Starving

Trying to explain how she was feeling was like trying to explain how one felt when slowly suffocating to death. How do you explain something that is only explainable as the lack of something else?

When the oxygen is being diminished in a room, you don’t immediately notice. You breathe normally and your body compensates. The air gets thinner. You compensate again by unconsciously taking shallower breaths. Talking becomes slightly difficult. Then more difficult. You notice that movement makes you tired more easily. So you begin to limit your movements and words. Your head starts to feel full of cotton wool. It becomes harder to think. Suddenly there's a breaking point and your body realises that the air is almost gone. You begin to gasp and cough, your body spasming in an effort to expel the imaginary thing blocking your air supply. But there is nothing blocking it. There is just no more air in the room. Deprived of this life giving force, you lay down, close your eyes and begin to die.

At this point, you can still be saved. If you were removed from the room, your body would gasp and start to take in air once more. Even if your body does not recognise the presence of air, you can still be saved. Someone can force your heart to beat, can force air into your lungs until your body remembers that in order to live, it must breathe, the blood must flow.

Sometimes, of course, its too late. No matter how hard your saviour works, they cannot make your heart start beating again, on its own, in time. They cannot force your lungs to expand and contract without help. You are essentially brain dead. There is no person left in that body, there is just a machine pumping air into lungs and making the blood flow.

She knew she was not dead yet. But she was slowly starving. Talking was more difficult. Movement made her tired. Thinking was like grinding blood from a stone. She was gasping, spasming, fighting. But its not too late.

What I see

Do you remember how you used to hold my hand? It felt like you would never let go.
You would look at me with such love in your eyes, like you would fight lions for me. Fight tigers.

The world could fade away and disappear when you held me in your arms. When my head rested on your heart, my world would narrow to just that slow, constant thump.

I miss you.

I hate fighting with you.

It feels like a piece of me is shattering every time we do.

It hurts me that you think I'm fat and unattractive. We've both grown older in the 14 years since we met. Our bodies are not those of children anymore. I've had a child and that leaves its mark. I've lost a child and that's left its mark as well. We've been through a lot, you and I. Depression has caused both of us to pick up and lose weight at various times.

I love you.

You're not the skinny, quiet, depressed boy I met. You've grown in confidence even as you've grown in height and weight. And you've grown as person into a man that I respect.

Attraction comes in many forms. I am attracted to the wonderful father that you are. I am attracted to the caring husband you are. And I'm attracted to the wonderful son that you are to my parents and yours. When I look at you, that's who I see.

I don't see the belly hanging over your belt. I see the giggles that belly inspired in our child when she tickles you. I see the strength in your arms as you lift her up to swing her about. I see that same strength that you use to give me back and foot rubs when I am in pain. And I see the comfort you inspire when wrap your arms around me and tell me that everything is going to be okay.

Why can't you see me and be attracted to me and not be distracted by bulges and love handles?

To my mummy

To my Mummy

I love you. I know I'm not always the best at showing it and I know that sometimes I drive you crazy (and vice versa!), but through it all you have been the most amazing, steady, calming force in my life. You are the person who makes things happen. The person I know I can always turn to, count on, no matter what.

I may not be the best or most perfect daughter in the world, but you've always loved me anyway. Through my tantrums and my meltdowns, my anxiety and my depression, you have always been right there to comfort me or to snap me out of it.

We fight occasionally, as most mothers and daughters do, but even in the midst of it, you have never walked away. I don't think you ever could. So, even though you will say it's not necessary,  that you're my mummy and there's no need for thanks between us, I still want to say Thank you!

Thank you for raising me and for doing whatever it took to get me to where I am today.  I have never made it easy, but your strength has never wavered. I am grateful for all you have done for me and continue to do. You are my mummy, my mom, my friend, my confidant. And I love you.

PS: You asked me write something happy. Something positive. To stop focusing on the pain and the negative. When I tried to, you were what I thought of. Your love is the most positive thing in my life.

Authenticity

Note: This post veered off from its planned content. Never fear, I will pick up the loose threads in a future post.

So I know things have been quiet on the blog front lately, and those of you waiting with bated breath for the next pearls of wisdom to drop from my pen, have been patient enough. There have been many things that I have been coming to grips with over the past 2 years that I haven't felt able to blog about. Hence the silence. The odd post here and there have given hints of it, hints that all has not been well, but for the most part I have stayed silent on the topic.

