A New Year

In a few  hours we will be headed into a New Year. 2012. I am sure I am not the only one who is ready to send this sucker off with a big bang. Adios, see ya....
Lessons learned, enough already, I am good thank you, really. But.... what has been fantastic in the very end of this year,  spending time with people. Really taking time I think in a way I have never done during Holidays. Slowing down, breathing, allowing.  Only when letting the old, funky things that no longer serve us out, can the new come in.  Taking that risk however big or small really doesn't matter. Sometimes I think the smaller ones are full of the magic we really allow ourselves  to notice. The big ones take time to digest, no hurry... layer by layer.

Raym and I are sitting here watching Twilight Zone as I hear Katie and her friends getting dolled up to hit the town. I must be getting old... that makes me tired thinking about the work it takes. I compromised and put a shawl on and perfume over my sweats, that's what being married along time will allow. Noel, Katie and Thalia just headed out. Our usual ok, don't care how much you drink designated driver speech.  And they are off.....  
   I am so grateful  for our kids, our life,  the rocky road we ride at times. It keeps us growing, strong,
 interested in each other.... ourselves.  This next year will be the year of letting others in to our little circle of life. It is time.

Moments of Sweetness

French Fries, drive thru style, always do the trick after a long night out, no matter how old you are.
Last night was no exception, and it was a long one.

We went to a 50th Anniversary Party for a couple I knew long ago. It started with a Mass, then a reception in the Church Social Hall. This couple was a big part of my life when I was at St Lukes School, around the age of fourteen, fifteen years old.
Celebrating their 50th, so there were some people I knew I was going to see. I was kind of happy  many did not show. The  saying, "There's no going home," well that has rung true for me since I was 16, when I left home more or less for good.

Being at this event rang even more hollow. I saw a few people I went to Grade School with, thankfully a couple of the fellas who have my sense of humor,  playful,  and that was wonderful.
Sitting in Church during the Mass for their Anniversary, I did the only thing I could....
took many photographs to capture how I felt. If I didn't do this I would creep even deeper inside myself, which I felt was already happening, as I looked around and had the vaguest of memories of some people that I saw from my childhood.

To entertain myself as a child sitting in Mass, I would look at people's shoulders. I never said I was normal, I would just do comparison studies of all the different styles of shoulders, and that would get me pretty far where I needed to go. Then I moved on to hair, styles and definitely lack of. Toupees askew, color variation, that fascinated me beyond, and then some.
So many things amused me as a child... some things never change.  Yesterday sitting in this beautiful old Church with Raym, I was just looking around at what felt like where I have come from.
Raym didn't grow up with any particular religion most of his life, and I grew up with such strict
Catholic upbringing, it made us kind of amusing together. Before we were walking into the Church and people were milling around, he said, " Do you want me to say Clare Gagliardi really loud?" Now I can take a joke sometimes pretty well, but my boy fellow almost got his teeth knocked in. I didn't even realized how tripped I was.

Facing our pasts is not always easy. Especially when you see 10 Priests on the Altar doing this Shindig.
Again... behind the camera, watching. I wanted to flee so badly, too much history. Two of the priests I knew from St. Lukes, one very well... way too many skeletons.   He was the one leading the Parade.
It's funny, even saying that again... The State Secrets I am revealing. I am so conflicted writing all this.  I have no problem with The Catholic Church, it just isn't my belief system anymore.

 Sitting down at the dining tables at the reception with a few ex classmates, we started chatting about past things we did as a kid.  Now it was particularly funny all these Priests at the next table over, but as we really got into the conversation it no longer mattered. I had no idea that my sister and my
"car heists" (sneaking my parents car out underage) were legendary round  Temple City.
I was fourteen, Anne seventeen we would take the family wagon on pleasure excursions  on certain Friday Nights with certain gal pals.  It just made sense. Now this gal at the table, very nice but quite sensible looked deep in my eyes and asked me if  would have liked to have done my life differently.... A redo perhaps? I just stared and said, " But how would I have known differently?"

That sums up how I felt at St. Lukes. I was me. How or why would I need or have wanted to do my life differently?  Yet, that was the constant message crammed down my throat and everyone close to me -You are not okay as you are. Yet as I sat in this Church last night..... I looked at who supposedly did it right and thought I will leave that one alone, I am a work in process.

What I do know, I looked around and knew that I had a perspective from where I came.
Festive evening, I was very happy for the couple celebrating 50 years.  The people I knew from a long time ago that were there last night, were just that and no more.
Only in my memory had I thought  there was more to it. Seeing things in the light of day, maybe that time was just what got me through until the next step and the next step and that is all.
Moments of sweetness.

That's Disgusting

Some would think that title "That's Disgusting" would imply gross spiders, overflowing toilets, things that creep you out. Things of true disgust.
Now I have said "That's disgusting" one hundred million times, but not like you think. No, not because I think everything in life is disgusting. It is because I am a mimic and copied my mother for so long as she stated how disgusting most things are. It has become a  way of life for me (to those close to me) to constantly mimic my mother and father's voices with complete dialogue. "Bill, that's disgusting."

Come along this momentary journey if you will, into my bizarre brain. My mother, a very Catholic,
thrifty scottish woman from a very large family. She wanted 12 kids, but settled for 6.... that would be our dear Frances. Enter  Bill, my father, as Italian as can be, full blooded small knit family from New Jersey.
Coffee klatch, biscotti eating sort..... well, my mom dug the biscotti at least.

They met on an Air  Force Base in England, in a Mess Hall. She was a teacher..... they both apparently liked to eat.
No wonder I am always so hungry. That was  their love affair, food-  'nuff said. Some things never change. I am pretty sure we were conceived by those biscotti....
 " Frances, if I put some biscotti on the bedside.... "
 We know this only happened six times - six children/ six biscotti

My middle sister and  youngest brother do the best imitation of That's Disgusting.
It doesn't take much for anything to be disgusting. 
Or, "What is that filth you are watching on TV," as she sidewinders her way into the room, acting like she is not watching. Repressed Catholic Woman wanting to not be bad.... but "curious." I can just see my sister Anne right now saying oh Frances is "curious."
 We would read Cosmo Magazine in high school. "You girls are reading that filth again, how disgusting."
We would just howl. We would always up the ante so she would say something else was filth or disgusting.

