I actually completed my ‘About’ page. I’m satisfied and pretty proud.

Simply put, I love books and I love words. And that’s what this blog is about.

The name says it all. Words and Plots: The words and plots of my favorite books, the words and plots of my life. Hi, I’m Mindy Parrish. I love books, I love to read. My family is crazy.
Books saved my life.

Other (more wordy) ways to describe this blog,

A well organized, well researched, masterfully articulated blog showcasing masterful articulation….
A blog highlighting and celebrating creative, intelligent, inspiring language and stories….
A blog about novels, books, stories, writing, poetry and prose…
A blog about my passion for words and the art of storytelling…
A sophisticated wonderland of quotes, reviews, insights, and intelligent reflections!

Well, I can’t make promises regarding the sophisticated wonderland or intelligent reflections, but I can promise there will be lots of quotes and lots of enthusiastic “reviews” of my favorite novels and short stories. I can also promise venting and raging, monologue style lamentations, and random angry ramblings regarding personal family drama.
After all, “my babbling capabilities are infinite.” (~Lorelai Gilmore)

 

 

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Dear Diary: I’m back (Part 2) Final updates

In my first blog posts, all those months ago, I wrote about being a stay-at-home parent and how I was feeling about it. I also wrote in detail and at length about my dad and brother, Daniel, and I’d like to briefly address those topics.

Last August I was dreading the kids going back to school. It seemed as if I had nothing but emptiness and loneliness to look forward to… Turns out I was needlessly worried because I have been absolutely fine! More than fine- I’ve been loving it, I’m happier than I’ve ever been!
I didn’t even have to find ways of occupying my time. I had been brainstorming about part-time jobs or volunteer opportunities, but I haven’t once felt the need to find something to do. I spent a little time in my daughter’s class, but that isn’t really my thing… All those kids and all that chaos- I don’t tolerate it very well. I have been busy enough with regular daily life things- laundry, grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, doctor’s appointments, emailing teachers, doing homework, etc.
And I love all of the quiet alone time I have during the day! Lots of alone time is a necessity for my well being, and I am getting plenty of it. I’ve also been feeling like I have purpose. I’m available to do things that my husband, son, and daughter need- often even at a moments notice, and I really like that. I know they do too.
Another key to the success of my stay-at-home-parent-experience is the time that my husband and I get to spend together when he gets home from work. Last school year, and for five years before that, once he got home from work I left for work. We get to see a lot more of each other now that I don’t have the part-time job at night, and because I have all day to myself to get things done at my own pace I’m refreshed and happy when he gets home. We are so fortunate to have a set up like this and it is working very well for us.
So that’s where I’m at regarding the whole full-time-stay-at-home parent thing.

As for my dad and my brother….

Back last summer, at the end of July or beginning of August, I had my dad over at my house  for the first time in years. As I mentioned before, I don’t see much of him. I can’t spend time in his apartment (unhealthy) and because of his drinking I don’t usually have him over to my house. Well, last summer I had my youngest brother bring him over. The visit wasn’t very good and thankfully lasted only an hour, but despite how uncomfortable it was I had resolved to do it again. My goal was to have him over maybe once a month, but I didn’t follow through on that. I have seen him, but not at my house. I’ve given him a ride a few times so that he can pick up his work equipment, but that’s it. However, I have started answering his calls a little more often.
As for my brother, Daniel- the one who’s an addict, in and out of jail and rehab….
I haven’t heard much about him in several months. The only reason I ever knew anything before was because my mom would tell me. Well, I obviously haven’t had any contact with her since February, but even before that, back in January and December, I was keeping more distance between us than usual because I was avoiding having that uncomfortable conversation with her. (See previous post- I’m back, Part 1)
Occasionally my brother Nick will give me an update, but he hasn’t mentioned Daniel for over six months. So the last I knew (from my mom) was that he was in yet another jail/rehab program. However, my dad called this past Monday to wish me a happy belated Mother’s Day, so while I had him on the phone I asked him if he knew anything about Daniel. He didn’t know much, but he knew enough. He was able to tell me that just a few weeks ago Daniel had asked our grandmother (my dad’s mother) for money. Well, we all know what that means.

Honestly, I don’t think he will ever be sober. He will never stop. It is going to kill him. I gave up hope years ago that he will ever stop doing drugs and live a normal life. It’s sad… It’s very sad, because I don’t think he’s ever known a day of peace or happiness in his entire life.
And sometimes, some days, I’m hit with a sort of “survivor’s guilt” because my life is so very different from his. I know peace and happiness everyday. I have my kids, my husband, my husband’s family, friends, a nice house in a nice neighborhood. Our kids go to good schools, we drive nice cars, travel, eat good food, go to nice restaurants…
And on top of all that I have Netflix and books! Ha!
I have Lorelai and Rory Gilmore, and Dr. Frasier Crane.
I have Jane Austen, Harry Potter, The Hobbit, and Ripple, The Water Spirit...

Mother’s Day Poem/Prayer

By Rev. Maureen Killoran – 2009
Copied from worldprayers.org

Mothers come in many shapes and sizes.

There are warm mothers, soft and round, likely to be found
with flour on their nose, and always ready to pour
you a glass of milk to go with the cookies on your plate.
These mothers are increasingly rare.

Some mothers are like bubbles of champagne; they
surprise your senses, leave you giggly, but when you least expect it
they erupt with an unexpected ‘pop.’

There are sharp mothers, all edges and not easy to hold on to.
They don’t mean to, but it often seems like, when you need them,
their hands come up to ward you away.

Then there are grouchy mothers, stressed mothers, exhausted mothers,
their faces lined with worry and their spirits tired and grey.

Other mothers are wise and reliable;
they are not prone to many words or to a lot of noise,
but in your heart you know, that
when you need them, they’ll be there.

There are fierce mothers, the ones you count on to be on your side
and to love you even when you’ve gone wrong.

There are absent mothers, whose memory shimmers in the air, so that
it seems you’ll catch them if you could just be quick enough to turn around.

There are distant mothers … cruel mothers … loving mothers … giving mothers …
there are walk-away mothers … save-the-world mothers …
too-busy-to-bother mothers … mothers you cry for because you lost them,
and mothers who make you cry because you can’t …

May we hold in our hearts the mothers we have known …
those who loved us … and those who tried …

May we forgive the mothers who didn’t get it right … and release
the knots of disappointment … anger … grief … pain.

And may we remember always
that mothering — nurturing — is a task
not just for some, but for us all.

Whether you are young or old … female or male …
may you make extra room for nurturing in your heart …
may you hug a baby … smile at a stranger …
May you hold back just a little in traffic and, just this once,
let an extra pushy driver squeeze right in.

May you say something real to a harried store clerk …
pat a kitty … give a co-worker a genuine compliment …
take time to listen deeply to a friend.

Mothers come in many shapes and sizes.

So does “mothering.”

May there be room in our hearts, to receive nurturing, and to give.

 

Dear Diary: I’m Back (Part 1) We’ve got a lot of catching up to do

Sheesh, I’ve got a lot on my mind….

