Vacation and Reflection

I have not been reading my comments for personal reasons, and only briefly checked e-mail, but yes I'm fine, safe, and o.k. At the moment the kids and I are enjoying some time to relax while I make assessments and decisions that I need to for both them and myself. I've had little access to the internet in any case, and I must say that it has been great to unplug.

The mini-muses and I are safe, sound, snug, and most importantly able to enjoy relaxing together as a family. In all of this madness my concern is primarily for their well-being, and seeing how vibrant and excited they've been on this vacation adventure has been encouraging to me as their mother.

Despite the dearth of blog posts, it has not stopped me from writing by any means. I have been able to do a lot of personal reflection in the absence of emotional angst and day to day quibbles and distractions. What a relief!

In this reflection I find a need to reclaim myself, to shed an old skin that somehow was always ill-fitting, but that I tried very hard to make the best of. Whether that was because the cold I would have to face without it would be too painful, or because attachment convinced me that a few alterations here and there would have everything right as rain, the affect was the same... I held on to something that was not healthy in any regard for far too long.

Meanwhile the kiddos are having a lot of fun. I haven't heard as many "I want to go home's" as I expected I might. I am encouraged by how excited and happy they seem to be since the grueling travel aspect of the vacation reached it's end, and we are in a safe and secure place. It seems not having to see the two people they love constantly sad, angry, or at odds has had the effect of letting them just be kids.

For myself, I also feel healthier over all. I no longer feel like I'm struggling against the tide with weights tied to my ankles. Insha' Allah, both the children and myself will each be able to grow and blossom as our individual spirits and hearts dictate that we must.

Veils

I put veils over my heart to protect it by
Leaving my eyes and mind open and free.
What I didn't count on were the veils my heart put over my eyes,
Obscuring the view that my logic could see.

On Disposability...

I wrote this on February 11th. Perhaps because on some intuitive level I knew it was an inevitability:

"...And so before I even reached adulthood, I suffered from hardening of the arteries. Mr. Muse has said that I have a heart of gold. Sometimes this hardly seems possible, as gold, in it's purest form, is soft, malleable, compliant... and my heart... my heart is not sure which direction it leans. Some pieces of it are warm and tender, ready to be embraced, others are dark and hidden as hard as black marble, and yet other pieces of it are fortified with granite, armor against the daily siege that life lays on it. I always thought that this jadedness was a natural thing, that it could not be helped.

If I've ever always known one thing in my life, it is that the heart is not disposable. Once it is broken, the scars remain. Once it is shattered, God help the person that suffers such deep disappointment and pain. I do not know if one's heart can be irreparably damaged. I don't want to find out. But with each time that I have been disposed of, it took me a step closer in that direction.

But there has been a positive in it. I've seen the ugliness in human nature. I've seen how people can be an irremovable part of your life one day, and disappear into oblivion the next. I've learned to be glib in the face of this, and to focus on the people who are anything but indispensible to me. My husband, being first and foremost.

But under the surface lurks a fear. It ripples the surface of the pond so very occassionally, it is easy to overlook. Beneath the surface there is always a piece of my heart held in reserve, waiting for the day that I become disposable to him too... a piece to keep the possibility of irreparable heartbreak from wreaking it's devastation on me. There is a piece of me that I must cling to for myself, so that I may survive no matter what happens.

There is a piece of myself that I must never dispose of, and that no one else will ever be able to either. It is the part of me that soars and sings in the face of all things. The one part of my heart that will not be broken. It gives voice to all things in this life that are worth clinging to. I hold it close, and hope that I will be able to teach my children to hold that piece of themselves close also."


Disposable or not, I am not now, and I Will Not Be Broken.

A Mind Full of Fireflies

The brain is the nucleus surrounded in a cloud, orbited by thoughts, ideas, and dreams following erratic pathways like rogue electrons. They pass and collide in splashes of color, fusing new ideas, and dissecting old ones. They are beautiful to watch, and difficult to track, swarming, amassing, and falling away. At times they motivate, and at others they overwhelm. Now is the time for motivation, the motivation to capture just one and follow where it leads.

