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.