Full Circle... Victim to Victor

I was laying in bed trying to sleep, when visions of anything but sugarplums were dancing in my head. I finally dragged myself into the living room and started typing, since I already began writing the story in my head. I knew no sleep would come until I got this down- so here goes. I just titled it "Full Circle."This is one of those times that I am more driven to write, than want to.I am twirling and twiddling my hair, partly because I don't want to do it, and the other- it is late and I am tired. I was thinking about how I got to this moment, right now. The past two years have seen so much change, partly because my dad died and also because I re-introduced someone back in who had done great damage to me, and I needed to finish it- this time on my terms.

When I was pregnant with Katie, I started going to a psychologist. I was twenty seven, Ray's mother had just died and it was a very stressful time in our lives.( Ray and I both went to him) He became a father figure to me, I introduced a very good friend of mine to him, and another couple. I thrived, went back to school, felt very supported. As time went on, the relationship began to get strained.

My girlfriend came  over one day, desperately trying to talk to me, tell me things he had done to her.This was a very dear friend of mine, I loved her like a sister. I would not listen to her. The pain and guilt I feel writing this is very big. We have long since worked this out, but knowing how I have let her down, turned a deaf ear to what he did to her... haunts me to this day. The reason I could not hear her, it was going on with me, and would continue for five years. My life would become a secret hell of manipulation. He still saw my husband on occasion, and normalized everything. From an early age I was able to compartmentalize my life, so he taught me how to do it more, I think without me even having too much awareness. I knew protecting him mattered more than my life. I never understood manipulation, total domination, control, until now.

I tried many times to break away, which would always be followed up with a phone call at a crucial time, "Did I think I could make it on my own?" Usually when Ray was traveling for weeks at a time, when I was struggling, earthquakes... you name it.  Family, fights with my mother. I couldn't take it anymore and told a friend- she told me she would never forgive me for what I was doing to Ray. I thought I was going out of my mind, I didn't know where to turn, and didn't understand unhealthy people, sabotage, etc. My shame, and silence increased. I was in a 12 step program, and finally told my sponsor. That was the end... finally. It was a long road to healing, truth telling and
putting our marriage back together. The pain we both were in was so great.

The years went on, and our love grew stronger, the bond tighter. A lot of work between us had to take place to understand what had happened- not blame each other. Throughout the years, Ray would leave the psychologist interesting messages stating how he felt about him. I would call every couple years, trying to forgive- and it would end up horribly. My wonderful, caring therapist who worked with me for years,Vicki, had me write a letter to the state board about what happened. It was too late, the statute of limitations had ended, but because another girl had taken him to court, one of his licenses was revoked-between the two of us.

About five or six years ago, I went to his office to face him, around the time I  wrote the the letter. It was not pretty. He was very arrogant, and that enraged the crap out of me. I told him to get on his knees....and called him the most vile things I could think of. I wanted to shame him beyond anything, as he had me. I made him repeat after me, every word I said- about what I thought he was. This served no purpose, but it was where I was at. I could see his rage rising- I didn't care anymore. I finally told him he was lucky he wasn't spending the rest of his life in jail.

A few more years passed. That brings us to around two years ago. I told Ray I wasn't through. My darling husband, this was so hard on him. He didn't want me to have anything to do with him, but I promised him it- was my way to freedom. I couldn't and didn't have it with two other incidents in my life, I needed to finish this, so it began. He apologized on the phone, without trying to protect himself. I finally knew it was real. We had some emails for two years, as Ray cringed.... but really understood. He understood me. I knew more than I ever had about his life- I needed to get my power back, and I could wait him out. I did.  This was important to me. It was no longer poor helpless Clare. I had lost so much of who I was, my identity, my life. I was now fully able to stand up to him, see him in person- and just feel pity. I could barely stomach looking at him. That was in May. I left feeling like I had unloaded a lifetime from my shoulders. I know how hard it was for Ray to go through that with me. I don't know if I could do what he did.... on the other end. He is my hero. We talked about so many scenarios. He wanted to talk to his wife this time around, ( she never knew anything happened to this day) I wanted to go after him him for what he did to my friend- (just a few months ago, after all these years, she told me all the details.)We both let it go. We just wanted to move forward and end twenty four years of our life that this weaved through.

