Monday, December 19, 2011

Still And Always

Every time I think about being able to say I have a son or daughter, I can feel a deep vibration in my core.  It moves me in amazing ways that I can't begin to describe.

I love raising them.

I love that I helped to create them.

I love that they exist.

I love the way I have watery eyes as I write this and think about them.

They are me and I am them: wholly together and entirely separate.

Healthy, able, loving, giving, cherish, wonderful
Many words to describe them
Describing us.

They will live well because I am bettering myself.  They will thrive in spite of my shortfalls.

Something just happened.
Some part of me just opened up right there.
This is good...this is very good.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

A Conversation With Myself

Is it contradictory for me to say that I don't care about my FOO but at the same time care about my behaviors and how I need to change them because of how I was raised?

On the one hand, it really is easier for me to cut out my FOO while not putting any stock into what they say/gossip - that way, what they spew shouldn't hurt...right?  On the other hand, I have to "care" insofar as I have to be aware of their attacks, who they are, how they behave, and extrapolate that to other people, in the hope that I won't fall for similar tricks.

If I stop "caring" -- I don't know what other word to use here! -- or don't "care" about them, then they really are shut out, aren't they? 

Mourn the loss of the dream of having a mother that nurtured Little Me as she should have.  I think that's coming in bits and pieces, like the dream I just wrote about.  Or when I looked down at my son and said, holy shit, that's me, I have the chance to raise "me" as I should have been raised.  So no, I don't really want to mourn the loss of a dream because I'm not sure that will get me anywhere.  Though, I've never really mourned for anything...ever.  Or grieve.  So I'm not sure what that's really like.  "Hey, I'm real sad for 5 months. Dang."  See?  No idea.

Do I have to get angry with my FOO for their deceit, their gossip, their behavior?  Perhaps, but this goes back to how much they actually matter.  Perhaps it's that my FOO never really mattered to me so why should what they say or have said mean anything?  Am I just letting this go too easily?  Should I have a fire burning under my butt because of everything they are?  My wife says it's about passion.  I still don't understand, why, if they truly don't matter, should I be angry with them?  Especially when they're now...just nothings. 

Nothing doesn't matter right?  Nothing only matters when the Something that is supposed to replace Nothing isn't there.  So then, is Something missing?  Well no, Something (true love and caring for a child, me) was never there to begin with so it was always Nothing. 

I think it's important for me to understand my behaviors, and part of that has to do with where I came from.  But that's also why I'm in therapy, to understand myself, to root out the causes of my behaviors and modify them, and in doing so, alter my mental paths.  And I've always taken the path of least resistance, but not when it came to choosing a spouse, so that in and of itself, must mean something!

So I need to make Something from the Nothing from which I came.  No wonder why I never really thought before...I don't make any sense!

Monday, December 12, 2011


I had a dream the other night...

I traveled back in time to get myself as a baby.  I found myself and picked my little self up.  My little self looked at me and smiled a bit.  And my big self began to cry.  I was also looking for a woman named Melinda Gates.  Melinda Gates is Bill Gate's wife, however, I think that name was in my head because I listen to NPR and an "ad" that I always hear is that funding comes from the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation.  So I believe the woman I was looking for was not in fact, Melinda Gates but someone who is as rich in life as she is in her philanthropic ways (or so I hear).  I was looking for her because I was certain she could stop me from eating hooks.  I could not figure out why I was eating hooks but I knew I was older (teens maybe??) and I could feel myself eating these hooks.

That was the "whoa"est dream I've ever had.