i want to owe her to have a reason to stay in the relationship and the fact that i don't is part of the grief and the grief is all that is really there in the relationship and when I think of many of the very significant moments of growing up I was alone. Alone and not allowed to talk about so many things. Not allowed to retain memories. Not to know truths or heal. Alone in that every conversation we have where I rip the bandage off the next time she ignores and I am alone with the memory and the reality and futility of it. Alone in dealing with my special child and learning disabilities and social issues growing up. Alone feeling stupid with a smart parent. A talented parent. A more pretty parent. Alone with my first period and realizing the loss of family in that moment. Lost to all those celebrations, all those moments of ordinary and sublime that were broken with her tantrums or mood or misreading.
I mourn. I feel the openness of my back keenly (I am working through a visualization of my open body). The cauterized wounds of my evisceration. Where the fish and sand have eased some of the sharpest points. I have progressed in these five years, but the core issues are the same. Why cannot I change? What is holding me back? Are these the wrong changes for me? Have I simply not had the basics in place to support the changes? Am I incapable of change?
I am happier today. The work helps. It makes me feel strong and ok with being tired. I was upset last night. I did not want to come. I did not want to talk to her to have her come even to invade my space with her voice and unreality. I am still open. Grasp in the arms of bear and world. The spine left out, vulnerable. I saw it as an I. I sense that I need to know this I before I can move on to build from this space. The I of my spine was held by her to a great extent and while there is much there I need to go in one direction of the other in order to let things heal and let the skin move back over me.
"Women often find themselves in a caring role, putting their own needs last. This can grossly undermine their sense of worth, their opinions and strengths. In due course, a woman may come to feel she is an unimportant, silent witness to the abuses she has to endure. She may lose her sense of identity, power and rights. To survive, she may cut herself off from her real needs"
This quote spoke to me. I feel like my needs are sort of met but in a way that is harmful to others and so I feel guilty about it. I am on fire. I feel the flames in my back around the bleached bones of my spine. I will live this openness for 13 days more. I am not going to fight the food. I am going to sink deep into myself and listen to me and the wind and the earth and I am not going to plan or fight or push. I am going to float and be. On that Tuesday I am going to take some time and rebuild a plan and start closing off and protecting some of those sore places. I want to sleep and play lego and sit at the park and on the back poach and create and listen to my children as they live. I want to breathe and feel real things under my toes. I am so tired. So lacking in space right now.
The wind lifts me up I come down to the salt pillar at pillar lake. A sacred place that scared me as a child. How many ancestor feet have walked this path? I always wondered what was in the hills as we drove and we never stopped to explore. Gordon always said latter. That never happened. I remember the fear of you that made us so often aware of our circumstances most clearly. I run my spine along the pillar. The sun shines down on it. The salt stings. I push hard against the stone. I draw power from the earth herself. I stand tall and reach for the sky. I want to put four things in for the four seasons, directions and my four commitments to myself. That I will not starve if I do not eat now. That I can be small and that is ok. That I can make good choices. I have started out on this journey before and succeeded. And that I can forgive myself.
|Omaëlle", 30x40, acrylique sur toile by Sophie Wilkins Arts|