Lump

I find myself tangled in the lump of my throat.  Trapped somewhere between my mind of logic and my twisted and aching heart I am dizzy with conflict.  I am worth something.  I am worth nothing.  I am worth more than words can offer.

That familiar lump squeezes and twists my weary emotions as I grasp for a momentary breath of logic.  A thought that reassures what kindness says; an understanding that I am so much more than what they said.  But in that moment their words, their actions; they come crashing down on me as the lump threatens to engulf me.

Pain and bitter bile wash over me and the choices seem so non-existent.  Why else would their hatred spiral?  Why else would a child so young bear such deep and burdened scars?

It must be because I am worth so little.

The secrets that we shared.  The secrets that I keep.  These are the fuel to ignite a burning lump of torture.  I struggle to move on and I struggle to let go while the lump clutches its tiny treasure.  How do I feel my worth when all I feel is the pain wiping away even the smallest doubt that they might have been wrong?

I want to breathe.  I want to feel the full capacity of worth expand until that lump of disbelief is pushed aside for good.  I want to exhale until I know that they were wrong.

Status

Just like everyone else, I am glancing backwards at 2010.  Good year.  Bad year.  Something in between...

My father is dead.
I told some secrets.
I made some quilts.
I was promoted.
I learned a lot.
I cried some more.
I made a friend.
I returned to church.
I integrated broken pieces.
I am alive.

Belated

I wanted stop in to wish everyone a belated Merry Christmas and a forward looking Happy New Year!

I promise to be around more.  Things have been unbelievably busy at work as has life in general.  I have found little time to write but I miss it terribly.  So at the top of my New Year's list is making time to write.

I hope you all are well...

Crash

For once, I have normal drama in my life. 

I was heading to my therapy appointment this week and all was well.  I wasn't running late.  Traffic wasn't seeming to be too bad.  Green lights were coming one after another.  And then someone ran a red light.

Crash.  Right into the rear door on my side of the car.  The airbags deployed and I'm pretty sure that scared me more than the initial impact.  Thank goodness my daughter wasn't in the car with me.

The guy who hit me got out of his car and tried to run.  That didn't work out so well for him since there was a policeman sitting in the parking lot right by the intersection.  No insurance.  Not here legally.  Outstanding warrants.  All reasons to run in his opinion.  Part of me almost, and I mean almost, feels badly for him. 

However, I won't be saying that to my husband again because he came un-glued when he heard me say that.  That conversation was over the phone because he, of course,  was out of town when this happened.  And then I casually mentioned that I was driving his car because mine was low on gas that day.  More un-gluing.

I spent yesterday in bed; physically and mentally jarred.  I'm sore and achy but I'm ok.  I'm thankful.  I'm happy to be alive.  And while that may sound small to most; the thrill of living has not been a constant friend in my life.

For me, as of late, it has been about perspective.  Yes things have been highly fucked up in the past.  And yes, life still has its shitty moments.  But with a measure of perspective, living my current life isn't all that bad.

Locked

I locked myself out of Blogger.  I guess that is what I get with too many people trying to run the show around here.  But after going around and around with Blogger support, I'm back now.

I'm doing alright.  Some days are better than others.  Some days are downright awful.  And some days are Disneyland.

For real. 

We went to Disneyland for vacation and my daughter had a blast.  It is always so intriguing to watch the world through her eyes and this experience was no different.  I went to Disneyland as a kid and I actually have some distinct memories of the trip.  But what my childlike thoughts were certainly do not mirror my daughter's thoughts. 

Going through "It's a Small World" was a surprise to me as a child.  So many beaming kids.  All singing the same song.  And the real kids on the ride; they were happy.  I was not.  But I remember painting on a plastic smile to match the characters while thinking... what is happening to me is not happening to these other kids... something is very wrong...

Now all these years later I am finally trying to wrap my arms around the wrong because my mind cannot comprehend it.  And that wrong these days is in my mind, my multitude of crippled friends, because the perpetrators are gone.  The wrong is frightening and so many times I want to slam and lock the door on it to take my time to intellectualize the pain.  Yet as I analyze my pain the wrong has tiny fists that pound the door.  Louder and louder; screaming for embrace until I unlock the door that acts as a threshold between my mind and my heart.