Obviously, first of all, I have to address my 8 month absence. Eight months! That’s embarrassing. It’s not that I didn’t want to write, or that I didn’t have any material or ideas- lack of shit to say is definitely not my problem. If anything I have the opposite problem- too much to say and too many ideas to contend with. I become a bit oppressed and overwhelmed by all of my thoughts and ideas. I try to tell my right-brain that its creative demands are unrealistic but it won’t listen, it just keeps chattering on. It’s fun and all, but also exhausting and it kind of kills my motivation.
However, the main reason I suddenly abandoned this blog, even though it was going so well, is because I didn’t have a working laptop or PC. It was torture trying to use our old, outdated, virus ridden laptop! Torture! That thing couldn’t even handle a simple Word document! The most basic tasks couldn’t be completed in a normal amount of time, if at all.  I tried to make it work, but I eventually had to concede that persisting in what was clearly a lost cause was looking less and less like dedication and more like insanity or obsession. I didn’t have the time or patience to deal with it- what rational person does? What should only take an hour to do was taking four hours. It became too frustrating and disappointing so the right thing to do (for the peace of our household) was put it on hold until I could get a new laptop.
So, for Christmas I told my husband I wanted only one thing- a new laptop. Not just any laptop, but a Macbook. I had heard good things about Macs. I did some research and I was sure I wanted to give Mac a try. Obviously it would cost a lot more but I thought it would be worth it so my husband ordered one for me. I got my Macbook the first week of January and here I am now, finally able to give blogging another go!
I realize that my laptop issue accounts for only half of the time I was “gone.” So what happened between January and now? What stood in my way for those 4 months?
First, it was recovering from the holidays. Once winter break was over and the kids finally went back to school I spent a few weeks alternating between cleaning and re-organizing the house and sitting down to do absolutely nothing! Next, believe it or not, I joined a gym and I was going almost everyday. I was doing really well! But then…. then disaster struck.

About mid-February I had a terrible argument with a friend. This, for me, is a very unusual thing. I’m not a confrontational person. Disagreements make me very uncomfortable, even just minor disagreements that probably wouldn’t bother most people. Unfortunately, what happened with my friend was a lot more than a minor disagreement- we weren’t fist fighting or anything like that! But, still, it was a pretty heated argument and it sent my anxiety soaring. I think I mentioned in a previous post that I have PTSD (among other things) so anxiety is a major issue for me. I’ve done a lot of work in order to be able to manage it and keep it from ruining my life. It took about a week before my anxiety finally started to subside. During that time, in order to dissipate the anxiety, I listened to music, made sure I completed my regular daily chores, and even went to the gym a few times. I was starting to get back to a normal anxiety level, the negative thoughts that had been looping incessantly in my mind had finally slowed down, but I was still a little on edge. The next thing that happened sent me over the edge.

No one in the world can cause me more anxiety than my mother. You might laugh at that statement, but I’m tellin’ you that this is not the normal ‘oh my mom is so annoying’ kind of thing. When I say my mom makes me anxious I mean she scares me. When I was little, even when I was a teenager, she scared the hell out of me. My mom…. I don’t even know how to explain her…. Especially not in a concise way. Once again I feel myself wanting to over explain and add too much detail.
I’ll try not to.
Well, like I said, throughout my childhood my mom scared the hell out of me. Why? Because she’s unpredictable, insecure, needy, emotionally abusive, full of rage, has a bad temper and is capable of violence. Oh, the stories I could tell you…… However, it’s been about six years since the last time I was in a situation with her where I thought she might hurt me, and almost twenty years since she last physically attacked me, but I’m still afraid of her. That fear never left. How could it? Because even when the physical abuse stopped the emotional abuse continued for a long time. Eventually I was able to create boundaries- physical and emotional- that she hasn’t crossed in about five or six years. But 2 months ago she crossed that emotional line…. and I lost it. I lost it.
It all started with the kids…
Overall she’s been a really good, healthy grandmother to my kids. She certainly has been a much better grandparent than she was a parent. Obviously she has less stressors in her life now than what she did when I was a child so she’s able to be more calm and patient. However, over the years there have been little things here and there…. things that we didn’t like, things that the kids didn’t like- things that made them uncomfortable.
Recently it got to the point where the kids decided they didn’t want to spend the night at her house anymore. My husband and I had already reduced their time over there as it was, but one Sunday afternoon, after my mom dropped them off, they told us they did not want to go there again. Apparently she had gotten emotional the day before, she was crying and repeatedly questioning them about something they said. Long story short, all they said was that they didn’t want to go to the grocery store. Kids don’t like to go to the grocery store! It’s a very normal, very typical thing. But not for my mother….
Me asking her to please not take them to the store because they don’t like it- I might as well have said, “They don’t want to be seen in public with you, they don’t like you.”
Instead of coming to me to discuss her hurt feelings (not that her feelings should have been hurt!!!) she interrogated the kids. They were very uncomfortable-even a little scared- and it was not the first time she had made them feel uncomfortable with her constant questioning, but it was the worst. So that was it. They had had enough and they started to tell me things they had not told me before- nothing to alert the authorities about but, still, things that I don’t think are appropriate to repeat on a blog. After what they told me I knew there was no way they were going back to her house without us. Ever.
But how to tell her that?
I avoided that conversation for as long as possible. I was so nervous about it. I mean, if she cries and interrogates them because they don’t want to go to the store with her, how was she going to react to me telling her that they don’t want to go to her house?!  Not to mention all my years of past experience reminding me of what she’s capable of when you tell her something she doesn’t want to hear.
So, needless to say, my anxiety regarding this matter was quite elevated.
And don’t forget to add in the anxiety I was still feeling after the argument with my friend.
Now here is where “disaster struck.”
After two or three months I could no longer avoid it. My mom texted me about seeing the kids, specifically about them spending the night with her. We exchanged a few texts and I gathered my courage and told her I needed to talk to her about that. Now, I could have taken the easy way out and continued to text her, but I wanted to be an adult about it. I didn’t want to be afraid of her anymore. So I decided to tell her over the phone.
I told her only 2 of the things the kids had told me. I certainly did not tell her or even indicate to her that we had all noticed a pattern.
At first she seemed to take it ok. She denied it of course. She all but said the kids were lying. That alone was hard enough to process… Either she really didn’t remember doing and saying the things she did, or she was lying and she’d rather accuse her own grandchildren of being dishonest than take responsibility for what she did. I don’t know which is worse or which is more scary… I just simply did not comment on that. I tried to steer the conversation towards the future, like, “Hey! No worries! We can all still hang out, you can just come on over to our house!” I mean, that’s pretty much what I said.
Anyway, like I said, she seemed to take it ok- at first. It even seemed like she was trying to laugh it off and make light of it. But then, little by little, that evil spirit that lives inside her started coming out. And then she did exactly what I should have known she would do. I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming-  She blamed me.
She. Blamed. Me. She started back up with the emotional abuse of the past.
It started while we were still on the phone. One minute we were talking about the kids and I was inviting her to my house, to the movies, to dinner- all of which she declined- and then the next minute she starts talking about me, and about our lack of a warm and fuzzy mother-daughter relationship. We have never had a good relationship. Ever. Not ever. I described her to you- unpredictable, insecure, needy, full of rage, bad temper, capable of violence….
I don’t know what happened to her during her own childhood, but she was broken long before I ever came along. And it is so hard to accept that she will never see the truth, but she won’t. She never has and she never will. In her version of reality I refuse to have a relationship with her and she has no idea why. And that is just absolutely insane.
This is where I struggle the most… Not only did I have to live with her abuse for over twenty years, I have had to struggle to overcome the damage it did to me, AND I’m to blame for the state of our relationship?! It’s just too much. I just can’t believe it. I mean, why in the world would I distance myself from her if I didn’t have a solid reason for it? Why doesn’t she think about that? Does she honestly believe that I don’t engage in a relationship with her just because…. what? I’m a bad person? I just don’t feel like it? No reason at all? Does she really not see that perhaps she might play a role in why things are the way they are?
I do know that she thinks part of the problem is that I don’t “know” her. Okay… once again I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone when she says this, and it’s not the first time she has said this. It’s such an infuriating statement because it is so untrue, it’s the exact opposite of reality! I think to myself,

I don’t know you?!??!  Woman, I know you like prey knows its predator. Knowing you was a matter of survival.”

