years ago, it was a time of great celebration for me, I loved everything about the season right down to the crowds. The feeling that I felt inside was indescribable joy and happiness. I didn’t have a lot of money, small gifts and cards were what I could afford but every bit of it, I shared with my mother.

Through the years her illness had taken a toll so she would get tired easily and each year she would hold back a little on how much she participated. But the love she had for the season and for her family never lessened any by any means. When we were little we would all sit on the cold floor while she read the Christmas stories from Family Circle and Woman’s Day magazine. I remember one particular year when she read a story from the newspaper about a family that all they had was macaroni and cheese for the Christmas dinner. We didn’t have much ourselves but she always reminded us of just how lucky we were to have each other. Our love was and is the gift of Christmas.

My love for the holidays came directly from her and how much she showed us to love with nothing to give. Oh, we would get presents, I don’t know how she did it, they weren’t fancy gifts and not a lot like kids get today. But they were nothing without an orange from the tree in the backyard to hold down the base of our sock stockings. Coloring books she intended to put in our stockings were normally given to us the night before to help quiet us down and I’m sure to take away from her anxiety of the next day coming.

And when the next day came, it was magical to us all. Coming out before dawn because the youngest would wake up and then we’d all follow along. Mom would come out and sometimes we would start to unwrap while other times she made us wait until breakfast was made. Normally bacon and eggs with drop biscuits or buttered toast, for seven children this took a little while. But the memory that I have every time I smell bacon now was a gift she gave to me without even knowing.

After we opened the gifts and went to play with our new toys, no one seemed to notice how she would go straight to work in the kitchen to make sure that Christmas dinner would be done on time. As I grew older, I realized how hard she worked to make it perfect for us and it made it all the more special.

I remember the last gift that I gave to her on Christmas, a simple gold chain with a gold cross. She cried when she opened it and said she didn’t know how I knew she wanted one. We had become close through the years and watching her illness take its toll, showed me how her faith was stronger than we knew. She was raised Catholic but raised us children at first as Baptist at the wishes of my father. But when he passed and she had to start over, the church tended to forget us when we didn’t show up for the offering plate.

I could hear what she thought were silent prayers as she faced things that are unimaginable to the regular healthy person. She cried when no one was looking and sometimes we even cried together while sitting next to each other. She was my rock but somehow she thought the same of me and that was an amazing gift that she gave to me. I went through my struggles physically and she was there for me, just as I tried my best to be there for her. Yet finally her illness was more than she was strong enough for. She held her Catholic beliefs tight and I felt as though I let her down when I couldn’t recite The Lords Prayer with her when she asked.

Yet in her ever giving love, she didn’t hold it against me. We talked about angels and I remember asking her while beside her bed in the hospital if she believed in Heaven and Angels. I remember her answer for Angels, she felt that someone had come to take my father away because he was talking to someone before he passed and it wasn’t directed at her. So she said that she knew Angels exist when it comes to Heaven, my mind has robbed me from remembering her answer and to this day it haunts me.

It wasn’t much later, Christmas, that she had the experience of speaking with someone who to anyone else, was not in the room. It was beautiful and terrifying all in the same instance. I wouldn’t realize the beauty of it for some time as that night was the night that would take my world away and Christmas would never be the same.

Although my past memories were wonderful and loving, they now seemed overcast with her not here with me. I felt alone and robbed of happiness. Yet I learned from the best that Christmas has to be for the children so I remember still putting up a tree that year, still buying presents and cooking a meal, actually three meals that year as of course with siblings…one wasn’t talking to the other so even though I needed them so badly, I couldn’t get past their feelings.  So I kept myself busy and my feelings even deeper by making three-holiday dinners that year.

Every Christmas since then has seemed to place a feeling of dread in my heart. I don’t want it to come around because of the new memories that are in it. Yet in the back of my head, there was always the yearning to feel the way I used to. I wanted the joy and excitement back that made it such a great time of year. Hope would be my Christmas wish but it never seemed to be strong enough I guess. So even though I would put on a smile and do what I needed to do, my heart was so heavy a weight that it just didn’t feel real.