Concluding Chapters and Entering a New One

What do you do when you're just purely exhausted, and the time is right to let go and move on, but you don't want to give up? I've been through things that have profoundly affected my life, and have affected relationships in ways that I could have never fathomed.

A large chapter in my life is drawing to a rather painful conclusion. It's difficult for me, because I'm looking at being purely on my own, while the other half of the equation will have the comfort of someone else in my absence. Should I begrudge them that, or should I be happy that they will have some form of comfort?

On with life. The wind says, "Go West, Young Lady! Go West!" And I probably shall.

The Dance of Connection

I am currently reading a book that seems rather a timely read for me. The Dance of Connection by Harriet Lerner. I'm not a huge self-help person. I generally start to read them and drop them about half way through, most of the time finding that what's offered is old pieces of wisdom re-packaged into something that appears shiny and new. Which is not to say that I know it all, just that I get tired of the redundant proverbialisms that saturate the field of the self-help industry. In this instance, my mom actually sent me the book a couple of years ago, and I started reading it, but I must not have been in the place I needed to be for it. I thought about giving it away on several occassions, but somehow could not bring myself to.

Given things that I am currently having to face in my life, the messages it contains are ones that I need to hear. The brief explanation on the cover says, "How to talk to someone when you're mad, hurt, scared, frustrated, insulted, betrayed, or desperate." At the moment I find I am facing all of the above at any given moment of the day. Currently I phase from one to the next with no warning. As a warning to guy readers, I'm fixin' to (there's a lovely Southern expression for you) get into some delicate ladies topics, so you may wish to hit the little red x in the upper right hand corner of the window if you are squeamish about feminine issues.

I've briefly mentioned Pre-Menstrual Dysphoric Disorder, but I think this month I've slipped beyond PMDD into something else entirely. I have a sneaking suspicion that I may have had an early miscarriage, given the tardiness of my period, and a few other symptoms that point towards such a conclusion. Now, before anyone gets the notion to say, "Oh I'm so sorry!" Please refrain. No offense, but I'm just not that upset about it, if that's what it was, rather I see it as a mercy because there is no way that my going through a pregnancy and having another baby would be a healthy thing for myself or anyone in my family. But my emotions are far more intense and sending me into more manic spins than I have previously dealt with, and I feel on the verge of a break-down. Add in other intense stressors that I will not be discussing, and I am going from manic weeping, to screaming at people and not even realizing that I have raised my voice, and then swinging back to a very rational if not bruised and self protective mind-set. I am still fighting with medicaid to get the information corrected so that I can actually get in to an OB, and to have a doctor confirm or dismiss my suspicion, and to take any necessary steps to prevent health problems in the case that my suspicion is correct.

Doctor Lerner discusses in her book how conversations are really opportunities for self discovery, and how finding our authentic voice and protecting it is necessary for intimacy. She dispels any notions about having to go through a massive process of excavation to find this authentic voice, but rather, in my mind seems to equate it to simply stripping off the layers of masks that we don with each other, utilizing words and silences alike out of fear, rather than from a place of authenticity. Jodi's theme this year is authenticity, and mine is that of a Journey, so I suppose in some ways my journey this year is about being my authentic self, and knowing when to (or not to) speak in a way that does not compromise what I need to communicate, while still creating an environment of intimacy so that the other person is also free to speak, or not to as they choose. There are other things she further says about the matter that are some times necessary in protecting one's authentic voice, and it seems that I have reached a critical stage where it may become necessary.

The odd thing is, the decisions were entertained and pretty much already made before I picked the book up again on a whim.

As I finish it I may give a further review, or I may not. Time will tell, as it does with everything else in life.

About Blinders and Being Blind-Sided

First, I am writing this in response to a post from a friend, which I will not link, because they have chosen to privatize their blog, and I absolutely respect that. Secondly, what I'm about to write has nothing to do with the previously mentioned issues that are disrupting my personal life at the moment. Thirdly, Mom, if you read this, and if it is in any way unfair, incorrect, or inaccurate, you have my apologies in advance. Quite simply I can only write from the perspective from which I remember, and I more than welcome you to offer any insights, corrections, or criticisms you wish.

