Tuesday, May 12, 2009

A time for every purpose under Heaven ...

"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven; A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck that which is planted." [Ecclesiastes 3:1+]

I have to remind myself of this when I am going through difficult times. Patience, is the one thing that I struggle with in my daily life. Having children has helped me to stretch my patience tendon, a bit, but there are still moments. I think that if my husband, and I, actually took the time to be something other than mom and dad, more often, life would be easier and I would have an easier time finding patience. There is always something more pressing to do though. We aren't each others priorities lately. I'm almost embarrassed to say that my husband and I haven't had a vacation alone (without kids) since having kids -- our oldest just turned 11. How sad is that?

Time will tell. I am sure that this is just a rough patch, and we'll get through it -- or rather, I'll get through it. He's completely clueless.

My 11 year-old -- little genius, too wise for her age -- asked me the other day: "Where are all the good men dead? In the heart or in the head?" She got this from the movie 'Grosse Pointe Blank' -- one of my favorites. At the young, innocent age of 11, it seems she already has formed her opinion: 'they're dead in the heart.' Why do you think that is? I asked. She replied: 'because they aren't taught to be alive in the heart.' But, she rationalizes that is okay with her because, she says, quite simply: 'I couldn't live with a stupid man.' Neither, can I, I guess? Maybe we need to do more, as a culture and society, to teach men not only how to be alive in the heart, but that it's okay to be alive in the heart.



9/3/09 Thoughts on a bad day ...

ALL ARTWORK HEREAFTER COURTESY OF http://www.artmagick.com/






The Looking Glass

I have no need of looking glass.
I have but to look into your loving eyes
to see the truest reflection of me.
For is not a love, reflected through the union of two souls,
the surest measure of a love that sings true?

Alas upon awakening this morn,
I found my heart heavy with burden.
For I had finally come to accept,
that even though we had once sworn,
somehow our once true love had been torn.

Now when I look into your empty eyes
I no longer see myself.
Through tears of infinite sorrow,
I wonder if, in truth, I ever really did.
Do you see yourself in me?

The grown-up in me thinks that perhaps
my measure is yet another silly truth,
too long since carried from days of foolish youth.
And thus, my last remaining illusion shatters;
now, I too can close empty eyes
and resign myself to the path
that my feet were set upon so very long ago.


And thus with shattered looking glass:
nothing in my life worth reflecting shall ever more come to pass.


Yet the silly child in me still somehow, foolishly, clings to hope...



'Meeting on the Turret Stair', By Frederick William Burton


P.S.  Most of my poems ... the one's I've written ... are not in my mainstream blog ... they are hidden in secret places ... beyond that: I'll give no more clues ... if you're interested the rest is up to you.  : )

9/4/09  Had a horrible nightmare last night.  After just over an hour of sleep.  I dreamt that I gave myself willingly to the darkness this time, because I needed to feel something, anything, to drown out the emotional pain that I am feeling these days ... because I feel more unworthy than I have ever felt in my entire life.  I know that I can survive the physical pain that the darkness inflicts ... I've done that ... but this emotional pain is harder than anything I've ever experienced.  Some days I feel strong and have hope ... others I can't see an end to this pain ... and so it cycles.

When I awoke from my nightmare, I could not return to sleep.  I was sleeping downstairs and as I parted the curtains from the music room, where I slept, I saw a brilliant and beautiful light illuminating the dining room through the sheers.  I walked to the dining room window and looked out into the night sky.  The sky was completely covered in a solid blanket of thick grey clouds.  But somehow, the moon -- a precursor to the Hunter's Moon -- had banished all of the clouds from its path.  A circle of clear sky surrounded the brilliant moon and her light shown brightly forth upon me, warming me, comforting me, slowly restoring peace and banishing my nightmare from my thoughts.  Perhaps the moon is my new guardian during this time of darkness ...

Fortunately, the darkness is far away from me now.  I couldn't get to him as easily as I could have a year ago.

9/07/09  I am not mysterious … I am simply awake and to those still slumbering: awake appears mysterious, for it is a concept beyond the ability of those who slumber to grasp.

