puppy dog tails?

i have known that much of my life, my motivating emotions are often fear or guilt. and while i knew those weren't the emotions i wanted to be ruled by, it is often difficult to stop a habit that is almost as involuntary as breathing. i had made small changes in this area...but nothing i appreciated or even felt encouraged by.

i often wouldn't be aware of how fear and guilt had influenced me until after i had acted. so then i started to wonder if fear and guilt were truly a part of why i acted, or just a part of how i view my own behavior. kind of a like a dog chasing its tail...

but a lot of the realizations about my relationship with my mother growing up...or the awareness of the reality...looking at it through an adult's eyes instead of still looking at it through the eyes of the child who was there...has helped me to see ways i can truly change this habit of being ruled and weighed down by fear and guilt.

i am not angry at my mother. although i will speak up the next time she tells me how fluffy i am...but that won't be in anger...it will be in confidence in myself and an unwillingness to remain the two year old who still wants her approval, but doesn't think she deserves it. those words sound so silly in an adult's mouth...but they are so absolute in a child's heart and mind. my mother always took such responsibility for who i was...was always so proud of herself when i succeeded or so disgusted when i misbehaved and made her look stupid. it's been an uphill journey learning to feel for myself who i am. especially when people pleasing tends to benefit those around you...who often don't realize how toxic you are.

anyway...so i am coming out of that darkness a bit...some rays are coming in...maybe even a breeze sometimes. i was telling my spouse the other day how self-indulgent some of these thoughts feel. why do i have to think about something so much or so long before i see it more clearly or it settles into a pattern that makes life a little easier? but it's just the way i am. and while i've spent so much of my life trying to be someone different...whoever those i love wanted me to be...i'm finally learning to be me...which is who they wanted me to be all along. dog...tail...again... i knew life was all about circles...

peace

hummingbird head

that's how it feels anyway...like my mind is a little hummingbird flitting around in my head...lighting on this thought for a few minutes, that thought for a few...but not one thing for too long.

the-rapist has this analogy she uses. she says you can't go anywhere on an empty tank. she says i have to work on filling up my tank. i don't know what kind of gas i take... i come back to this every now and then. i know i enjoy blogging. i like to read. i like to be alone... i also like to get stuff d-o-n-e. i like to take care of my family and other folks. i feel like i do these things often. and i don't often feel empty... well, last week, i felt really empty. and i wanted to fill it...with anything...food, shopping, internet wasteland. oh, and i also love music. anyway...(look, a sea gull...)

i have this post i wanted to make about my childhood. kind of a healing the inner two year old type thing. but i was thinking about it earlier...and kids are so much smarter and resilient than adults are...i think my inner two year old is over it. the basic gyst of it was that my mom taught me if i'd only become a perfect child, then i'd receive a perfect love. and i was kind of pissed to realize that...for a day or so...because then i realized that my mom still believes once she's the perfect person, she'll receive a perfect love. so it's not like she held out on me or purposely manipulated me. she couldn't give what she didn't have. like i said, i'm kind of over it. i mean, i guess i'll still feel small tantrums over that habit of wanting something not reasonable...eckhart tolle calls them pain bodies, i think...but it's not as powerful.

there are other things that are still powerful that i haven't even begun to decipher. and i'm okay with that, too. my perspective gets longer at times, so i realize the objects in my emotions aren't as big as they feel, i guess.

what else? what else?....

we are busy folks. we painted my oldest's room today. just knocked it the fuck out. that was cool. it looks nice. kind of more mature, i guess. and he rode his bike to his robotics team meeting on sunday. and rode it home. this is big shit...really big stuff. i'm happy for him. hell, i'm kind of happy for me, too. but painting with him...that did not make me happy. i hope i never paint with him again. he sucks at it. and makes a freaking, fracking mess. i thought i'd have a heart attack from the stress of the mess + not wanting to be a buzz kill and bitch him out for this "my own independent room" thing we were doing...omigod, sometimes the stress of being who i want to be almost kills me dead. but have i mentioned how brilliant he is? (when he's not painting or playing basketball...and we both suck at basketball...equally...or maybe me even more...but probably not)

ok...this is all i have. i mowed the backyard tonight. it really, REALLY sucks when i wait too long because the grass gets so thick and tall it chokes the mower. it takes for-freaking-ever to mow...sigh...oh, and i haven't showered all day. that's something i almost never do...but i just never made it in...gross.
peace

w. h. auden

i've been thinking about this poem for awhile. i read it when i was in college...the second time...so i guess i was twenty-five or twenty-six. (remember julie? the class we met in...)

we read this poem...

