Peace. Of Mind.

I remember a fight my parents had years ago. I was in High School. My Mom had gone out the night before to some social event for work, and didn't come home. Well, she did come home eventually, just not at an hour one would have expected. My Mom was having an affair. I mostly knew this because I had figured it out. Not that it was difficult. If you listened to only half of what she said, it was still hard to miss each time she mentioned a man she worked with. A man she had  nicknamed "Cutie".  My father obviously didn't listen to half of what she said, because I don't believe he knew. At least, not until that fight. I remember them screaming at each other and my mothers ridiculous cries of "I don't remember. I don't remember where I was. What do you want from me?"  And I remember my father saying the same phrase over and over again. "Piece of mind. I want a little Piece of mind."

At the time I really didn't know what the hell he was talking about.  What does that even mean? Why does he want a piece of mind? And who's mind? Hers? Cuties? I was utterly confused and just wished he would stop saying it. But he didn't. He said it over and over again.

Fast forward twenty something years later, to a woman with a much firmer grasp of idioms and sayings. I get it now. Peace of mind. That's what my father wanted. He wanted that thing. That thing that I've never ever had.

Peace of Mind: Fig. a tranquility that results from not having worries, guilt, or problems.

By that particular definition, I find it hard to believe that such a thing even exists, but I suppose it does in short doses for some people. I, myself, haven't really experienced it. People like me normally require some sort of drug or substance to induce such a tranquil state. Prescription drugs can do it. Sort of. I would imagine Heroine gives Peace of Mind as well. I wouldn't know. But the kind of Peace of Mind my father was looking for, didn't require drugs. I know this because I've been searching it for it my whole life. The kind of Peace of Mind he was looking for required only the truth. Truth, can also bring about Peace. Of mind.

While my literal teenage brain may have been a little confused back on that faithful day, my adult brain now knows exactly what he was asking for. I also know exactly how he was feeling. Empathy? Perhaps. Sometimes I feel like my entire life has been a series of "Who's Lying to Me Now.". While each episode changes scenes and brings in different characters, the theme remains the same.

I wonder if being lied to bothers other people in the way it does me. I wonder if it changes them somehow. Twisting and bending them in ways they never thought possible, until they reach a point where they can no longer recognize their own reflection. I wonder. The characters in my life who do the lying always throw out the same phrases like..."it's no big deal." and "you're over reacting."  They've all done it. Each and every one.  But I also know that just because they say that, doesn't make it true. Because, after all, they're the Liars, aren't they.

Hope, who's mind will forever be searching for it's piece. Peace.

The longest hiatus since the last long hiatus...

Well, that was certainly a long break, even though it was nothing like anything that would even closely resemble a "break". Where have I been? (asked no one, ever.) Eh, I've been around. In all honestly I've been sitting right here, in this very seat. So close. So very, very close and yet so fucking far away.

I wish I could say it was something exciting and fabulous that kept me away, but unfortunately, it was work. A lot of it. I worked days, some nights, and most weekends since the end of October. It was a nice run, but with Christmas, and winter and extra bills, I sit here today, two days before Christmas with nothing left to show for it. I'm trying to not to let it feel like it was all for nothing, but...well, it feels like it was all for nothing. *sigh*.

In other news, I finally broke down and made "the call" to my parents. Not before I had sent a second email, once again, trying to... I don't know... break through a brick wall? The response was generic, completely ignoring the issue at hand. If it wasn't for my Father's Birthday being at the beginning of December I would still be resisting contact. But my old friend, Guilt, stopped by for a visit and I had a hard time resisting his argument. I made excuses like, it's not his fault he can't stand up to her...and he's old now, he's set in his ways. He's from a different time. A time when parents didn't know anything. That last one made me laugh. Mostly because it's kind of true. So, anyway, I did the right (right?) thing and called to wish him a Happy Birthday after sending him a card with some Birthday money. I also spoke with my mother. After nearly three months of no contact, She acted as if nothing had happened. She addressed nothing I had confronted her about in my emails and she was almost cheerful. It was a difficult call for me for a few reasons. This "pretending" she does isn't new. This has gone on my whole life and was confusing at best, crazy making at it's worst. I dealt with it though. I put on my mask and pretended right along with her, talking about nothing of any real importance and only offering bits and pieces of information. Nothing more than I would share with a complete stranger. This seemed to make her happy. A week later her Birthday rolled around, so I repeated this same act of sending the card, money and making the call. The incident was almost identical to the one before, except for the part where I had to pick out the card. 

