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Sunday, May 10

Mama

I hate that I hate this day.

I should love this day, shouldn't I?
I hate that I've known since the first one, where I "should've" loved it, I would always hate it.

She made it so big. For weeks before we made preparations to make it a day dedicated to propping up who she thought she was, who she made us believe she was. We planned breakfasts and lunches and dinners. We made gifts, we wrote poems, we collected little items that should have made her smile on how much we loved her.
Then somehow we still fell short. None of it was enough. Every year we got that same speech about how hard it was not to have that man prodding us along and making it what it "should've" been. The same dissatisfied sighs as she went through the day... Making us feel we had failed yet again. After all, she would somewhere say that all she wanted was "a clean house and obedient children". As if we weren't already the most obedient, brainwashed little worshipers. As if we had any idea how to make a house soaked in disappointment and neglect ever feel clean.

That first year when I had my own child, and wonder of wonders actually had the man there to make the day what it "should've" been... It was still somehow my job to make the day for someone else,  who didn't even want me as a daughter.

A decade later and it's only ever been that. I suppose that's my fault for remaining the little girl just hoping I make everyone happy enough so that I don't feel like I'm a burden.

There are these beautiful glimpses now where I'm not that little girl. Where these people return love for love and don't let me strive for it when I don't have to... Moments, even away from them, where I finally step back and stop running a race no one asked me to run.


My kids don't spend weeks getting ready for this one day. Instead they simply tell me on a Saturday morning on the couch that I'm enough. No matter what kind of day it's been they still want mama to sing their songs to them at bedtime. They don't stress out about cleaning up and being perfect or being worthy. They're just my kids who love me and know I love them, because that's what's normal and right.

Fuck this whole Mother's Day thing. That's what I want. Healthy, happy kids who know I love them, who aren't afraid that some day I might not.

Thursday, March 26

World's Most

I've had to become the world's most cold hearted bitch
Evey morning I wake up to the sound of your weeping
Every morning I have to not hear
For if I hear, surely I would comfort and that can't be my job right now

I've had to become the world's least trusting wife
Even when I can not help but hear your cries
I am not afforded the luxury of belief
For if I believe, surely I would console but what if that's your plan

This isn't the woman I want to be
This is the woman I must be

How long did I play your mother
Your maid
Your fool 
Your... Oh don't make me say it...

Traded identity, traded years for empty husks of love in those old movies that you never would watch with me
Sacrificed myself on the altar of being what I never saw and thought should have been
You never even asked me to
You only ever smiled on the display
One note of the offeratory and your pleasure was clear

I did it to us and you allowed it
And then it was expected
Then I was expected
Regardless

So now I've had to become the world's most cold hearted bitch
She protects me from the fool inside that is begging to be allowed to dry your tears and make everything worse 

Sunday, August 25

One Soul In Two

She loved him and hated him both at the same time
She begged not, but waited for him just to go
She can't quite decide if he's water or poison
A villian, an angel or part of her soul

He tells her he wants her, and knows that she needs him
He loves her but often those words go unsaid
He knows that she'll never quite trust him completely
But that doesn't keep her from warming his bed

They're broken, they're bruised
They're used so they use
So lost, so confused
A villain, an angel, and one soul in two

He's got his plans and she rides on the wave
She fears that her future is written in stone
A woman should be Juliet in her own play
Not villians, but angels. Someone not alone.

He tells her he thinks that she leads just fine
No matter how much she believes that she can't
"Just step on the stage and start reading your lines"
If she reaches out, then he will take her hand

They're broken, they're bruised
They're used so they use
So lost, so confused
A villain , an angel, and one soul in two

One day she'll walk out the jail she's been building
He'll fly her away somewhere she can be whole
They'll live in a tower surrounded by white sands
Not villains,  but angels, two parts of one soul

Not broken, just bruised
No using, no use
Not lost or confused
Not villains, but angels and one soul in two

Tuesday, April 9

One of These Days

She's got your eyes
He's got my smile
She's got your sense of humor
He's always gonna be there for me
Just like you were

He's got curls that are wild
She's got one of those pirate smiles
He's looking up to you
She's looking up to me too
Lord help her

One of these days we're gonna have to tell them
That you and I made our share of mistakes
One of these days we're gonna get to show them
How all those moments added up to today

She's gonna come home way to late
He's gonna ask that girl on a date
Che's gonna want a dress for the prom
He's gonna crush on the wrong girl
Just like you did

He's gonna stand outside her window
She's not gonna ask before she goes
He's gonna climb that wall
She's gonna swoon and she is gonna fall in love
Lord help her
Oh Lord help her

One of these days we're gonna have to tell them
That you and I made our share of mistakes
One of these days we're gonna get to show them
How all those moments added up to today