The real problem is that she doesn’t know herself.

Anyway, like I said, she blamed me. Not only for our lack of relationship, which she has always blamed me for, but also for why the kids don’t want to come to her house anymore. Even after we got off the phone she wouldn’t let it drop. She continued to text me even though I wasn’t responding. It was her final text that really put me over the edge. She texted, “Unfortunately kids learn from their parents.” I’ll paraphrase the rest. She basically said that because I don’t have a relationship with her and because I neglect her the kids are following suit. I set a bad example for my kids. That’s why they don’t want to go to her house…..
So…… it has nothing to do with her or how she behaves or that she makes them uncomfortable and dresses inappropriately! Nope. It’s me- the one who has always encouraged and fostered a healthy relationship between her and her grandchildren despite the  fact that she was terrible to me! How screwed up is that?!

Well, I tried to hang on. I tried not to let it get me down. I did the things I had done before. I listened to music, I tried to keep up with my daily chores, I tried to stay focused on the present moment- especially when I was with the kids…. But I think that’s when I stopped going to the gym. The anxiety and depression were really pulling me down. I was just so mad- so mad!– that she would blame me for anything! I was fuming… and I couldn’t seem to let go of the anger, it just kept building and building, and all of the memories and emotions from the past just kept coming and coming and coming; and then they stayed stuck on a loop- continuously circling and circling, looping and looping in my mind.
I lasted a week before I finally succumbed to the internal madness and stopped fighting the urge to be crazy. I just wanted to be crazy! I wanted to go out and be wild! Fuck it! What did I have to lose??! My father’s an alcoholic! My mother’s crazy! My mother abused me and now she blames me! She abused me but I’m a terrible daughter!???  Well fine then- fuck it! I’m out of here!….
So, like I said, I lost it.

images

I went and bought a six pack, drank all of them within a span of 2 1/2 hours, blasted music throughout the house as loud as I could, screamed and hooted and hollered at the top of my lungs, and started to pack a bag. I decided I was gonna go to Jamaica or Vegas. Woohoo! I really did pack a bag too. I made sure I had my passport and a credit card in my purse and I left. At the time, I considered it to be a real possibility that I was going on vacation somewhere, maybe even out of the country! Somewhere where I could dance all day and all night! And I wasn’t coming back for a month!
You might be wondering, “where were the kids when all of this was going on?”
They were in school. My son did come home in the midst of it but I handled it in a very honest, very transparent way…. That’s a whole other story- a short one and not a bad one! He was ok. My husband also knew what was going on and he was only 10 minutes away so we were good. I made sure my son got my daughter off the bus and took her to a friend’s house. She never saw a thing.

In the end all I did was hang out with an old friend for a few hours that night. We actually had a really good talk, she was very helpful. She has similar “mama-drama” issues so she understood, she knew what to say. We were at her house for a while then we went to a bar, it was kind of dead but the music was good. I had fun. It only took a few hours and I was ready to go home. I missed my house, my kids, my husband, and my cat. Not surprisingly, by the time I left the bar I was pretty exhausted, and I was so grateful to have all of that to go home to.

So… that’s what I’ve been up to the last 8 months. Ha! Well, that and recovering from all of that. I’m back in therapy and I’ve started reading again too! Finally! I felt I deserved a treat so one day I went into Barnes & Noble and let myself get a few things- including a beautiful hardback book of short stories, The Snow Queen and Other Winter Tales. It was perfect for me! I have been absolutely loving it and will share more about it in my next post.

 

My To-Read list. It’s a start…

When I woke up this morning I randomly had the music for Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy playing in my head. It was about this time last year that I started searching for good “holiday” reads (Halloween and Christmas), and this year I seem to be doing the same. Last year I planned it but this year it’s happening in a more spontaneous way. I know that Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy is from Tchaikovsy’s score for The Nutcracker, a Christmas season favorite with a tradition as strong as A Christmas Carol. I also know that the ballet was based on the book The Nutcracker and The Mouse King.
(According to Wikipedia the ballet is based on Alexander Dumas’s adaptation of the story.)

the nutcracker

Sometimes before reading a book I like to do a little research on it and I was very surprised to find that The Nutcracker and The Mouse King was written in 1816! That is amazing. The story is 200 years old….. That is just absolutely amazing. A few years ago at Christmas I borrowed it from the library and tried to read it, but I couldn’t get into it. So, I’m going to try again this year. The Nutcracker and The Mouse King is officially at the top of my Christmas-books-to-read list. I’ll try to start it no later than December 1st.

Wow, here I am talking about Christmas and December and it’s only the middle of August! But, hey, Book Talk is Book Talk, it doesn’t always recognize seasons.

As for right now….. Still not reading anything, although I do keep thinking of David Copperfield. I’m also thinking of Halloween and what I should read for the month of October. Last year I decided on The Wolf Gift for my “Halloween” read, but I wonder what I’ll read this year…?
Interview With A Vampire?
Bram Stoker’s Dracula?
I gave Dracula a try last year, it was very difficult, but I would be willing to try again. Maybe I’ll find something entirely new. But definitely nothing by Stephen King. No Stephen King! I can’t handle his horror stories.
Hmmm… let’s see….. I think I’m feeling kind of “witchy.” I might have to do some research and find myself a witch story or two to read- there’s plenty of them out there!

 

 

Monday Moon Post: Jane Eyre

If you’d rather get right to the moon quotes you can scroll down to the bottom of this post until you see the moon pictures. I’ll get to Jane Eyre and the moon quotes momentarily, but first…

I am so tired. Yes, I know I sound like a broken record, but really, I am tired. There’s been a lot going on- school shopping, grocery shopping, a very long day at the zoo, 90 minutes spent at my son’s new high school just to get his schedule and locate only half of his classes, a very unexpected bachelorette party on Saturday night, a baby’s 1st birthday party yesterday afternoon, and then last night we went to the Football Hall of Fame game in Canton, Ohio. We had a 2 hour drive there and back and we didn’t get home until just after midnight. This morning I had to get up at 7 to take my 14-year-old son to a friend’s house for a day trip to an amusement park. Well, first I was woken up around 5 by some very strange dreams, but there was still time for me to go back to sleep before my alarm went off. However, I wasn’t able to that because my son was already up and already in trouble. He had been up since about 5- watching YouTube and playing games on his tablet, and he knows he isn’t supposed to do that! So my husband took the tablet from him and put it in our room. And what does my son do? He gets on his laptop!

I know what you’re thinking, Why does he have a tablet AND a laptop?
answer: GRANDPARENTS!
That’s why!
Grrrrrrr! Curse them and their desire to bestow expensive gifts on my children!

