Hello mistrust.
Why are you back?
There’s no room for you in my dilapidated love shack.
Hello despair.
Where have you been?
You were ever so good at being left unseen.
Hello hope.
Why are you hiding?
Get yourself out for the job of harmonizing.
Hello reality.
Where to from here?
I never expected so much involvement of fear.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
Skin on skin
I love sleeping with my babies.
They no longer fit the category of baby,
but always smile
when I refer to them as such.
My son knows he is special
as he made me a mummy.
My daughter knows she is special
as she is my last baby.
I tell them all the time,
how they are loved and treasured.
I even whisper these messages as they sleep,
which often prompts a dreamy smile.
Sleeping with my babies,
is like giving a tree sunshine and rain.
It feeds me to smell and hear them beside me,
to have their presence fill all my senses.
Most of all I love their skin.
Soft and smooth like wind swept snow.
In their sleep their bodies seek mine,
and a limb always finds me in my own slumber.
As new born souls,
their skin upon mine strengthened bonds.
Now to experience skin on skin,
we continue to share pieces of each other.
One day they will wince,
when referred to as my babies.
They will view me as an old tree,
while I bask in their sun showers.
For now, this tree knows
that the branches wrapped around her babies,
is preciously desired until they seek
to only shelter in my shade.
They no longer fit the category of baby,
but always smile
when I refer to them as such.
My son knows he is special
as he made me a mummy.
My daughter knows she is special
as she is my last baby.
I tell them all the time,
how they are loved and treasured.
I even whisper these messages as they sleep,
which often prompts a dreamy smile.
Sleeping with my babies,
is like giving a tree sunshine and rain.
It feeds me to smell and hear them beside me,
to have their presence fill all my senses.
Most of all I love their skin.
Soft and smooth like wind swept snow.
In their sleep their bodies seek mine,
and a limb always finds me in my own slumber.
As new born souls,
their skin upon mine strengthened bonds.
Now to experience skin on skin,
we continue to share pieces of each other.
One day they will wince,
when referred to as my babies.
They will view me as an old tree,
while I bask in their sun showers.
For now, this tree knows
that the branches wrapped around her babies,
is preciously desired until they seek
to only shelter in my shade.
Monday, January 25, 2010
He stays with me like a handprint on my soul
He calls me skittish,
he says I act like a beaten child and he understands why.
I agree that I view him with caution and cower waiting for the next blow.
There are no bruises upon my body.
Describing myself as broken hearted is a joke.
My heart beats strong,
my body moves forward with purpose and strength.
He seeks me.
To share my bed,
my life,
my success,
my addictive ego strokes.
I have fed him pieces of myself.
Each piece he takes deepens my chasm,
the part of me where self respect, identity and sanity is housed.
Without him,
the trembling dwelling rebuilds so rapidly.
He asks for assurance.
Confirmation that his one good day is viewed,
as being on the path back to me.
A canine companion needs the same.
A hand upon the leash and a pat on the head for a good deed.
Another pet.
A faithful dog who stands beside me,
to protect me,
love me,
adore me.
He apparently loves and adores me.
I wonder why?
Where is the faithfulness,
and where is the protection?
I have always lead,
dreamt,
healed,
fixed.
He can lead.
He can dream.
He can heal.
He can fix.
I just wish he would do it for himself,
and thereby be doing it for me too.
he says I act like a beaten child and he understands why.
I agree that I view him with caution and cower waiting for the next blow.
There are no bruises upon my body.
Describing myself as broken hearted is a joke.
My heart beats strong,
my body moves forward with purpose and strength.
He seeks me.
To share my bed,
my life,
my success,
my addictive ego strokes.
I have fed him pieces of myself.
Each piece he takes deepens my chasm,
the part of me where self respect, identity and sanity is housed.
Without him,
the trembling dwelling rebuilds so rapidly.
He asks for assurance.
Confirmation that his one good day is viewed,
as being on the path back to me.
A canine companion needs the same.
A hand upon the leash and a pat on the head for a good deed.
Another pet.
