The Precious Gift I Received 17 Years Ago

My little girl turns 17 today. In a year, that girl that thought the little tea set with pink flowers all over it was the best thing on the planet will be 18 and out in the big world on her own. It simply doesn't seem possible. 

I'll never forget her second Halloween when she dressed up like Piglet or how she always wanted to sit on the kitchen counter and watch me cook. I'll never forget going on walks and having to stop every few yards so she could squat down and watch the ants on the ground or watching tears fill her eyes when her Elmo balloon slipped off her wrist and floated away.

When she is out there on her own I will worry as every parent does. But this is a strong girl.  

"It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done! Now if you know what you’re worth then go out and get what you’re worth. But ya gotta be willing to take the hits, and not pointing fingers saying you ain’t where you wanna be because of him, or her, or anybody! Cowards do that and that ain’t you! You’re better than that! " 

My girl is no coward. She is strong. She has had some hits in her life already and they have shaped her into the beautiful person she is. But she is young and life will hit her hard many more times in years to come. And I will be there for her every single time. I will always love her, no matter what. No matter what happens. I will always be there to help her find her strength and to help her stand again when life knocks her on her backside.

She has a strength that inspires me every day. On those days that I'm trying not to let my struggle to just put one foot in front of the other show, she sees it and hooks her elbow in mine and encourages me or hugs me and tells me she loves me. And when I see she is having one of those days she sits on my bed and we talk and go to Starbucks for one of her favorite drinks. 

She's special and strong and beautiful in every way. On the day she was born 17 years ago I knew I had been given a precious gift. I had no idea what an amazing and blessed experience being her mother would be.

Happy birthday Panda. I love you more than I can say.

 

Writing Prompt - Dear Father

I should begin by saying that this is in no way based on my relationship with my own father. He was, and is, a wonderful, loving father. This is not about him. And now the writing. 

 
When I was six years old I had the nerve to go outside to play with my friends, leaving a messy room behind. You screamed in front of my friends “get in here you spoiled brat”, then made me stand in the corner of my room as you threw every toy I had left out at me. I’m sorry dear father.

At ten my failure to wash the dishes and vacuum the den earned me a race around the house with you yelling at me that I was useless and a poor excuse for a daughter. You sprayed your beer-infused spit in my face as you screamed at me, tears running down my face. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again

dear father.

At twelve, you couldn’t find your precious coin collection and were convinced that I stole it. You yelled at me that you were going out to get shit-faced and that if you died that night it would be my fault. I ran out after you to stop you. If I had not moved in time you would have backed right over me in your haste to get to the bar. Please don’t die tonight dear father.

Now, at 16, you were drunk by noon, again. Going on and on to me about how ugly I was, that no one would ever want me. And why don’t I put some clothes on because I look like a tramp. I’m sorry my shorts and t-shirt offend you, you SOB. It’s 85 fucking degrees outside. I turned to go to my room and you stumbled your way down the hall behind me. I was leaning over next to my bed when you walked in. You slapped my ass you pervert. I’ll never forget the look on your face when you felt the end of the barrel of the gun in your chest. Go to hell dear father.

Snapshot Moments

There are things I wish I had paid more attention to over the years. There are happy moments that I didn't know wouldn't happen again or wouldn't happen again for a long time. Moments of love or comfort, moments of pride or excitement. Experiences I regret taking for granted. It's one reason I write.

I try to pay closer attention. When I have an experience that touches me in some way I try to notice details about it and burn it in my mind. The first chance I get I put it on paper. I've come to call these snapshot moments. Those moments that, if I could, I would capture somehow so I could go back and experience them over and over whenever I want. 

"Wild Geese", a Poem by Mary Oliver

In her poem "When Death Comes" Mary Oliver says:

When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

A friend of mine, one of the most giving people I know, suffered yet another tragedy in her life a few days ago. She awoke to find her husband of 27 years lying dead on their bedroom floor. The hardships this woman has suffered in the last year are numerous.  She deserves so much more.

The poem in the video is also by Mary Oliver, "Wild Geese". It acknowledges that we all have hardship. We all feel lonely at times. And when we do we don't have to be anything. Just be. Feel what you feel and share what you feel but also don't forget the world goes on and has much to offer.

I used to get angry when someone would say "Well, life goes on" and shrug off whatever was upsetting me. But you know what? It does. The world keeps turning.  The sun rises and falls. My children still count on me and need me. The bills still have to be paid and the cat still has to be fed. The world doesn't stop because of some turmoil in my life. And really, how big is that turmoil anyway?

Examining Our Values

In last week's post about Brandy's story, I talked about the scars left on children as witnesses to their parents' abusive marriage.  I talked about the balancing act that all parents do between protecting our children and letting them make their own mistakes in order to learn some hard lessons.  This week I want to talk about the same balancing act but from a different perspective. 