So I went in his room and demanded he get off and then of course lectured him about this and that and everything else, which I know isn’t exactly effective, but damn it I’m tired! He is driving me crazy….

Anyway, where was I? Oh, that’s right- busy. Parties, a football game, family stuff, kid stuff, preparing for a new school year, etc….. Prior to all this, or in the midst of it, my brother Sonn texted me one night:

[Have you heard about Sem?  I just found out tonight.]

Ok, honestly, I thought he was about to tell me that our brother was dead. I’m serious. My brother’s situation is that bad. As I said in my first post he is basically homeless. He tells my mom that he sometimes sleeps in abandoned houses, and, believe me, the part of town he frequents has no shortage of abandoned houses. Sometimes he sleeps on a random home’s porch or in an unused garage. People have called the police to have him removed. He is always asking my mom for money, or demanding it from her. And it’s always denominations of twenty. Years ago it was, “Hey, can I get $20?” He would always have some desperate reason why he needed it- medicine, bus money, he owes someone, etc… But it was all lies. If anyone agreed to give him $20 then it would turn into $40. “Well, actually 40 would be better” he’d say, but he would settle for $20 if you told him it was all you could do. Then it became $40 or $60, and the story was that he needed it to pay for Suboxone or a hotel room.
No one will let him live with them because he steals. He’s stolen from my mom’s house I can’t tell you how many times. She finally stopped letting him come back. She did, however, very recently get him a pre-paid cell phone so he would have a better chance at complying with his probation. (More on that later.) And what did he do with it? He sold it. He claimed it was stolen but he always says that. We know he sold it. Almost anything my mom has given him since he was 18 he has sold. Maybe some of the stuff was lost or stolen, but we think a lot of it was pawned, sold on the street, or traded in exchange for drugs. You can’t give him anything- he will turn into drugs.
He’s on probation because he broke into Sonn’s apartment- for the 2nd time. That’s right, he robbed his own brother. Twice. The first time he got in by smashing the siding glass door. He stole the flat screen TV, Xbox and games, and some cash. The 2nd time he broke in he did it through an upstairs window. He stole a brand new Xbox One, the few games Sonn had for it- oh, and his car. A few days later Sem was caught by the police in that stolen car and was arrested. (Stolen copper pipes were also found in the backseat). The Xbox was already pawned of course. Finger prints- actually an entire hand print- confirmed it was Sem who broke into the upstairs window.
These are felonies, Buddy. You’re going down.
He spent some time in jail, had to detox alone in a cell with nothing more than pain reliever to “help” him through it. Believe me, it was very difficult thinking of him going through that alone…  He would be in prison right now but, because these were non-violent crimes committed by a person who is clearly an addict, he was released under certain conditions. He was given a place at a homeless shelter and was supposed to report to a probation officer for daily drug testing. The program would also help get him a job and into an out-patient rehab program.
I would say, “Well, that didn’t last long,” but it never even began. As soon as he was out he was right back to it- lying, asking for money (40, 60, 80), crying about not having anywhere to live and claiming he had to leave the homeless shelter because it was infested with bed bugs. It probably is, but so is any other place he can find to crash. He has the nerve to claim he’s not on drugs, that he needs money for a place to stay the night, but we know it’s not true. My mom doesn’t give him money anymore, no one does. So I find myself wondering at times, What does he do to get the drugs he wants/needs?
I’m sure I don’t want to know…

People just like him- addicts- are found dead everyday in the neighborhoods where he drifts and wanders. Bodies are found in empty condemned houses and apartments, in dumpsters…. Some have OD’d, some have been murdered.
So you can see how I thought Oh god, he’s dead when Sonn texted me.

[Have you heard about Sem?]

However, he was referring to Sem not complying with his probation-which I already knew- and that no one had heard from him in a few weeks- which I did not know.
We have no way of contacting him. None whatsoever. Our only way of knowing he’s alive is that he calls our mom, but he apparently hasn’t done that in several weeks. This has happened before, but you never know. This time could be it….

Sonn also texted to me, “I don’t know how to handle this.”

This is unusually candid for him. He is a man of few words and certainly not prone to confessions of an emotional nature. I was completely caught off guard. I really wanted to help him but I wasn’t sure how. I know how to help myself, I know what I need to do to “handle” (deal with) the chaos and heartache that my family creates, but what works for me won’t necessarily work for Sonn. I’m the only one in my family who has been open to therapy/counseling. I’ve suggested this to him several times before, but he was always pretty clear about not wanting to go that route. I think for him therapy has always been a last resort. However, I know that Sem’s sad life and addiction hurts (and angers) Sonn more than it does me. When it comes to Sem I have been able to achieve a great deal of detachment- Sonn has not. And finally here he was reaching out for help. I figured there was no point in suggesting therapy again so I suggested Al-Anon, which has also been immensely helpful to me.  I wanted to suggest both Al-Anon and counseling, but I didn’t think he’d go for it. However, to my surprise, when I texted him about Al-Anon he texted back that he was thinking of counseling.
Well, I jumped all over the chance to encourage that! He said he didn’t know where to start so I gave him a few ideas, but I tried to make sure I didn’t overwhelm him.

So with all that’s been going on it’s no surprise that I’ve had a little anxiety. One night recently I was experiencing some chest pains and shortness of breath. Sometimes when I’m anxious, and especially when my mind is racing with absurd chaotic thoughts, I have a little prayer that I slowly repeat to myself. It helps me calm down.

Peace in my mind
Peace in my heart
Faith in the Kingdom
Faith in the Guard

The first two lines are pretty basic- a simple and concise declaration for a peaceful state of mind and body. The second two lines were inspired by one of the most beautiful lines I have ever read:

“…there is an invisible world and a kingdom of spirits; that world is round us, for it is everywhere; and those spirits watch us, for they are commissioned to guard us”

That is from the novel Jane Eyre (one of my favorites!), which, oddly enough, finally brings me to the quotes for Moon Post Monday. The first time I read Jane Eyre I was very surprised by the number of times the moon was mentioned and it really stuck with me. I made note of the best of them and here they are….

 

“…when the moon, which was full and bright, came in her course to that space in the sky opposite my casement, and looked in at me through the unveiled panes, her glorious gaze roused me. Awaking in the dead of night, I opened my eyes on her disk– silver-white and crystal clear. It was beautiful, but too solemn…”

moon window silver white

“He saw me, for the moon had opened a blue field in the sky, and rode in it watery bright.”

“The east had its own charm of fine deep blue, and its own modest gem, a rising and solitary star; soon it would boast the moon, but she was yet beneath the horizon.”

“On the hill top above me sat the rising moon; pale yet as a cloud, but brightening momentarily…”

 

“…for I am to take mademoiselle to the moon, and there I shall seek a cave in one of the white valleys among the volcano-tops, and mademoiselle shall live with me there…”

“…the moon appeared momentarily… her disk was blood-red and half overcast. She seemed to throw on me one bewildered, dreary glance, and buried herself again instantly in the deep drift of cloud.”

moon red

“…the sea, which I could hear from thence, rumbled dull like an earthquake- black clouds were casting up over it; the moon was setting in the waves, broad and red, like a hot cannon-ball– she threw her last bloody glance over a world quivering with the ferment of tempest.”