Why I wonder, am I destined to love men with well-ordered minds? I love brilliant men, who let their brilliant minds rule their lives, shutting them off from their spirit which is the only true link between the heart and the mind. From where I stand: I whole-heartedly disagree with Plato. A well ordered mind is not such a noble thing after all, nor is it beautiful when it is cable of inflicting so much pain upon the other side of the equation.

To revisit my daughter’s question of a month, or so ago: “Where are all the good men dead: in the heart or in the head?” I would have to now say, without reserve: most assuredly in the head.

I also wonder after my months of soul searching and reflection: do the brilliant, well ordered minds keep coming back again and again, in subsequent life experiences, destined to repeat their lives over and over, again and again, until they finally get it? And do they drag those that love them back right along with them?

I feel as if I have been this way so many times before. I am weary and my soul longs for reprieve … just a few moments of freedom, joy and happiness … for my spirit to connect with another kindred spirit … to run, barefoot, wild and free …


'Falling Star', By Witold Pruszkowski 1884

Song: Pearl's Dream, By Bat for Lashes

9/9/09 I think --while listening to Beethoven's 9th Symphony-- that I see now why I wrote "freedom, joy and happiness" above.  To me joy and happiness are not the same animal.  Joy, to me, is a state of pure ecstasy, a state that is not often nor easily reached.  Happiness on the other hand is a more commonplace occurrence, a bit more mundane, but nonetheless significant.  Happiness, to me, is more a state of peace and contentment with the current circumstances in which one finds oneself.  At this point in my life, both seem to elude me ... although I did have a short reprieve during my week off with the kids.  I'll try to hold onto that ...

Then again, after finishing a lovely glass of wine (after dinner), perhaps a state of happiness can be temporarily induced?  I've discovered Moscato -- a wonderfully sweet and yet not overpowering white wine -- these past few months.  I typically prefer red wines to whites hands down, but the Moscato now has a special place in my heart.  Cheers!  : )  Yes, I'm smiling now... and I'm off for another glass ...


9/10/09         If you’ve read this entry up to this point: you’ve probably figured out that you’ve found my ‘secret garden’. You can stay, but don’t tell anyone. Promise? And if you leave your secrets: I’ll keep them safe in return (I won’t be publishing any comments left here … the door would be wide open for all to enter then. I’ll read them … just won’t publish them.).


Does this make me mysterious? No, I don’t think so. Unpredictable, maybe: but not mysterious. I just needed a non-logical, non-linear, place to think. A place that well-ordered minds wouldn’t be inclined to look. If you found me: you’re either a kindred creative soul, or at least have a curious nature … then again, maybe you just got lucky. If the latter applies, maybe now would be a good time to leave?

My blog started out as a totally anonymous entity, but that treasured anonymity has since been diluted. I woke up one day, a few weeks ago, and found that I had ‘followers’ – even though I did not have a ‘followers’ widget posted on my blog. Kind of freaked me out at first, but now that I sort of understand the concept a little better: I’m okay with it … I guess. This week I even became an official follower of three sites myself … just to check it out and see how the mechanics worked … still working on that part ... is that how you found me?

So it’s now 2:30 a.m. WST, 4:30 a.m. in CST and 5:30 a.m. on the east coast right? I’ve tried to sleep, but that didn’t last long … I had another bad dream … nightmare ... guess sleep will elude me yet again tonight. The two glasses of wine probably didn’t help much, but it felt good going down and in the short term thereafter… As I sit here now, I recall that my husband and I exited the church, as man and wife, after our wedding ceremony to the finale in Beethoven’s 9th … “Joyful, joyful …”. Sitting here now, late at night … in the quiet … that seems so very long ago. But I still love him, my husband, and I think that he still loves me. That’s why I’m still here … I have hope that better days are ahead … I just have to get through these lousy ones first.

I also wonder, here now in the quiet, a thought that I’ve tried to keep at bay for the longest time … every time it starts to surface, I push it back down. It’s always there though … waiting for the chance to resurface . Perhaps in the safety of my garden though, I can finally let it take form? So here it is: Do those of us who have suffered recurring physical abuse need to do wild and crazy things, from to time, in order to connect with the outside world? Is there a part of us that we had to let go numb in order to survive? And so now, in order to feel, to connected to our life we feel compelled, from time to time, to go to the extremes? To do ‘crazy’ – out of the ordinary – things? Not always big things … sometimes little things … like my refusing to measure out the coffee grounds when making coffee in the mornings – drove logical, linear thinking Ken absolutely nuts for the longest time … I’m so bad (smile : ).

