I was brought up to believe that so many things were my job. For me growing up there were things that were always on my plate; things that I always had to take care of. Things that were meant for adults. Cares and worries that were mine were things meant for others, for adults for people that were older and could take those kind of things on. My job always included adult things, with adult responsibilities. My job was a secret keeper and the toll that ; that took on my little heart and mind are things that I will carry forever. I had jobs and responsibilities that no human should ever have yet I had them from as far back as I could remember. So if I had an ad , that could portray what was needed, wanted this is what it would be.
Job Description
Job Title : Child
Department: Family
Supervisor: Mother and Father
General Job Description :
Protect all children and animals that are near.
Always smile.
Make everyone else happy.
Take care of everyone's feelings
Know that your needs don't matter.
Know how very unworthy you are.
Know that you are a secret keeper.
Know that no one believed you anyway.
Know that you are to be seen as everything Happy.
You are not allowed to say no.
You will take care of household needs as well as the needs of the father.
Major Duties and Responsibilities:
You must always be happy. You must follow all the rules. Play is not an option no one wants to play with you if you have this position anyway, You must not make noise, or need anything. You must need little sleep, You must walk quietly, and not make a mess. Don't ever leave your toys out. You must go to bed with your father and just do the things that he wants you to. Don't cry or ask for help, those are just things that happen. You must keep secrets and do what you are told. You will always watch and listen. Be prepared for anything at any time. People will hurt you and there will be no help. You must be strong, because even as little as you are , you're on your own navigating ALL things . Don't forget that what is a rule one day may change and be something different the next. AT ALL COSTS make others Happy. Smile and say that you are fine even when you are not, you don't want to be a bother or a pest. Remember to just stay out of the way. Know that your needs are not important. Don't get too comfortable because comfort never lasts long, and people always leave. You must learn to see the little things in life to get you through. Notice the trees and the birds. Notice the big clouds, and the swaying trees; those are the things that will help you survive.
Minor Duties:
See Above
Qualifications for the Job
Education : None
Experience : Must be willing to endure tragedy and keep going. Must survive the unimaginable.
Other Qualifications: Must be willing to experience the worst kind of Trauma and keep going like nothing has happened. You must have a high pain tolerance and be able to clean up after others.
Key Competency Required : Survival
Physical Requirements :
You must have a strong heart. You must be willing to endure the evil unimaginable know there will be no escape. There is no place for crying with this job either. If something happens deal with it and move on. You must be able to create a safe place somewhere, for your mind to go, when the monsters attack your very soul. You have to close your eyes and imagine those places, where your heart is cared for and your body doesn't hurt.
This. This is so incredibly sad, My heart hurts. This was all my job.
I hear that but what do you do when no one wants to hear ? and no one is willing to listen ?? Am I expecting too much ? Is this entire Corona-virus going to my head ? Maybe its a little of both but still a very valid question. What do you do when no one wants to hear ? What does a person do when they have the need to get it all out of their system, to talk about the state of their heart but there is no one around.
I am asking because I truly wish that I knew the answer. Because right now I am struggling. I am struggling a lot and I feel like there is nothing in this world that I can do about it. I needed a break and went downstairs and I just wanted to sit in my chair, zone out no questions nothing expected . I wanted to get warm under my blanket and very nicely fall asleep to rest my burning eyes, from the tears. that wouldn't stop all morning. What was I thinking that was not an option, rest is never an option. My morning was asked about, I responded about it being hard after an evaluation where I was torn to shreds and there not being support. No response, no care, no concern. Well wow thanks for asking. If anyone knows me do not ask me a question and then pretend that you did not because you don't like the answer.
Silence.
Right now there are so many things that I want to get out, I want to continue to heal but feel like I am so stuck. I am stuck in this house, I am stuck with the people who have ignored and pretended they didn't see a thing. I am plain stuck and I need people on the outside, I need people to give me a different view. I need to be seen . I need to be heard and I need people to give a shit. I don't think I valued just how connected I was to those that I saw everyday. Even if they didn't know the personal details, of my heart, there were people that were there and saw me, there was a caring that somehow made things better. It's a terrible thing not to be seen and heard.
