An early Father's Day
06/19/2011 08:36 a.m.

I am fatherless. It's not a sentiment, it's just a fact. Frank Betts, my biological father, died in 1994 at the age of 53. But I didn't grow up with him. The man who raised me (whose name will not be spoken upon these pages) ended up being a sick and twisted person who damaged many girls along the way. And my mother's third husband didn't happen along until I was 15 and I was spending a lot of my time at my grandparent's by then.

I know that this (being fatherless) is a huge factor in the dysfunction of my relationships. But knowing doesn't fix things. Even learning how to fix things doesn't always fix things.

At this age, I'm less concerned about "how" the dysfunction occured as I am in just being healthy.

Father's day almost always makes me wonder, though, what it's like to have (or have had) a healthy relationship with one's father. I just...can't relate.

I am currently: not sleeping
Listening to: a sudden but never unexpected rain storm.




Comments (0)

When we lose a four-legged
06/17/2011 05:24 p.m.



They fall in private,
These second-hand tears
Shed for a most decadent blossom;
In honor of the loss
Of her four-legged companion.

But in her grieving glow,
I smile with a straight back
So she can lean,
Bereft,
On a creature of momentary substance.

Such a brilliantly faceted heart,
Smudged for a time
In the shadow of mourning.

I am currently: trying to not cry at work
Listening to: mostly business as usual



Comments (2)

Detachment
06/09/2011 06:26 a.m.

In the end, it's all about attachments, isn't it? Every struggle, every desire, every change, all based on what I'm most attached to. Is the right answer for me, today, to practice detachment?

But then, am I already doing what I'm supposed to be doing? Is my life perfect right where it is? It's hard for me to accept that, today, right in this moment, I may already be walking the divine path for my life. It isn't that it's coming on the wings of some tomorrow (that never gets here, by the way). It's HERE, NOW, as it always has been, as it always will be. Yet, even as I type these words, they feel like fiction. Therefore, they are.

It seems like the missing link would be FEELING the truth of these words. I'm missing the mark, somewhere. I must be, or I would feel differently, wouldn't I? Do I not feel the truth because somewhere in the depths of my ridiculous psyche, I don't want to? Is it because I can't handle the truth of who I really am, or what I'm supposed to be doing? Is it because it's not about feeling at all?

I think I've always believed what I FEEL. Well, that would explain alot of the absurdity that is my life. Isn't it the epitome of foolish to base my decisions and my actions on feeling? Yikes.

I'm praying, with all of the depth and sincerity and honest seeking in me, that God (or my higher self or my guides or destiny or whatever it's called) will allow me to experience my life in whatever ways will help me grow to my best potential, so that I can be a positive contributor to the universe at large.

Yes, I know, a little nauseating, perhaps - but it's truly what I want.

I am currently: the only human in this structure
Listening to: the zoo



Comments (0)

On sharing a loveseat with a new friend...
05/30/2011 05:25 a.m.
At precisely 5:57 pm
After a crowded Sunday Market day
I went to the “discount theatre”
Right next to the Voodoo Room,
All owned by the same folks, apparently.

I was first in line
For the second run
Of an early spring release.

I felt sort of silly,
Being such an early bird,
But I’d heard there was “always a line”,
And that, for under twenty bucks,
You could enjoy a movie,
A big tub of popcorn,
A very large soda,
And a king size Snicker bar.

Being so early,
I’d at least get to sit upstairs.
I’d heard all about “the balcony” too,
And the beer-n-pizza they’d deliver
Right to your own private little table
In front of a really comfy loveseat,
Along with how fast the balcony
Fills up, meaning you have to be in line
At precisely 5:57 pm or before.

As I stood there, all alone,
Waiting for someone to man the ticket booth,
A petite woman, short grey hair,
Whom I’d guess to be around 60 or so,
Crossed the street
At a spry little jog,
And spoke to me in that way,
That small town familiar way.

“A line already? You must be one determined customer!”
Not feeling particularly talkative,
I just nodded, and smiled.
“Well, I’m gonna jog around the block,
And I’ll see you when I come back around.”

With that she disappeared.

When she reappeared about five minutes later,
She said,
“Look at you! You ARE determined, aren’t you?”
This time I answered,
“Well, I came all this way,
So I figure I may as well get a good seat.”

She decided , right then, that since the ticket boy
Was still back flirting with the popcorn girl,
That she’d sneak into the Voodoo
And have a beer.

To my surprise, she inquired,
“Wait, are you 21?”
(Which, of course, is the RIGHT thing to say
To someone who’s actually 48)
And promptly invited me to have a beer with her.

When we finished, and were neatly back in line for the show,
She said,
“Usually I sit in one of the two single arm chairs
They set aside just for me. But tonight,
In celebration of finding a new friend,
I’d much rather share a loveseat with you,
If you think the idea appeals.”

And it did.
So we did.
And now I’m one friend richer.



Comments (1)

Continuing the process
04/27/2011 04:34 a.m.


The baby cannot feed herself, so the champion eats for her - to the point of obesity. The baby has a flat affect; the little girl is outrageous sometimes just to prove it can be done. The baby is comforted by oddities; the little girl secretly allows this to seep into her reality but never tells anyone. The baby does not protest the scalding bath water; the little girl screams long enough for Grandmother to untangle what the problem is. The baby is broken, not worth feeding or diaper changes or attention. The little girl is not afraid to walk right up to someone kind and ask if she can tag along. The baby is powerless to stop or even understand the emotional distress associated with every day, and eventually becomes numb to cope - to the point of appearing mentally handicapped; the three year old girl grabs an 8 year old tricycle stealer by the collar and yanks him off the trike, scolding the entire time. The baby cannot say "no" to her abuser. The little girl can, and does.