When it was bathing suit time.... picture the 70's, Montgomery Ward's rocked my mom's world.
My sisters would pick  out bikinis, I being the youngest sister and a brat, would pick out practically turtle neck bathing suits and tell my mother "I thought these would be more appropriate for the girls"-  Cute and practical they were. "Practical" was her favorite word. Still hate that word today.
My sisters were on to my shenanigans... couldn't keep a straight face. But it was too late. Mumsy was convinced these 1920's frocks rocked. My job was done. ( Raym just said he liked that I am amusing myself, trust me... doesn't take much)

Any form of affection, skin showing,  well come to think of it..... I don't know what isn't disgusting.
Long hair is "hot." No, not sexy hot... don't get ahead of yourself. "Isn't that hair hot, wouldn't you be so much cooler with it short?" Pixies, butches,  word of the day.  To make one a dude when originally a chick...... that would be my mother's job. Why, I don't know. She tried desperately to make her daughters boyish.
Whatever "filth" happened in her life I will never know. Having been the object of her "filth" was never an easy thing, although I developed a wicked sense of humor and fairly good at imitating them.
Survival, I had to, what was the other choice? Filthy and disgusting constantly~ instead of beauty, love,
sweetness.

I can laugh, but through many bruises developed a tender and compassionate heart for others who carry their own wounds.  Humor may be my defense mechanism at times.... but it really is my JOY.
Laughter just feels so good.

Billy's The Writer

The title of this story makes me laugh.... "Billy's The Writer".
But not long ago all I think I would do when I heard that is cry, take those words very seriously and  be surly. Ray is laughing sitting next to me, commenting that I am on fire that the keys are blazing.  It is because I can laugh, smirk, do jumping jacks, whatever and not trip about those words that ruled  my life and kept me from what I actually am fairly passionate about... WRITING.
Just to own that I am a writer has come in the past few months. I have been writing since I was thirteen.  But labels are labels, and when you take them seriously, they can shut you down. This label  from my mother that Billy, my brother,  was the writer in the family, well that was that.

I  had a very eccentric, cool "Aunt Mary" ( my Mom's Aunt)  with the best sense of humor who really seemed to "get" me. She had some flaming red hair and seemed ahead of her time.  My Mother held some anger at Aunt Mary for the way she felt she treated her Mother, so I am sure that when Aunt Mary showed me any attention or kindness this unglued my Mom. Just guessing here. But this Aunt was the only one who ever read my stuff in High School besides teachers who said it was any good, encouraged me. My Mom, when Aunt Mary or anyone else would show me any type of attention regarding my writing or otherwise, would loudly proclaim to all in earshot that Billy was the writer.... not me.

In High School I had two wonderful teachers who always encouraged me to write. But I let my mother get the best of me. I didn't listen to them, instead negativity- and let self doubt rule me.  I don't know why some people like to make others feel so small. What I do know, because of it.  I am better, stronger more self assured today. Having someone constantly playing against you, not building you up, challenging you, not for love ~ unkind reasons. It will either make you insane, which I did feel,  then something happens.
 If you surround yourself with enough love, truth, goodness, belief that this is not the way. It may take years.... it did. Finally one day you wake up.
We are all capable of finding our true path. Whatever, whoever that "thing"  has kept you stuck in fear. We all have  known, experienced this at some point .... the great equalizer in life.
We are not alone, not so different. Why can't Billy be the Writer, and Clare.... and Susie and Bobby.  Johnny be President and Mark be a Doctor and so it goes. Who decided what we can and can't be?  A person who possibly had their dreams squished out- became so bitter to pass it on to their kids. The bitter pill of hopelessness. Well bite me... or them.  No thank you. I do not accept nor pass it around the table.
My wish is for everyone to dream. To 2012  and  all the beautiful dreamers, everywhere.  My beautiful hubby says don't forget to include the doer's as well.
 Can I hear a hallelujah from the Choir.....

The Attic

Picturing  an eight year old looking out a musty attic with make shift louvered windows exposed to the elements. I  held my  breath as he continued on this morning, listening as my husband described his living conditions growing up in his home, his bedroom. Not often has he spoken of life on Ontario Ave. Usually with some disconnection, acting as though every child had the same experience as him. This morning was different, why  I am not entirely sure.  It has been a time of release, forgiveness, room to let go, heal, understand. This is the first time I saw a true connection of horror in himself, for the little boy who came out of such an environment.

This is also why I understand from my soul why he loves Walt Disney. Why he  is so drawn to  The Company when it really is so the opposite of who he really is. I can barely contain myself as I am writing this. This is the love of my life I am writing about, and I know his pain so deeply. After thirty years in a relationship together, you know each other's owies. I know the little boy in the attic.

Though he could not possibly believe me throughout the years, that is the boy I have loved and held so dear to my heart. That is the boy that would learn at such an early age to create. That is where this story really begins.

The Attic. I cannot deal with this place as a mother  thinking of my children. I knew this place, he took me up there the first Thanksgiving I  ever went to his house. I was 20 years old and just plain stared. It was dirty, moldy, dark. I don't think it was any different from the time of his boyhood. Back then  the only thing covering the walls were burlap. Behind them exposed wire, no drywall. Rickety, dangerous, steep  unfinished stairs, leading down to the kitchen his father had built before leaving their family. 

An extension cord hooked up  from downstairs was his only form of electricity. The firetrap he lived in was inconceivable. As he walked up the stairs as a small boy, the overwhelming stench of rats at times, dead and alive would frighten him to the point that he would finally act as though it just wasn't there. 

My heart breaks for the man I love,  who deserved to be loved, nurtured, comforted. Instead a little boy went deeply into a fantasy world, which much later came to serve The Disney Family, more than they could ever know.  

Life is funny like that. What pains us so greatly in our childhood, becomes our greatest strengths in adulthood. Not having a TV or radio, Ray created. He put things together. His love of  erector sets, trains, fascination with how things were made stimulated his mind.At the age  of twelve, Ray decided to get some cheap wood paneling and make a room. Goodbye burlap.... he began figuring out for  himself how to create spaces.  For the ceiling, no more exposed rafters, cork panels. I sometimes wonder if his Grandfather had been able to see what circumstances he was living in upstairs ..... I  guess I just so much wished for him a gentler life.  But everything was about hiding and pretending. Life based on fear. Waiting for the welfare check. Living in such a beautiful area, beautiful neighborhood. Praying everyone would not know all your family secrets.  Pretty hard to hide the stumbling father who wanders to the neighbors for another drink.  