I Need You Here With Me

There was a time when
You and I were
Rarely seen not together

We were the ones who
Fell in love and I
Thought that it would last forever

You and I
Would sing
Each night

Oh, my dear, my love
I long for you
Oh, my love, my dear
I need you here with me

You were the guy with
The dashing smile and I
Was the girl with knobby knees

We were stargazers
Day dream believers
Still a little bit naive

There was the rise and
Then the fall when
We broke each other's hearts in pieces

But now we're grown with
Homes of our own and
In completely different seasons

Oh sometimes
I'll sing
Those lines

Oh, my dear, my love
I long for you
Oh, my love, my dear
I need you here with me

Where does the time go and
Where did we go
The hopefuls we once were

Where are you, the
Boy that I knew would
Always love the girl

Oh do you
Still sing
It too

Oh, my dear, my love
I long for you
Oh, my love, my dear
I need you here with me

Mmmm, I need you here with me

Thursday, February 28

Dangerous "Humility"

This video.

This video is being passed all over Facebook and all these moms and grandmoms are cooing over it like it means something sweet and inspiring.

It makes me want to vomit.

I mean are you kidding me? I'm supposed to think this bullshit is sweet? AND INSPIRING? I'm supposed to sit and hear some woman talk about how it doesn't matter that her ENTIRE FAMILY ignores her and everything she does and that she's just happy to blend into the background and not matter and be disrespected and walked all over because God sees it?

I mean don't get me wrong, I've walked in some of those cathedrals and I've felt the awe that comes from such a masterfully created, monstrous work of artful architecture. I've closed my eyes in Westminster Abbey and felt the presence of the souls buried nearby and the heard the voice of God in the shuffle of thousands of feet that have come to walk the floors of this, His house. I absolutely understand that it took more than one man and that it took more than a few men's lifetimes to complete and I know that there are countless details that were crafted in humble worship and secret. And we don't know their names. Their likenesses are not pillars in museums, their descendants are not forever reffered to as "So and So's Great-Great-Great Somone". They did not live to see the multitudes flock to see, flock to sing, flock in awe...

But do we disrespect them? Do we act as if they did not exist? Do we ignore them? If  we did, the magnificent buildings they created would not still be standing. If we did, we wouldn't keep coming. The woman in this video would never have received such a book if we did such a thing.

I expect more from my family. I expect more from my husband for damn sure. Though they are but 1 and 2 years old, I expect more from my children. I refuse to believe that just because without me the house might never be built that that is respect enough. You don't abuse things that are important, and if you do abuse the ones building the house, and nothing is done to protect, to repair, to sustain them... You can bet your life that house is going to fall.

Maybe I'm too prideful. Maybe I'm not cut out for this job the way that sweet Christian wives and mothers are supposed to be. Maybe I'm not a sweet Christian wife. Or even a sweet Christian. (Maybe I write too many sentence fragments. So, sue me.) But I think this line of thought is a dangerous one. I think it's so very closely related to the mindset that kept my mother quiet when my father hit her. I think it's the cousin of the one that kept me thinking it was just my fault when they (all of the boyfriends, the ones who weren't even boyfriends.. all of the them) used me and left me empty. I think it's definitely the sister of the thoughts that tell you you don't matter and if you just disappeared, the moment they found your replacement your life and your previous presence in theirs would cease to matter, cease to have ever mattered.

I think it's disgusting and I refuse to accept it. I refuse to live it. Maybe I won't be famous for being a mom. And that's ok. In fact, if I ever am famous, I'd kind of rather it not be because somebody calls me Mama. Maybe my name won't be in a history book because I was the best at waking up early and staying up late doing things for the man I married and the children I bore. And that's just fine.

But you better believe that I will not abide my family treating me like I don't matter. I've told myself that for too long.

Too.
Damn.
Long.

I don't need to worshiped and praised and remembered by the masses. But I need to be treated with the same love and respect that I give to them. If I am not, I'm doing it wrong.

Friday, February 1

Congratulations

I remember what it was like... Being afraid in the place that I called home. I would fall asleep on that air mattress and wonder if the house I fell asleep in was the same one I would wake up in. Would she allow me to stay  or would I end up sleeping on a friend's couch or my car again. I remember feeling like I couldn't even shower without the possibility of being accused of something. I would get undressed in the shower with the door lock and the curtain pulled. I would pray and pray and pray that I would finally get that promotion and that raise and could get my own place. And then it all came crashing down, though not in the way I expected.

I remember even before that, feeling like just my very existence was a danger to my life. I hadn't done anything but obey, but I felt like trash.

That's sort of how this feels. Only, this time it's my little babies who are the hated ones. How can you look at these innocents and snarl that way?



How broken is your sense of what is right, what is good and what is pure? Are you really so self important.

If your goal was to terrify an entire family and push them out of the place they've called home... congratulations. Goal Reached.