A faithful dog who stands beside me,
to protect me,
love me,
adore me.
He apparently loves and adores me.
I wonder why?
Where is the faithfulness,
and where is the protection?
I have always lead,
dreamt,
healed,
fixed.
He can lead.
He can dream.
He can heal.
He can fix.
I just wish he would do it for himself,
and thereby be doing it for me too.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
A silent year
No blogging this year so far and with only a few weeks remaining of 2009, this may be the only one.
While there may have been blog silence, my voice has been raised frequently throughout the year.
I have screamed, sobbed, yelled and also often used my quiet firm voice which is apparently very scary.
I have not always been heard. It seems that messages can be lost during the screaming, sobbing, yelling and scary quiet firm tones. Any vocal expression was only a manifestation of what I was hearing within me. Enough was enough. I was running but heading directly for the next brick wall which I stupidly flung myself at like a bird at a window.
Not all the year has been loud and scary. The first half was exciting, with the start of my uni studies. I also felt successful within my marriage and family having healed so well from betrayal. The children were beautiful, delightful and a source of pure pride and wonderment. Life was so fantastic.
A mid year discovery came as such a surprise. My healing had been based on a series of lies and this awareness swept away almost all progress I had made as an individual, mother and wife. The yelling and sobbing started at this time. Also the tremendous sadness that the beautiful life I had was just a farce.
The victim hat blew off pretty quickly. An attempt to extend a hand of forgiveness and friendship to a woman party to the betrayal made me feel like a total super chick. Love was felt for the surprise step child and a commitment to her is still current. The hand of forgiveness however was chewed off up to the elbow and the pain sent me insane.
Weightlessness arrived when I farewelled the husband from our home. The wedding rings are packed away in the draw and the relationship of being parents became the only focus. Well from my perspective anyway. The husband has hope that we will share a married life again. I have hope as well but know that it is an easy coping technique when grieving for the loss of a life with a history of so much joy.
To be in love with someone who is toxic seems quite unfair. So many live life without any love so who am I to complain about
only experiencing it with joy for just a few years. At least I have had it. At least I have grown each time I stand after the many falls. At least I now feel peace, control, happiness and excitement for a future path previously closed.
Life is beautiful. Most days I see and feel the beauty. The bad days are also present but my impatience for progress has set a habit of bad days being over and done with in 24 hours or less. The children are stronger and wiser. They have issues over being separated from me while they have nights with their father BUT I am not their only parent. My gift to them is denying myself the indulgence of their time so that they may maintain a connection with a parent who now has to spread his attention across the 11 souls he had a hand in creating.
Life is good. Life is hard. Life is worth getting out of bed and grabbing by the balls.
A successful life requires adequate sleep. Time to attend to this task which I now believe to be the key keeping away that heavy victim hat. One day it will blow all the way out to sea never to be seen again...but available for anyone who needs it.
While there may have been blog silence, my voice has been raised frequently throughout the year.
I have screamed, sobbed, yelled and also often used my quiet firm voice which is apparently very scary.
I have not always been heard. It seems that messages can be lost during the screaming, sobbing, yelling and scary quiet firm tones. Any vocal expression was only a manifestation of what I was hearing within me. Enough was enough. I was running but heading directly for the next brick wall which I stupidly flung myself at like a bird at a window.
Not all the year has been loud and scary. The first half was exciting, with the start of my uni studies. I also felt successful within my marriage and family having healed so well from betrayal. The children were beautiful, delightful and a source of pure pride and wonderment. Life was so fantastic.
A mid year discovery came as such a surprise. My healing had been based on a series of lies and this awareness swept away almost all progress I had made as an individual, mother and wife. The yelling and sobbing started at this time. Also the tremendous sadness that the beautiful life I had was just a farce.
The victim hat blew off pretty quickly. An attempt to extend a hand of forgiveness and friendship to a woman party to the betrayal made me feel like a total super chick. Love was felt for the surprise step child and a commitment to her is still current. The hand of forgiveness however was chewed off up to the elbow and the pain sent me insane.
