Knocked for a Loop

A good chunk of people come from dysfunctional families. Some of us break out of the cycle and some of us just follow the same path because it is familiar.

I hope that I am one of the ones who have broken out of the cycle of emotional constipation and the cruelty which is born from it.

I've mostly dealt with my childhood traumas and losses, and when I get sucked back into that darkness it doesn't take me long to pull the memory out in its fullness, thank it for the scars and put it back away. (I have found that moving on is a continual process not a one time accomplishment.) But going back to my hometown for my uncle's funeral hit way too many buttons and I am having a harder time thanking anything. Plus there are a few new memories to add to the box.

My plan was to come back, write about meeting the adults I used to babysit or at least change the diapers of, however, I haven't gotten to that part of my coming back home process. 

If you don't know this by now, my mind is always trying to put the puzzle together, no matter what form that puzzle is in. Sometimes I amuse myself because I get distracted by a section which reminds me of something and that rabbit hole leads to a tea party. Sometimes, like this time, the rabbit hole lead to both the Jabberwocky and Bandersnatch.

My "jabberwocky" is thoughtless selfishness. My "bandersnatch" is pride.

When I say thoughtless selfishness I mean when someone doesn't think about a situation other than what they want. For example, I was told several times, (attempted guilt trips), that I don't visit enough or that I disappeared. My response of course was that I haven't had anyone visit me at all and they are always welcome. Here is how this is both thoughtless and selfish. I am expected to make the effort to reach out regardless of my situation. No one thought about or remembers the fact that my family was almost homeless, that we were destitute for quite some time, or that when we were in town they were busy. (BTW I am VERY grateful and humbled that my support system came in the form of good friends who became family. They were my life boat and I hope I can repay that.) I could jab at this Jabberwocky with hurt and resentment, throwing  all the trials and tribulations at the snapping jaws of this beast. This would only lead to both of us continuing to battle in a bloody war. Or I can forge a vorpal sword of forgiveness as well as gentle darts of reminders that my door is always open and my phone is always available. The forging of this magical weapon is tough and laborious, yet the undertaking is worth the sweat and tears. I am working on it still.

Pride is tricky. Of course we all want to be proud of our accomplishments. We want to hold our heads high and acknowledge that we are worth... something. Most of the time with families it goes a bit too far. This leads us as individuals unable to ask for help or share our struggles. This bandersnatch led to a big ugly pile of resentment when it came to my uncle's death. His wife & children didn't want to use the D word when talking to the rest of the family about his illness, (thus the true nature & severity was lost on people who don't do subtle.) My father's pride kept the rest of our family from knowing that he is struggling financially and that my husband and I were struggling in the past. My pride keeps me from correcting assumptions and accusations. My mom's pride keeps her from admitting that her memory has holes. And the list goes on. I don't know how to deal with my part in this as I also don't want to alienate people further. But I am much MUCH better at keeping it from happening in the future by asking for help now and letting people know when things are less than ideal. Of course we can only be responsible for ourselves, so the beast continues to claw, scratch and bite. This makes it a much more difficult beast to overcome. You cannot defeat it, you can only subdue it. So I must find a way to charm it. Hopefully then it will wander off to sleep for a bit.

The point where a night of drinking and dancing with friends to get my equilibrium back is drawing closer. First maybe a rowdy and silly D&D game will get me laughing enough to put these monsters into perspective. Then I can talk about the adults I still picture in diapers.

Hmm... Maybe I just need a new novel to edit.

The Sum of Our Parts

Why all the drama over the number of celebrity deaths this year?

Because it hurts.

Yes, we understand death is part of the cycle. Yes, we understand we don't know these folks personally. Yes, we understand. It still hurts. A raw ripping feeling as though pieces of your soul are being shredded with a SPOON.

Very different from the gnawing ache of sudden emptiness when a family member dies. Yet the reason is very similar.