I could not be prouder of the man my husband is. The boy who lived through so much fear, and is finally feeling it enough to say I  never deserved that. No one does, ever. A mother who checked out Spent every penny and sold everything, even what was the boys. I understand even more why Christmas has been unbearable for my husband. He would work at  the local hobby shop. His mother would put his Christmas Present on credit, never pay it... and Ray would have to work it off. I am learning to forgive for his sake. We need to forgive together.

This Christmas was beautiful. We went to The Train Store  together, and he picked out what he
wanted. Was I as patient as I could have been? Working on it in Train Stores.

I understand why he creates, why he goes  so deep into a process most will never understand, including myself at times. Walt Disney is a very lucky Company indeed to have this creative man.  He is the Epitome to me, of what an Imagineer is.... A dreamer and a doer.

The Truth of The Matter

As a writer, getting to the truth of the matter, the heart, the meat of the subject is so important. Easier said than done. While thinking about this story,  I  just put away some hearty portions of waffles and sausage. Katie and I were chatting about it, were talking about what is normal and to whom? Every family  grows with their own norm, adapts  then steps out of childhood, hopefully untainted as possible. Some come out  more unscathed than others.

  Even writing this I find myself asking questions such as, " What is too much to bear, who wants to hear it, why, and is it important to anyone but me?" Perhaps all writers go through these emotions.     Layer by layer things become more apparent to me,  even if one person strips a layer, or says  that makes sense, I get that about my life.  I cannot tell you how uneasy I feel and want to eat more waffles and maybe some candy bars. I want to to call Raym and tell him to stop by 7- 11 on the way home. That seems to have been a coping skill when I am tripped, overloaded,  just can't deal with much more. Unfortunately it just isn't working too well anymore.

So I will just simply write as I have. The truth shall set you free. Well it has, but  it has hurt like a bitch. That's the part they don't give you in the handouts.... the aftermath of the truth.
The family I come from, stories I have written  about them. Yet for some reason I feel like I am letting out  The Vaulted Presidential Sealed Secrets. The Good Catholic Obediently Trained Girl Of Youth. Behave at all costs. Many can identify with this one  I am sure: What goes on behind closed doors.

Interestingly enough I never know where my words, or thoughts will take me. How I ended up with this one is so random. I do know it is tucked in deep where I no longer want it, deep in the pain reservoir. The year is ending. These are not mine to keep anymore in my mind, my heart, my spirit.    Owies that are in there and pop up at the most inopportune moments. Do I feel like they will never end at times, absolutely. But by denying where I come from, what has made me who I am, that only keeps me stuck.For those of us who grew up in environments that were unpleasant, we feel them,  do the best we can with each step we take, as we move forward in life.

Just because someone may tell me, every step along the way to leave the past in the  past ~ does not make it so until I am ready. Having respect for one's process, I have learned is the key to the greatest healing. Of course from the outside looking in we can always say,"Why don't they get it, see it, do it."
It it is all about walking in someone else's shoes, having patience, empathy and respect.  I battle with that daily for myself and others. Walking in someone else's shoes.   The more I am learning patience, compassion, empathy for myself, the walk fills me with lightness.

A Different Dance

This Holiday Season has been one for the records for me, probably for the average bear it would be just regular doings.... but I have changed so many  beliefs, comfort zones, patterns. I have literally come out of my cave and jumped into life, what I have been missing! I know in life you are only ready when you are ready, guess I finally am.

Raym and I drove to Newport Beach last night to have dinner with some friends. We are  not the most social of butterflies, it takes a lot to  get us out of our nest. The drive down was quiet, which was very unusual for us. We always talk, at least this gal does. We had been rushing around getting ready, also putting together finishing touches on a gift we were giving our friends. Being a sensitive artist I got pissy when I was trying to finish up my project, when I felt Ray was hovering and not particularly supportive. This time my name was stamped on it. Being the wife of such an incredibly talented, creative man, I learned a long time ago...  go with the flow. 

It wasn't that he didn't care about my feelings,  we were just in different spaces, but in that moment as anyone creative knows when you are trying to get something done, and someone is too close,watching, 

breathing wrong when you are stressed and rushing..... well you get the picture.

So like I said, traffic from Pasadena to Newport Beach in rush hour I started with Meditation/Calm music until I was crawling out of my skin and cranked up the Disco. When he heard me replaying, "I will Survive," a Gloria Gaynor tune for the 4th time,well I think that cracked the ice. Funky Town was on it's way. I was in no hurry.... I had my disco if  pissy lasted too long.

 

Gloria Gaynor took a back seat finally, and it seemed as traffic lightened up finally, so did our hearts and the conversation. We do not fight often, so when we get silent it is very loud. I can tell by the way Ray drives, when he is upset, it is more herky jerky than the smooth, controlled  man I know. Like little anger spurts on the ignition, and then bigger ones. I would rather just chat.  I am just like a bomb, an explosion, no mystery about when I am angry. I roar like  Lion, than it is done and I will purr like a kitten again. This herky jerky was getting to me..... just say it or let's listen to Funky Town or some Rick James. 

I think the bottom line I have come to from that long drive was this. I am coming into my own having always been the support system, the wife, mother of.....

To have the kind of family we have wanted, in order for it to work for us, this is what we needed.

Raym, in the earlier years when our kids were so young, worked for a Belgian Company. He would therefore fly to Belgium about every six weeks for years.  Sometimes it would be literally at a moments notice. Adaptability has been critical. Especially because Raym is so creative, and how excruciating the creative process can be.  Before Disney, he was a Consultant until 41 years old.  That is quite an adjustment to begin at a Corporation, becoming a Team Member when you have always depended solely on yourself, good or bad it falls on your shoulders. Half the time he  went to an  office, the other half a home office. So giving him space to breathe, I have always been more  than aware of this need.

Now,  I think he is learning the same thing about me. It is a different dance.

 Through my writing and photography, little by little coming back to life in different ways, he is  watching me blossom. 

The roles are reversing. I know how proud he is of me, my whole family is. They want to watch me fly.  Having always been in the cheering section so long, it is hard to step out in front and say.... I want.

I always want my family to be happy, healthy, know how precious and loved they are.

I am listening, with new ears, really listening for all the good they want for me.

This New Year that is coming will be the year of really exploring, stretching, wanting.

I am so excited. I have such a wonderful cheering section leading the way. 