Mom, even when I was younger, I knew these things for sure...

We have such a special connection, Mom.

Mom, I love how easy it is to talk to you.

Happy Birthday to a good listener, a great friend...

You're incredible, Mom.

I've learned a lot from you, Mom...just by watching how you do things and how you approach life...

What is a Mom? She's words that encourage, hugs that care and hands that help when you need it the most.

Mom, what would I do without you? Who would I call when I'm having one of those days?

And on and on they went, one sappy card after another, filled with words like trust and love and talking and listening and closeness. I couldn't find anything at all that said..."Sorry we don't connect. Happy Birthday anyway!"  I finally settled on something I could have sent my elderly neighbor, along with Christmas cards and more money. 

That was a week or so ago. It's now two days before Christmas and I've yet to receive a Christmas card for either myself or my son. Should I be surprised?  No.  Of course not. I'm am not a stupid woman. I swear to you I am not and to prove it, I've decided that in 2014 I'm going to stop acting like one. 

Drink and be Festive! (My new Holiday wishes designed to offend only recovering alcoholics)

Hope, who only had this time to write because it got too dark to paint. Thank you, daylight savings time. 

99 Problems - Number Two

This is definitely a problem for me. Approaching a subject, whether it is because I feel hurt, ignored, mad, taken advantage of, used, dismissed, sad or whatever emotion may happen to be the result of another action. Before I approach the subject I experience an intense feeling of fear. I'm not sure why, except that maybe past experience has proven to me that sharing my feelings is wrong. I tend to latch on to a first experience and will assume that all experiences will be the same. While I know intellectually this isn't necessarily true, again, experience keeps proving to me, that yes, most times this is true.

I can rarely express any emotion that isn't positive without tears or without anger. And often times the tears are when I am angry, and the anger is when I am hurt. What normally happens if I have a problem I want to discuss with someone or if I feel like there is something that needs to get out in the open, I will be filled with fear. Fear of rejection, fear of indifference, fear of attack, fear of yelling, fear of dismissal, and fear of the ever famous eye roll. That fear then turns into anxiety, as most difficult emotions do when you are not allowed to release them. The anxiety turns to panic and before you know it I'm sick. Physically sick and taking medication to try to control this tornado inside of me. The problem is I don't want it to be this way, and as much as I don't believe anything in this life, I somehow manage to muster up a tiny bit of hope. Hope that it doesn't have to be this way. Hope that I can be brave and voice my feelings and they might be heard. They might be understood.

So, I do. Not even midway through I start to see all my initial fears becoming realities, which reaffirms that I shouldn't share my feelings with anyone. Midway through I start to absorb the emotions of the other person. The anger. The denial. The yelling. That I'm not cut out for the type of communication where people aren't allowed to communicate. I'm not cut for the type of communication where you can't actually say what you feel, without being condemned.

In the end, I do what I always do. I write and turn in all inward. Each time it chips away at my connection with other people. It validates my mistrust. And it sets me apart in a way, that getting back ends up being a long, hard, painful journey. One that I start to doubt is even worth the trip anymore.

Simple? Nothing is simple.

In unrelated, but somewhat related news, I took a step today. I finally responded to my mother's email. After the last two months of letting it eat me alive, this morning something happened that made me realize when you have nothing, you have nothing to lose. When you have nothing to lose, what's left to fear?

It was fairly short and straight to the point. I stressed why I hadn't contacted her, what I thought of her actions and behavior and I also expressed that I was not expecting her approval or understanding. That these were simply my feelings and why I have been avoiding contact.

I'm not sure what will happen next. I'm not sure I even care what happens next.

Hope, who only has 97 problems to go...