Silence
And I think during this time I feel like I was coming into my own skin, I was starting to take deep breaths and become......And all the time that; that takes I feel like someone came and smashed me into the ground, because no one was able to see the value or importance. I think of it as those slow motion flowers that you see blooming, and you see the rain drops on the petals and the struggle and then the blooming, the beautiful blooming. I kind of feel like I was in that place, things were falling into place, pieces were coming together. Then the blackness creeps in and the panic and fear fill my heart like stone. And once again all those things that I try to fight are right there ever present and its heavy, and it hurts.
Silence
I wish that I was more confident and didn't let these little things creep in so fiercely and completely take over. I want to win, for once I want to win. This place I am in feels like a curse, like I will never be able to stand in my story, be comfortable in my skin and be proud of who I am. I wish that I could silence you for the moment to make you understand.
Silence.
Each morning she begins with how did you sleep ? And I want to scream have you not listened to me my entire life ?? I hate sleeping terrible awful things happen in the night when I sleep, the nightmares are still haunting and I often don't win. Sure you look down the hall you may see that I am sleeping, but I can promise you there are battles going on in my very soul that make rest impossible. I sleep in my chair, in the daytime, I sleep those little cat naps; that is where I get my rest yet you bother and disturb because you don't understand that and wonder why I get so frustrated.
Silence
In these 4 walls I don't feel like my story is free. It's mostly free here on my blog , in my art journals and as much as these are a part of my life, I need more. There has to be more than the pictures on those pages, and the word that are typed. There has to be a connection to someone outside, who can see them and understand . A connection to someone reading the words and truly hearing you. That is what I need right now. Someone to stop and say there is no more need to be silent. You are seen and heard and you are valuable and important with every cell in your body.
Please don't ever let me be silent. Please don't ever let me stop. Don't ever stop. Speak, write create, share . I have to. For me, for you and for others who can't or don't know how.
I can not even begin. My hands are shaking, my heart is breaking and my mind is a torrent of baseball sized hail. My eyes are burning from the tears and I wonder where my mother gets off. Just when I think things are OK, in a split second they aren't and I am caught in a spiral.
Tonight after dinner Vincent says he has to go upstairs, he has a meeting to Zoom with his English Teacher. I ask questions, he goes up the stairs mumbling that he is terrible at school, and I never believe him. My mind is spinning. There is no way that a teacher is going to Zoom with a student ,that time of night. So I spend time finding his teacher, sending an email. Even emailing the counselor. I just want to know for sure, and not sure why he would lie to me.
I come upstairs, take a bath. My mother comes in the bathroom and says he wasn't in a zoom with a teacher, he was doing a bible study. I said that's not OK, you can't lie and do that. I said something about being nice to people. That you don't get to sit and be this person in bible study and then treat the people right in front of you terribly. Of coarse she doesn't get it and leaves my room.
I am left trying to relax and all I can think about is what in the world am I supposed to do. I feel like this is just one more disrespect by him and that just isn't OK. He is a bully and is often unkind and I just don't understand that. So much for trying to relax.
I finally just email the school counselor asking and say time will tell, hopefully I hear from him tomorrow. Then it's 9 o'clock and I tell Vincent I emailed your teacher, and I would let him know when I heard back. He said what it was a life group. I very calmly told him that wasn't OK. You don't lie and do something like a life group. Of coarse, he doesn't listen. He makes excuses says it's because he knew I would be mad. I stayed calm trying to talk to him, telling him my problem was his lying. I told him I had to think about the consequences, and that I would tell him in the morning. That is wasn't OK to lie about it.
I go to my room everything spinning, not knowing what I am supposed to do, there are no tears left for this day. I play my stupid game and say I'll check my email in the morning, like maybe somehow a new day will make things clearer and I will figure out what to do. I put my kindle down, and see there is a message on my phone from my mother.......It went like this.......
