A Child's Love - Its Own Thing

My mother is - forever - telling me that I should write a book.  I’ve reached the point where I’ve gone from feeling sick in my stomach to laughing when she says that.

And - of course - my mother wouldn’t understand that.  But then - there’s a whole lot about me that this whole friggin’ world doesn’t understand about me - much less my mother - family - friends - or - any other human being that knows me.

Actually - I’m lying.  There would be a couple Therapists that might get where I’m coming from.

The now absent feeling of sickness in my stomach came from knowing any book I wrote could - very well - kill my mother.  That sickness comes from living a life of being frightened - only feeling safe enough if I just hold everything inside.

I’ve learned recently - whatever it is - it will come out - one way or another.  None of us is able to stop that from happening in our lives.  And the story of my life would put the proof in that bowl of pudding - with absolutely - no doubt.

I think this last round of being back in therapy may have quite a bit to do with being able to laugh now - when my mother mentions the idea of writing a book.  I’m feeling much lighter - despite looking like I doubled my weight over winter.  But more importantly - I feel much stronger.

My guilt tank is emptying.  Finally - I found the flange - and the tool - for emptying that damn thing.  That tool would be the wrench that tells me it’s okay to speak what is - whenever whatever it is - just - is.

Did you know - there are people in this world that can do some of the cruelest things to you - put you through some of the most horrible experiences in your life - and, yet - you can still love them deeply - despite all the horrible Hell?

Holding a ship load of - stuff - inside - brought on a whole lot of damage to my life.  Not being able to speak it out made it all come out in - different ways.  Unfortunately - there’s a whole lot that never unloaded.  It became severely full of - infection.  Hence - my time in therapy.

Whatever it all was - it was.  It was very real - and cannot be denied.  Yet - there’s a miracle in all that mess.  That miracle is - the fact that I am here today.  I survived.

I have no idea how in Hell I did it.  But - I survived.  And even better - I have managed to love my mother/father figures in my life as if they had raised me with absolute perfection and around nothing but pure joy in Heaven.

If only teenagers cared enough to take words from older folks deeply enough to learn what not to do in life.

If only words were enough.

There are not enough words to describe the amount of difference that reality could make to their own lives.

They could soar to any height in their lives that they wish - so much more easily.