That's The Way It's Supposed To Look

Sometimes I admit I get lost in the idea of what something is supposed to look like in movies. I think it is left over from childhood fantasy.  Christmas Day always has been the relaxing let down part for  me. Presents were opened last night.  Christmas Eve has always held the  Magic. Raym and I were talking this morning about formality and how at times I can get a little uptight. Matt laughed from the kitchen as he was making breakfast. A sweet wry  smile actually crossed his face. I said that if I could I would glue everyone down to their chairs and keep them straight and perfect while we were eating on Christmas Dinner.  The table perfect. It  has absolutely nothing to do with my sweet family whatsoever, and I am so far from  perfectionism as you will find.  


My parents have had the same exact ritual since we were children.  I have held on to the best times I remember, allowing me to be in the present. I can honestly say they have done the best they know how, with their combined parenting skills. In the earlier years with six kids it was mania, with presents being ripped open all at once, running around, and lot's of food being devoured. It seemed enough, how would I know the difference? As we all married, had kids of our own... more mania, running around  and the beat went on. But something changed, I wanted more. I wanted the way it was supposed to look  in the movies. This was a far cry from that. My parents cooking dinner, cleaning the house, and wrapping the presents all on Christmas Day or thereabouts. Whatever kid still living there or showing up that moment would be the sucker caught in their hurricane to help. I never could figure out why I felt so unhappy, I tried very hard to make it feel otherwise. When I tried to change things, my mother would hover over  me and just stare with full commentary. I don't know about anyone else who is creative, but being in a creative process while there is a hovering fool.... well that calls for some teeth bashing. Of course I am kidding, but you know you are thinking, get the hell out of here and hover elsewhere.

At the last minute before people would arrive, the parents would still be disheveled, angry, in their sweats, pajamas, unshowered,  and yelling.  As  soon as everyone arrived we would have to eat immediately, and I mean..... immediately. Presents opened quickly, thoughtlessly, all at once.The very first time I  understood the concept of opening gifts one at a time, was when I went to Raym's Mom's house for Christmas.  Just him, his bro and mom. A  very quiet shindig indeed.It freaked me out to say the least, where were all the wild banshee? Loud noise, fast eating, panic, yelling, anger. Well, there was anger he didn't escape that. They opened gifts one by one VERY SLOWLY.  Did not get it, but kind of dug it.  It  seemed like crickets and tumbleweeds to me but I was 20, to be expected.

 Raym and I have learned so much from one another. He married a tornado, and I married  a slow moving train. To outward appearances at times when a tornado speeds toward a train, especially a slow moving one.... hmmm. But this train picks up speed as the tornado  slows down..  The train now rounds the bend with ease. That is us. We compliment  each other and are more alike than not.So many things we understand and respect in each other.  Creativity, love for our children, for each other, values, commitment, humor, passion, sense of adventure, childhood experiences.

These gifts we have learned to  blend for our family. Beauty that is critical to both of us as artists. Communication/honesty/love/passion/ not staying somewhere for the sake of staying. Nothing is worth that. I wish  my parents well.That is what they know, where there comfort zone is. From a distance it is so much easier not to get caught up in the anger, confusion, I have enough of my own to contend with for a lifetime.  Mine is looking into my husband and children's eyes expressing what they mean to me. We all have our  own ways, I am honoring mine. I have to do it not just the way I think it is supposed to look.... but how I feel. I am.

The Sparkliest Jewels

It is Christmas Morning as I write. The house is  quiet except for  the  Christmas music I am listening to. I feel  a sense of calm,  peace and appreciation I am not sure I have ever known.
Natalie Cole is singing "Silent Night."  I  feel each word,  the music, their meaning.  Last night was by far the most  peaceful Christmas Eve my family and I have experienced. Ray made  a  delicious meal. I tend to get much more complicated, formal. He breaks it down to simple elegance. I  took mental notes.

We didn't do the usual table upstairs, seemed too formal. Everyone wanted to sit downstairs in the family room. The Christmas lights from the tree glowing, the fireplace warming us, we sat around the table and began to really unwind. It has been a long year that we all were ready to have draw to an end. Ray and I have a tradition on  Birthdays, Holidays with our kids. We take as much time  needed, going around the room one at a time, letting each person know what they mean to us.  It was very moving,  maybe because everyone's year had been a little more challenging.  We always have shared so deeply from our hearts. This year  more layers were stripped away and gratitude seemed to be the theme for one another.

I could not be prouder of the adults my children are becoming. Through trial and error, challenges, opening their hearts so wide to new experiences. I watch their fearlessness with awe. Most of all just how kind they are, willing to give even when their hearts get  bruised. I have even more gratitude this year  for  Raym. For giving me the gift of  skinning my knees.

That was our theme last night, how necessary skinned knees are and why I was especially proud of Matt and Katie this year. For banging those suckers up.... they both did a lot of scraping, I did too. I did not trust that I would be loved or have  bandages big enough for my scraped knees. Of course that is fear talking, from the child deep within too terrified  to do it wrong.
Raym, actually having been a teacher many years has such patience. His love is like the warmest blanket that wraps around you on a cold winters night. He whisks you in front of a crackling fire, while gently rubbing your back. Then, placing a warm mug in your hand....  whispering in your ear, "Everything is going to be alright."
I am so grateful to have this kind of love. I do not take it for granted. I appreciate it more this week,
this time of scraped knees, lessons learned more than ever. Trust.

While shopping about a month ago, I found the most incredible books for Matt and Katie. While reading the books in the store, as all the hustle and bustle of Christmas Shopping was going on.... I just stood there in the store crying. This book was so beautiful. It expressed everything and more how I feel for my children. This was the closest thing to how  I express myself as a writer. In the end of the book she always writes "you are loved." That has always been my favorite thing to say. I knew this was meant to be. One was called, "On the Night You Were Born"... that was for  Matt. The other was, "Wherever You Go My Love Will Follow," for Katie. Each read them aloud, it was a moment just watching, listening to them. Knowing they are at an age to drink in and understand how much they are truly loved by their parents.  Ray and I looked at each other, our hearts one. 

My family are the sparkliest jewels, Christmas lights on my tree, in my heart. Letting go and telling  truth to myself has allowed me to be present this Christmas Day. It has gone against all that I previously believed was the right thing to do.  It has been the toughest and best decision I have ever made. I chose life, love, health, happiness, a future. Merry Christmas to everyone, I wish you the same.... and more.