You wonder:  did she ever seek 'professional' help to help her deal with her abusive experiences? Yes, I did the therapy thing back before I was married, for a short time anyway. It didn’t seem to help much -- and it was very expensive -- but it did help me to work through issues that allowed me to become married and have a ‘normal’ life. Haven’t been back since. Denial and suppression seemed to work best for me, for a time, but inevitably that dark stuff seeps back out … at least it happens in small doses that I can now deal with. Probably doesn’t make me the easiest person to live with though.

Anyway, In reading back over my blog these past few weeks, I now see that I repeatedly refer to instances and crazy things that I did (there are also MANY things that I did not write about) … justifying my actions with the rationale that “it lets me know that I am alive.” Hence my earlier question. I wonder: do normal people have this urge to do crazy and unpredictable things? To constantly be outside the box? That is, if you accept the premise that there are in fact ‘normal’ people in this crazy wonderful world in which we now reside. And are those that consider themselves ‘normal’ in denial? Hence, their input is invalid. …. [shake my head and yawn] … Such are the ramblings of an overtired mind, but running barefoot through my secret garden grants me a small sense of peace … Maybe my condition is just a byproduct of being a “logical (thinking) creative” soul … that is another discussion (“joyful creative” vs. “logical (thinking) creative” souls … and are there other types of souls … and if so, how would you attempt to describe them?) … a discussion which I started with a new friend via email, but we’ve yet to finish it … and perhaps we never will.

One thing I know for sure: “There is nothing as permanent as change.” My grandmother always says this. When I was younger, it used to scare the hell out of me … because I didn’t understand what it meant, but now that I am older and perhaps wiser (?): it gives me hope. I couldn’t live in world without the hope of change. It may be a ancient Chinese curse “May you live in interesting times,” but given the alternative: I’ll take the hope of change every single time.

My eyelids grow heavy now … [yawn again]…that’s a good sign … maybe I can sleep for an hour, or two, before I have to get up and start my day. Peaceful dreams to you … and me …

Be sure to close the door on your way out … : )

P.S. I must be reaching the upper limit on the file size for a given post.  I'll have to find a new door for my secret garden ...

9/11/09  Well maybe there's room for one more entry here.  I am too tired to find another door right now ... tired and sad ... hold on:  I'm giving in -- need some comfort, even if it rips my stomach to shreds; I'm going to get a cup of my beloved coffee.  Be right back... 

Ah ... the aroma of a freshly brewed cup of coffee ... just heavenly ... especially when it's 'Tully's'.  Who knows, maybe I can trade one pain for another?

Well, I've gone and done it ... I've set the last burden that my heart was carrying free.  I said goodbye -- although in truth, we never really said 'hello' this time -- to the one that I had apparently loved so very long ago -- so just in case you were wondering ... based on my recent entries ... I was not unfaithful to my husband ... not that I have much respect for 'faithfulness' -- nor the virtue of it -- at this point in my life, based on my husband's actions ... but perhaps at some point in the future, I will again?

The funny thing about love -- I've recently discovered -- is that you can't just turn it off.  I never really understood that before ... if you could, it probably wasn't love to begin with, right?  Still, I am a master of supression and denial, right?  No worries ...

I had hoped for a brief time that we could be friends after all these years, but I guess that I was just kidding myself ... based on the above.  The hardest thing is that I still don't know if the other side of this equation feels love, indifference, anger or regret towards me ... guess I never will know now ... Like the Lake, in the 'Sequel to the Hunter's Moon', this man reveals nothing to me.  This is the only part of the poem that will ever see the light of day ... that I will share with you privileged few:

"My thoughts skipped wide across still and glistening waters. Thoughts, like stones cast forth with ne’re a hope of return, wondered whether having had hope restored: would peace soon follow? A string tied to my heart, so very long ago, had pulled me here to this very moment ... even with all of the people, space, and time between us. Standing quietly, patiently, listening with hope ... longing with every fiber of being to hear familiar voice, I waited. But the Lake: he would not yeild. He remained ever fixed, refusing to lower worldly shield. A sad attempt at reflection of brilliant light from Hunter’s Moon above was the only sign of betrayal that any life at all still lurked deep within.

