Unravel

Whenever I'm feeling undone I turn to Sylvia Plath's quotes. Maybe I find comfort in her masked insanity. I was deeply impacted by her book "The Bell Jar". The main character, is an easily related to twenty-something, career driven women of young dreams and teenage cynicism.  Without any warning to the reader this woman, who struggles with the same weights of the world as you or I commits suicide without any warning to the reader. That book unnerved me,  and completely unraveled me the whole way through...I think it took me several days to get out from underneath the fog of pensive ponderings that Sylvia puts on you. 


This is where I tap into a safe "crazy" in some strange, indirect way.


"Is there no way out of the mind?" 


"Yes, my consuming desire is to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, barroom regulars—to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording—all this is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always supposedly in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yes, God, I want to talk to everybody as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night..." 


"That’s one of the reasons I never wanted to get married. The last thing I wanted was infinite security and to be the place an arrow shoots off from. I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in all directions myself, like the colored arrows from a Fourth of July rocket." 


"And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long." 


"I like people too much or not at all. I've got to go down deep, to fall into people, to really know them."
— Sylvia Plath (The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath)


"I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it." 


"If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days."
— Sylvia Plath (The Bell Jar)




"I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet." 






"Mad Girl's Love Song 

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; 
I lift my lids and all is born again. 
(I think I made you up inside my head.) 

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, 
And arbitrary blackness gallops in: 
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. 

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed 
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane. 
(I think I made you up inside my head.) 

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade: 
Exit seraphim and Satan's men: 
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. 

I fancied you'd return the way you said, 
But I grow old and I forget your name. 
(I think I made you up inside my head.) 

I should have loved a thunderbird instead; 
At least when spring comes they roar back again. 
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. 
(I think I made you up inside my head.)" 
— Sylvia Plath

Tears and Dreams and Dreams and Tears although not necessarily in that order

I have truly come a long long way in the ability to even share my tears and vulnerabilities with another person. I never cried in front of anyone until I was 17 years old when my brother told me he was moving out of the house and I knew I was losing my best friend. As a kid my family was very dysfunctional and my mother's existence wreaked of fear, disappointment, heartache and disillusionment on a daily basis; Her hurt and suffering took her to a cognitive state so far away that she looks back on that period and regrets missing my childhood. To cope with the pain around me, I held tight, stayed strong, and I refused to show any emotion at all regarding my parent's relationship eventually leading to the divorce that took place when I was about 10. I didn't want to add to my mother's burdens and maybe I was afraid she wouldn't even notice my pain.  When I got a little bit older (maybe 12 or 13) I have a strong memory of my mom full out crying with me and I just hugged her and she cried. I never asked why she was sad, and I don't know if she even remembers that...but it really affected me, how I am not sure honestly...maybe I didn't want to put anyone thru watching me suffer or experiencing my grief if they did not have to. All this is to say, I've come a long way. When I got to college, I learned a lot about crying, in fact...there was no way I could have gotten through college without shedding some tears.

I am reading this great little find of a book called "God Never Blinks, 50 Lessons for Life's Little Detours" by Regina Brett; Chapters are short. I like that; One of her chapters is called  "Cry with Someone, It's more healing that crying alone," and I immediately thought of Mary Grace. She and I have cried together more times than I can count. And it's true, it is healing. I used to see crying as a severe flaw and weakness in people and now I embrace a good cry, especially the unexpected ones...when you haven't even been drinking...oh, those are good ones!

Last time we were together we listened to these lyrics that truly struck a cord in both of us for different reasons.

I was a little girl alone in my little world who dreamed of a little home for me. 
I played pretend between the trees, and fed my houseguests bark and leaves, and laughed in my pretty bed of green. 
I had a dream 
That I could fly from the highest swing. 
I had a dream. 
Long walks in the dark through woods grown behind the park, I asked God who I'm supposed to be. 
The stars smiled down on me, God answered in silent reverie. I said a prayer and fell asleep. 
I had a dream 
That I could fly from the highest tree. 
I had a dream. 
Now I'm old and feeling grey. I don't know what's left to say about this life I'm willing to leave. 
I lived it full and I lived it well, there's many tales I've lived to tell. I'm ready now, I'm ready now, I'm ready now to fly from the highest wing. 
I had a dream


A couple weeks ago I wondered what this meant for me, my only dreams had been thrown out and I've been waiting for a new one to come along in whatever form God would offer it.
Now, weeks later it has been revealed to me, and little pieces of my heart have become mine again, and I can recognize the warmth and precision of each beat. It's been awhile.
But now to share or not to share. I shared it with my sister today...something about sharing takes the magic out of a dream for me. It's not like sharing  a good day with someone which only magnifies and heightens your sense of greatness! But for me, it's like I'm giving away shares of that dream...to people who may or may not have a good reason to be invested in it. To me, the stakes are higher when more persons are in the know. But I wonder if that is true for all people.

Period.