Part of that was probably denial. If I don't talk about it here, the place where I have bared my soul and shared my pain, then its not real. Part of it was also anxiety and embarrassment.

You see, when I started this thing, I had only a few readers, people who knew everything anyway or random strangers who stumbled here. It was a private-public expression of the madness in my head. Since then, however, my readership has grown to include people who know me personally and yet don't know me at all. And people whose good opinion matters greatly to me. And also people who I fear my words will wound unnecessarily.

This led to some soul searching as to what can I really say on here. Can I really rip off the masks and bare my soul when I know people are watching? And if I cant, is there really a point to this blog? This was supposed to be the one place where I was the most authentic version of myself. Where I have no need of masks to hide behind. Where I can be me and damn the consequences.

I have been struggling with this question for a while and I have come to realize that if you, my readers, keep coming back here, its because  you want to know the true me. If you have gotten to this point with me without running screaming into the night, then don't I own it to you not to don the mask once more? Don't I owe it to myself to see if the true authentic me is worth more than the dozens of masks I continuously wear?

Do any of you love me for me, exactly as I am at my core, at the deepest recesses of my mind and heart? Am I enough? Just me, no shields, no masks, no "happy face"?

Protecting vs Smothering

Being a parent is hard. There are so many ways you could screw up your child, it terrifies me. Take, for instance, my current dilemma. I have pretty strong OCD tendencies and am a fairly detail-oriented person. While these personality traits have been helpful in certain aspects of my life, they have also been detrimental in others. They flip into negative qualities very easily.

So when I see those same traits manifesting in my beautiful child, I’m left wondering what to do. I never ever want her to feel like she isn’t enough or perfect to me just as she is. But at the same time, I want to protect her from a world that does not accept or respect people with these kind of idiosyncrasies. People who are different. People who are not identical to the cookie cutter cut-out that is viewed as “normal”. 

So when I see her mirroring some of the same compulsions I have managed to hide or repress or disguise, I don’t know whether to feel a spurt of pride that she is like me, or fear that she is.  Then I wonder what if perhaps the wonderful combination of traits that is uniquely her isn’t exactly what the world needs. As a mother, I am pulled in two very strong very opposing forces in every decision I make. I want my child to fly, to be the very best version of herself she can possibly be. But opposing that is my need to protect her from the slings and arrows of a world that has already dealt harshly with me.

“She will never go through what I did!” I once swore passionately, overflowing with love for this tiny beautiful creature who had somehow come from me. But I refuse to clip her wings with fear. I won’t destroy her by smothering her with my protection. I want her to be strong. I want her to be confident and self-assured. I want her to live and learn and make mistakes and have towering victories. None of that will happen if I give in to my protective instincts. 

But there is still that little whisper inside. “What if I can save her from even one iota of the pain I have gone through?” Is it not my duty as her mother to protect her? How can I just stand back and do nothing? Should I not be teaching her what the world will and will not accept?

But in trying to give her these tools to protect herself, would I be protecting her or making her feel inadequate? Sometimes we do the most harm in trying to avoid it. Sometimes we cause more pain by trying to guard against it. 

And maybe the world has changed? What if my being in it has indefinably changed my little part of the world? What if all of us in our generation have changed the world simply by being in it. What if the changes we have wrought would have been enough to ensure that her differences are celebrated instead of reviled? It has often been said that our generation places more emphasis on individuality and personal fulfillment. Perhaps this focus will be enough. It will have to be. All I can think to do is, stand here, ready to comfort, to shower her with love and acceptance, if the world has not changed enough. The risk that it hasn’t is not worth the sacrifice of all that she could be.

Closure

Closure. It was something she had longed for, begged for, something she thought she would never receive. In truth, she had all but given up on ever speaking to him again let alone ever knowing why. But that ghastly time was locked away in her mind. Sealed in a tight little box and hidden in a corner to collect dust. Of course it didn't stay sealed. How could it, when the scars on her heart, on her self-esteem, her pride remained fresh enough to seep and bleed a little whenever there was the slightest chance of rejection in her current life.