The Pub

I smell the most delicious aromas floating out of the kitchen as I am typing this. It is Christmas Eve and my sweet hubby is cooking up  a wonderful dinner for us.  This Christmas is so different from any I have known. I am my two speed self as usual.... on or off. Usually no in betweens.

But the difference this year, I have enjoyed just about every second of the ride.

Last night I went to the Neighborhood Pub Katie goes to with her friends. I have never in my life been to a Pub. I have been to Restaurant Bars in my younger days,  just never a Pub. There were a lot of firsts last night. It was the first time my daughter and I went out together to belly up at  a bar. 

 That is a funny statement in itself, and she would laugh because  I do not belly up to bars or drink more than a few times a year. I decided I would throw caution to the wind last night, leave my control freak ways at home for the night and just let down, let go. The best part of all was Raym dropping us off at the front entrance in the minivan. Something so humorous about Pa dropping off his Gals.  I felt like I was in high school with my gal pal, excited for what the night would bring us. I think my life was coming full circle in so many ways.  Raym becoming the loving  surrogate parent for the evening dropping me off. That was a first for me. I usually walked to high school functions or rode my bike.  My dad never participated once, so it felt like a special kind of  full circle healing that I couldn't have anticipated.  I felt what it must be like for our daughter to have such an involved, loving father every day.

What a night when the wind takes you where it will. That is something I have feared being a complete and total control freak. I want a handbook at the front door. I look casual, calm, go with the flow kind of gal.  Ah how looks can be deceiving! 

Katie gave me The Readers Digest abbreviated  manual of how the Pub runs. Walk in~ check.

People are friendly check/ check. Yet that didn't stop me from holding her hand as we walked in.

(My big, bad Leo self was a Scaredy Cat. It has  been fifteen, twenty years since I have been in a Bar without the Hub.)  I think we were pegged as a "couple" by  two  gals for the hand holding when we walked in, by the immediate  "Why hello ladies."  I always tell Katie I am the old butch chick in the relationship because we hold hands and hug a lot when we are out. People are surprised  we are mother and daughter. I think perhaps because we truly enjoy one another's company so much.  We found a seat in the bustling joint and I slowly started to relax.... the glass of wine didn't hurt either. 

There were many interesting characters we met throughout the evening. I  truly felt like I had been 

living in a cave for a very long time. I watched my beautiful daughter so natural, singing, laughing... just enjoying herself. As the evening went on, and I have to admit the champagne flowed, my mood lightened too. Sometimes it is so difficult for me to let go and just get out of my head.  I would have a wonderful conversation with a very interesting person,   another would show up. And so it went...

 A little later into the evening, a man came over who was friends with someone at the table. We started talking about neighborhoods,  one in particular. The first house I ever bought, had lived in for 13 years.  

He asked where, and when I said the address, his face turned white. Granted I had a lot of booze in my belly and I was not fully myself by this point of the evening...  but I heard what I heard.

"My family lives in that house." I couldn't breathe. We just sat there staring at each other. Then the tears came. I have never met this man, nor been in this Pub in my life. There are a table  full of people, some friends, other strangers. Yet the tears flowed and flowed and didn't stop. He told me they moved in 4 years ago and he recently moved out a few months ago. He wanted to know everything about the house. I was very happy to oblige. I have been so connected to that house.... deeply.

He told me of pain and grief that has occurred. The tears flowed more.   I told him I did everything to purify the house before moving out. My grief, our grief had been tremendous, as our joy in that home.

I had shed so many layers of me in that house. It would be hard to explain that house.... but he knew.

It changes you.  Some crazy force or energy working in there pushes you. Unfortunately his marriage did not survive. My heart went out to him.... I understood to my soul. I also  finally let what I had not been able to from ten years of being away from it.  Whatever happened we both let go of something big that we had been holding on to, a deep understanding  for personal reasons of our own.

I cannot begin to understand what all of this means, the people I have met, but I do know it is about releasing, forgiving, letting go, making room for the new. Trusting that  coming out of my cave~

I will make the right decisions.  I feel like a child who is beginning anew. The sights are different.

Some peoples motives are pure along the way I am learning.... others are not. It is  all okay.

It is part of the life I had shut out because I was too afraid to test. To fall down. I was terrified of failing, doing it wrong. The things I had not done in my youth having left  home at 16. Growing up too fast, never experiencing the simple pleasures of  The Innocence Of Girlhood. Am I naive at times... yes.

There are stages I have missed clearly.  I have been in a relationship for 30 years. Hiding out from life does not work.   Baby steps to finding who I am.  Not as the wife of a successful man... just me.

Me for  simply me ~ is a process. I have raised our children, and many others along the way. I am a writer. I am many things.  I am so proud to be Matt and Katie's mom.... Raym's wife. That will always be my favorite role in life. But it is okay to want more.... my family wants more for me, they always have.

This Christmas the gift to myself has been letting go of the negative things and people in my life, so I could finally get to this point.  Finally allow myself to feel these feelings, it takes a lot for a tornado to slow down. I am quiet right now. It is Christmas Eve, Katie is in the next room playing the guitar, singing. Matt is downstairs, unfortunately not feeling well. Raym is sitting next to me. Later this evening we will open our presents... as Christmas Eve has always been our family tradition. We are very simple.We have always preferred a very quiet time  on this Evening, to express  our deep feelings of love and gratitude to each other.  The road this year has winded everywhere I could never possibly have imagined. I truly believe in days of past I would not have been as open to it. Could not have seen the small moments.... too caught up in "What needed to be done on the list." I am not even close to "that list", yet  my heart is singing.  I wish for everyone this Christmas.... the sweetness and simplicity of life.  

Merry Christmas

The Recipe of our Life

Sleep eludes me once again. My mind races, so this time I decide instead writing the story in my head
I came out into the living room and warm up next to the fire. The house is still except for the two cats curled up next to me. I have patience for them in this state. Maybe that is the metaphor to my life.... the big cat in me.

I can go for months and months with almost  a repulsion like feeling  not wanting to write. Then,
it would appear out of nowhere.... my cup runneth over. I am learning my process. Usually I am in the process of living deeply and I can only take so much. What got me  out of bed to write this : thinking about the tightrope,  the balancing act we must all take in life.With one decision  inevitably comes another. The compromises we make for ourselves, our wives, husbands, children, friends. The necessary blend to mix the  balanced relationship. The ingredients, the specifics  are different for everyone. Some like a thicker consistency in their recipe while, others  thin it out yet still  achieve the desired results. Still  another group throw out the cookbook all together and create their own invention. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.

