Spirited Cries

I'm almost done cleaning out the attic in my head... there are still a few little cobwebs left...

I have a friend who is dealing with a "spirited" or "willful" child. She is exasperated and feels like she can't summon enough patience to handle her child's personality. She's tired and at the end of her rope. She feels like she's not measuring up as a mother.

Oh boy... does this ever sound familiar.

The good thing about having gone through a lot of crap in your life is that you have a lot to look back on and regret. Not that the regretting is fun, but in the midst of regret, you start to piece together how things could have been different. How you should have responded. How things might have turned out today. And then you can take your pain, and hope that it serves a higher purpose outside of yourself.

I once had a daughter that was spirited and willful, too. Life was so difficult. Every little thing turned into some huge catastrophe that was impossibly insurmountable. We screamed our hatred and loathing at each other with reckless abandon. How had flesh of my flesh become so hurtful and cruel? How had I become the monster that would yell so many ugly words back at her? I couldn't handle the chaos any longer and thought that her father could take over. In giving her the space I thought she needed, I've allowed a wider gap to grow. In a time when I thought we'd understand one another, I am instead experiencing her cold silence. We have not spoken in nearly six months. I call... I text... I email... to no avail. What does she want from me? I've cried that to the night sky so many times lately.

Last week, I got my answer.

In purging for our move, I came across old school items that kids usually bring home. Hand prints, self portraits, report cards... all the stuff you hang on to. It's usually so much fun to look back and remember your grown children as they were in the pigtails and jumprope years. I allowed myself a bit of time to soak in some memories as a break from the drudgery of moving. This time, it wasn't fun. I came across a journal that I had seen and read so many times. How could I have missed the message? In my daughter's first-grade scribbling were the words, "I love my house because my mommy is there."

~~gasp~~

I sat in stunned silence feeling the blow to my heart that I deserved. I came across more bits of paper and drawings that showed how much she loved me and wanted to be with me. In all my concern to keep a roof over my children's heads and have food on the table and clothing on their backs, I had glazed over the only nourishment this little child wanted: time with me. Instead of yelling at her for dragging her feet in the morning and making me late, I should have hugged her. Instead of threatening a spanking because she wouldn't finish dinner quickly, I should have sat down to ask about her day. Instead of rushing her off to a sitter so I could go work out, I should have taken her on my shoulders for a hike.

It's too late now.

I see in my friend's mother/daughter relationship the seeds of discord that are hauntingly familiar. Her daughter's cries are for any number of things, but really she's crying for time with mom, one on one. Beacuse I love them, I shared. Through tears, I admitted to her my failings in being so consumed with daily life as a stressed out mom that I had glazed over living as this child's mother. I know it's difficult to see when you're in it. There's so much to do and attend to. All I could offer her was the reality of my loss and how I let a beautiful little girl slip away from me because I was too overwhelmed to put "time" on my priority list. My friend received our story with the love and grace in which it was intended. Having that awareness doesn't make life any easier, but it sure will help to ease the strife in these precious years. And God willing, they will grow to understand and care for eachother in a wonderful loving relationship filled with memories of time well spent and a life of truly living.

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My heart and prayers go out to all the parents that have this heaviness to bear. Remember, though, no matter how difficult your "spirited" child may be, a life without that precious one is immeasurably more painful. Seek assistance in any way, I implore you. Love your child through it all and they will grow and love you back... eventually.

Love and Logic

Sometimes I just can't sleep. A word... a thought... an inner demon keeps me restless until I get up and write. The other night, it was the word Logos. I scribbled some. It was good... but not enough.

So I Wiki'd. Here's what I got.

Aristotle defined logos as argument from reason. This form of argumentation is based in facts: numbers, polls, and mathematical data. Since data reasonably cannot be manipulated and tends to make the speaker look altogether smarter, logic usually wins over.

Jung's analytical psychology, the logos is the masculine principle of rationality and consciousness. Its female counterpart, was eros. Love.

Love? The opposite of Logic and Reason? Get out!

Intrigued, I clicked on. Eros, it seems was star-crossed in love with Psyche. Psyche is transcendently translated to mean "mind" or "soul" or a mingling of both. After some family meddling and drama and acceptance, Eros and Psyche have a daughter named Hedone, which means "pleasure." This story supposedly tells of how love can come when desire (Eros) starts to love a person's soul (Psyche) rather than that person's body.

So what happens when physical desire is all that a relationship is based on? What if you never make that leap to trust and understanding? Can a union continue interminably in the cycles of passion and pain? Based on the data...

the LOGICAL answer is no.

I have to say, I'm a little sad today. It's a cloudy Valentine's Day and I have no expectations of the florist ringing my doorbell. But I have a lot of hope. I'm finally figuring out what love is supposed to look like. I know it's what I've always wanted but I don't know that I ever thought I deserved it. But I do. Hallelujah! I do! And settling for the first half without the second half... well that would be like being a good girl and eating all my meatloaf but not getting some pie afterwards. That just isn't right. You know what I think?

I think I'd like my dessert now.


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To those in passionate and trusting love... Happy Valentine's Day! You deserve it!
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Breaking Free

I'm separated. There. I said it.