Freedom is telling the truth, letting go of shame. Predators prey on peoples weaknesses... he preyed on my friends and mine, our history, all the info we gave him. Keeping things like this a secret serves no one. This is a very common story, it happens every day to men, women, children. Speaking up, speaking out, saying enough- not living the rest of your life in shame and judgement. Did I ever think it could happen to me? Growing up following rules, obeying, good Catholic Girl- the priest, the cop, the authority figure is always right. No they are not always right.
Question everything.... if it doesn't feel right, it usually isn't. Would I think it is a good idea for anyone to go back and do what I did... probably not. I am hard headed, have to do things my way. That is how I learn. Wish it wasn't but it is part of my DNA, but it makes me who I am and I am proud of that person- victim to victor.

You Can Count On Me

Those particular words,"You Can Count On Me, would make me want to run far away in past times. Not because I am irresponsible, they would conjure up emotions inside me that that made no sense- I couldn't breathe, the walls would close in.  My heart feels heavy and sad as I write- it has taken me so long to come to this conclusion, but I am finally here. I have arrived, unloaded enough baggage at the station and stepped off the platform. I  have decided on my own what these words really mean to me. True loyalty has only been something I have felt between my husband, children and myself. Do I feel ashamed as I write? Yes, but more saddened as it has taken to understand, let down my armor, trust.

As a child, loyalty was rarely displayed. My parents pitted siblings against each other, parent against sibling, any combination imaginable. The only  way to healing, truth. My truth is to set myself free, my family, and future generations to come. I am not proud of many of my behaviors. I have asked for forgiveness when I have recognized wrong doing. I will continue to do so when I hurt those I love.  I will also look at that very long, dusty road I have traveled, on many a cold and darkened night, no map to guide me- but my own North Star.  I am also  proud of that brave voyager for embarking on the  journey.

My gauntlet, shield I have needed to protect myself all these years- now rusty, worn, ragged edges I no longer need for battle. I can lay it down, and thank it for a valiant job of protecting me.  Without it I would bear many more scars in battle. I let out a deep sigh that feels never ending- I don't want  to feel this next part. The part where my heart is catching up with my head, saying,"It is time to trust all the way through." But, but, but....  I can rationalize and come up with so many reasons not to trust- where indeed does it get me? What example do I show my children? I speak of courage, letting go, letting down, living the life of my dreams, stepping out of the shadows, am I unwilling to do the same?  Everyone has owies in one form or another, this is my wound. Trust, betrayal-  I in turn have done my share of betraying because of this pain. I am like the eternal bachelor boyfriend, who can't commit to marriage....  but for me it's been friendships. How is it I can commit to a marriage of almost thirty years, but get squirmy and flighty as hell when people, especially gal pals have gotten too close. Betrayal from the original source -my mother.

Yes I know, terribly unpopular to talk about, but oh so real for many of us. When we grow up feeling distant from our mothers, feeling unloved, not hugged or held, (maternal deprivation yes, there actually is a term for this) we are forever going out into the world recreating rejection, pain, heartache with the same personality- to prove what? We are the crap they said we were or weren't by insinuation, silence, with holding, damaging words. Or swinging the other way, forever craving approval, love, being the good girl. Always selfless, happy no matter what. Or both.

I am no longer that girl, no longer choosing those beliefs. I choose love, all the way through, even in the scary places. When it hurts and feels vulnerable and I want to run. I choose it when my skin is on fire, when it's peeled off, and no new skin has grown in. I choose it when those I love call me on my crap, because they love me- and I have the ability to finally listen, not hang up, not turn cold, resort to cruelty, and trust they have my best interests at heart. I choose to learn, and let love in. I choose to count on others when I am frightened, not fear being mocked for my "sensitive heart." In the good times when my heart is overflowing- not fear being "bad" for my happiness.