 

 

Making Progress: Blogging, but not reading

In my last post I said that I haven’t been reading lately, which was kind of a lie…. I have been reading, but not anything new. One night a few months ago I picked up the Tao of Pooh again because I couldn’t sleep. It’s an interesting, mildly entertaining read and -most importantly- it was helping me fall asleep. After about 2 weeks The Tao of Pooh was getting annoying so I stopped reading it and started reading Jane Austen instead. I started with both Mansfield Park and Emma and decided to stick with Emma. I’ve been reading that for the last few weeks whenever I’m having trouble falling asleep. Reading Jane Austen is, for me, like eating a warm, gooey grilled cheese sandwich or chocolate chip cookie- it’s comforting.

Sarah Addison Allen wrote, “Sometimes it’s a comfort just to have a book around.”

That’s how I feel about Jane Austen novels. Having them there is a comfort, reading them is soothing. So when I read a Jane Austen novel I’m not reading it to read- I’m reading it for comfort, to relax and calm down. It doesn’t exactly count as reading. Know what I mean?
I swear I’m going to read a new book soon! But not just yet. I’d rather wait until the kids are back in school. Only 8 more days now.
But what to read? ….What to read…?

Think, think, think.

Hmmm… I went to the Dublin Irish Fest this past Friday. Dublin is a suburb of Columbus and its annual Irish Festival is HUGE. Of course I loved it, I always do. It’s amazing. There is so much to do and see and hear at any given moment. It’s a very inspiring atmosphere and it gave me an idea about what I might read next. I discovered last summer that Oscar Wilde is the author responsible for some of the best, most famous quotes ever, and he was Irish. Two of my favorite Wilde quotes:

“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.”

and,

“It is what you read when you don’t have to that determines what you will be when you can’t help it.”

There is such wisdom in that one especially. Such wisdom. And the same could be said for the company we choose to keep, or the TV and movies we choose to watch. What you put into your mind, who and what you surround yourself with, will undoubtedly influence your personality. I’ve seen and experienced this time and time again.
There are two other quotes I’d like to mention. I can really relate to these.

“I am too fond of reading books to care to write them.”

and,

“Quotation is a serviceable substitute for wit.”

The last one is basically why this blog exists, the reason why I wanted to start a blog in the first place. I am completely enamored with intelligent, creative language, but that doesn’t mean I’m really good at it! (Oh, how I wish I was!) So I substitute the wit of others in place of my own. Like Mary (played by Jennifer Lopez) says in The Wedding Planner, “Those who can’t wed, plan.” I say, “Those who can’t write, quote.” Or, “Those who aren’t quick, quote.” I think I’m a decent writer, but I know I’m not quick witted- not verbally and not when I’m put on the spot. I’ve had my moments here and there, but it’s not often. However, if I have the time to think about it and write it down, then I have a better chance of displaying some amount of wittiness, but nothing profound. Nothing like Oscar Wilde, or Sue Monk Kidd’s The Secret Life of Bees. That entire book is quotable, it’s just one big quote- the whole thing! That’s what prevents me from attempting to write a novel- I don’t think I could write anything that’s as good as what I read. I’ve said I want to write books since I was ten, but so far I’ve been too much of a chicken to do much about it. Sad, isn’t it?

But, you know what makes me happy?
Sally Field as Miss Betsey Trotwood, that’s what!
Sally Field as Miss Betsey Trotwood?! Are you kidding me?!
What delicious bacon-wrapped goodness is this!? What did I do to deserve such a treat?

Much earlier this year I read my first Dickens- David Copperfield. Before reading it I did a little research about the novel and one thing that came up consistently was the strength and quality of the characters, and it did not disappoint. Enough cannot ever be said about the characters in David Copperfield. I could go on and on about that novel but truly it deserves its own post so it will all have to wait until then. Now, back to Sally Field. One night last week it suddenly occurred to me that I had been wanting to see if I could find a David Copperfield movie on Netflix. I ended up finding the TV movie (from 2000) on YouTube and watched it that night. I was up until 3 am! And I was so very pleasantly surprised to see Sally field as Miss Trotwood, I only wish there had been more of her!

When I do start reading maybe I’ll read David Copperfield again…. Or maybe it will be something by Oscar Wilde…. The Importance of Being Earnest… Or The Picture of Dorian Gray…. Hmmm…

Hermione would know what to read next.
Hermione would know what to read next.

Well, this certainly has been an eclectic post. Not the most organized or creative mass of words or ideas, but at least I did it. Getting something out there is better than not posting at all.
My next post will likely be on Monday, August 10th, and will mark (for me) the return of Moon Post Monday. It’s an idea I came up with when I was working on my last blog. I sort of stole the idea from another blog that I like and occasionally read, A Witch’s Ashram. (Formerly a WordPress blog but now on patheos.com.) The author of A Witch’s Ashram does Mantra Monday. I realized that I could do something similar with my collection of “moon quotes.” I love the moon; not for any profound or mystical reason, but simply because it’s pretty. (And doesn’t burn me, unlike the sun…) So over the past few years I have recorded or made note of dozens of moon quotes. Many writers have been inspired by the moon so those quotes are easy to come by. The Monday Moon Post can be as detailed and substantial as I want, or as simple as I may need at the time. It’s the type of post that can be done ahead of time and scheduled for “publishing” at a later date, which makes it a realistic way to ensure I post at least once a week- which, as you know, is essential to a successful blog.
See you Monday….

Dear Diary: Starting to see some light

Wow, my first post for this blog was quite lengthy and didn’t contain any visuals- sorry about that. I did go back and add an awesome pic of Alice (as in Wonderland) doing a facepalm.  That first post did, however, contain profanity- which is unusual for my writing- but damn it I needed to vent!
Okay, okay, I’ll stop.

I dumped a whole mess of personal info in that first post. What’s really funny is that when I first attempted a blog (years ago) I had no intention of including anything personal at all. I wanted to focus only on books, quotes, movies, music and song lyrics. But keeping the personal stuff out of it has proven to be unrealistic for me.  I have found that it is very difficult to share my thoughts and knowledge without including the grit and chaos that has lead to them. If I mention books like Toxic Parents, The Feminine Mystique, Courage to Change, Emotional Blackmail, Stop Walking On Eggshells, Goddesses In Every Woman, Dance of the Dissident Daughter- I want to be able to say why it is that I’ve read that book. Even the fiction books I read have a connection to the personal, and if I include that then I have a better chance of inspiring readers and giving them something to relate to.

Speaking of personal, I wrote that first post on my dad’s birthday! I didn’t realize that until today. And, speaking of my dad, I actually saw him last night….
First let me say that I never call my dad. I’m not proud of that. He’s always the one doing the calling. Half the time I don’t even answer, but that’s because I know he’s been drinking and sometimes I just don’t have the patience to handle it. It’s not like I can have a real conversation with him. His personality during his intoxicated state has gotten worse over the years. It’s bizarre- sometimes even Twilight Zone bizarre. I could have a field day with adjectives attempting to describe to you what it’s like, but I’ll save that for another time.