Weightlessness arrived when I farewelled the husband from our home. The wedding rings are packed away in the draw and the relationship of being parents became the only focus. Well from my perspective anyway. The husband has hope that we will share a married life again. I have hope as well but know that it is an easy coping technique when grieving for the loss of a life with a history of so much joy.
To be in love with someone who is toxic seems quite unfair. So many live life without any love so who am I to complain about
only experiencing it with joy for just a few years. At least I have had it. At least I have grown each time I stand after the many falls. At least I now feel peace, control, happiness and excitement for a future path previously closed.
Life is beautiful. Most days I see and feel the beauty. The bad days are also present but my impatience for progress has set a habit of bad days being over and done with in 24 hours or less. The children are stronger and wiser. They have issues over being separated from me while they have nights with their father BUT I am not their only parent. My gift to them is denying myself the indulgence of their time so that they may maintain a connection with a parent who now has to spread his attention across the 11 souls he had a hand in creating.
Life is good. Life is hard. Life is worth getting out of bed and grabbing by the balls.
A successful life requires adequate sleep. Time to attend to this task which I now believe to be the key keeping away that heavy victim hat. One day it will blow all the way out to sea never to be seen again...but available for anyone who needs it.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Blended Ballet with Banquet
The festive season has left me contently fatigued.
Instead of the usual emotional exhaustion from my starring role within the Blended Family Ballet, I am tired only due to extreme fun. The tutu remained in the wardrobe and there was no need for the tiara to be polished or the rouge to be applied.
After a long awaited epiphany, I informed those I love that there would be no more performances through gritted teeth.
I watched in awe as the magic wand was being waved by others. I was overflowing with love and pride as I witnessed those who usually sit with arms and feet crossed in the audience, prancing about on stage as a part of the most beautiful Blended Family Ballet I could have ever wished for.
While it would be easy to reprimand myself for not realizing sooner, the talents within the audience who I now find quite brilliant on the stage, I must remember that my own previous performances were not in vain. Family traditions, the sense of belonging and pride for what we all share, are the contributing outcomes from the times of tears behind my rouge.
I am optimistic that this feeling I have will be maintained. The seats in the audience were vacant as I joined the rest of the cast for our final bow on stage. The silent standing ovation was deafening.
Instead of the usual emotional exhaustion from my starring role within the Blended Family Ballet, I am tired only due to extreme fun. The tutu remained in the wardrobe and there was no need for the tiara to be polished or the rouge to be applied.
After a long awaited epiphany, I informed those I love that there would be no more performances through gritted teeth.
I watched in awe as the magic wand was being waved by others. I was overflowing with love and pride as I witnessed those who usually sit with arms and feet crossed in the audience, prancing about on stage as a part of the most beautiful Blended Family Ballet I could have ever wished for.
While it would be easy to reprimand myself for not realizing sooner, the talents within the audience who I now find quite brilliant on the stage, I must remember that my own previous performances were not in vain. Family traditions, the sense of belonging and pride for what we all share, are the contributing outcomes from the times of tears behind my rouge.
I am optimistic that this feeling I have will be maintained. The seats in the audience were vacant as I joined the rest of the cast for our final bow on stage. The silent standing ovation was deafening.
The Blended Family Ballet has transcended from a performance to a shared dance. One which I'm happy to learn new steps as our accompanying music score evolves.
Monday, August 18, 2008
The Blended Family Ballet Continues
If i wrote about every time I felt satisfied about my performance on stage in the blended family ballet, I would not have enough time to experience the joy during each of the many beautiful moments. When however, my performance is not satisfactory and the audience hurtle rotten vegetables at me on stage, I instantly wish to express it.
Sometimes, the tiara I wear while I dance, pierces my scalp. I continue to dance while thorns dig through my soul and pierce my heart. Of course I am an expert at hiding my pain from the audience because "the show must go on". This time however I created disappointment by throwing a piece of rotten vegetable from the stage back at the audience. What a raucous. How dare I?