It used to be that the time between flying and landing and flying off again was enough, but the last couple of months that my husband has been officially living elsewhere, I have felt a great relief. We have so much to work through. Who knows what our relationship is going to look like on the other end. I just know that I am starting to understand what it is that I want and need out of a marriage... a husband... a lifetime partner. This time apart has helped me see that.

I belong to a recovery group. My hang-up is codependency. It seems like a joke to someone who doesn't struggle with this crippling behavior, but to those of us who live in quiet and frustrated suffering, never having our own needs met, it's not much of a joke. When I tell people I'm in recovery, they automatically assume it's drugs or alcohol. I quickly calm their fears (cause their kids come to play at our house) and explain that it's because of this Co-D thing. They immediately smirk.

Smirk. I swear. Like Batman's Joker.

Co-Dependency is a silent and deadly killer. The feeling of having to make everyone happy, even at the risk of your own safety, is overpowering. You'll risk it all just for that little pat on the head, even if the pat comes from the same master that kicked you in the rear just moments ago. And those masters know who we are. They find us just like predators find their prey. We're the ones that will apologize for bothering them with our needs. They are mean. And they are evil. And they look just like everybody else. The one thing that sets them apart is that they like to have someone else to blame. That way, they don't have to take responsibilities for their screw ups... or their bad behaviors... or the mismanagement of their affairs. They don't come with a neon sign disclosing this defect of character. No... it becomes apparent only after years of cycling through periods of extremes. On one end, chaos and heartache. On the other end, joy and harmony. The cycles start to tighten up, almost like a top spinning out of control on those last moments before suddenly plopping to the side. The chaos becomes more frequent until it's all that's left. Any joy comes from escaping it in stolen moments. But all the while there's this disquietude... the knowing... it's only temporary, this escape. Reality wakes you up in the middle of the night and reminds you that your days in this life are numbered. You wonder why you are letting any, much less this many days be stolen from you. And then one day... after many sessions, and lots of groups, and endless slobbering phone calls, and howling alone in the dark... finally...

you break free.

Shocking Goodbye

It's not that I was a huge fan. It's just that I love to see people clearly living the life they were meant to live. Which is why last night, I stood shocked with my hand over my mouth as I tried to understand why the radio announcer was putting the words together in such a strange string... "Heath Ledger... dead at the age of 28." Not THAT Heath? What? Oh dear God! Why? Why did such a light get extinquished? And 28? That just seems so wrong. So heartbreaking.

Today I read a quote of another person I admire. Another person living life to the fullest. Johnny Depp. This is what he had to say about dying:

"I don't think anybody's necessarily ready for death. You can only hope that when it approaches, you feel like you've said what you wanted to say. Nobody wants to go out in mid-sentence."

Mr. Ledger definitely left mid-sentence. Far too soon for those of us who were not ready to let go of such a talented person, huge fans or not. And little Matilda... he obviously loved her with his whole heart. There was joy dancing in his eyes when he carried her on his shoulders. So sad...

I don't even want to mention reality checks or hoping that this will shock others to be careful. I think there's enough of that going on in the speculations of his final days and hours. It's tremendously more important to note that he lived. Really, truly, actually lived. Every moment. That may be the only solace the world has now that this one glorious human is gone. That he seemed like the kind of person that would be alive and vibrant in even the smallest moments of life. Making this quietus all the more tristful.

Goodbye, Mr. Ledger. Thank you. For your art. For your passion. For really living.

Magic 8 Ball Resolutions

Oh rapturous joy. The time has come to resolve to do, be, achieve anything and everything. My heart leaps. No really... it does...

"This year I'll be more (insert insecurity here)."

I certainly don't mean to say that I do not endeavor to be a better person, but I beat myself up mercilessly year after year for not attaining my goals. Regardless of the fact that let's say "a friend" only loses twenty of the twenty-five pounds resolved to be lost on January First, "my friend" may feel like a failure rather than take into consideration that she is eating healthier, getting stronger, and feeling better. Why put myself... er rather, why should my friend put herself through that misery?

This is what I decided to do. For every resolution, I thought I'd offer it up to the Magic 8 Ball. Then at least I can know the outcome now and just go on being my same old self until next January. Sounds good to me! So here goes:

#1: Lose twenty pounds. (Probably only lose 15... cheeseburgers.)
MAGIC 8 BALL SAYS: "As I see it Yes"

Well... little 8 Ball's feelin' optimistic! Hmm...

#2: Work out 10 hours a week.
MAGIC 8 BALL SAYS: "Most Likely"

Crum... I didn't really want to do that one, but I know I should. Darn.

#3: Become a well-known family portrait photographer.
(I really do want this one... let's see what the M8B has to say.)
MAGIC 8 BALL SAYS: (drum roll) (Nervous? I am...)
(more drum roll) ~~~~~~~~~~~~ "It is certain"

Hot Dam!

Well... forget what I said earlier... looks like this year is going to be great!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

PS: Hybrid Moms... check this resolutions article out... we've ALL been there... http://www.hybridmom.com/content/view/49/66/