Living

Six months.

Rediscovering (discovering?) self.

Moments of extreme happiness.

And despair.

And then the happiness returns. And it is so alive.

It's what matters.

Living.

Just a Ring

Someone I trusted stood in this room and looked me blankly in the eyes.

I told him how crushed I was when he asked me to put my ring back on when nothing had changed.

And there was no connection. Just blankness.

I trusted him.

I thought he loved me.

And he loved me as much as an alcoholic can when they are approaching the end stage of their disease.

I can feel him here right now. Looking at me. The way he did that day.

And the way he looks at me now.

I do get scared.

I was very scared with him.

How did I let myself get in that spot?

How did I not see it coming?

He told me he loved me.

He told me he hated me.

He told me we had nothing in common.

And that we should have realized it years ago.

And that he regrets having children with me.

That is hate.

Despising.

How do you live with someone who despises you?

Who can find nothing redeeming in you?

Release the grief.

The pain and sadness of being hated.

And now what?

Alive

I was alive for a short while today.

I'm going to try to do it again tomorrow.

It felt good.

It was like a tornado. A colliding of emotions. Wind on my face as I confidently rode a bike down a mountain road in Colorado - a transcendent place.

I was feeling angry. Then I was feeling reckless. Next came anger again. Then release.
Sweet release.

Followed by the kisses of a lover. Forbidden kisses. Hurried, longing kisses. Questioning Kisses.

I'm going to try to be alive again tomorrow.

I want to be alive again tomorrow.

Let's Give It a Try

Alright, as someone who loves to write, I thought it was time to give this whole blog thing a try. Bear with me as I figure out what I want to talk about and who I want to read this blog.

The Truth is in the Middle

A very close friend recently said to me, "You've had a lot of bad things happen to you."

Yes, I have.

I have also had a lot of good things happen to me. They are happening right now.

Sometimes with such great joy comes the opposite - fear.

Is it the fear of the worst happening? That life can't really be as good as it seems? Prepare myself for the worst - then I won't get hurt.

How about preparing myself for the best?

Think of the best. Think of the worst. The truth lies somewhere in between.

And no one knows what will happen. No one knows.

Carpe Diem!

A Big Responsibility

Watch very carefully, Jenny. If you make a mistake Daddy could die.

Mommy is showing me the two insulin bottles. She is normally the one to "draw" his insulin each morning and leave it sitting next to his breakfast.

This summer she will be at work and I will be staying home with Daddy to work on the cars. It will be my job to draw his insulin in the mornings.

It's very important to tap the bubbles out of the syringe. If there are air bubbles in there and he injects them he could die.

Why is she telling me this (it turns out it's not even true)?

Why is she making such a big deal about this? Is she really worried he will die?

Or does she want me to kill him?

I would do it if she wanted me to. I'm not afraid. I wouldn't even feel bad.

What am I thinking? It's not normal to think about killing your Father is it?

I'm only 8. Other 8 year olds don't have to think about this stuff. I can't tell anyone how I feel.

No one.

Do I ask Mom if she wants me to kill him? Do I tell any of my friends that I think about killing my father? How about a teacher? Family?

No. Just file it away. Accept that you are different. That no one can understand.

Why would they give me this responsibility for my Father's life? I'm only 8.

Weakness

"Jenny, are you sure you don't have any money? Check your pockets again."

I check again even though I know for sure there is nothing there.

We're walking to Des Moines right now. That's what Mommy told me when she finally arrived at the nursing home two hours late. I knew something was wrong as soon as she was late. This morning she dropped me off to visit Lily, the 94 year old neighbor who used to babysit me until she moved to the nursing home.

I was waiting in the lobby for her when she arrived on foot to get me. All I could think of was to get out of the building and away from the worried and pitying stares of the staff. I hate them.

She didn't tell me what happened but I can put things together pretty well by now.

There was a small incident that set him off. He escalated to the point where she had to run out the door - afraid. There was no chance to get her purse or the keys to the car. She just had to run.

Did you check all the way deep in your front pockets, Jenny? Are you sure you don't have a dime?

I check again for her. She has already walked across town to get me and now she tells me we are walking all the way to her work in Des Moines. I am skeptical of this from the start. I don't see how we can possibly walk this far. It takes a long time to get there by car. She wants to make a phone call but neither of us has even a dime for a payphone.

We've been walking along the highway for quite awhile now.

"Jenny. This isn't going to work. You can't walk fast enough - we won't get there before dark."

So now we've turned back towards Norwalk. I don't know where we're going. I'm not sure if she knows.

"If I could just borrow a car for the night. It's really no big deal - just a disagreement."

The phone rings at the Waltzes house. It is Daddy asking if they have seen us. We don't know the Waltzes that well - their daughter has babysat me, the husband likes to tinker with engines. They say, "No." they haven't seen us. I think they realize the urgency now and they are going to let us borrow their son's VW bug for the night.

Sitting now in the VW I am filled with a sense of physical relief. I don't think I've ever walked so far in my life. My legs hurt.

I'm excited now, too. It feels like an adventure now. It is just the two of us. We are going to spend the night at the pre-school my Mom directs. She says we will sleep in the cubbies with big pillows and I will be able to play with any of the toys I want - that we will play together.

There is also a sense of hope. Maybe we won't be going back this time. This time seems like it was really bad. Maybe it will be just the two of us from now on.

"Glenn. It's me. We're in Des Moines."

Stupid! No! Why is she calling him?? Why?

I can see what's coming.

"I know. Okay. I'm sorry. Okay, we'll come home tonight. We'll be leaving in a few minutes"

So that's it. We're not spending the night. We're not sleeping in the cubbies and playing with the toys together. We're going home to him again.

We walked all that way for nothing. We went through all this for nothing.

She didn't even teach him a lesson.

We're driving in the little Bug that seemed so exciting before and we're going home.

I am so angry.

She is weak.

I hate weak.

I am not weak.