Time to nip back stage and change costume. The fairy wings and magic wand is retrieved from the well used wardrobe. I'll powder my face to hide the tears while most of the audience is ambivalent to a miracle being performed on the stage. Meantime the two littlest audience members sit perplexed in their seats. I have discovered that they are not so easily tricked by my costume and stage makeup.
They see into the centre of my being because the step mother's tiara and tutu is invisible to them. These little ones see me as naked as the day I gave birth to them. I'm currently at a loss as to how to incorporate their needs in my performance. Do I dance for them while dodging the hurtled rotten vegetables?
Sometimes, the tiara I wear while I dance, pierces my scalp. I continue to dance while thorns dig through my soul and pierce my heart. Of course I am an expert at hiding my pain from the audience because "the show must go on". This time however I created disappointment by throwing a piece of rotten vegetable from the stage back at the audience. What a raucous. How dare I?
Time to nip back stage and change costume. The fairy wings and magic wand is retrieved from the well used wardrobe. I'll powder my face to hide the tears while most of the audience is ambivalent to a miracle being performed on the stage. Meantime the two littlest audience members sit perplexed in their seats. I have discovered that they are not so easily tricked by my costume and stage makeup.
They see into the centre of my being because the step mother's tiara and tutu is invisible to them. These little ones see me as naked as the day I gave birth to them. I'm currently at a loss as to how to incorporate their needs in my performance. Do I dance for them while dodging the hurtled rotten vegetables?
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Family and Puking
It's been a challenge to get into the swing of writing original blogs. By the time I polish a piece off, it has become irrelevant and not reflective of my state at the time of being published. Here's a new approach. Tweaking an email to my sister who lives in Japan. Names of course are changed to protect the innocent, loved and treasured.
Hey Sis,
I've had a torturous 24 hours preceded by a period of total joy.
Last night I popped into town to drop off something I picked for little brother at ikea. His new (yet exquisitely old) house is gorgeous. I then called in to baby sisters new house she is sharing with 3 of my step kids.
I enjoyed a bit of chatting and catching up with the household, but mainly with baby sis, then we watched the end of a film I had already seen but enjoyed enough to see again. On the way home I thought long and hard about you.
I am so looking forward to a time where you are also a local and I can just "pop in" and share life with you.
Before I tried to head off to bed, the preschooler woke and wanted a drink of water then called out for a tissue. I'm not sure if the poor bugger actually thought he was dealing with snot or if he was trying to hide that he had messed up his bed, but he had vomited everywhere. This is a kid who hasn't puked since a bump on his head at around 8 months old, so the whole concept was pretty foreign to him. I showered and I redressed him then left him on my bed with the husband while I stripped his bed and threw his bedding in the washing machine. I returned to find my little boy back in the shower, shaking like a junkie, after he had again thrown up, all over my bed.
Again I stripped a bed, gave the kid a bowl along with instructions as to how to effectively contain vomit, and checked on the muffin (who now has her own bedroom....another email). The husband and I deserve a medal for team parenting because we calmly bathed and dressed the kids, set up plastic based towel covered bedding on the lounge room floor and the commenced the parents nightmare i.e. watching your children in pain and distress and wishing it was you instead. While containing simultaneous vomiting in my funky brightly colored and rather useful mixing bowls, we got through two kids DVD movies before the husband became redundant and passed out on the couch and the two kiddywinks relaxed into sleep. I sat beside them both till 5.30 am, catching the occasional puke and desperately trying to get fluids into them.
I caught about 40 minutes sleep in the lounge room and then phoned for the cavalry at 8.00am. I had worked booked from 10.00am which I managed to attend to by 10.30 am after the husband's magical coffee and egg on toast breakfast. Mum and Nanna arrived and took over with the kids while I worked until the Macbook screen went fuzzy and I asked my colleague the same question four times in a row.