Now with more years passing us by, my granddaughter is 5 years old and we are in the process of selling the family home. With this being an actual possibility, I’ve gone through more emotions that seem to resemble mourning. It’s time to let go and I’m praying that it will help to leave some of the pain behind that I am reminded of every time I walk the floors of this house.

This Christmas seems to be trying to take back some of its happiness and it’s hard to explain. I catch myself feeling magic in my chest that I haven’t felt in a long time, like sparkles but of energy. The minute I realize it’s there, it tends to go away but at least I know it was there, it made it through. Is Christmas actually going to change for me? Can I allow myself to feel like it used to feel? Does this mean letting go and is that what’s been holding me back this entire time? I don’t know how to let go, at least on my own.

But I do have hope.

What’s Your Passion?

When is it okay to give up on something? Do we need to wait until the very last part of our first love for it is gone? Do we have to wait until we give ourselves permission or does it have to come from somewhere else? I’m not talking about the small things like what used to be your favorite tv show or favorite shoes.  What I’m talking about are things like where you live or where you work or who you’re with? What is the turning point that you wait for that seems to give your inner self permission to make the change?

I’ll be honest, I’m sick of two of those things right now and I don’t have anyone that I’m “with” so you can make the deduction. I know just with common sense that you don’t leave your job without having another one lined up. But let me ask, how do you find the job that you are meant for? The job that doesn’t feel like a job and makes you happy, where do you look for that one. Some would say that I have to know what my passion is,  but to me, that is hard because I’ve never lived for myself before. So how does someone that doesn’t really know themselves find the time and money to explore and finally “find themselves”?

It would take money to move and money comes from working so the job would be pushed to the forefront of my decision making. So that tells me one part of the turning point, maybe it comes in line depending on the need or importance? I would need to find what makes me happy in order to know what “job” I would not want to hate having. I know some basic things that I like and I know what I used to like before taking over responsibilities. I love people, I’m not a face to face person right now but more of a conversation person on the phone or in chat or email. I love getting to know the differences and hearing the different dialect that everyone has. Writing was a big passion of mine before as was music. I can’t play any instruments but the words and sounds always took away what I was feeling that day. I could name any song title and who sang it. My sister always thought I would be a DJ back then and I secretly wished she was right sometimes.

Words always inspired me and felt as though they gave me power. Power not in the sense of a superhero but that of expressing what was inside of me. It was more lyrical writing is what I think of it. When someone writes a poem and it rhymes, to me that’s like music so I think of it as lyrical. It was a dream back then to write the words for someone’s music. There are still times that the feeling to write comes over me but I have to set it aside in order to get things done. Maybe I’m staring at my passion and just don’t know it.

How does someone know that they’ve found their passion? I’m still searching for this answer, I just don’t know right now.

Time Stops

What would happen if the world was taken away from someone and time were just to stop? What would it be like to try and become a part of that world when you’re allowed to experience it again? Seeing how things have continued on without you being there and finding that your existence might not have been as important as you might have thought or felt. How can my current life go on without me here?

I have a family member that has been in a private minimum security jail for the past 5 years. He is going back home tomorrow after all of that time inside the same place. I worry that the change will be too much. He’s had TV and access as far as music and magazines but to actually be a part of it is completely different. How will it feel to come back to your home and find everyone 5 years older, your family, dog and the trees in the yard with how much they’ve reached farther into the sky.

Would it be like walking into a weird dream that I myself have had before. Coming home to my house only to find strangers living there and I am no longer wanted. Or would it be like blinking and although the characters have changed or aged, everything is still the same?

I worry about the expectations that he has of himself and his thoughts of everything coming together quickly and perfect. He’s a smart young man although I think being where he is, has changed his ability to realize reality as what it is today. He’s actually been teaching other men there and helping them get their GED. Hopefully some of them will be able to leave there and be a better person than when they went in. I was glad to hear that he kept his mind sharp and helped to share that with others.

What would it be like to enter a familiar place and yet still be a stranger?  I would worry about still being loved but I don’t know if that’s what he’s going to be feeling or not. I love my entire family, even those I don’t speak with, I would never wish any ill harm. My love for him is unconditional and I have complete faith that once he gets over the shock and is back to his old / new self, that he’ll be better than ever.

But I can still worry.