She didn't think of it, of him, often. The scars were not uppermost on her conscious mind. She had put him and them out of her mind and heart when she had fallen in love with her husband. Her husband. She smiled just thinking of him. The man who had picked up the broken pieces of her and fitted them back together. The man who had tried his best, had worked hard, to heal those wounds. He'd succeeded in growing the shiny new scar tissue over her hurts, but the hurt, rejected girl she had been was still inside. For years, that girl whispered, quietly. "How can he see you the way he says? He's just saying all the right things, he can't possibly mean them. You are not beautiful or amazing or any of the wonderful things he says. You're not worthy of a wonderful man like him."

And when life happened, as it did, and things weren't as wonderful between them because they were tired, irritable or just busy, the voice would be stronger. When things were great and they were closer than ever, the voice would grow quiet, unable to destroy their happiness. But never did it leave completely. There were other incidents that contributed. Ones from before this one and from after. They all served to strengthen that horrible voice, to give it ammunition and power.

Then one day, out of the blue came the opportunity to speak of it once again. To ask why. Why did you do that to me? What did I do to make you treat me that way? And for the first time, he tried to answer her as honestly as possible. "I was young," he said. "I cared too much what others thought and too little about the consequences of my actions. I cared too much about myself and my standing with my friends to realize that I would be hurting you. I didn't even think of it when I lashed out at you."

Honest, yes. Apologetic even. It would do.

As he castigated himself and swore that the incident had changed him, that he'd become cautious in his words, because of her, she wondered "Is this what closure feels like? Looking into the past with eyes unfettered by hurt, by disappointment, and realizing that what had caused so much heartache was so childish." It was a revelation. Emotions always seem bigger when they are happening.  If you are able to let go of the emotion, time will bring maturity and cool dispassion. Those feelings that she had had would have dissipated quite easily if they hadn't been locked into place by his callous treatment of them. And by her bewilderment at everything that had come after.

Looking at him from the perspective of her life now, she wondered what she could have seen in him, when the man who had chosen her, had loved her even when she was broken, who was her true soul mate, was so very different. Her husband was her other half in a way that no other could ever be.  Closure, she finally understood, was simply a matter of realizing that what had happened was for the best. If she hadn't been hurt before, how could she realize how precious what she had found really was.  She looked around at her home, her husband and her child with a lightness of heart that came from setting down a heavy burden. She was happy.

When Love and Hat collide ~ Deff Leppard

You could have a change of heart, if you would only change your mind
Instead of slamming down the phone girl, for the hundredth time
I got your number on my wall, but I ain't gonna make that call
When divided we stand baby, united we fall

Got the time got a chance gonna make it
Got my hands on your heart gonna take it
All I know I can't fight this flame
You could have a change of heart, if you would only change your mind
Cause I'm crazy 'bout you baby, time after time

Without you
One night alone Is like a year without you baby
Do you have a heart of stone
Without you
Can't stop the hurt inside
When love and hate collide

I don't wanna fight no more, I don't know what we're fighting for
When we treat each other baby, like an act of war
I could tell a million lies and it would come as no surprise
When the truth is like a stranger, hits you right between the eyes

There's a time and a place and a reason
And I know I got a love to believe in
All I know got to win this time

[Repeat Chorus]

[SOLO]

You could have a change of heart, if you would only change your mind
Cause I'm crazy 'bout you baby...Crazy...Crazy

Without you
One night alone
Is like a year without you baby
Do you have a heart of stone
Without you
One night alone
Is like a year without you baby
If you have a heart at all
Without you
Can't stop the hurt inside
When love and hate collide

My beautiful little girl :)

Appreciate what you have..while you have it

“You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She’s not perfect – you aren’t either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice, and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break – her heart. So don’t hurt her, don’t change her, don’t analyze and don’t expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there.”

— Bob Marley



Dear You

(Stolen from Another Suburban Mom )
Dear You,

Hello again. It’s a little while since I wrote to you last, isn’t it? I was just thinking about you. Yes, you! And you. You too, over there in the corner. I’ve been thinking about you a lot.

I want you to know something. You’re ok, you are. Oh I know, you’re not perfect and sometimes you feel fraudulent, like you’re only pretending to be ok, but the truth is, imperfection and “faking it” are ok too.