 I am the latter of  the cooks.  I learned the Italian way, feel how the recipe works.  I never really liked cook books unless it was for very specific baking ingredients. I like to add a little of this, a little of that and see where it takes me. I get bored easily, I am sure I have a very short attention span.  I like to do ten things at once... it invigorates me.Yet, I do realize the importance, the balancing act  of slowing down, being in the moment. I am understanding that more and more each day. The balancing act of what, and who is really important to me.
What keeps me invigorated, what takes my energy down... fast. The recipes of our own lives are so critical to understand.  They help us to flow through life so much more effortlessly.  Going against the current is so exhausting.  The recipe in my life I am looking at now:  A wonderful simmering crock pot
filled with the most delicious, comforting aromas .... and could appreciate. My family.
Looking at the past year of all the ingredients we have contributed to make the consistency so hearty,
nourishing, so welcoming. Intoxicating with their rich blend, melding together, wafting through the front door, welcoming us in to gather,  sharing our  combined efforts. I smile when I think about this one in particular. It has always been my absolute favorite.

I will love you forever.... and then some

I watched such beautiful eyes twinkle and  light the room up. My heart was swept up in a joy  that  it has not known. The true joy of giving without  expectation. Writing this fills me with the warm memories of  earlier this afternoon.  I felt like Santa with my car filled with bags for children waiting to be delivered.  The excitement was building in me to reach each destination. I did not want to eat lunch,
I simply wanted to  arrive.  The eyes I speak of in the beginning of this story are ones that  I love so much. Today was Doctors Office Day. I dropped off gifts for all the wonderful girls, nurses, receptionists, and Doctors who have been so instrumental in my life. Restoring me .... back to me.

The last stop is the stop that affected me the most. My dear Doctor who I have known nine years.
Because of her, I am as whole as I am today. Love. She has  infused me with her love.  I walked in her office nine years ago a broken person. No life in me, lost, depression was an understatement. I weighed a good 30 pounds more I am  sure. Black sweat pants were my uniform every day. This Angel Of Mercy broke through my bullshit, my rage, my fear, my armor, my profound confusion and loss. Month after month she explained the story of me. Bit by bit helped me understand the why's and I had so many.
Why ... Why Why? She comforted me, she took ridiculous amounts of time with me and through it all, I became a person I am proud of. I  could let go of the things that kept me living in the shadows of fear and darkness. I came out of the nightmare I had been living.

Today I sat across from her, eye to eye. I could finally see the love for me she has expressed. The work we have done together, the roads we have taken , treacherous and unbearable at times.
Push, pull.... until finally year after year, it jelled.  My love for her is immeasurable. My respect, I have no words. This goes so beyond Doctor/ Patient. My life works~ because one person took the time to see value in this wounded sparrow. Saw there were possibilities and knew the road to take and how get there. I did not. When I think of how God works.... I think of her face. The face of love.

Merry Christmas Doc. I  will love you forever.... and then some.

Loved Beyond Measure

Christmas tunes are playing in the background as I am typing away.... the air is brisk, my mind is racing with all the things that I never possibly will be able to accomplish by the end of the day.
Yet this  Holiday Season is vastly different from any ever to date. I am present. I am letting things go.
What comes in the moment, instead of the perceived rules of the past no longer guide my North Star.
I think what helped me was going away last week with Raym and  just slowing down. That would have been a complete no no in days of past. I am understanding the spirit of the season like I have never been capable of.... ever. People.  Time spent with those you love. Taking  time. Running around, bitching, going crazy,  frantic, yeah, good times! I'm just not there so much anymore. I probably will always have a tornado inside of me,  but it is calming down to a dull roar.

I am stopping to smell the fresh air,  look at the twinkly Christmas lights. Watch the true joy in kids~  small and big alike. Taking time  for conversations that need to happen...  it's a stressful season. A very important one: staying away from what no longer serves me, so that my heart  can stay open to all the blessings that are in my life. That is the biggest one for me this year. It happens to come in the form of saying no. Has been a foreign language in days gone by.  I have not wanted to disappoint anyone.  I would take it for the team. Good girl syndrome.  Yet it comes out in other forms that are not so sweet, when the beast is released from frustration. By saying no, I feel for the first time in my life the true benefits, at first  shaking in my boots. Everyone will hate me... walk away for sure. Well that was the crew of users anyway. What else is new? But the side effects that have come from this. I wake up in the morning feeling alive instead of..... ugh, another morning?   I  am losing weight without so much frigging effort. I am trying new things, adventures, hey I am living! Letting go of the old that has trapped me, kept me a prisoner.

Has it been easy? No. The hardest thing to walk away from some situations that are heart breaking.
My survival and my families depends on it. My buttons get pushed to the point that I am so disheveled, depressed, unfocused and just plain sad. I cannot afford this anymore. I wish everyone well, as I wish myself the same.  What I have learned is~ it is just one day out of the year.   The cost of admission is just too high.  I used to think I was weak for walking away. I no longer care what anyone else thinks. I  care how I feel, my self preservation and mental health. Joy and dignity are pretty nice things to come upon. They are new, precious gifts that I do not take lightly. Those are my Christmas Gifts to myself. My Holiday wish for everyone.
To know you are loved beyond measure~ simply for every breath that you take.
Merry Christmas.

The Importance of Skinned Knees

I did not like to fall down as a child,  It felt very unnatural and upsetting  to me. I felt as though I was doing something wrong, going against nature. Having a  prankster friend in grade school, who was  athletically inclined, I liked it even less.  I was the kid who would  be the one to fall into the huge puddle of rain everyone  else jumped over. I  did not have the confidence or grace nor athletic ability  and foresight to know what was too big for me to maneuver comfortably.   My friend was a gymnast who knew her body very well, and was very comfortable with it. This gave the prankster great pleasure  time after time finding situations to test me.

