In Death’s Minds Eye

They say….I’m a hard one to read.

I’m not emotionally expressive. I could be falling apart, or my sock could be sneaking down into my shoe. Both expressions are pretty much the same. Emotion… really isn’t my thing.

I’ve been called uncaring, unfeeling, heartless, inappropriate, odd, a zombie, devoid of emotion. All are accurate at times. I don’t react to situations the way the average person would.

Call it a character flaw. Start checking the psycho/serial killer checklist if you wish. I just cannot be an actor in a play where I screwed up the audition.

I’ll be honest. My range of emotions in a day are much like yours. I laugh in a moment, panic in the next, and at times wish I could hide. I don’t share my emotions because….well, I don’t think you really want to see them. Hell, I’m not even sure I want to see them.

So, lets think about this for a moment. If we were all truly honest about how we feel in this very moment…could we trust each other with our very raw emotions? Would I trust you, the person reading this? Would I trust someone I call a friend? Could I trust family? Who is it I would trust?

I don’t have an answer for that question. I’d like to think I know who I can trust but, I’ve been let down on occasion. It is never so straight forward that we can answer simply and succinctly, “This is my most trusted!”

I started thinking about this Thursday of last week. Life threw me into the thinking mood, briefly, as family emergencies tend to do. In those moments I began to write without thought. The end result….well, it is still a work in progress. I wanted to share it with you in its raw-ish form. I call it…. I Hope He Knows

I Hope He Knows

In Deaths minds eye
I wonder what he sees?
Is it images of happiness,
and what life is meant to be?

Or, does he see my questions?
My endless lingering doubts?
The ‘Whys’, the ‘Hows’, the ‘What the hells?’
And “What is life all about?”

In Deaths minds eye
I wonder if he sees
My perfectly shattered heart,
or neglected memories?

The dreams which died?
The ones which failed to be?
My beginnings, my endings,
and all my cries to be free?

In Deaths minds eye
I can only hope he sees
The greatest good I ever did
and the happiest I could be.

I hope in my last moments,
with each fleeting memory,
In Deaths minds eye
He knows
what it is
to be me.

~Wendy Wilder~

I could see death standing there patiently waiting for each moment of my life to finish passing before me. In no hurry. Sad, but understanding. And I wondered…was he able to see my whole life? Was he seeing what I was? And I really hoped he did.

How terribly lonely it would be to never share anothers memory…or emotion. To be devoid of the one thing which brings us closest.

So…for tonight. I say laugh when you feel like laughing. Cry when the world brings you to tears. Celebrate the little things, for they are the greatest. And when you panic, or your anxiety lies to you…say, “Thank you!,” because you are one step closer to overcoming it. You are fierce! You are brilliant! You are exactly what you are meant to be!

And each and every emotion you experience is valid, real, and deserves to be heard. Never be afraid to express those emotions…and I will try to take my own advice.

Goodnight my friends!

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Tidal Waves of Red…

 

Have you ever been mad at someone?

You know you shouldn’t be. It seems petty, small, but you just aren’t ready to forgive them. You also are not ready to talk to them, or be in the same room as them, or…you just don’t wanna…

You feel like a child throwing a tempertantrum. Only, you have every right to be mad.

There are moments in our lives where something happens and it impacts us far deeper then we’d like to admit. Things, which seem small on the surface, but turns ripples into tidal waves. You know if you hold on to the anger, the hurt, they’ll pull you under. Yet, you just can’t let go.

Generally, when I’m angry, I think it through, evaulate the thought process behind it. Then, I let it go. If it is valid, meaning it is logical anger, then I address it. Whether it means talking with a person who caused it, or analyzing why it triggered anger in me. I make adjustments, move on.

Anger is wasted energy in my opinion. It can usually be traced back to an emotion we’re either trying to hide, or didn’t realize we had. You learn a lot about yourself when you take a hard look at your response.

I have been angry at chairs, because I stubbed my toe. Pain is a great anger trigger. I have been angry at people for lying to me. Hurt, and the breaking of trust, are great anger triggers. I have been angry at people for moving to slow. Road rage, on the road and in the store. Frustration is a great anger trigger.

I read a quote once which reads, “Anger is a symptom, a way of cloaking and expressing feelings too awful to experience directly – hurt, bitterness, grief, and most of all, fear.”

I remember, during my parents divorce. My mother went to a shelter for abused women. She was instructed to by her lawyer. Not the best instructions I have to say. Now, please do not jump to the immediate conclusion that my father was abusive. Exactly the opposite. People love my father because he is a very sweet, caring, stubborn, jokester, wonderful man. My mother is just crazy.

Anyway, while at this shelter, my mother tried to convince me my father was abusive. She had already convinced the other women in the shelter (she’d make a great actress.) They cried with her as she shared her fabricated story. One of them even tried to “help me comes to terms with the truth.” The truth I knew, and the ‘truth’ they were trying to convince me was true….were two very different things.

I remember storming upstairs and locking myself in the bathroom of the shelter. I cried until I couldn’t cry any more. My mother was lying to me. Telling me stories. Trying to turn me against my father. I yelled through the door for them to stop, but they kept going. The whole while saying, “I know it is hard. We understand. Blah, blah, blah.” The more they said, the more I hated my mother.

I will tell you now, I was and still am a Daddy’s girl. My dad is the only man in the world I truly trust. The one who taught me to drive at 5. The one who explained the dark so I wasn’t afraid. The one who raised me to think for myself, and take care of myself. The one….who never raised a hand to me, or raised his voice at me. The one who everybody loved.

That day, locked in the bathroom, is still vividly clear in my mind. It is the day I never wanted to see my mother again, ever.

Thinking about that day, even now, still makes me angry. I have tried, over the years, to forgive and forget. I can forgive her for being naive enough to think a 9 year old wouldn’t know the difference between a lie and the truth. I can forgive her for not knowing how to be a parent. You learn by example, and her examples were never great. I can forgive her for listening to her questionable lawyer. I can forgive her for thinking I would, somehow, choose her over my father. I can forgive, but I will never, ever, forget.

It is anger which tidal waves over me when I think about it. Today though, it is not tidal wave strength anger. It is hurt, more than anger which occupies my mind. Yet, anger is what I focus on.

Odd how we can know the difference and still hold on to the hurt and/or anger.

So, for today, I wish you the ability to forgive for your own sake. The love of those around you, even when you’re mad at them. And may tomorrow be far brighter than today.

Goodnight All!

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