The Unknown Citizen
(To JS/o7/M/379 This Marble Monument Is Erected by the State)

He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be
One against whom there was no official complaint,
And all the reports on his conduct agree
That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a saint,
For in everything he did he served the Greater Community.
Except for the War till the day he retired
He worked in a factory and never got fired,
But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc.
Yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views,
For his Union reports that he paid his dues,
(Our report on his Union shows it was sound)
And our Social Psychology workers found
That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink.
The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day
And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every way.
Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured,
And his Health-card shows he was once in hospital but left it cured.
Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare
He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Installment Plan
And had everything necessary to the Modern Man,
A phonograph, radio, a car and a frigidaire.
Our researchers into Public Opinion are content
That he held the proper opinions for the time of year;
When there was peace, he was for peace; when there was war, he went.
He was married and added five children to the population,
Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of his generation,
And our teachers report that he never interfered with their education.
Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd;
Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.

so after my surprise at reading the pretender, this poem came back into my mind. when we did it in my class, it was a strange discussion. our professor was this very enthusiastic and fairly brilliant man. he read us this poem and asked us what we thought. a man who was pretty outspoken in the class immediately announced that he liked it. that he wanted to be the man this poem was written for. that it seemed this unknown citizen lead an admirable life and he'd be proud to live a life like the one described here. at which point, my professor had no fucking clue how to proceed...

it wasn't about whether or not this poem was describing a way of life that we agreed with or not. it was about analyzing the poem...what we felt about it, yes, but also what auden was trying to say in it. but the personal stamp of approval this man had put on mr. unknown citizen made any further analyzing a little tricky. my prof looked at me with eyebrows raised. rather than speak to my prof, i turned to the man in my class and asked him if whether, in achieving all of these things, he'd like at least a little something to be personally unique about the journey for him? maybe his name? the name of his children? something uniquely him...

i think the discussion went alright from there. i do recall the professor being relieved that we could discuss it somewhat, but i also recall that it was a very careful discussion...never quite going to the root of things.

i understand why the discussion had to be that way. i understand that my mother feels the way she does. (did you miss that parallel?...i know it's where i was headed all along, but realize you can't read my mind...) even my spouse was quick to tell me that there was nothing wrong with the way of life described in this poem...why does everyone feel the need to tell me that?...my life isn't that freaking different, you know. much of my life is conventional. and the areas that aren't so much, it'd be a truckload easier if i went ahead and made them so. i think about it sometimes. but the bitterness that follows isn't worth thinking about it too long.

anyway, my thoughts have tread into weird places lately. hopefully letting this out will let me work passed this...whatever it is. the-rapist on monday...woo-hoo...lots to talk to her about. she often wants to discuss my mother and i often tell her it's a screwy relationship that isn't changing so there's really no reason to go there. maybe i'm wrong...snort...you think?
peace

understanding

i didn't mean to sound like i was judging jackson browne in my last post. i was more struck by just remembering how i would belt those songs out that my mom loved. or that i thought she loved...she sure played them a lot.

i can remember when my mom was dating and she'd cry when she'd fight with a boyfriend. she'd get herself a wet washcloth to put on her swollen eyes. and whenever she'd set it down, i'd pick it up and put it on my swollen eyes. not that i ever really knew why we were crying. but if she was crying...that was reason enough, in my young mind, for me to cry. she used to get kind of pissy that i'd take her rag, though... but that was just my mom. she never quite appreciated the absolute loyalty and devotion she had in me...like a labrador, but not so much chewing.

and then i realized she was all caught up in men...almost addicted...even if they were mean, horrible, stupid men. which none of them really were. but when one's throwing your mom around, you tell yourself they are. i actually learned a lot from some of the men she married. good stuff...important stuff about life, whatnot. i don't know why, but i've always been that way. able to see the good in people. not that i don't feel angry or hurt or pissed or petty...because i do. i really, really, really do. but i ultimately come to this place of understanding. sometimes i quite resent it. weird, huh? sometimes i don't want to be understanding. i feel the understanding opening this door on a person...and something in me tries really hard to keep it shut, slam it back closed...well, sometimes.
peace

huh?

i watched mr. holland's opus with my kids tonight. i desperately needed a feel good movie and it delivered righteously. but then one of those one line picks up where another left off moments happened. during the movie, there's a segment where they play jackson browne's song, the pretender. and i got all nostalgic. my mother used to love that song. she had his album and we used to play it a lot. i loved the pretender and, what was it? was it running on empty? i'm not sure anymore. my mother was a big jackson browne fan.

so i went to you tube to watch the video and i read the words to the song and, well, first i thought maybe i wasn't reading them right. and maybe i didn't. it's been a tiring few days and i am plenty capable of mistakes, even when i'm not impaired. but "starting out so long ago only to surrender"? and "believe in the lie of those things that money can buy"? there were other lines, too. i don't know... but i will say, that after reading the words while listening to this song that i am not so sure i feel inspired by the message of, i find i can't help but feel that good kind of nostalgic feeling while hearing it still. and that's kind of how i feel about so much of my childhood. like i am seriously warped because of the nostalgia i feel for things that kind of sicken me?... does that make sense? i don't know...

my spouse and i argued today. it came down to what we value, as people. it was this discussion about how what he values doesn't mean that he doesn't value what i value (because they can be kind of different, depending what level we're talking about). which i understand. but it seems if i tell him something i'd like him to do, even if he doesn't value it....and i don't mean tell him like once or twice...we've been together for fifteen years this month....and if he values me, then maybe...anyway...sigh...some thoughts just never seem as powerful or even relevant in words as the emotion that accompanied them when they were born (or reborn for the hundredth time, i guess).

so here's jackson browne's song...see what you think...i'm not judging it or anything...i was just kind of surprised to see the actual words to this song i used to sing with all of my eight year old heart...but oddly, maybe i am starting to figure out why my mother's so disappointed with me?...

peace