"He just wants to learn. He always has and you won't let him. You went to church you left them all and the kids were not allowed to go any more. Church doesn't make you perfect it shows you how imperfect you are. You know how I feel about all this. You have to have something to believe in. I love you."
And I read it thinking, she is making excuses. She is once again excusing his bad behavior. And talking to me about church and religion. So more tears, and every cell inside of my body is like a Volcano. And all this to write all the things that I want to say to her. No, I would not say them, the words that are fighting to come out; I would implode and each little earthquake would spew all the ugliness for her to understand. Here is the ugliness.
To MOM
How dare you excuse his behavior, I am his mom and that isn't OK. I am tired of your excuses for him. I am even more tired of your opinion where it doesn't belong. You want me to talk about church...I will talk about church.
So I live with my rapist who goes to church, and he is this personable man, that is so likable. He smiles and everyone welcomes us in those church doors. I am raped every night in your bed by your husband and we all get up and go to church Sunday morning and we present the bread and wine at the alter. This kind of church was nothing I wanted to believe in. I see Albert receiving communion and he turns and smiles at me with this evil grin, and All I can think about were those little innocent tadpoles that I couldn't save. That little 5 year old body shaking struggling to get dressed after being raped for the ummmm let me think the hundredth, thousandth time of my life by men who were supposed to keep me safe, care for me . This is not the church I want to believe in. We all have to hold hands and say our prayers before bed, So you know what I prayed......I prayed not to wake up. I prayed to god, if you love me, if you care don't let me wake up, because I can't live this life anymore. My heart hurts and my little body feels oh so broken all the time. This was at 5 mom I wanted to die. Now I lay me down to sleep I pray the lord my soul to take, YES, please do, take my soul anything is better than what I am living I can't do this anymore. We all went to church and were this perfect family. We talked about God and everything he could do, that didn't make sense to me with the life that I lived. If he was the all powerful God and yet letting me be hurt, letting me be raped and abused that was nothing I wanted to believe in. All your charismatic services and praying over people was really scary, and no one was keeping me safe. Soon there were no prayers, I mean why bother when my prayers are not heard or answered anyway. I wanted to do better be better because that was just who I am . I knew so early that no one was going to help, I knew I had to save me myself. You say I have to have something to believe in....I believe in me. I believe in my heart. I believe that kindness changes everything. I believe in the birds and the trees and the whales. I believe that I am the same person all the time. Those are the things I believe in, those are the things I believe in, because those are the things that have kept me alive. You talk about me leaving churches, you have no right to talk about things that you know nothing about. You don't care or have ever asked about my church experiences. Have you ? HAVE YOU?
I was quiet and withdrawn, I was sad and your solution was to put me in church youth group. That was the last thing that I needed. I was not outgoing, I didn't belong there, I wasn't old enough yet you said I was so mature that you put me in that youth group anyway. I hated every second. I didn't fit in and stuck out like a sore thumb. You didn't care keep going, this was supposed to solve all my problems. Well it didn't it created more and changed me forever in ways you would never even comprehend. I wasn't old enough to go to that youth weekend Celebrate 88, I wasn't old enough. Yes, I was mature enough I had to be but I didn't belong there. And I met Don. And he came to our house and raped me. Then he came back weeks later and brought 4 friends, I was gang raped for hours mom over and over each of them taking their turns; while you were at a healing weekend.He came back a final time and there was nothing left of me mom I laid down and unbuttoned my pants, he was going to get what he wanted anyway, and I couldn't fight anymore. Such a lovely man of God right, how am I supposed to believe in that ? That is the church that you sent me too. That is what you did and you think you have a right to question my decision about church. I am not one for churches I ask too many questions. Cookie cutter answers don't work for me. I don't believe like you do and I am not less than because of that. I tried church , my God did I try church and each time I was let down, each time I was made to feel less than because I didn't believe like them. I don't have a faith that there is a god that will take care of everything, because for me that never happened. Bella was not saved, I was never saved. No one ever took care of me, my prayers were never answered .Church shows you how imperfect you are oh yes please remind me how much less than I am to everyone because I don't believe like you, or them. I have