Tag Archive: memories


Gaping Hole


I was taking a shower today and staring at the shower head thinking about the time we had to change it. Then I suddenly remembered that there was a huge gaping hole on the other side of the wall.  Changing this shower head was supposed to be simple… just unscrew the old one then screw the new one in place.  Like most things in life it got complicated quickly.  After trial and error we had to cut a large access hole into wall in the adjoining room to repair the problem.   These repairs were taking place at about 9pm on a Sunday which meant we didn’t have much time to get the job properly done before we had to give up on it for the night and just rig it up and go to bed.  Well now a month has passed and I had managed to completely forget that this huge hole existed.  As long as the shower functioned properly and I didn’t have to look at the hole it was not a part of my reality.  This became a metaphor for my life…  I find that as long as I am functioning on a day to day level –  as long as I can go to work, pay my bills, put dinner on the table, clean my kitchen, spend time with my husband – as long as I can do these things I fool myself into thinking that the gaping hole in my chest doesn’t exist.  Then something horrible happens… something wonderful… my husband looks at me and says, “You don’t have to pretend here.”  And I am suddenly aware of this wound.  I feel it and allow myself to be broken for a moment.  Just that small reminder that I am seen, that I don’t have to hide… It’s painful and wonderful at the same time.  I usually don’t allow myself to feel this pain.  I just gloss over it and pretend to be ok, to be happy.  Something amazing happens in the middle of it all, though… Through the safe release of this pain… I find that under it I really am happy… that I really do believe everything will be ok eventually and I don’t have to rush through this healing process… I can give myself permission to be.  There is so much grace in that realization.

Thoughts on Honesty


  

    There’s so much I don’t understand.   I long to life a life of transparent honesty, but that’s just not practical in our superficial polite society.  It’s all about what’s easy and politically correct instead of what’s real.  When someone ask, “How are you doing?” they expect a positive answer.  If you tell them the truth they are uncomfortable and don’t know what to say.  No one knows what to do with the pain.   As a culture we are not given any tools with which to deal with pain – there’s no etiquette for this.  There’s no precedence for this transparency.  This seems universally true – in work, play, school, church… there’s no room for pain.  No one really wants to know about your pain and no one wants to honestly share their pain.  Everyone wants to pretend to be ok – well-adjusted – happy – but most of us are dealing with some kind of brokenness, some kind of pain, even if we don’t quite have a name for it. 

   How do we break this habit?  Is that even possible?  Will we always be a society of isolation?  We have more methods of connecting now more than ever before – yet we have never been more alone.  All communication have become trivial and the art of sharing reality has been lost.  Gone are the days of love letters… we are in an era of romance via hallmark.  We depend on someone else to communicate our affections or not at all.  If a card or e-mail forward does not contain the feeling we wish to convey we founder – having no words of our own.  Why?  Because we are a society of observers… always watching, reading, listening – not thinking, feeling, sharing.  We surround ourselves with media in lieu of nature, we seek triviality rather than solitude – we spend our energy on status rather than investing it in another.

    Where does this leave us?  It leaves us all lost and lonely.  It leaves us in a home crowded by TV, radio, internet, video games – where two lonely people live who have forgotten how to share what is most important – themselves.

-Untitled-


An unfathomable sadness

has settled over me

blanket-like.        

Its pain sears my chest

like a hot knife,

scarring.

I shrink away from words

and faces – I shrink

to you…

You-awaiting me beyond shadows

waiting in secret

my love.

In need of somewhere to settle

my restless emotions

ceaselessly search.

Longing for understanding

I cry out

(in despair)

I cry out silently and hear

my fears echoing

about me.

In an agonizing torment

I realize I am

 alone.

Why this sad loneliness

this dull ache

these tears?

I should rejoice in your love –

instead I weep

I weep.

Dark Haiku


 The mist curls softly,
caresses me lovingly,
a cool kiss of death.

I seek the embrace
of skeletal Thanatos
with his grinning skull

and eyeless sockets.
He carefully gathers me
doll-like in his arms,

singing lullabies
to the dying child within.
I cry in the end,

With horror – with pain.
One tear for my funeral.
One tear for my death.

Damaged Goods


 

You know, I never would have thought of myself as bad, damaged, or to blame if it had not been implied by my father.   After my family found out about that I was molseted by my uncle they treated me like a freak, like a stranger.  I don’t think they knew what to say to me or how to act around me.  It’s like we were all lost.  I will never forget what my father said, though… He had 3 things to say.

1.  Are you sure you’re not making this up.  Did you just want to fit in with the other girls, is that why you said this?

2. Why didn’t you tell us?  Did you like it so much you just didn’t want it to stop, is that why you never said anything?

3.  You are no better than a child molester your-self.  If you would have said something when it happened you could have saved your cousins.

I will carry these scars the rest of my life.  Before this conversation it never crossed my mind that I was to blame for any of this.  Before this conversation being molested was just a bad thing that happened to me.  Before this I had the illusion that my family would be there for me and support me if the worst happened.  This conversation changed my entire life.