I want you to know, you don’t have to feel invincible all the time to be ok. You don’t have to be permanently fabulous to make a difference to the world. Nor do you have to be completely loving of yourself, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week to be ok. It’s ok to feel afraid, to have doubts, to be a little less than your shiny self from time to time. It happens to all of us, and that’s ok. The key thing is to acknowledge it, feel it and allow it to pass. Or if you need it, it’s totally ok to ask for help. You don’t have to change the world all on your own.

Also, don’t feel you have to perform all the time either. There will be times where you just need to step back and BE without worrying about what you have to DO. Anyone who expects you to be perfectly “on” all the time doesn’t really care about you – they’re caring more about themselves and their own expectations than your needs or feelings.

The thing is, self love is about so much more than just declaring “I am awesome!” and believing it. You are awesome. But you are also human, and part of caring for yourself is acknowledging that all humans are flawed, and cutting yourself some slack. Forgiving yourself. You will make mistakes, and you will be flawed, but that’s fine. We are all flawed, we all make mistakes. What matters is how you work through those mistakes and flaws. The most perfect thing you can do is acknowledge them and learn from them. But most importantly, be responsible for your mistakes. That’s the thing that will make a difference.

Because really, it’s all about doing the best you can within whatever circumstances you’ve got in your life at any given time. So what if someone else is able to do more, give more, be more. That’s them, in their lives. You have yourself, in your life, so that’s what you’ve got to work with.

But there is something I REALLY want you to know. You are a perfectly acceptable human being right now, this minute. You are just as valid as any other human being, without changing a single thing about yourself. That doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to want to grow, evolve or improve yourself, or you can’t do better sometimes, it just means right now this instant, you are worthy of your own self love. Even if it is hard to love yourself sometimes (and boy, is it!), or you’re struggling with some really difficult stuff in your life, you still deserve it.

So dearest you, be kind to yourself, be kind to others, and give the best version of you that you can give, but know that even in the tough times, you are still valid, worthy and deserving of your own self love.

I love you.

Crickets, Cliches and Kilograms

Pssst... can you hear the cricket chirrping? Its been a while since I last posted, though the urge to write here has not left me. There has just been some major things going on in my life which I will now fill you in on... if you're interested :) Be aware though, there will be alot of cliches in this post. I can't help it.. they're cliches for a reason!

Happy Anniversary, darling

“I don't pretend to know what love is for everyone, but I can tell you what it is for me; love is knowing all about someone, and still wanting to be with them more than any other person, love is trusting them enough to tell them everything about yourself, including the things you might be ashamed of, love is feeling comfortable and safe with someone, but still getting weak knees when they walk into a room and smile at you.”

Four years. Where did the time go? There's been ups and downs, happiness and anger. But through it all, my love for you has never wavered. This is our life. Together. I can think of nothing better than spending the rest of mine entwined with yours. When we first met, there was a recognition. A level of comfort that usually takes years to build. That feeling has only grown with each moment we have spent together.

So Happy Anniversary, darling. The past four years have been an adventure.

The waiting...

The waiting was killing her. Interminable. It’s just a week, she told herself. I can wait a week. But it was hard. So hard. The possibilities, the dreams, filtered through her mind while she tried desperately not to hope.
Thoughts of her belly growing round and full. Dreams of feeling those first kicks. Of seeing that small life growing inside her on an ultrasound. She dreamed of the look on her husbands face, the happiness and love she’d find there when they knew for sure. She smiled at the thought of telling their parents that they were going to be grandparents. Of the happiness the news would bring. The way his mom would light up with happiness. The special way her mom would smile. The pride that would shine on the dads faces. And the excitement that the brothers would feel.
She sat on the window seat daydreaming out the window. Of the day, when finally, finally, she would hold her little girl. Or boy. Would it be a girl, she wondered. A pretty dark haired child with her fathers eyes and curls. Would she be a girly girl, all frills and lace and pretty dresses, or a tom-boy like she herself had been. Scraped knees and dirt smudges and fly-away hair. Or would it be a little boy. With a naughty smile and twinkling eyes. A charmer.
She shook her head, trying to dispel the images that shone so clearly in her mind. Its too soon to tell. You have to wait the week and then you’ll know. Don’t start to hope, she cautioned herself. It may not have happened yet. You’ll be disappointed. But still, the dreams refused to listen and spun on.