seen the worst of church and religion and you have no right to say anything about my son and the choices that I make For my family. Yes, I left all those places that didn't care for my heart, I left those places that made my heart feel sad that that yet again I didn't belong, people that wanted me to be something that I never was. I left all those places that gave up on me and the questions that I had, and the things that I had lived through. I left all those places that were hypocrites saying one thing and doing another. I could list so many church goers that let me down that pointed fingers; that didn't step up when I needed them most. The youth group leader that refused to believe I was raped, because who would want to do that to me, the finger pointing that I wanted attention.The church that I grew up knowing is nothing to believe in, the people that were a part of that were people that I wanted nothing to do with. And I don't want my own children to experience church like I did. I don't want to give them a hope that something is going to save them. I don't want them to experience church with you and how I was in church. Even the priest came to my house and had the nerve to say well he didn't believe it anyway when he heard I pressed charges, Really mom and you question me!!!! That is not OK. You have no right. I have my own path in this world and I will do it on my own just like everything else. People have a right and can believe what works for them, I have always been so open minded if that was you, I didn't care, I see people for who they are not what they believe. I just want people to be a nice human, be kind, do good things and help others, I refuse to believe I am less than you or your church friends because I do my life different. You have hurt my heart beyond what I can even put words too. You say you want me to open up let you in, no there is no place to let you in.
I think that I have been looking for this my entire life. Some people just haven't been through enough to love you. That hit me right in the heart. Because I think I have spent all of my life trying to teach people, trying to make them understand my heart, my world, and really they can't. I say this and think, wow I have been doing things wrong for way to long. I do not feel that I am enough, I do not feel inherently worthy, in fact its the opposite 99% of the time. And I think about those that I do feel like I am enough around and those are people that get it, they are people that have had rough lives, they are people that know how to love me just because. These are the people that just know how to have me in their life. That. So much that. I think that these people are truly few and far between.
That first line. You are enough. I have never been enough my entire life, or felt that in my bones. I have never been able to sit back breathe and have the sense that where I am is OK, because I am enough.
I wasn't enough for a group at church. I just didn't fit in with them, they had no idea how to love me. They loved you when it was convenient but ask a hard question and you became unlovable.
I didn't fit in with those women, because my stories were hard and mattered less. I was not enough in my own story. Goodness there were times I had things to say, things that I waned to share, but I was always that person on the bottom of the totem pole that they sometimes invited, and I never figured out why.
In school I was never enough. I was not the cool kid, I was not the smart kid, I was not the kid that had friends. I was the kid that was alone and ate lunch in the Cafeteria.
I have never worked in a place where I was just enough. I work at a place that I love but I am not a teacher that fits with our administration. I am not liked and the person that I am feel it with actions and see it in their words.
I think what I long for most in this world is just that place where I am enough. I feel it with Mariska, when I can be crazy mom and there is nothing wrong with that because she knows that's me. I long for someone on the outside that I just be who I am.
I don't understand why people don't know how to have me, I am not that difficult to love am I ? I am easy going I will do anything for you. I will care for your heart, and bend over backwards to make sure that you are ok. I am not sure why that is to much to ask of others.
Like Valerie, I was always enough for her. I was just me and that was all she wanted. She cared for me exactly were I was. She made me feel strong and important. Neil, he cared for my heart exactly where I was, he was a kindness that I had never known . Sam he took care of me and let me be exactly where I was, he was gentle and so caring; watching out for my well-being. Those few people that I am enough for have to do with the court system or the documentary. Somehow if I was fighting, then I was worth something. I don't understand why I can't find that in my everyday. Why can there not just be someone to check in, make me laugh, listen when I talk about whales, watch shows about inspirational people and hand me the kleenex when I cry. I want them to just do these things without me having to teach them. My heart is tired of teaching people and being so very disappointed because I am the one that gets left behind. Maybe its just a day. But it sure is a hard one.