You can count on me

Passion

Rod Stewart sings about it, most feel it. Not everyone acts on it. Some live their whole lives squashing it, running from it, fearing it. Others learn to embrace, enjoy, romance it - those carefree souls who were born into this wonderful thing called  passion, riding her wonderful waves wherever she may lead. I wish I was in that category. I am stuck between it all. Deep down I have the soul of that passionate wave riding gal, ever fiery Italian roots that wants to embrace life. Then the Scottish uptight Catholic turtleneck wearing gal comes into the room, sporting an Amish outfit and a tight bun-that would be me. The product of being my mother's daughter,  and she her mother's daughter, and so on and so on. But on the other side, my father's where I feel my blood races- Italian, filled with passion, natural, knowing, confident woman. In no way am I knocking Scottish, just did not rock my world. The opposing forces of proper, keeping it inside, when a raging inferno is brewing. No wonder I am the way I am!  I don't think I can blame that on  Italian or Scottish ancestry. I think I'm merely seeing the constant tug of war in my soul. Maybe turtleneck Amish wearing mama has kept me out of harms way, when wild thing wants to go out on the town and have a good time- too good of a time. Simmer down is all she may be saying. Perhaps I am learning balance, my internal mechanism. One I have gotten angry about and have always fought, but is actually my North Star, guiding me home when I lose my way. I have feared in life- to date, if I truly follow my hearts desire, I will lose everything.This is an irrational fear that has kept me stuck for probably my entire life. Never telling myself the truth, really acknowledging my accomplishments, because it never came from the person I yearned to hear it from the most- my mother. It will not come, so I need to hear it from me, from those I trust and love me. For me, not what I can do for them, but simply for each breath I take. Lean into this knowledge, trust, take baby steps. Passion builds with trust, too much fire  can burn, and wearing turtle necks around that kind of heat, hmmm, can get pretty uncomfortable. Maybe it's time to let wild thing loose just a little, let my hair down. It's not a crime. My fifty second birthday is coming up in ten days.  My gift to me, the gift of acceptance.

I Am Home

It is very early hours of morn as I type away, the stillness buzzes in my ears. I understand why people like the middle of the night in this moment. The absolute and utter quiet. The reason for being up I figured out through constant tossing and turning, too much iced tea at lunch with the gals. Life has changed so dramatically in the past three weeks for me. It is all about falling into- letting go.  Letting go of unkindness, wishing, hoping, hanging on. Understanding that the only way I can have the life I want is to make a new one. Risk being "the bad one" if that's what it takes in my mind, from growing up in such an unhealthy household as a child.
The only way I could and can understand this, talk myself through it was think of  The Titanic.... jump.
Survivors Guilt, you name it, whatever you want to call it. To save myself,  I could get there for awhile, but go back to the same behavior. The Ultimate Codependent- yep, I should write a handbook. You don't need to feel your pain, let me do it for you, and then I can rage when we're done. Even that made me laugh. But when you are in it, living your life trying to put out the next fire constantly, save the world, the truth is you are never living. I just know I could not be a punching bag anymore, my hubby and kids did not deserve to witness this, and the inevitable depression that would follow. The self loathing, doubt, anger, and isolation that separated me from the world. But the biggest thing by far from being around such poison, lack of trust in humanity. Watching, with eyes of suspicion as I was trained as a child... instead of how my heart feels. The burden of seeing the world as a place of constant pain, it's too much to carry around- especially for children. Mistrust, it's not for me.  So I am taking my fork in the road... I am a late bloomer I am aware of this.  I am cleaning the weeds in my garden, adding healthy, fresh rich soil to the earth, turning it, sprinkling new seeds and watching  it all bloom.  Climbing vines, roses of every color, brilliant, fragrant, intoxicating to my senses. A bench nearby to enjoy the beautiful sunrises and sunsets in my beautiful garden of life, as a cool breeze whips around me.  A white picket fence  opening, welcoming me as I enter into my magical garden, stepping stones leading the way. A beautiful, gurgling fountain flows as I take my next step, birds gathering  around it -singing my name so sweetly. I am home.

Telling The Truth Faster

Almost a year has passed, I don't know if it has been an eternity or a blip on my radar.What I do know, I've come up for air, burrowing in deeper than I've ever known- becoming the person I'm proud of, all the way through.

Ten months ago my dad died. I thought okay, my dad died. Life goes on. My life goes on, blah blah blah. I will go through the usual motions that a daughter feels, especially when there was a lot of heartache in our relationship. The last weeks of his life were very healing, releasing. I was  happy he stayed in Citrus Valley Hospice, where I volunteered a few years before. That was about the only thing that made sense to me.... it was like going home.