Anyway, I do feel guilty for not calling my dad. I feel guilty when he calls and I don’t answer, and I feel guilty for not seeing him. Half a year can go by without me seeing him and he’s only a 15 minute drive away. Lately it seems like every time I’m on the phone with him he mentions that he hasn’t seen us. So I’ve been feeling a little more guilty than usual. However, I should clarify that Al-Anon helped me bring my guilt down to a more realistic, more manageable level, and although I feel some guilt it certainly isn’t debilitating or unhealthy. Still, it’s there, and it motivated me to do something for my dad. He is, after all, a human being and I know he loves me (and my kids) even if he isn’t capable of having a real relationship with us. So I asked my brother if he could bring Dad over to my house.
(My dad doesn’t drive. No car, no license. Long story.)
Like I mentioned in the last post, my dad lives in a sketchy neighborhood so I don’t want to take my kids over there. Also, my dad’s apartment is difficult to be in because of all the cat hair and years of cigarette smoke. There is a sticky film over everything and the once white walls are now brownish.  We all feel like we can’t breathe and our eyes start to burn. My husband and daughter have asthma and allergies so there’s just no way they can survive in there. The kids feel very uncomfortable. It doesn’t feel like a safe place. We actually stopped visiting years ago for those reasons, and because we would all have to shower and put our clothes in the wash as soon as we got home! When we left his apartment we would smell terrible! I would be nauseous the whole way home. These are the reasons why I asked my brother to bring him to my house instead.
So, we saw him. Of course he was intoxicated. I like to use the word intoxicated sometimes because ‘drunk’ sounds so harsh… I expected him to be intoxicated, but he was very intoxicated. He couldn’t even walk straight. I was afraid several times that he was going to fall, and it seemed like he was having trouble focusing- his motor skills were off. He had trouble reaching for the door knob on our back door, then he couldn’t get it open. It took him a few tries. I think my brother had to help him. It was a very, very sad thing to see, and it was also strange to see it but not say anything. None of us even looked at one another. I felt like we were all pretending it wasn’t happening… But that isn’t necessarily true.
I mean, what can we say? What is there to say? He is what he is and we know it. No one is necessarily denying anything simply by being politely silent.

My dad and brother didn’t stay long, and as terrible as it sounds, I was glad. I was relieved when they left. My dad was trying to join in the conversation we were having, but it was clear that he didn’t really know what we were talking about. And he looks so unhealthy. So unhealthy. He looks terrible! But of course he does. A person can’t smoke and drink to excess for decades and not end up like that. I could hardly even look at him, and I felt bad about that but…  I don’t know how my brother can stand to see him like that so often. Then again, Nick has always been very loyal. And even though it was hard I’ve decided I’m going to see my dad again- not often, maybe once a month- but I’m going to make an effort. He’s sick. Alcoholism is a disease. I’ve been treating him like a pariah and a leper for too long. And, frankly, I don’t know how much time he has left.
So…. Well…. Yeah… I saw my dad. And that’s that.

Moving on… As I mentioned in my previous post, I have a few ideas about how to occupy my time in order to add meaning and purpose to my life, to expand my world. This blog is one of them. I really hope I can keep it going this time! My other ideas are volunteering in my daughter’s classroom (a very real possibility), going back to Al-Anon (very doable), having lunch with my friends who work full-time, and visiting my friends who are stay-at-home moms. Even though they have small children, and both of mine are now in school all day, that doesn’t mean we can’t still hang out. And I bet they would like that- they’re probably lonely too!
When I was in college I volunteered for the Suicide Prevention Hotline, I could do that again. I’ve also looked into some unique fitness opportunities like Pure Barre and aerial yoga, but Pure Barre is pretty expensive so that’s probably out. I’ll keep looking for things like that though. Or, here’s a thought- maybe I’ll get a job!
“The word today is job.  J-O-B.”
Okay, not really today, but maybe soon. It feels so strange, so wrong to not have a job, and especially to not even be looking for a job. This hasn’t happened since I was 16. Up until May 21st of this year I had a job, but the hours were at night and since we could finally afford it- I quit. Now I know more than ever the things a job can give you in addition to pay. So, anyway, sometimes there are part-time positions available at one of the local libraries. Or I could volunteer at the library- I love being around books!

Speaking of books, that’s what this blog is supposed to be about! The title, after all, is Words and Plots. Clearly that title implies books, novels, stories…. Clearly that title implies a sophisticated wonderland of quotes, insights, and intelligent reflections! The strange thing is I haven’t felt like reading lately, which is unusual for me, but I know what caused this accidental book sabbatical. I overloaded myself with reading. No, really. I was reading non-stop! Last summer I re-read all of Harry Potter, and then in the fall and winter I read several more novels back to back. From October to February I read The Wolf Gift (eh), half of The Wolves of Midwinter (eh), 2 Jane Austen mystery novels (loved them, will read more), Girl With A Pearl Earring (very interesting, really liked) and David Copperfield (LOVED). And these are just the ones I can remember. I think there was 1 or 2 more. I also did a few very time consuming blog posts/book reviews back in October, but they were taking up too much time (stupid old laptop!) so I abandoned the whole project. Yet, here I am, still with the same old laptop, trying again. It really is a shame I wasn’t blogging as I was reading all those books, the inspiration was flying through my head as I read them. Such a missed opportunity! But, like I said, I can try again. I’ve accomplished two new posts so far and I feel pretty good about it already. Today I’ve been blogging from my kitchen table, but Saturday I was at Starbucks so I was at least near other people- possibly even seen by a few. Actually, one guy even spoke to me- something about how standing is better than sitting. Thank you Random Stranger!
Until next time…

Dear Diary: Why I’m Jealous of My Husband

It’s weird to be jealous of your own husband, right? That’s not a good sign, is it?

This blog was supposed to be about my passion for words. A well organized, well researched, masterfully articulated blog showcasing masterful articulation. It’s supposed to be about books and quotes and song lyrics; a celebration of creative, intelligent, inspiring language- and lovely shit like that. But sometimes plans change, and this is one of those times, because I’ve got other things I need to say right now. 

You know what? That’s it. That. Is. It!!! I’ve HAD IT!

facepalm

Yeah, well, those are obviously empty threats. So I’ve had it. So I’m fed up. What am I really going to do about it? Apparently I’m going to blog about it, a.k.a. write about it. Because that’s what I do.
I turn to words- listening to them, singing them, reading them, or writing them. I always have. I once wrote an essay about my brother “Sem”. I was nine. I wrote the essay because I loathed him so much I seriously wanted to injure him. He used to make me so mad, and I needed to do something with that anger. Usually I just attacked him, but that day I somehow came up with a better, non-violent option. I had to get that anger out of me and, without questioning it, I went right to pen and paper to deal with those feelings.  That’s right- I wrote an essay when I was nine, not because it was homework, but because I actually wanted to. I needed to. It had an opening statement, an introductory paragraph, at least 2 body paragraphs consisting of 3 to 5 sentences each, and then a conclusion.

My mom found that essay last year, or something like that, and gave it to me. I had forgotten all about it, but as soon as I saw it the memory of writing it came back to me pretty vividly. When she presented it to me she was kind of laughing and smiling at me like, “Remember this? Oh, how cute!” I was embarrassed and pretty uncomfortable. I was hurt and sad, too. I’m not exactly sure why… Maybe because when I wrote that essay I was serious. I wasn’t trying to be cute. Those feelings described in that essay, the anger and frustration, were very real- then and now. That essay was nothing to laugh at. It was, in part, a cry for help. My brother acted the way he did because of how we were being raised. I suspected it even then, and now at the age of 36, I know I was right. There is a certain amount of satisfaction in that, but the memories and ramifications of my childhood are still hard to live with….