And no one ever seems to want to discuss the elephant in the room.
What about the little girl that has been tortured and abused ?
What about how hard she will have to fight
for the rest of her natural born life,
Just to Bloom ?
Little Girl Speak
I once again saw this picture, and the aha moment that followed was greatness. I am a person that hold hands with the elephant in the room, but at just the right distance.I think I have been for a long time, for the most part from afar. I am realizing that I need to be right there holding on until my knuckles turn white to accomplish all the things I long to do. Most people shy away and ignore. Nope, not me I am right there holding on, for dear life. I think that for a long time this is something that I wanted nothing to do with. I was going to do everything that I possibly could to heal to get better to make my life something that I wanted it to be; but I was going to do that by keeping the elephant a million miles away, I think I thought that I was holding on but there was a part of me that was just like everyone else. I knew he was there, there was no sweeping him under the carpet, but there were times he was often ignored and parts of me paid the price. I was acknowledging him, just from as far away as possible, to me that was a win win. I was acknowledging him just making sure that he was far away and wouldn't crush me. Because I have believed that the closer that the elephant was, the closer I would be to death. I have believed that looking at the hard things, feeling the things that are the hardest would be the things that would kill me; literally crush me . Really the thing that was killing me is keeping everything far away, and pretending that I was so much stronger than all the things that were done to my little body and soul, and all the ways that I was affected. If I am going to heal, if I am going to create and have all of my dreams then I must learn to hold on to that elephant acknowledge little Callahan and all of her thoughts and feelings in all the mess and the beauty and devastation that has been our life. Its got to be all of us, Me ,little Callahan and that big elephant, all working together. I can't pick and choose we all have to work together . I can't ignore little Callahan and all the strength that she holds and the things she has survived. We have done this together, sometimes it was her, other times it was me; we went through hell together and we will rebuild together.
I see this picture and its heartbreaking, its astonishing and its right there in your face. That elephant is all the ugly gross and disgusting that this sweet little girl had to endure. Just look at the size difference. I am asking that you stare at that picture until it sinks in, I am talking to you Callahan. There was nothing that I could have done differently to make things turn out prettier, there is nothing I could have done to be better, to be smarter, to be quieter or to be a better daughter. The only thing I knew how to do was to hold on, survive and see the little things around me. This is all that I knew. This was my life. I have never let go. There have just been times, when I have tried to keep it far away for pure survival. So now I have to learn to hold on, keeping things not at bay but close to my heart. What I have to do now is be brave and stand with my story, own it. I am not sure that I have owned my story, I think parts and pieces I did but I have never stood in my whole story and been proud of myself. I have never stood in my story with out shame and hatred for myself. I can see that I have come a long way. I also see, there is a long way for me to go. I am not sure that I have ever been in a place where I was ready to face the things that haunt me most. I am tired of feeling like I am so much less than everyone else because my story is different. I am tired of feeling like I am less then because I am weird, I am pesky and I love harder than you could ever imagine. I do not deserve less because of the things that others ave done to me.
I feel like I just need time to sit and breathe with little Callahan, and just be. I have to let her have a voice. I know she is there somewhere and maybe acknowledging her she will find her place without shame and doubt. I don't think she has ever had the luxury of a break, so we are in this together. We need the elephant its a part of us, its part of who we are down to our bones. We need relief ; we need to acknowledge the elephant, but bring it down to size and out of everyday view. What the elephant owns and stands for is so not who we are. It's time for us to bloom.