Disclaimers dispensed with, here we go. My aforementioned friend discussed recently an issue he has with his mother, a singular event that seems to punctuate a pattern of behavior that was harmful to him as a child. In this case he feels his mother turned a blind eye to the harmful behavior of her spouse. Now he doesn't accuse her of doing it intentionally, however he does say he can't fathom how she couldn't have known, especially when it came to the protection of her child.

This is a tricky subject, ladened with anger, resentment, a need to understand, and a longing for rectification, but with the hopelessness that the failings of your parent can't be forgiven. There's also a lot of societally charged material about what the duties of a mother are to her child, which can be a lot to live up to for even the best of mothers. Somehow it seems fathers are exonerated from this notion of parental duty except when it comes to providing financial security.

So enough beating around the proverbial bush. My mom is an extremely intelligent and educated woman. She has devoted her life to championing the underdogs, and advocating for them in difficult circumstances. In her various careers she has found herself seeking justice and services for people who find themselves holding the short end of the stick for whatever reasons life has thrown at them. She's spent a lot of time with legislators, in workshops, conferences, and numerous other types of programs to champion rights and legislation for survivors of abuse, domestic violence, to see that patient rights are observed in Nursing Homes, and to see that school systems are adequately providing services to students with special needs. She, while I was living with her, was often stressed out by her work, discouraged by the road blocks, and always seemed to feel that each victory was minimal compared to all of the injustice still left in the world, but was able to use it as fuel to keep her from burning out entirely. Please remember, this is my mom from my perspective. Her perspective on her work and her career paths might be different from what I perceive.

What I also perceived was that my mom was incredibly protective of me. Some have said she was over protective. Maybe that is true. But given my lack of training, judgment, and ability to pay attention to my own warning signs early on, her protectiveness was in no way unwarranted.

So here you have a woman who spends her time learning about the psychology of things such as how victims respond to abuse, why and how perpetrators carry out their heinous deeds, why people stay with their alcoholic and drug addict spouses, how to recognize signs of mistreatment, and ultimately how to prosecute these crimes. So can you imagine the surprise and the sheer impact she faced when she found out the girl living in her home was being sexually abused when she was away. Now talk about being blind-sided. A lot of people would think, "How could this woman not have known what was going on? How could she have not seen the signs?" She asks herself those same painful questions. She still apologizes to me for every time she yelled at me for not having my chores or homework completed because she didn't know what had transpired to keep me from accomplishing them. She still apologizes for yelling at me for things before she understood them fully. A lot of people might assume that she was intentionally donning the blinders, to which I will happily call them to the carpet and tell them that they are full of crap.

Manipulators, abusers, addicts, and otherwise can be quite gifted at throwing people off of their trail. My sperm donor had a million and one ready made excuses to explain away the signs of his abuse. Sadly enough, he actively engaged me in his cover up and I actively participated in it. You want it, there it is. I had some weird idea in my head that I needed to protect my mom and my family from the impact of his misdeeds more than I needed to protect myself. I was also afraid that in some ways I had invited these crimes, and that everyone would see me as being to blame. Even still in my worst of moments, I wonder if I just somehow have a penchant for turning otherwise seemingly normal people into the worst kinds of monsters imaginable. My previous abuse lent itself to this notion quite nicely, and was also a perfect explanation for aberrant behavior on my part, residual acting out of things long past. It fooled my highly attuned mom, and it fooled the counselors and survivors group that I went to on a weekly basis.

So what is the point of opening this incredibly painful and volatile can of worms? The point is, yeah, there are some people who purposefully don blinders because whatever it is they don't wish to see is too painful to cope with. But there are some who don't even realize they have blinders on. There are some whose blinders were put on them whilst they were unaware, and usually these are the people who may have a sneaking suspicion something is wrong, but they stuff that little voice, thinking they must just be acting paranoid. There are some people who actively try to keep themselves blinder free, but that task in itself can become distracting enough that you can still be blind-sided by something.

My mom apologizes constantly for feeling that she was not a good mother. To me, she may not have been the mother I wanted, but she was the mother I needed, and to me that makes her the best mother in the world. As a mom myself now, it's easier for me to realize that mothers, fathers, grandparents, aunts, uncles... they're all just people, just like me, trying to figure out the best way to survive the day whilst trying to care for the children under their care and protect them from all the wolves that inhabit this world, in the guise of sheep. Because of the proximity, sometimes it's not always easy to identify the wolf that has already infiltrated the home, because they can play a pretty convincing sheep.