The other day, a friend of mine mentioned that her lonely place is in her car, and another friend's in the shower...and agreed with her that mine is also in the car...for 4 months after my ex and i broke up, i dreaded those long car rides to and from work...45-50 minute drive each way seemed like god's way of torturing me even more...trying to fill the silence with something neutral, i couldn't listen to songs on the radio because they sang only about love and breaking up...country songs were the worst. Initially, I would get into my car and immediately burst into tears...remembering my broken heart that my busy work day had pushed aside. All I could listen to was sara barailles  "kaleidescope" for 4-5 months over and over again.  My car was definitely my lonely place. It was the only place I could actually be alone and let it all out and be real.
But today it hit me, my lonely place is everywhere right now. I can't get away from the lonely, it's just a part of me now and I hadn't even known. Maybe it came from seeing him recently...I don't feel deep sorrow and angst and heartbreak like I did before, but just plain 'ol every day missing and lonely.  The end of every day feels like a sentence without a period. There is no one to listen to the recount of my day, to affirm my little successes, to validate that I got up and went to work and did a good job, or a bad job. I can't call him to say I got lost today and I just want to cry and I wish you were here to be strong for me. I just have to be strong alone, and give myself pep talks, and pat myself on the back, and it just feels kind of meaningless and hard at times. So maybe this blog is my phone call to him, or my phone call to somebody, anybody. Is this why we Blog, to place a period at the end of our sentences?

untitled

Saw my ex-boyfriend before he heads off to another country. Haven't been sure how to share that experience actually...so i haven't blogged until now.  The best word to describe the entire day is "comfortable", and I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing really. I know I still love him, but I also know this is just one of those cards life hands us, and sometimes that means taking different paths, growing apart,  growing up, and if we are lucky...growing in love and old with someone else. I would be a liar if I didn't admit that some part of me has a heart pang or two after seeing him again since our break up. I even admit that I want him to change his mind and not go. I want the nicholas sparks story of tragic misfortunes and break ups that are dramatically rekindled and love wins...it almost feels like nicholas sparks is writing my story even now, but unfortunately I know this sad story will not be a best-seller, just another girl's misfortune of love lost.

Great song.
This is how my heart has felt the last couple of days...

Fathers, be good to your daughters, Daughters will love like you do

Just sitting here opening my Valentine's day card from my dad. He sends one every single year and it's probably the one memory I will remember with the most fondness. I save all of them, they mean so much, and I usually tear up. I don't always say great things about my dad honestly, I mean he is the person who will always hurt me the most, day in an day out, and who I will never hear an apology from. He was the source of a lot of my bitterness and cynicism as a teenager, although I hadn't connected the dots at that time. His role in my life continuously feeds the flame of my insecurities creating a severe inability to trust men, and an ever-so-guarded heart. When you live with these emotions daily it is only natural to become so unnaturally stoic and guarded with people. I'm deeply afraid to let men in because I've only felt rejection from my own father, never adding up...to what that is, hmm well, I will never know...Any affirmation ever given no more than left his mouth that it turned sour, as if he regretted giving me a piece of hope. Over time I have just built up this thick skin when I am with him, unable to really engage in anything meaningful because it never sticks and my spirit is always crushed eventually. This leaves a mark on a girl after awhile. I have worked really hard at not letting my relationship with my father or his mistakes and regrets hang over my life like a banner that reads "bitter, mess up, not worth it." Because my Dad did make choices a long time ago without thinking about the effects it would have on his children...in their twenties, and their thirties, and even their eighties...when he is long gone. And for these reasons I save every Valentine from him. Ironic isn't it. This year he sent me a card that says
"Thinking of a special you. You're a daughter to be proud of, for everywhere you go you always add some happiness, much more than you could know. And so this valentine for you seems just the time to say you're thought about with pride and love on each and every day."  And so one day, when I am 70 or eighty-something, I will remember that I was loved by my Dad, even though it hurt to be loved by him when he was living, but not on Valentines day. Valentine's was the 1 easy day in all 365...every year.
My sister and I recently confessed to each other our intrigue with little girls and their "daddy's." There is nothing sweeter than that relationship, and nothing more bitter sweet than to watch a little girl experience something I never had, and wonder how she will turn out. I always tear up when I see a moment pass between dad and daughter, and try to take in the experience myself hoping it will somehow heal broken places in my heart.

Technical difficulties

I don't think I have an accurate "He's the one" Radar. Mine is totally broken and it's taken a few tries to realize this. So sad. I didn't even know I was using a radar until i realized that it doesn't work and I somehow end up with the raw end of the deal. I think I am going to throw my radar away now.

Happy Valentine's day.

Avoidance

"Dodging, shunning, the act of keeping away from or preventing from happening"


and this is what I do. I am hard-core avoiding a guy right now :( I even turned on my shower in case he stopped by so that I would have a good excuse NOT to answer my door. I will even lock my door because I know he could come by and just let himself in if left unlocked. I mean, wow, I'm even a little embarrassed to admit this but truth-telling is apparently a must for healing and I want that. I avoided calling the DMV for two weeks because I did not want to know the truth about the potential outcome of getting yet ANOTHER speeding ticket this year. My mom has always said I'm like an ostrich who hides his head in the sand when the world is hard, or scary.

This is exactly the sort of emotional stuff I've been trying to persevere through in this new season of life. But oh my gosh it's so hard and so much easier to do this instead.

I don't want this to be my posture in hard situations forever. 
God, help me!