For a long time, I thought the little girl was lugging around a dead baby. Misguided loyalty I suspected.

The little girl has come a long way, and she's brought the baby with her, but where do I go from here? Once safely re-integrated into my whole self, I must wake that baby up somehow. But first the little girl must feel safe enough to come home, too, so that she is finally able to let go, and rest.

Damn.

I am currently: Exhausted
Listening to: dreamtime calling




Comments (0)

In the works
04/26/2011 01:56 p.m.


Time for Home

She's not the baby.
She’s 7.
She pulls a wagon dutifully behind,
The cargo long ago silenced
By something she’s still too little to grasp.

Beyond hunger is oblivion.

Because when the crying goes too far,
There is nothing
Close enough to touch
The smell of her own excrement
Surrounds, comforts.

There is no one coming
There is no one coming
There is no one

Sometimes, from another world
The faint singing
Of someone familiar teases
Just out of reach
Her ear drums burst again and again
From all that wanting without touch
Lulled by the void instead.

No cooing; no smiles.
No tears; no demands. She lay there
In that vapid, white noise
Empty

At nearly a year old,
Her grandmother’s hands appear
To lift her out of that nursery-tomb
But Grandmother won't acknowledge Death;
Defies the evidence that
The baby is irretrievable,
Sunken down, down, lost.

No, she is not the baby.
She is the baby's keeper,
The guardian.
She is the one who steps forward
In the baby's stead,
Just a placeholder,
Twinkling as her aunties read to her,
Hug her, take her everywhere.
The baby may be too ill to smile,
So she smiles back at them instead,
Little champion, a brilliant sprite.
Tucking the baby neatly away
Willing the love she’s been given to
Save the baby.

She means to stay just long enough
To see the baby revived.

But now, she’s stuck at 7,
Weary,
Bloodied fingers that won’t let go,
Stubby little soldier girl
Too tenacious to surrender the vigil,
Loaded down with rotting food
The baby can never eat,
Singing lullabies that soothe
Three entire generations
Until the grown up self can come
And bring them all home.



I am currently Reflective
I am listening to April

Comments (0)

Journey on...
04/11/2011 06:08 a.m.

Well, it's time for the annual trip that myself and four of my friends from high school take every year. This year, we're going to head to Idaho...thurs, fri, sat and sunday. My journey starts wednesday night. I take the bus from Astoria to Portland. Then my VERY best friend will pick me up at the greyhound station and we'll drive from there back to her home in Washington, which is actually on the way to Idaho. We'll get up Thurs morning and drive the rest of the way to Idaho, where we'll meet up with everyone.

As I plan for this trip, it occurs to me exactly how much it sucks to not have my car anymore. Well, my grandma's car actually. Moving on from that part of my life has meant completely starting over. No furniture, no car, not even any kitchen stuff. So, packing for this trip, I suddenly realize how carefully I have to pack since the first leg of the journey requires me walking to the bus depot from work and so I can only bring what I can physically carry, which isn't much these days. No bringing my own alcohol, or my own pillows, or a separate little Trader Joe's sack with my toiletries in it. LOL!

But it's all good. I'm where I'm supposed to be and will continue to let the universe guide me. I am loving being with my oldest son and his wife and my grandson. I adore the connections I've made in my new (temp) job.

And I feel myself, finally, healing. In the last year, I'd been on antibiotics six or seven times, could feel my physical health slipping away. And emotionally I experienced so much as well. Life has quieted down, and it feels sooooo wonderful.

It's given me a lot of time to think about many things.

And so the journey continues...

I am currently: sleepy
Listening to: my eyes nudging me to snuggle in for the night



Comments (0)

All is well in Astoria, Oregon
03/12/2011 01:53 a.m.

As it turns out, our little town's tsunami warning ended up being a "non-event".

Wish the same could have been true for Japan. Prayers and healing intentions going out to those affected....


Comments (0)

Valentine's Day
02/14/2011 04:21 a.m.


It just hit me. He broke up with me ONE DAY before Valentine's Day. I mean, no day is a "good" day to break up. But, damn.



Comments (1)

Getting settled
01/04/2011 09:45 a.m.

Astoria is beautiful. My daughter and her sig. other are here, and we all went up the coast on the Washington side and walked on the beach. Absolutely amazing! There is soooo much beach here for me to explore.

And Joe, my oldest, came in to my room last night, and said, "Here, Mom, give me a hug. And tell me, do you like it here?" I do, oh I do like it here.

Tomorrow I have an Access class to take in the morning...as a matter of fact, I should not be awake right now as I need all my wits about me to absorb the information. It's an ACCESS class, and even though it's only a four hour class, I think I'll get quite a bit out of it.

Maybe, if I don't get a job soon, I'll go back to school here. There is a nice little community college and I'd have lots of time to study.

Although, I'd rather get the job I'm applying for, excellent benefits etc!!!

A couple of thoughts have been bouncing around in my head, and one of them is "Sometimes, when you can't feel the feelings, love is a decision." Just something to think about.

This alone time is definitely something I need right now.

I am currently: shutting down for the night
Listening to: doggie sighs

Comments (0)

Next 10 Entries - Previous 10 Entries