Okay, honestly, sometimes there is a lot of satisfaction in knowing that what I thought was fucked up when I was a child really was fucked up. Growing up I could never be sure of my assessment of the situation because my parents denied it. My dad pretty much just didn’t talk about it, or acknowledge it, in any way -unless it was about my mom being crazy. He was always drunk when he talked (ranted) about my mom’s behavior so… that doesn’t exactly count as validation.  My mom just out right denied it. She would verbally acknowledge certain things, but then she would follow that up with either down playing how bad it really was, or blaming her behavior on external factors- including me and my brothers. I don’t think she meant to make us feel blamed. I don’t think she realized what her words were conveying, but… that’s pretty much what she said. There was no other way to take it, especially for a child.

To some readers it might seem like I’m being too hard on my parents or unfair to them. Maybe that’s true. I have a lot of anger towards them and I give in to that anger, but I wasn’t always this way. For years I tried to forgive them. I forced myself to be around them even though they made me uncomfortable. For years I went along with the denial- either not talking about any of it, or telling myself, “It wasn’t that bad.” But several years ago I came across the book Toxic Parents. My parents are in that book. Not by name, of course, but by definition and description. That book did something for me that no other book or therapy had ever done- it gave me the freedom to be angry. Instead of trying to push forgiveness- which I had been trying to do- the author basically said Bullshit. You do not have to forgive people who abused you, especially people who have not taken responsibility or apologized for what they did. That book made me feel ok about being angry. It told me that I wasn’t a bad person for being angry with parents who were toxic to me as a child, and who continued to be toxic to me in adulthood. Like I said, it gave me the freedom to be angry. Do you have any idea what a relief that was? For there to be even just one person in the world who would allow me to feel that anger and not judge me for it… It was life changing. The freedom to be angry– I snatched that life line, clung to it, and still haven’t let it go. It has done wonders for my self confidence and empowerment.

I’d also like to point out that the public service announcement from the ’80s is true: “Parents Who Use Drugs Have Kids Who Use Drugs.”  My dad is an alcoholic and drug abuser. My brother Daniel is also an alcoholic and drug abuser. He is currently pretty much homeless. He’s been addicted to heroin for 3 years now… I think. Maybe longer. Before heroin it was pills- all kinds of pills. I heard rumors about Oxycontin and methadone, just to name two. I don’t know the names of the other drugs he crushed and snorted. Before the pills I had heard rumors of crack and cocaine. These rumors came via other family members. I have never actually witnessed my brother’s addiction. I’ve always avoided being around him. It wasn’t hard to do; as soon as he was 18 my mom helped him get an apartment and a job, and he was out. O-U-T, out!
Anyway, where was I…. Before the crack and cocaine it was marijuana and alcohol- lots and lots of marijuana and alcohol. This I know first hand, either because I heard him talk about it, or because I could hear him throwing up in the bathroom when he got home. He was 17. He had his first drink and smoked his first joint at the age of only 13, maybe 12. We grew up watching our dad roll and smoke joints and get drunk on a regular basis. Is it really any wonder that his son followed in his footsteps?

My mom did not do drugs or drink, but her father was an alcoholic. I don’t know half the details (not even close) of what went down in the home she grew up in, but I know there was a lot of anger and a lot violence. I am positive she has PTSD, and would also likely be diagnosed with a personality disorder if she would go to therapy like I have. With her father being an alcoholic she, of course, married an alcoholic. A very common pattern. And even though I’m not an alcoholic (and my husband isn’t an alcoholic), I’ve had a great deal of emotional issues to work through so my kids have still been effected by it. This is why alcoholism is called “a family disease.” Not only is there the genetic component, but there is also chaos, insanity, and dysfunctional behaviors that get passed down to the next generation.

Lucky for me I turn to books and writing rather than drugs and alcohol when I need help or comfort. It’s always been a natural instinct. For the past 15 years my focus has mostly been books, not as much writing. But recently that has started to change. I’ll start writing- a blog, a story- but then I stop. I abandon it. Yet here I am, trying it again because I need something. I need something that is mine and mine alone. Not something that I’m connected to because I’m someone’s wife or mother.
However, on the other hand, it truly is absurd for me to complain about anything. I have a good life, a really good life- especially considering where I started. I have been able to accomplish some incredible goals- a bachelor’s degree, an amazing husband, a good life for my kids. And I have the luxury, the choice, of being a stay-at-home parent, which is exactly what I said I wanted about 8 years ago. I don’t want a full-time job right now but… I don’t know how to explain it… I feel so pathetic because I don’t feel like I do anything important.

When all you really have in your life is yourself, your family, and your home- you will hyper focus on those things, and that can cause problems for all involved. Small things will seem a lot more important then they really are.  I hyper focus on myself, I’ve been doing it for years- my hair, my weight, my skin, my clothes. Am I  pretty? Am I sexy? Am I ugly? I am unattractive? Oh, god, I’m repulsive. Then there’s the house- we need to repaint, we need new carpet, new closet doors, new windows- we need a whole new house! We can’t actually afford to move, and we don’t need to- our house is just fine. We’re working on minor cosmetic things a little at a time, but, like I said, sometimes I hyper focus on insignificant details because my world is too small.

So let’s say I get the house, the hair, and the body I want. Then what? I’ll still feel like I’m lacking purpose. I’ll still feel insignificant. I still won’t have a career. I don’t even have a hobby! I still won’t have anywhere to be, nothing to accomplish beyond dishes, laundry, and dinner. I’ll still be lonely all day long. I’ll still feel unimportant and, frankly, a little pathetic. I mean, this shit is getting bad. My children are my main source of companionship! That is not ok. When our dishwasher broke I wasn’t in a hurry to get a new one because washing the dishes by hand gave me something to do! At the end of the last school year I started taking the long way to the grocery store because there’s more traffic- which meant I’d be around people… sort of.
So I’m not exactly thrilled about the kids going back to school. I mean, it will be nice to have some peace and quiet, and to get the house back in order, but…. Mostly I’m terrified by the emptiness and loneliness that I’m afraid will bear down on me.

This is a very new feeling for me. I’ve been a stay-at-home parent for 8 years, and it wasn’t until the end of this past school year that I started to feel this way. I have no idea what I’m going to do. The thought of being alone all day, day after day…. I just want to cry. In fact, I’m sure I will break down crying at some point within the first week of school. But even having them at home isn’t as fulfilling as…. I don’t know what. When the kids are there I’m not lonely, but I still don’t feel as important or significant as I perceive my husband to be at his job.  I know it means a lot to him that I’m at home with the kids. I’m sure it means a lot to the kids too that I’m here for them and do things with them, and it might hurt them if they knew that I sometimes feel this way. I like being home with them and there for them, but, like I said, I need something else. I need to expand my world.

My husband’s world is huge. My husband’s world is the world. Literally. He works for a large financial corporation that flies him to various cities around the country and pays for nice dinners. He talks to people in Manila and Mumbai. He’s even had the opportunity to go to  the Philippines or India. I’m sure he will one day. He has more than just a job, he has a full blown career. A career he loves! And a very successful one. He is about to get another promotion. He doesn’t even have to apply for promotions anymore, they give them to him. He’s at a six figure salary, and that doesn’t include bonus. He deserves it, of course. He’s very smart, he works really hard, and I know he does it for us. I’m very proud of him and grateful for how well he provides for us. And he’s a great guy! He’s thoughtful and generous and treats me very well. He’s my best friend. And he’s a great father.