I was  grateful he was able to be there, my family knowing the respect and dignity of such a beautiful place, instead of what we experienced at the previous hospital. Everyone had their own space to mill about, my brothers took turns spending the night, keeping watch with my dad. On some of those long nights I got to know my middle brother, (who moved away years ago) as he told about himself, his life. It seemed as though our family was being brought together in a magical way through my dad. Everyday, for the first time in I don't know how many years, we all gathered together and put it all aside.....

It seemed like once he died, so did everything else. Even on the day of his funeral we all went back to the way things were before. My heart feels heavy writing this- but as a writer, unless you split it open, gut it revealing the contents and let it all fall where it may, you have nothing. Tell the truth faster. I have written almost nothing in this past year. My heart was heavy. It has gradually lifted to where I am now.... feeling free.

I am the fifth out of sixth in the line up of children. I was not particularly close to parents, meaning I kept a fair distance a lot of the time for my own health. I have always loved them and come in and out of their lives.  Self preservation, whatever you want to call it- growing up in an unhealthy family system, takes it's toll. Emotional, mental, physical, spiritual- it hit me on all of the above when I was around them. When my dad got sick, of course had to be put aside. When he died, that had to be put aside once again for some time, until I figured out my own balancing system. Spending a lot of time at my mom's house, which was something I was not used to, was like going into a hole and not knowing if I would come out. I only knew it  needed to be done, my brother and her were counting on me to be a constant in a world that no longer made sense to them. Hell, nothing in my world made sense to me.

First, cooking way too much food was the only thing I could think of to do.... and clean. I felt like I was in a foreign land. My dad always had good smells going, no matter what there was, always something good coming out of the kitchen. There was so much silence. (Now my tears finally flow) but the only smells and sights were what I could muster and I wasn't doing such a great job. A lot of fast food,
which my dad never really ate..... he always sat in the kitchen and cooked. Even with his oxygen on he cooked at the stove. That was his world- the kitchen. For weeks my brother sat in the family room eating ice cream,  my mom sat in the living room.

I started digging through boxes in the garage...... and found letters from her past. Sixty years of past she hadn't seen. My dad had taken them years before- she had never seen them again. From her mother, uncle, old boyfriend. Loss... I read them to her, everyone of them. It seemed for the moment years melted off her. Her dreams, her hopes, her pain, as we kept digging deeper.

A letter my dad had given me years ago, I found in this endless box. How can this be, one would wonder- when I ripped it up and through it away out of rage and anger over fifteen years ago? He made a copy and it was somehow in this box. I think that is when I realized my dad was with us, in a different way, one he could not be with here on Earth. He has come to me in dreams, working through forgiveness and love, urging me to push further. I feel this and do not doubt his love. Other family members have had their own experiences, as well.

I never thought I could release the pain I have felt with my mother, compassion for the life she has lived. I am glad I went into this blindly, had I had known what I was getting into, my true nature would have said hell no.... I'm not doing this. But today, the gift of stripping away so much pain between us, while she is living. I don't want regrets, I had so many with my dad. I want to be an example for my kid's- the person I've struggled with more than anyone in life, my mother. I've had an opportunity to go back in and heal. It's never too late. My youngest brother and I have built  trust for the first time in our lives. Forgiveness was not taught in our family and does not come easily.

What I do wish for everyone is peace in my family. I wish for myself peace as well. The greatest thing I have found out about myself, I was always enough. I've felt I had to jump through fiery hoops to prove my worth, never doing enough. Enough for who,what judge and jury? No one I would have as a friend today. I am enough simply by waking every morning and breathing in the fresh air. That is everyone's right. This proving game is so ridiculous. The one with the most toys wins. I really, really just want to be happy, content and loved.