After chucking in the shake diet for a gorgeous chicken sandwich, another round of laundry and successfully administering a fair amount of hydrolite to the muffin, I toddled off to bed 15 hours after I had originally tried to do so. The husband woke me at 5.00pm and after the initial shock and emotional protest to waking so exhausted, I found my second wind and got back on the train. The preschooler was bouncing around the house like a loon but muffin was alseep in Nanna's arms, on the couch. The washing was in off the line, the husband and I were sufficiently recharged for the rest of the day's tasks and the kiddywinks were significantly better.
As I now reward myself with a glass of red, I think again of you and the niece or nephew you and my new brother in law will give me as one of the most wonderful gifts imaginable. I'm sure my husband and I would have survived today without Mum and Nanna BUT perhaps not as sanely. The husband commented that despite our kiddywinks being so awfully ill, it was a wonderful experience for them to be so cared for my their parents, grandmother and great grandmother. Surely a great individual grows from such love.
As much as the family will drive you mental, your move to Australia will only be rewarded with more than you could ever fathom. I miss you and love you.
Stay beautiful. xxoo
Hey Sis,
I've had a torturous 24 hours preceded by a period of total joy.
Last night I popped into town to drop off something I picked for little brother at ikea. His new (yet exquisitely old) house is gorgeous. I then called in to baby sisters new house she is sharing with 3 of my step kids.
I enjoyed a bit of chatting and catching up with the household, but mainly with baby sis, then we watched the end of a film I had already seen but enjoyed enough to see again. On the way home I thought long and hard about you.
I am so looking forward to a time where you are also a local and I can just "pop in" and share life with you.
Before I tried to head off to bed, the preschooler woke and wanted a drink of water then called out for a tissue. I'm not sure if the poor bugger actually thought he was dealing with snot or if he was trying to hide that he had messed up his bed, but he had vomited everywhere. This is a kid who hasn't puked since a bump on his head at around 8 months old, so the whole concept was pretty foreign to him. I showered and I redressed him then left him on my bed with the husband while I stripped his bed and threw his bedding in the washing machine. I returned to find my little boy back in the shower, shaking like a junkie, after he had again thrown up, all over my bed.
Again I stripped a bed, gave the kid a bowl along with instructions as to how to effectively contain vomit, and checked on the muffin (who now has her own bedroom....another email). The husband and I deserve a medal for team parenting because we calmly bathed and dressed the kids, set up plastic based towel covered bedding on the lounge room floor and the commenced the parents nightmare i.e. watching your children in pain and distress and wishing it was you instead. While containing simultaneous vomiting in my funky brightly colored and rather useful mixing bowls, we got through two kids DVD movies before the husband became redundant and passed out on the couch and the two kiddywinks relaxed into sleep. I sat beside them both till 5.30 am, catching the occasional puke and desperately trying to get fluids into them.
I caught about 40 minutes sleep in the lounge room and then phoned for the cavalry at 8.00am. I had worked booked from 10.00am which I managed to attend to by 10.30 am after the husband's magical coffee and egg on toast breakfast. Mum and Nanna arrived and took over with the kids while I worked until the Macbook screen went fuzzy and I asked my colleague the same question four times in a row.
After chucking in the shake diet for a gorgeous chicken sandwich, another round of laundry and successfully administering a fair amount of hydrolite to the muffin, I toddled off to bed 15 hours after I had originally tried to do so. The husband woke me at 5.00pm and after the initial shock and emotional protest to waking so exhausted, I found my second wind and got back on the train. The preschooler was bouncing around the house like a loon but muffin was alseep in Nanna's arms, on the couch. The washing was in off the line, the husband and I were sufficiently recharged for the rest of the day's tasks and the kiddywinks were significantly better.
As I now reward myself with a glass of red, I think again of you and the niece or nephew you and my new brother in law will give me as one of the most wonderful gifts imaginable. I'm sure my husband and I would have survived today without Mum and Nanna BUT perhaps not as sanely. The husband commented that despite our kiddywinks being so awfully ill, it was a wonderful experience for them to be so cared for my their parents, grandmother and great grandmother. Surely a great individual grows from such love.
As much as the family will drive you mental, your move to Australia will only be rewarded with more than you could ever fathom. I miss you and love you.
Stay beautiful. xxoo
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