But I have to admit I’m very jealous of his career. I’m sure it feels really good to be worth $100,000! I’m sure it must feel amazing to be around important, intelligent people and be treated like an equal. I’m sure if feels really good to be respected, to feel needed and valued, and rewarded for something you’re good at. I don’t have any of this.

My husband also has a really great hobby. He loves cars, so one day a few years ago he did a little research about how a person might go about becoming involved in the racing world. Lo and behold, he found out that in some race circuits the people who are behind the scenes- in pit row or doing the flags- are actually volunteers. He then discovered that not even 2 hours form our house is Mid-Ohio Sports Car Course  where could volunteer for SCCA- Sports Car Club of America. All he had to do was send an email, pay a small membership due, and attend a one day training course. Even that was cool. He learned how to put out different types of fires and all kinds of things. He has sense been given an award for New Race Volunteer of the year, been offered a position as a pit crew chief, and he’s been trained on flags. When he arrives at Mid-Ohio people are happy to see him- not only because he’s a nice guy, but because they need him there! Even his hobby has him out in the world, being valued. And on days when the SCCA volunteers aren’t busy because the larger race circuits (Nascar, Indy car) bring there own crews, he still gets to be there behind the scenes, checking out the cars, meeting cool (sometimes even famous) people.

Between his job and his hobby he meets all kinds of people. And he knows how to do it too. He has the knowledge and the confidence it takes to make the type of first impression that makes people remember you and want to know you. I don’t have that kind of confidence. I think I almost did, once upon a time. I know I had more confidence at one point, but that was before I was pregnant with my son 15 years ago. Still, even then, I didn’t have the confidence that my husband does. Yet, he’s humble. He would tell you that all he does is “try.” Okay, yes, it’s true- he has the guts to try new things. However, I have told him that it’s more than just that. Lots of people try but end up with zilch or only mild success. For my husband though, things just seem to have a way of always working out for him. He’s blessed. I don’t mean blessed as in “we are blessed with good health, a roof over our heads, and food on our table.” I mean blessed, as in you are The Golden Boy, The Chosen One. “GOOD FORTUNE IS BESTOWED UPON YOU MY SON.” He had to agree. The evidence is irrefutable.

So, let’s see…. successful career, provider for family, awesome hobby…. Oh, yeah. He also has a really great group of friends. The last time he got a group of guys together I think there were at least 12 of them. Umm, I don’t have 12 friends. I might have 6….

And then there’s his family. My husband has a great family. He has a lot of family. And they’re all really amazing people- not barely functioning people, not crazy people, not people who are incapable of having a healthy relationship- but amazing, happy, caring, successful people. Meanwhile, my family is dysfunctional and I’m not in contact with 99% of the people I’m related to.  My dad is always intoxicated. He gets drunk- completely drunk- every other day. So even on the days he doesn’t drink he still isn’t actually sober. The only time he calls me is when he’s had a few- or several- beers. Shit, he might also be high for all I know. He lives in a sketchy neighborhood and…. he has no teeth. That’s right. My dad has no teeth. They all had to be pulled because they were black and rotting away right before your eyes. He didn’t tolerate the dentures very well, got frustrated, threw them, and broke them. He can’t afford another pair, his 90 year-old father paid for the ones he broke!
I’ve never really had a relationship with my dad’s family. It’s a large family, but not a close family. He has 6 successful (older) brothers and sisters, but I hardly know them, or my cousins, or even my grandparents. I think it’s awkward for them too. My brothers and I never really felt like we fit in.

Then there’s my mom. Growing up she was very, very angry and unpredictable. Living with her was extremely difficult. To illustrate just how difficult it was I’ll share that I’ve been diagnosed with PTSD, among other things. My dad was the alcoholic, but he was a lot easier to tolerate than my mom. He was even easier to be around. But as the years have gone by my mom has slowly calmed down. She has more self-control now, but she can still be difficult to be around. She is, however, a really good grandparent. My relationship with her currently revolves around my kids and that’s about it. As for my mom’s family….Wow. Crazy, crazy, weird, unhealthy people. Once I started going to Al-Anon and therapy I stopped forcing myself to spend time with them. I was never comfortable around them, but I thought I had to be around them because we’re related. Well, I know better now. I will not tolerate people who do not speak to me with respect, who make fun of me, call me names, and de-pants my child! They are not healthy people. I just stay away from them.
I was, however, very close to my grandma- my mom’s mom. In fact, my mom became very jealous of the relationship my grandma and I had. But she was nice to me! My grandma was nice to me; she made me feel loved and special, which probably saved my life. But Grandma died several years ago….
That brings me to “Nos”, my youngest brother. He’s in school working towards a degree in electrical engineering. He’s getting good grades too. I’m proud of him. He did a few years in the Navy so that’s paying for school. Smartest thing he ever did. He and I were close when we were growing up, but we haven’t been close for a very long time. He doesn’t avoid our parents or my mom’s family the way I do, but, then again, he also drinks a lot. It’s possible he’s an alcoholic. However, I do give him kudos and admire that he is loyal to his family- even if they’re a mess. I just can’t do it.
So the closest thing I have to family right now is actually my husband’s family. They are very, very good to me- but it’s not the same. I still kind of feel like an orphan sometimes.

I had always planned to get as far away from my childhood as possible, and I have with my husband’s help. He has helped me grow emotionally, he’s taught me maturity and responsibility, how to be a more patient parent.

It’s hard not to feel like I owe him. So, I feel like I owe him and I’m jealous of him. And I love him- all at the same time. It’s hard to feel like his equal. It doesn’t come up often, but I’m starting to feel embarrassed to meet or spend time with the people in all of his many circles. He does so much and I do so little. People always want to know what you do. What can I say? I don’t have much to say. It’s all about what he (my husband) does, and what the kids are up to. But I don’t actually do anything. Certainly not anything that’s conversation worthy. I feel like I’m in his shadow, like I’m important only by extension.
He certainly doesn’t see me this way. And I know that, in reality, no one else does either.
But I still feel like he has everything, and I have nothing. (I know I have a lot more than nothing. I just want to wallow in self pity, okay!?)

It doesn’t seem fair. I’ve worked really hard too, and I continue to work hard to be the best I can for my kids. I’m terrified that I’m going to screw them up the way my parents screwed up with me and my brothers.
So I work hard to be sane and healthy for them, but you do not get bonuses or a fancy title for being a good parent. You do not graduate from therapy with a degree, there is no “most improved patient of the year” award, and self-improvement is not a paying career. It goes largely unacknowledged. Overcoming generations of alcoholism, overcoming poverty- these are necessary for a healthy life, and they are major achievements, but there’s not going to be any formal record of these accomplishments. And none of this is appropriate dinner conversation.

I said I have nothing…. But I have a lot more than nothing, I know. Still, I’m jealous of everything my husband has. I try to be happy for him when all these good things come his way, and most of the time I am genuinely happy for him. I try not to resent him. I love him. We have a great relationship. He’s my best friend. I adore him and I’m so proud of him! I’m proud to be his wife!
But I do need more. I need something of my own. I need to expand my world. It’s a good thing I’ve read The Feminine Mystique, otherwise I wouldn’t understand what the hell is going on with me. Because of that book I know that what I’m struggling with (loneliness, insignificance, lack of purpose) is not uncommon for a stay-at-home-parent. But I have to do something about it before depression really takes over. I have a few ideas. We’ll see…..