Forgiveness is something that's acheived over time, and is easier for some than it is for others. Forgiveness is sometimes only acheived on the other side of anger and resentment, and the painful process of working passed them. But recognizing that being human means being imperfect, and that I can never fully understand things I remember from any perspective than my own, and that just as I did the best I knew how, so did she.

I suppose in some ways I also have a lot of grace for my mom, because I was never her responsibility, but she chose to make me her responsibility to care for. Perhaps there is a difference there for me that might not be there for my friend. My mom chose to adopt me where she would have had every right to say, "This kid isn't mine. Her family needs to take care of her."

So you might ask, am I angry with my egg donor? Yeah for a long time I was. But then she actively engaged in abusing me, and when given a choice to kick out the abusive husband and have me come home, she chose to keep the abusive husband. But since then, my anger has long ago burned itself out into fine ashes that blew away in the wind, and all I have left is utter indifference. Have I forgiven her? I don't know if I need to anymore, since there's no hatred and no anger there, there doesn't seem to be anything left that warrants being forgiven. It's like saying I need to forgive a stranger for something they did that has no real relevance left in my life.

Welcome to the Zoo

I seem to be saying a lot lately, that I have a lot on my mind that I can't write about. Thank God for the potpourri of subjects I can blog about, because without being able to release some things, I think my head would short circuit and possibly explode in a cloud of white smoke, and the acrid scent of ozone. I'm facing my dilemmas in my personal life, some of which are depressing, and others of which breed immense and intense anger and resentment. But, I can not relate them here, because the reach of these dilemmas encompass more than my need to release my frustrations. That being said, because to just light into my next topic without having said that seems grossly dishonest, let's focus on happier things.

Such as a much anticipated outing that the mini-muses and I will be taking this coming Saturday with their Arabic school. This Saturday we will load up in a bus at our Masjed, and we will hop the interstate to Nashville. Our destination in Music City is none other than the Nashville Zoo. I have wanted to take the children to the Zoo for years, and was certain that I had it on my 30 before 30 list, somewhere after a trip to the Tennessee Aquarium in Chattanooga, but apparently I overlooked that little goal when composing that lovely list. Maybe I should make it 31 things before 30?

In any case before the children were very small, and obstacles such as work schedules, undependable vehicles, finances, and distance kept us from being able to go. Now my youngest is four, which is a ripe age for enjoying the Zoo, we're not terribly far away, and transportation is not an issue. I thought finances might be, but Alhomdulilah, it is taken care of. Mr. Muse will be lending me his camera and I plan to snap lots of kid-pics, and maybe some of the animals too. I just hope the weather decides to warm back up by Saturday. Today was quite chilly.

Son-shine hopes to see a Rhinoceros, and K-Bug has been inquiring as to whether or not there will be lions there. Whereas Pookie asked me if she'll be able to see any Giraffes. Personally I'm hoping to see the Giant Pandas and the Penguins. I have no idea what animals will actually be present when we go, so this will be as much of an adventure for me as for them. I'm not certain when the last time was that I've been to a zoo, though some part of me says that I have been... must have been at some time or another. I remember a Circus, Ice-Capades with my Girl Scout troop, a couple of County Fairs, a Stock Show, and a Dog Show. There's been several trips to Sea-World, museums, an opera, several symphonies, a dinner theater, the Colorado School of Mines, Leadville, and the Renaissance festival, and probably a few other massively wonderful venues, even a field trip to a Farm, but for some reason being able to place when and where I've been to a zoo and when escapes me. In any case, it will be fun to go again, since apparently it's been way too long.

As to posting for the rest of the week, I am officially suspending my blogging schedule. I will write and post if and when I choose, but am releasing myself of my obligatory subject schedule until I get things in my personal life on a satisfactory track. If you want something somewhat filling, I was featured as a guest writer today over at Write Stuff, where I speak a little On Carrying a Loaded Gun. As to making my rounds, I will try to be by around once a week or so, some others may see me more often, since there are some blogs I just can't stay away from.