Today…Tonight

      I was going to try and blog everyday but some days it’s hard. Right now I feel like curling up in a ball and maybe the world will go away. Yeah. It’s that kind of day. All my life I’ve been self sufficient. I’ve relied on me. And so have others. They’ve relied on me handling everything. But do you know what I want, really want, deep, deep, down inside? For somebody to want to care for me. It’s not about needing it, relying on it, being codependent or desperate, it’s about wanting to share and have someone share back. A really long hug ( maybe an all night one :), someone to grab a heavy box, or the other end of the coach while I’m moving it. Yeah. You read that right. I do it all. Lift, carry, pull, push, change tires, fix doors, paint walls, cook meals, do laundry, and for three years, I did it all with a little one to tote around. Now he’s 11, walking, and sometimes he grabs the other side of the big ol’ box; but I’d like someone I can lean on. Not for a crutch, just for a rest. I really don’t want to be alone, and do everything by myself. I’m aching for that person who’s going to give a shit about me enough to put his whole self in. I’m happy most days. Most days when my friends are astonished at why I’m still standing, I find a reason to be happy. If I were to live alone for the rest of my life I suppose I’d find a way to be happy everyday. But I’d be lying, ignoring a poignant truth, if I denied this longing deep inside of me. I love. And I want to share that love. I want to be loved- inloved, romantic loved- back. I love my son. I love my dog. They’ve taught me how to love and forced me to be brave enough to receive love. Now, I’m ready to try.

      I moved into our new apartment on Sunday evening. Now, it’s Tuesday night. By Friday I owe this new land lady $900. That’s why I can’t get too happy. I don’t know when the other shoe is going to drop. I’m worried. I don’t remember a time in my life when I wasn’t fighting fear. I don’t remember ever feeling safe. The world is so obsessed these days with personal responsibility, and giving things to yourself. I say it’s over rated. Honestly, I’d rather be sharing. I’d rather be wrapped up in a pair of big strong arms, starting off with my father and ending with the man of my dreams. It didn’t happen with my father. He was dead by the time I was 13 and before that,… well, he was funny, I remember that. And then there was a whole lotta yelling and fighting. I don’t know how it feels to be safe with somebody else. I’ve been alone all my life. And then came Shelby. And then came my son. I’ve provided their safety. They know how it feels to feel safe with somebody else. They can trust other people, because I’ve shown them they can. But what about me? There really are somethings you can’t give to yourself. Somethings, take two. I’m not talking about sex. No way. That’s easy and trivial. I mean the fall back and trust that someone is there to catch you kind of safe feeling- being able to be secure enough within myself to trust somebody else with myself. Fuck self reliance. Been there, done it, since I was 13, yeah 13. (Because at 13 my father died and my mother, whose loyalty is always to a man, took off with her second husband and left me in the hands of my bitter, probably scared, and severely over worked 19 year old sister). I remember how that felt, to be abandoned by her. To know I wasn’t as important as the next boyfriend. It hurt so much I shed everything about me that reminded me of her. No more jewelry, no more dresses, no more boys. I would never be like her. The one that hurt me. I’d be self reliant. I’d do it all without a man. The way she should have- to be there for me. It was a valiant decision. And it’s made me strong. It’s made me self sufficient. And it’s made me a very lonely person. I closed myself off to connecting with men because I saw my mother’s example of connecting and I hated it. It hurt and it was selfish. Kind of like a child who witnesses there parent abusing a drug. So they swear off drugs and alcohol, so afraid of repeating their parent’s relationship with the substance. Not that kids should try drugs – LOL. It’s an extreme example. But to decide to cut yourself off from an entire relm of experiences just to attempt to do what you wished your parent had done, which was not get lost so they could have been there when you looked for them. When you needed to cry, or be afraid. So you could have done those things and been okay with needing to do them. And instead, you learned not to. Because nobody would be there to protect you while you were weak. It’s a fucked up lesson to learn. That you always have to be strong, or else. Fucked up.
Because there is a strength in being able to be vulnerable. Being able to let go, and give over the reins to somebody else sometimes. And that’s what you learn when your parents are there, when someone is there to care for you when you are small, and weak. When they aren’t, then you don’t. And a part of you gets hardened that was never meant to be- your heart. And so you get heavier then others. And you get darker. There is something inside you that doesn’t belong so heavy. So locked away. And I feel, despite agreeing with the concept of self reliance, that the people who subscribe to it above all else, were children like me. Who really learnt it as a survival skill, instead of a thriving skill. What I’ve started to realize is this:
There is a different kind of reliance out there that takes even more courage. The connective kind. The kind that is strong enough to know life isn’t about self reliance, it’s about connection. Connection to our world, our universe and our fellow life forces. Look at me! I’m self sufficient. Great. Now I’m ready to be loved. Loved and connected without being worried that I’m not confident enough, strong enough, smart enough or self sufficient enough because tonight, and many other nights, I’d rather be wrapped up in an all night long hug- with a real person, not just a dream I have total control of, safe in my mind, still out of reach from my heart.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s