Our families shape the footings for the foundation of our being. Our souls begin to take shape as they mold and guide us. Then our very being becomes tumultuous. We are separate from them, not replicas, we are OUR OWN PERSON! Serious teenage confusion begins the search for more. (And yes this presents in different ways but that is another story.)

Just like any architectural achievement, our personal construction requires RESEARCH. Music, movies, books, comics, magazines, and sometimes theatre are all the water, sand and gravel in the search for ourselves.

When we begin to find the pieces which either fit, or we desperately want to fit, the posters go up, the collections begin, and the soul grows. The soul changes. We now have a foundation ready, we think, to build upon.

Thus begins our individual journey, the adventure of learning about ourselves, the quest to find our tribe, the thingy to find fulfillment. (More posters, different collections, and new pieces.)

It is human nature to subconsciously think that all these people, the guides, the mentors, the inspirations will forever be around. They are a part of us, how could they not be?

The footings won't fail, the foundation won't crumble; however, the blueprints we lovingly bring out on occasion are now not just fading but beginning to rip - fast. We can feel it. We can't stop it. 

Soon it will be familiar and we can remember with more fondness than sadness. Right now, we grieve and it's part of the cycle as well. 

I had forgotten...

I had an amazingly good weekend. I think I stated that before but I do need to reiterate because there was not just one incident or gift that made the weekend what it was. In having such a good weekend I was reminded of a few things and that made me think of other things that I had forgotten.

I had forgotten that I love to sing. I don't mean along with the radio or just while puttering around type singing. I mean having to hit the right notes, remember where to breathe and also make your lungs and diaphragm support all of this, type of singing. Granted what I got to sing this past Friday was Christmas music. These are songs that I tend to shy away from due to raising my son in a pagan atmosphere. These are also the very songs that I used to sing in every choir and chorus I was a part of while growing up. Surprisingly, I still knew the words to most of them by heart. Also as surprising was that when I opened my mouth to sing my voice remembered what to do. There were notes and syllables pouring out before I could think about it and it was fabulous! This cascade of musicality was rushing forth with no serious thought or effort. To be quite honest I would have loved to continue on and on but of course all good things must come to an end. This good thing restarted later but it was midnight and my family needed to go home. *sigh*

I had also forgotten that I really dig folks with musical talent. Of course, I am surrounded by very talented folks most of the time. We have a host of fantastic percussionists and string players. Most of the time I am not just enjoying their music. I am dancing and being a part of that music. This past Friday I didn't do that, I just stood and listened to a very talented young lady who was having fun tickling the ivories and bringing Mannheim Steamroller's musical stylings to the party. This brought back memories of watching other musicians in high school and college, enjoying not just the sound of the music but the energy that surrounded them as they played. There is definitely a connection between a musician or dancer and the audience. When that connection is completely open and transmitting the experience is almost beyond words. It is transcendent. Sometimes this transcendence is mistaken for something else, hence panties being thrown on stages. But we won't go into that here. *grin*

With the list of forgottens I do need to add another more important then the two above. In fact it was something that now remembered made it possible to enjoy and remember those joys.

I had forgotten what it was like to enjoy my friends' company and participate in a gathering WITHOUT the burden of constantly watching over and/or checking on my child. What a fantastic experience. Now that my child is >this< close to 9, he has proven that he can be left alone with other children AND be trusted not to be overly stupid. (Yes I know what you think but I stand by this word choice.) He's a good kid and really takes to heart what he is told or the instructions he is given. In fact, we have to re-program him sometimes because he takes the messages more literally than they are intended. Now, I will be totally honest and say that I did look for him to check how he was doing twice. In the 5 hours that we were at this party, this would be a record for me. PLUS no one came to me to tell me he was a.) hurt, b.) crying or c.) hurting someone else. This is also a record. I can trust my kid and he's growing up knowing he is earning that trust. It's amazing!

I am sure that there is a lot more that I have forgotten over the years. I mean the stuff I forget within moments due to fibro fog is astounding in and of itself. However, now I know that I have many instances where I will enjoy remembering the things I had forgotten.