Process of Elimination

As I am getting ready to pack up from our Napa Trip....I am wondering so many things. First, we have one more day to go- yet I can't thing of anything more I'd like than to be  home. We have been away four days and that is more enough for me. I miss our kids, our home, our life. I realize more than ever what a home dweller I am, getting more and more dug in every day. The public me and the private me are two different gals- have we ever even met?
            One so bubbly and light hearted when in public, the true Leo- everyones friend. In private, I am quiet, have lunch by myself often, write, create, think. A lot. My brain does not turn off. Especially at night when the rest of the world says.... "Its night night time,"my brain says,"What's up?" Poor Ray-just when he lays his head on the pillow after on a long hard day, he knows better. He sees me fall asleep on the couch like a sweet baby kitten mewing so gently.But once my paws hit the sheets, I am a mountain lion ready to pounce.  I have so many things to discuss, and fast. I get so revved up, and as the night goes on.... my brain goes even faster. It feels as though someone is pouring coffee into the top of my head, just lifting my scalp open and there I go.
             This trip has told us more than anything what we don't want. It's not that it hasn't been a interesting drive. We have seen the most beautiful sights, had wonderful conversations. But I thought clarity would just fall into our laps as I have heard from other people when they have moved and have had life changes. They "just knew."  They found the house, met the people, it fell into their laps. None of the above has happened. We are in the process of elimination. Are we just too picky? Holding on too tight? Not ready for change? I don't have any answers for these questions. I do know I want another way of living, every day I let go to let the answers to reveal a  deeper truth. I try to be as fearless as possible. I am an impatient traveler in life.... this I know.
           As James Taylor sings in "The Secret of Life," one of my all time favorite songs-"The Secret of life is enjoying the passage of time, any fool can do it, there aint nothing to it. Nobody knows how we got to the top of the hill, planets spinning in space- a smile upon your face.... try not to try too hard, it's just a lovely ride."




           

       

GENIE'S WISH

Here's the thing, am I the last one to catch on to the fact that I am an imposter living inside my own skin? Only until I really looked at my clothes- my physique.... and let me clue you into a little secret, those two t'aint met up in some time. The fantasy of what I want to look like with those fabulously beautiful clothes draped ever so gently....as opposed to my "real uniform".... black tee shirt some days more than others stretched more than generously over my girth. Jeans, sweats - depending on bloat,
mood, fanciness of the moment. Black long dress..... you decide. Always, you guessed it- black.

On Monday I decided to take action- starting an online bootcamp. fear not.....
I have eaten myself into oblivion over the past few days so as not to go into starvation mode for the next eight weeks? Could it be the stretch marks, cellulite, or gut hanging gently that has caused such despair? Or simply feeling so out of control and tired? Hmmm.... let me ponder that one a little further.
Perhaps I will rub my third chin as a genies wish and come up with an answer as I type this while the computer balances precariously on my belly as I lay flat on the bed, forcing perhaps a forth chin further downward.

All is well..... I can laugh because I know I am ready for change as I mock myself....
this is the surest sign of change more than ever. I changed my position onto my belly, that other position is  not for sissy's. I have taken it all so seriously, or ignored it. Now it simply is what it is, I am ready to tell myself the truth, ready for change. Here's to.....EVERYTHING.

Rollin Round The Dirt.....

It has been forever since I have  written- August. It is now March. I have been down many windy roads since then. The past few days happen to be the more literal ones in Napa Valley. They always lead to the deeper ones.... ones I have not wanted to travel on. I still don't but I sit here typing in my hotel room, as Ray sleeps away the lazy afternoon. Someone is having a birthday party downstairs in the giant atrium. Music playing, people laughing.... the smell of food wafting underneath my door. Why do I feel so empty? Maybe I took too  much Nyquil? Wish I could just pass out now instead of typing away.
 This was a trip where we would drive around ( so we naively thought) figure it out, the waters would part.... all would be revealed. We would know more about where we want to live. No such luck...  it back fired. We went to a beautiful restaurant last night with our friends. Very relevant, celebrity chef kind of thing. Beautiful place..... but it made me feel even freakier. I just want to cry as I write this- why am I happier at Panda Express/ what's all the hoopla?

I just want to roll around in the dirt, into a big fat cocoon until I feel so safe and all the bullshit and pretense slip away that I have walked into. Too much already beautiful Wine Country People. I get it life is perfect.....or you want me to believe it. Can't we all just groove down in our own way? I feel like I have no idea where I fit in, where  I belong? That rolling around in the dirt thing seems so inviting- as long as there are no snakes slithering anywhere in my vicinity.
Maybe I will just snuggle inside one of my old man's snores, catch that wave out of town for now.
Until then.....