Cold and lifeless was his stance; somewhere along the way, had my love forgotten how to dance?"

@Copyright 2009 Michelle C. of http://www.whatplanetareyoulivingon.blogspot.com/
 
 
Another difficult thing, is that I've recently found out that not only is my sister communicating with this man via emails and a virtual reunion site, but that she also gave him my blog address.  So he's been able to potentially be inside my head, while I know absolutely nothing about him or his thoughts ... his feelings.  That seems unfair to me, but I learned long, long ago that life is anything but fair.  My sister gave this man my email address so that we could speak more directly, but that was almost 3 weeks ago now and I haven't heard a thing back.  So, I can assume one of three things:  anger, indifference or regret ... right?  [ I had an art album -- posted on artmagick.com for a time -- explaining my story of abuse and feelings toward him.  I thought at one point he might have seen it?  Thought this because of another art album that was posted -- if you (anyone) want the name of this one you'll have to contact me on that one -- but now, I am not so sure -- my sixth sense signals are COMPLETELY crossed these days.]

I guess, I'll never know what, if anything, this man feels towards me after all of these years. I have to live with that, but I can't carry my feelings for this man anymore.  It's been hard enough having to deal with Ken, but to have to have these feelings -- for this man -- resurface at the same time has been nearly unbearable.  It's no wonder my stomach is such a mess: Who wouldn't have an ulcer with all of this crap going on simultaneously, right?!  I look at myself, in the photos that we took while having my week of 'end of summer forays' with the kids, and I look like a wraithe (spelling?).  I'm so thin ... I weigh just about what I did in high school ... my clothes practically fall off ... had to go shopping in the juniors department for some new stuff to tie me over until I put some weight back on.
 
At this point, you're probably wondering:  well if she has no formal contact with this man ... how did she set him free?  I posted the artwork -- beautiful images -- for the poem that I wrote and said 'goodbye' there: 'Still Waters'.  Maybe he'll see and maybe he won't, but my mind and my heart feel lighter.  Then, I've printed out a copy of the poem, 'Sequel to the Hunter's Moon', and placed it into a bottle.  I'll cast the bottle containing the poem into the Sound this weekend ... too sleep deprived to drive anywhere today ... Beyond that, it will just take time to heal ... to forget ... to move on ... but at least, I am no longer carrying the burden of wondering any longer.
 
Last few sips of coffee ...  I feel better already ... India was right, 'sometimes a little of what you fancy does you good.'  Very wise and insightful advice ...

9/11/09 late p.m. ...  Well, good thing I don't believe in absolutes.  I had my mind made up, I was going to set my past love free ... then, someone posted an art album that made me wonder ('Thoughtful, Bemused.').  Was this him ... finally connecting and wondering what the hell I was talking about?  Or is someone just trying to console me?  Play with me?  Talk about confused?!

I've decided to put my original album back up through Tuesday.  Then, if I hear nothing further:  I'll take the 'My Story'  album down and proceed with my original plan.  The bottle with the poem is under my bed ... still waiting to be tossed into the waters of the Puget Sound.  The Fates will decide.
Today was a useless day.  After coffee, I felt ill on top of emotionally drained.  I told the kids and Ken that mommy didn't feel well ... which is the truth ... I just didn't elaborate ... spent the rest of the day in bed.  Managed to get some food down.  Hopefully, I'll sleep tonight.  Tomorrow, mom's back on call:  start of the soccer season. My daughters' have their first games at two different times and two different locations.  Still should be fun and a change of pace.  Peace to you.  My time will surely come.


9/13/09  I've had some sleep since my last entry.  I had to take the 'My Story' album down -- make it private again.  It was just too hard to have all of that info out there again.  I wanted him to see these words, but not everyone else ...