There are so many things. I was more than happy in my house on Creekview. I was the happiest that I had ever been and also the saddest. I was the happiest because I had a place that was mine. I could sit and rest and that was ok. I could clean my dishes and fold my laundry just the way that I liked. I could laugh and play with my kids and things were SO SO good. It was also a time of sad realizing that I was on my own that it was my kids and I. he past was so very heavy and there were many thoughts and feelings that were more than heavy and being on your own makes them that much more heavy. As we moved into Creekview, was when my mother lost her Job. She was just back in my life after being gone for years. She was unkind, and everything was about her, I was finishing my last few semesters at school, taking care of Vincent and Mariska subbing when I could. Those few years when the kids were in elementary school were really hard. I was alone and had no one. My mother was all about herself, and what she wanted, I was never enough. I never did enough and I got in her way all the time. She didn't like how I did things. She didn't like me. One of the straws that broke the camels back was when I sat on the couch with her sobbing, telling her ho I was feeling and she just sat there. There was no emotion no feeling no question of even wanting to understand where I was coming from. I was done, I was tired of not being understood, and not feeling like I meant anything. The second straw was an email that was left out, and it was from a women at her church, saying not to let me steal her joy, not to let me turn the kids again st her, there was this religious talk and it tore me to shreds, like I was this most awful person. I was read that email and was devastated, once again more information that I was nothing, and I was a bother. So we moved out. I was done. I was done with the self centered-ness and lack of compassion and understanding for who I was as a person as her daughter, as a mother. I was crying all the time and life was beyond heavy. I was done so we moved out. There was little contact. I didn't want to have a relationship with someone who routinely crushed my heart, meaning to or not it was done and that is the last thing that I needed from my mom in this lifetime. As things began to crumble there, as I became stronger I thought things might be different. As I moved into my very own place on Creekview little by little I let her in. She came over for dinner, she would spend the night it was good. We were in a good place. Then she lost her job. She was in her early sixties and had no idea what she was going to do, she would not have enough money to live on her own. And of coarse thinking well what if I just get a bigger house, which moved into she would sell her house and we could all move in together and be one big happy family.
It sounded good at the time.
We didn't even have a year of even being back in a relationship and I was offering to change everything for her. I was giving up my very own happy place so that she would be taken care of. I had no idea what this moment in time would cost me and my children. I had no clue just how much that things would change. I had no clue about the impact of this one choice on me.
Of coarse in the beginning I was the daughter that was going to take care of everything. I was the daughter that was going to make everything OK. I was the daughter that was didn't think about what that would mean and I had no idea just how short the honey moon would last.
So we went looking at houses. My mothers house sold in less than a week and we had to find a place to move. There were a few houses I found online, there was one with an amazing kitchen, there was one with no mirrors in the bathroom. There were a few others that were way less memorable, and then we found this one on Helmoken Falls. It was during a time when everyone was putting in offers and everyone was being outbid so we put in an offer. She put the down payment down, and poof Just like that I had a mortgage. I kept talking about being worried that I could afford it the utilities, the expense of owning a house, the up keep, the repairs, the worry if something goes wrong. Each and every time she would say of coarse, we'l be fine. We can do it together. It won't be much more than what you are paying now (For my perfect rental). It was always you'll be fine. It's not that much more.
It's not that much more until it is. It Is that much more.
I am a single mom on one salary with a mortgage taking care of my two children and my mother. And for this place there just isn't enough of me. In the beginning she would help , she would buy groceries she would do little things. Things were ok. She started paying rent, 200 a month. It was something you know, if felt like she was contributing. But then doctors and more doctors and surgery and not working and that has gone down; now its 100 a month. There was always that doubt in the back of my head wondering if I made the right decision, wondering how things would be different if I didn't want to make everything better. I wonder all the time what if I stayed in my Creekview house? What if I let her figure out her life and I began my best life. But those things didn't happen, I thought I was going to take care of everyone and live happily ever after.
Fast forward three years.
The stress of owning a home, is great. There are lights that need to be repaired, a fence that is falling apart. There are spots in the wall that need to be repainted only the paint that was left in the garage, isn't quite the same shade so that touch up paint looks worse than before. That big extra living room upstairs is a room left untouched 99% of the time. My closet with toilet paper and Kleenex is often gone into and things are not replaced. Food that I buy is eaten, but there is a basket for her and Vincent in the pantry, and that is supposed to be ok?!? My food is everyone's food. But her food is just hers. This house that was supposed to be something we were both working towards has become my biggest burden. I say something about my house and she gets frustrated and says "our house". No, that is not the truth. This is my house and I am trying with all that I have to make it the best house I have ever had and its a daily struggle.