What if your grown child is struggling with a decision she made independently?  A big decision - one that has no easy options.  How do you feel about her making this decision on her own and how do you feel about the decision she made? Nothing can kill a mother's love for her child, but what if you don't agree with her decision?  What if you think it is morally wrong?  What if you are angry because her decision impacts you in a way you don't like? Do you

communicate your anger? Do you communicate your moral opposition? Is it wrong not to express these feelings to her?  She made a grown-up decision, should she have to deal with grown-up responses? Or do you keep it to yourself because she is already dealing with enough shame and uncertainty?

April doesn't have a relationship with her father (or, as she calls him, her "sperm donor").  Somehow he finds out about her decision, and he is enraged.  What if you are Brandy and you find out about this difficult choice through your estranged ex-husband who has a hair-trigger temper? Can you hide your shock from him? Can you hide it in your face? Can you find the words to say that will both protect your 

daughter and not reveal the complex emotions you're feeling? Can you act like you already knew?  Or do you deny it and tell him it didn't happen? 

Brandy's love and devotion to April is steadfast and can't be killed.  Her love for her daughter is truly unconditional.  This is one of several situations she will be in that require a great deal of soul searching. Our values come out in these situations.  

There are times in our lives when we are overwhelmed with emotion, and we have to make ourselves step back before making a decision.  Emotion-based decisions aren't always the right decisions. If we always acted on our emotions, then we would make decisions we later regret. That is not to say that emotion should not be part of the decision-making process, but it should be just that - a part of the decision-making process.

If some boy hurts my daughter I want to key his car, smash his headlights and pay someone to beat the crap out of him. 

 I don't do that though because I don't want to get sued and violence isn't an answer.  "Violence isn't an answer" - that statement comes from my values.  It overrides my emotional desire to have him beat to a pulp.

Brandy will have to take a serious look at her values.  She will have to do this quickly and without warning.  She will have to quickly evaluate her choices and try to make the decision that reflects her true values.

"With friends, one is well; but at home, one is better"

This line is spoken by Levin Konstantin to his nurse, Agafea Mihalovna in Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy.  He speaks it after returning home from an environment in which he has been uncomfortable, irritated, and restless.  He owns a farm and finds fulfillment in the work he does there.  He is returning from time spent in the city among aristocrats.  He despises their lifestyle but has many friends among them and is in love with a woman that is from an aristocratic family.  In a sense he felt well with his friends in spite of his disapproval of their lifestyle, but he thinks more clearly and feels fulfilled again once he returns home.  

This got me thinking about my life, and the lives of many people I know.  I think that "friends" and "home" are not necessarily two separate things although Tolstoy tries to make that distinction in this statement from Levin.  

Home is where you can be you and not worry that people will stop loving you for it.  It's where people love you in spite of how messed up they know you are.  It's where people get angry or hurt sometimes but it doesn't kill the love.  Home is where you want to go when the world is full of chaos and need peace and acceptance.  Sometimes that place is where people traditionally think of when they think of home - the dwelling place of your biological family or the family you have created.  Sometimes that isn't home at all.  

Home is also the things that Levin felt when returning to his farm and his house.  His nurse (and his dog - I love it!) understand him.  They read his thoughts without him speaking them.  They see the sorrow in his eyes when he tries to cover it up.  They know what he needs in order to be comforted.  It's also home for Levin because it's where he does those things that bring him true fulfillment.  I think it's the same for all of us.  So where is this place?

It's not necessarily where you lay your head each night.  Many of us have been through periods in our lives when the last place we want to be is that place where we lay our head at the end of the day.  In those times, if we're lucky, we have another place to call home.  It may be among friends, it may be alone, but hopefully we have some place we can go that is free of judgment and fear.  We tend to seek it out in the bad times.  Sometimes our search is successful and sometimes it is not successful or we land in the wrong place.  

Home can be many places.  Sitting in this chair with a glass of wine and a great book is home in a sense because I find such enjoyment, fulfillment and complete lack of judgment here.  And, my friends, sitting in this chair with a glass of wine and my computer, adding to my blog, is home in a sense as well.  Because I find great fulfillment in that.  I can share my thoughts freely and no one condemns me for them.  If you don't agree with me, the worst that will happen is that you stop reading or send me a nasty email or comment.  

Home for me is also in this same apartment with my two amazing children.  We've seen each other in our best times and our worst times and we love each other in spite of it all.  And we know that will always be true.  We have always fallen and risen together and we always will and none of us doubts that for a moment.  I am truly blessed in that and many other ways.

I am also blessed by others in my life that feel like home to me.  That's huge and something that many people can not say they have in their lives and I am eternally grateful for that.

So - Mr. Tolstoy

"With friends, one is well; but at home, one is better"?

Yes but . . . the two are not necessarily separate because home isn't a specific location.  It's that place where people love you, and will continue to love you, for who you are.  Or perhaps, in spite of who you are.