Needless to say, I did not do well and did not get the joke. I was the joke, but  did not see it coming due to her quick wit. We would play in her back yard and climb a tree, which I did  with much resistance.
She was literally like a monkey climbing up in seconds. It took some doing to get me up, but finally I was up. After a little while she said she was going to get us some snacks.  Being the chubby little food head that I was, it was sounding pretty  good for all that climbing effort. I was looking around at the view from above.... no doubt just spacing out. Time passed and no friend. "Hmmm, what 's up with that, " my hungry little mind wondered.  Then I looked in her house through the  glass door and saw her pealing with laughter. I knew what was up with that- I was. I was up the tree too far for comfort to come down,
I was scared. Finally what seemed an eternity her mother came out  and yelled at her to get the ladder.
Game over....

Having grown up with a father who played it so safe, stayed on the sidelines of life..... we were not  taught how to skin our knees. Everything would get us hurt. To the point of paranoia, if you  do this, such and such  will happen. I still rode my bike like the wind~ that was my only refuge. I am sure I rode  recklessly, hands free, at night, whatever I could to break free from the constraints of his fear and rules. Of course as a girl I could not understand any of this, I just felt it. My father fell off a bike as an adult and broke his arm and that was that.... his daredevil days of danger over. Life is too dangerous.
People who have swimming pools : Someone will climb your wall into the pool and you will find them drowned in it. Now this paranoia  was not  exclusive to my father. My mother would tell me as a child ( in her own bizarre way I am sure to keep me safe)  Be careful in  public bathrooms: A little girl got murdered in there and cut up and put in the toilet. Relaxing tidbit to hear....  Or another one was sharks  could come up through the toilet  from the ocean? From where I wonder. So imagine me as a child trying to go to any bathroom, thinking such relaxing thoughts of sharks and murder while doing my thing.

 The importance  of being able to learn to fall down and skin my knees is even more important than ever. I never learned how. I was careful, that's how we were taught. Always inside me there was a risk taking fun loving gal.... who  I have allowed to come out  with each passing year.
I have challenged myself with so many things and actually learned I am quite the fierce competitor.
With confidence, learning to trust myself, my abilities,  I push myself and like to see what I am made of.
"People with swing sets break their arms."  All these myths from two frightened people who came together and were given the title PARENT.  The thing was- I  already faced down my worst fears at three when I almost died from pneumonia. I knew what it already looked like, and knew it alone.
These fears, phobias became so confusing to me, I  felt I did not know my own mind.

We all have to fall down and skin our knees. We cannot grow, move forward to the next stage of life without it. You cannot bypass this part of life. I am now seeing my stunted growth in certain areas from not enough skinned knees. I wanted to do it right, stay in the lines. I pulled back.... stayed out of life if I was not doing it right. Moved on quickly so as not to be exposed for my weaknesses. I did not realize the endearing quality of vulnerability. In others.... definitely, never myself.

I am falling down left and right. My knees are skinned and banged up. I will fly in a biplane in a few months with our daredevil pilot friend. He will treat me with kid gloves.  This I know- I trust him. I will not need a ladder to come down from this one.  Here's to the year of skinned knees.

Hey You

I chuckle at that thought of being called "Hey You," yet bristle at the same time.  It is not that  anyone in my life literally called me that. I suppose this is where some sort of explanation might come in handy. I am one of six children. I am the fifth of six.... I am the third daughter of three. That is who I am in my birth family. I was not and will never be just " Clare". That is something I will have to come to terms with and bury. No child in my family knew what it was like to be an individual ~ instead just So and So. We were each one of Six. We were a Unit.
I pulled away, my heart could no longer take being just that : Nothing. Identity~less.

Who could know the reasons  my Mother did this. I am sure in her mind, having been a School teacher she was trying to be fair to all. Also, she has never been attached to any sort of emotions,  practicality was the basis for most things for her survival. Other things just weren't so necessary or important.
Individuality was not high on the list. We had our School Uniforms which helped with meager finances, six children to tend to food and clothing needs - it felt as if we were to her,  a pain in the ass. My way off handling practicality as a child at times.... sleeping in my uniform. Why get up and do it all over again when you can just sleep in it and kill two birds with one stone.   I can only imagine how lovely I looked at school. I didn't feel the need  to groom myself fastidiously as a youngster. I always waited until the last second to crawl out of bed, so the Overnight  Uniform Thing really worked for me.
Being part of "The Hey You Crew" worked beautifully in these situations.  The younger kids were pretty much invisible to the naked eye in this household, so a wrinkled uniform was no  major issue.

"The Hey You" only started to be really differentiated from the other Crew, when it came to Schooling, The Have and The Have Not's... who was smart and going to be succesful, and who by inference were "slow"- decided by Mama.
The two youngest, that would be yours truly included would have the honor and distinction of being shelved as : "They ain't going anywhere," next. Yep, I was the decided  "Have not" early in the game, knowing it early on-by twelve years old.  I left home at 16... after proving my true  "Hey You,  Have Not" Status.

In all seriousness, I believe I have learned how to function, hang in the game from being a "Hey You."
From feeling invisible, actually being invisible, Space Ghost, sometimes I expect very little and am able to accomplish enormous things. I push myself very hard, from knowing so little was expected from me.... always proving my own personal best, no matter what.  I thoroughly understand I will never, ever be viewed in this lifetime as a "Have" from this family. The Parental Unit set that up along time ago. I can no longer ask why. It no longer matters. I wasted too many good years of my life chasing this one down. Why? Why?   Thinking I was mentally challenged from a young age, having heard my mother wonder what was wrong with me. All the negatives that led me to who I am today......striving to become the best possible me I know how to be. It doesn't matter how or why anymore ~ just  that I could become who I was meant to be.
I wouldn't change an ounce. It has been hard to accept tenderness, when someone says my name with sensitivity and kindness.  Clare, it is my name. One of Six... I need to let go finally and receive me- I am..... Clare.

The Dark Shadow

Today was an amazing day.  Ray and I celebrated our 28th Anniversary. We spent the day together,
driving, listening to music, going out to eat, window shopping. Always wonderful with him, always an adventure. We never know what road we will take ~ ever. Today was no exception, in every sense of the word. Of course it always does start on meandering roads foreign to us. Maybe that is the point.
Being able to let down enough  to just simply be.  I could feel words wanting to tumble out of my mouth that had been stuck, crammed in my throat for weeks. The timing simply never felt right.

Between power outages, Ray's crazy schedule, and then him getting sick this past week, I let it simmer.
I am not a simmerer.... more like shake and stir.  I am learning patience, it is coming.
I felt that usual lump in my throat, when a mixture of shame, fear, and what the hell is going to tumble out, and will I do  unspeakable damage with my forthrightness. I am like a steam train when on a mission,full steam ahead. Ray knows me so well after all these years. Let it come out.... just let it be.