I am 45 and I should be doing what is good for me. I should be doing all those things that Creekview allowed me to do. Every decision every choice was mine and I loved it. I owned every decision that I made, and for the first time in my life that was awesome. In this moment in this house I doubt and second guess almost everything I do. I am asked twenty questions and have to defend every choice. Sometimes I make the choices I do because I am 45 and I can. I have worked really hard to get here and I can make a choice simply because it works for me. I want to be my own person and figure things out on my own. She sends me a text and says "I wish that you would ask my opinion sometimes" and I kind of laugh and think what the fuck!!!!!! I don't want your opinion, I don't care what you think. I have to do what is right for me and I do believe at 45 I have earned that . I have lived through hell, I have suffered greatly and have fought my way to where I am today, I don't have to answer to anyone.
The stress on the relationship with Vincent is great. She gets in the middle. She favors boys and she is a secret keeper. She is all the things that I have worked so hard to overcome. He is her go to, the middle man and she doesn't even understand the spot that she has put him in. He is too young to understand, she doesn't see the danger and I don't have a clue what to do. We came home from the grocery store, I was close to tears, he had screamed at me in wal-mart parking lot, people staring because he said I owed him three times the amount I paid for doing the lawn. I told him it was 2, and that 20 was what I had. That was not enough. He got home pouted, I made dinner. and I went upstairs. And I get a message well you know he did do the yard twice. I cried harder, because nothing was said about him screaming at his mother in the parking lot. She was sticking up for him because I owed him more money. She totally missed the point. And that is how it goes in my house.
I carry the burden of everything in the house, and if it was truly my house. If I was doing this all for me then it would all be worth it; and it wouldn't feel like a burden. I feel like she wants the podium of this life, when she has already had her own. I think that is part of what is so frustrating for me. She has already owned her own home. She has gotten married , she has done all these life experiences and it feels as if she wants to step on those things for me. What is it to her if I call it my house. My name is on the fucking Mortgage, I pay the bills every month. This is my house. I have this crazy awesome pink and grey table cloth with elephants. Every chance she gets she takes it off the table. And each time, I rage inside, because I feel like she has had her house and her time and her tablecloths. But now finally at 45 this is my time and I want my house and my time, my choices and my tablecloths. I sit in the chair next to her and she is clueless. I wonder how long I am going to have to do this. I try to let things go, and that is so very difficult. Because I just want to be. I just want to grow and heal and be crazy me. I want to be happy. I want to be comfortable in my own space. I want my own fucking table cloth on the table, just because I like it .
I am hoping that naming this, might make it less heavy. Because lets face it there are not many calls or texts to see how I am. So here it is world. Another little piece of my heart. I don't have a clue what is next, or where I am going. So I fight for the things that I long for and hope to someday have. I have to let some of it go. The decision was made. This is the situation and I don't see it changing, but I have to find a way for peace. I have to find some sense and comfort in knowing that there is nothing wrong with the things that I want. There is nothing wrong with how I do things, and the way I do this life everyday. Just Because my dreams and desires aren't what she wants; mine are just as valuable and just as important. The things that I need are critical.
Dougall Fraser recently wrote a blog and it was one of those light-bulb moments for me. He was writing how he is so not a birthday person, and I kept thinking right me either !! He was talking That some like to drag it out and enjoy the entire moth some like the parties and the surprise and everything that goes with that. Then there are others that enjoy just a quiet dinner with those that are closest. The entire blog as so perfect for me. So many times people don't listen, people expect you to be a certain way at your birthday. And in true Callahan fashion I do nothing like everyone else and birthdays are no different . A friend from work made this picture and put it on Facebook and my heart. This is what is important. I want to be thought of, I love that people leave wishes and messages, and that is the perfect Birthday for me.