I still don't know who posted the 'Thoughtful, Bemused' album ... as I said earlier, my sixth sense is shot lately with all of the emotional turmoil that I've been going through.  The connection in this album to things in my life, things I have been going through was unmistakable though.  Perhaps it was just someone who has been reading my blog and wanted to offer me some comfort?  If so, thank you.

But, if it was you, and you want to have a conversation:  you have my email address.  If you want to see the poem and the 'My Story' album -- if you haven't already:  write to me and I'll give you my account info and password ... unless you can think of another way for you to see it?

To put it in black and white -- which men do best(?):  This emotional turmoil -- infidelity and feelings for you resurfacing -- is harder than any of the physical pain that I suffered during my abuse. The physical wounds heal and have an end; they leave an emotional scar, but that fades some in time. This emotional turmoil, however, doesn't seem to have an end in sight for me ... some days it is almost too much to bear. I just want a quick fix ... an immediate resolution ... but, I know that will not happen anytime soon. I guess, what I really want is for you, B.L., to know my story ... why I couldn't return your love at the time, in high school ... and that you will always have a special place in my heart.  I would also like to know (but can carry on without knowing) what, if anything, you feel for me after all of these years ... now that you know the truth -- the violence that I was repeatedly subjected to.  Are you angry at me for not confiding in you?  Could you care less, one way or the other -- indifference?  Or do you feel regret for not sticking around and pressing for the truth? 

[Side: I usually don't let myself feel anger ... for some reason, I feel incredibly guilty when I feel anger towards another ... but a part of me was angry that you and my sister were having a conversation. That she knew things about your life, in the here and now, that I would never know. That you would choose to have a conversation with her and not me? I was also angry at you for taking away my confident ... I mean, how could I tell her what was going on with me, and my feelings for you, when I knew that you two were having a conversation?]


I had thought that at one time we might be able to be friends ... but I think now, in truth, that won't be possible?  We couldn't be friends then, so why would it be possible now? Still, I would like to connect ... if only briefly and via email ... and catch up with what is going on each other lives.  I want to know:  What are the names of your beautiful children?  Do you like being a dad?  How did you meet your wife?  Are you happy in your career?  Do you like driving a minivan?  What do you think UT's chances are at the National Championship Title?  And other sorts of silly stuff ... After this conversation, I strongly feel that I will be able to part ways with peace of mind and peace in my heart.


If we don't make contact:  please know that there is a part of me that will always love you.  You will always have a special place in my heart.  God Bless ...  MAE


9/14/09  I realized this morning -- while sipping something to wake me up --  that I had my latest mini-crisis ... emotional meltdown ... on Sept. 11th ... 9/11.  Wow!  I was so tired, confused and emotionally drained that it didn't even click that the day was a  significant day.  I'm usually very reflective and pray a lot for the families who were personally affected -- firsthand -- by this tragedy ... guess, this year I'll have to pray after the fact.

Despite all of the pain in my life lately:  I know that God is still there in my life ... probably carrying me through all of this ... know this because my husband and I made a connection late last night, and this morning we found out some really good news ... details later.  Have to run ...

I'm back:  So what's the good news that arrived this morning?

We've been trying to sell our house in Texas for the last few months.  Carrying two mortgages, two sets of utility bills, alarm and lawn service for the Texas house ... has been very stressful ... manageable, but still a source of stress and tension nonetheless.  House has only been on the market since May, so we are not desperate ... yet.  We got a really low ... almost ridiculous offer near the end of last week.  I prayed about it and told Ken what I felt we should do.  His inclination was to fold and just get rid of the house, but the house is a big part of our investment strategy. Ken and I talked it over and his final stand was that he respects my (?Divinely Inspired?) intuition as, 'it's never led us wrong before.'  So, on Saturday, we countered with a more reasonable reduction in our original asking price -- nearly 10,000 ... 15,000 if you count the closing costs they wanted us to pay ... above what the buyer had offered.  Ken expected the buyer to walk, but first thing this morning, we received word that the buyer had accepted our counter offer.  So praise God!  Selling this house will be a huge stress removed from our lives and our relationship ...

P.S.  Found a new door.  Here's a clue: a few simple words to give self-confidence to all women ...