This time even as I write this,  I feel horrified  and full of shame. The truth sets us free... I hope so.
I have tried to outrun so many things in my life, point the finger~ blame. Like the preacher or politician pointing the finger at  so and so, while doing whatever with whoever, I have tried to outrun me.
What I have come from in my family history : The Dark Shadow.  I sit here numb as my fingers no longer want to continue, hide in the shadows. So much easier to be anonymous, who will know?
I know and  countless other people in life carry the cloak of The Dark Shadow.  Born into a life
of shame and fear that becomes part of us, only by true examination can we heal these wounds.  Lifting this cloak of self loathing and judgement we can forgive ourselves, and in turn others.

I have kept myself hidden in so many respects, afraid to challenge myself because  I have been so afraid the hideous beast that's heart has beaten within me will rise once again.  Past hurts I have brought on people,
I have  never wanted to hurt those I love so dearly again no matter how many light years ago I brought this pain on.  I  see the family I come from ~ it's Dark Shadow's.  It has loomed over me, and I have run and run, not wanting to claim I have any part of the beast. It has nothing to do with me..... alas,
my conversation with my beautiful Raymond, letting The Dark Beast that is always lurking in the basement of my mind. I keep it starved, bound in chains, but it still yearns to come out in the light of day. Today, I let it speak. My fear... if I truly become me, I will lose us.  The hole in my heart is so big at times, having been starved and never fed by the proper nutrients as a child. Never watered with love,
positive affirmations of any kind, tenderness,  gentleness, nurturing,  anything that a child would need to grow and prosper. I learned to sneak and lie and betray at a very early age... to survive.


So many things I am not proud of, I have done. I have  gone from a very loud life from the past, to an almost hermit like existence for many years now for different reasons. First and foremost to let go of the me that no longer served it's purpose, and let the truthful me come out. I have allowed many years of healing and forgiveness to take place in this environment.  The one that did or did not serve me, hiding from The Dark Shadow. It is time to face this Beast. My fear is greater than the truth, or so I am told by someone near and dear. It  is now time to test that theory.  Yes there is the dark I have now acknowledged, but there has always been  light that has led the way for me in that darkness.
I am enough. I am all I have. This body, mind, spirit was given to me  to treasure and respect.
I have abused, feared, cursed it.  Now it is time to love and nurture myself.

The people who are my parents have not  loved themselves, how could they provide their children  with love, respect, nurturing, encouragement or guidance. The answer is, none of the above. I cannot continue this pattern of abuse to myself.... I do not to my children. I would never treat anyone as inhumanely as I have treated myself, waiting, waiting for a mother to deem me worthy of her love. It will not come. I  officially deem me worthy.  I put my arms around me, I will hold  me, I will rock me, just as I have my children. I will cry the tears for me that need to come... The Dark Shadow only lurks when it is just that, in the dark. I refuse. I release it all. Whatever it takes, freedom is worth everything and more. What is pride? I lost that so long ago, and it is and was false. Truth is all we have in the end.

You must be in Pennsylvania or sick

Beautiful Christmas music is playing in the background,  the fire is glowing beside me.
Ray is on his computer fiddling around, and I am feeling comfort, yet sadness at the same time as I write.
I realize there will always be a hole in me, my heart, but it is acceptable damage from where I come from.
I can finally move on and no longer try to correct the damage. The tears will come when they may, it is the price of my freedom. The beauty is what actually brings the sadness~ the calm. There is no more fixing, no more trying to figure things out. All the stages have been gone  through. No more grieving for what was. It wasn't. Ever. The life I have created, it is mine. Through my blood, sweat and tears. Joy, laughter and love. This beautiful family I have the pleasure and privilege of sharing it with.

      Tomorrow I go into another year with Ray.... our 28th Anniversary. I look up at him, and he smiles at me with the most  beautiful blue eyes. Love pouring out..... no matter what. Believe me, there have been a lot of no matter whats in 28 years of marriage. The biggest heartache he has witnessed is the relationship between my mother and me. As I write this, my heart feels nothing but sadness, because there is nothing left but the surrender. That is my Christmas Gift to myself and my family this year. it is not one that I have taken lightly, or given up easily.  It has been the most difficult decision of my life, but one I have needed to do to move forward. The pain involved in having a relationship with her has been so great, I had to finally become survival of the fittest. This time after all these years, it got to be me who survived.

I will always love my mother, but I believe now I can begin to really heal and wish her well, from the very heart of who I am.  I don't like the base animal that I had become at times from sheer pain and heartache, when around her. I am just starting to understand what really living feels like, by taking care of myself. That means no matter what.... even if it hurts another. We are not supposed to hurt our mothers. Walking away, that has been the toughest part for me. I am a very traditional person to a fault. I hung in the ring, through way too many punches. I did not walk away, I kept going back with the childlike belief that if I did indeed just believe, love enough, keep loving~ it would fill my mother up and she could love. That is not my job, and never was. I took it on as a child so many years ago.
It became a part of my being, trying to make my mother happy,  much to my detriment. Clare went away, only to serve. I became very, very good at serving, anticipating others needs.  Actually quite excellent at it. My heart aches writing this truth, but the reason I write this, I am no longer wearing those chains of bondage.

I listened to a message my mom left on my cell phone a few weeks ago, as I was driving home tonight.
" You must be in Pennsylvania,  or sick, since I haven't heard from you."  Those were my options.
Out of town, or sick. Believe me, I have lived a life of sick, very sick most of my life. Debilitating illness that I have hidden many times. No more.  I know the root cause of that illness. The unhappiness and fear I have felt from being a nonentity. Desperate to be loved from a mother who is incapable of love.
I almost died trying to get her love. I surrender. It is not possible. Whatever tragedy has happened in her life that she cannot look at or overcome, created a heart that will not open in this lifetime. To never hug, never touch, or form the simple words, "I love you," without sounding like angry thunder and lightning.

So I begin anew, with so many things. A brand new babe in the woods at 50. It is time. A heart so much lighter. Letting go, so I can be fully present with this beautiful family that I have the greatest honor to live this life with.  I accept this hole in my heart. In time it will get smaller,as with each passing stage. The resolution phase is never easy. It's time to say goodbye.... to what never was. It's time to celebrate what is right in front of me now. I am one lucky girl, and I know this for sure.