I think I have had to many birthdays, that were so full of sadness and disappointment that I would much rather they not exist. I think that is part of the problem, so many times I tried, I tried to please people do what they thought I wanted, that has never worked for me. I tried for so long to fit into everyone else's mold of what a birthday should be, and I just can't. But that's the the thing about Birthdays they happen whether you like them or not. I think Finally this year, its different. SO I just like the quiet thoughts, the little messages those are the things that make my heart happy and there is nothing at all wrong with that.
I have had birthdays where all I wanted to do was be on a pier looking out over the ocean, everyone had other ideas; so that didn't happen. There were years I wanted a quiet dinner that didn't happen. There were years that I got a mouse for my birthday, like computer mouse. There were years of being forgotten by those that mattered the most, years of being recognized days later and my friends, that just isn't the same. Years of spoiled birthday parties, when no one came. So many years of being forgotten. Amazing the things that stick out and all the ways that I lost the specialness of my birthday. I feel guilty for my kids , they know my birthday is not a favorite. And its so is not an age thing that part doesn't bother me at all. For me my birthday was about disappointments, so I would rather it just be another day and do what I do. My birthday is about the people that remember and celebrate me as a person and the things that make me happy. The ones that write a little note to let me know they are thinking of me. The ones who mention the things that are closest to my heart. That is what I value, that is what matters most to my heart.
Once again no, I do not fit into what everyone's expectations are, I am me. And I much prefer to be here with my music on, writing. Being glad for those that remember and let me be me. The ones that just acknowledge me, that is what makes the day for me. So here is to another year and to maybe learning to like the part of me that enjoys just the simple acknowledgement and the cake with buttercream frosting . Here is to another year and a new appreciation of who I am and the things that I like on my birthday. 45 years. Here's to many more Callahan , there is still so much for you to accomplish. What a year to realize your goals, dreams and aspirations nothing like starting your next year just as you like it stuck at home. Thanks Covid-19.
I am not sure I can even put this time to words or if my thoughts and feelings are even ok. I am tired of everyone saying how we should be grateful for this time.This time of social distancing, and staying at home. There is no school, no work, no stores that are open. There is a lot of isolation, more than even I like. As I sit here with an elephant on my chest and a snake around my throat, and my stomach in knots, this time of uncertainty is terrible awful for people like me. I am not grateful. I do not see the silver lining. I understand why we are having to do this, but in no way does that make it any easier. That is more than hard for me, because I am always grateful , I can see good in almost anything. But this is taking me away from everything that makes me feel whole, that makes me feel like a real person. As I sit here, the anger is boiling, the tears want to flow and I want to scream. The kind of scream that shatters glass and reverberates in your brain. This time for me is more than hard as we are all ordered to sty home and flatten that curve. I understand the need to stay home, to be safe but for my heart this is an awful terrible thing. For me there is a feeling of being trapped and there is nothing I hate more. I have no space for me no privacy no time away to just breathe. I feel like for me there is no outlet, there is no one that is hearing me and that is more than hard. There is no support, I miss the people that I work with that share the things I value the most. There is little sleep, lots of nightmares. My stomach is a mess, the ulcers bother me almost every day. There are all these things that want to get out of my head, but there is just not an outlet for them to be heard and listened to within these 4 walls. I stay in my room, trying to find a little normal, a little sense that everything is going to be OK and that someday soon things are going to go back to normal. There is a sad that I can't even explain but with all that I am I wish that there was a way to pull it all out just like in this picture. Just get rid of it all once and for good. Being sad doesn't work like that, sometimes I wish that it did. I am sitting here waiting for a zoom with a student and I hear the cardinals outside and I think, you know I totally should be happy. I have everything that I need , my bills are all paid. I still have my job. We have food to eat and electricity for the lights. All of those outside needs are met. My children are healthy and safe, my mother as stressful as that is: she is safe and sound in my house. There is that thing in my bones that is uneasy, that is agitated over every little thing. The few things that I could always count on, are gone for the time being but gone none the less. My inside needs; that is where my problem lies. That is where I struggle. The things that I hold tight , the thing that are most dear are the things that are weighing on my heart. I am trying to do the right things, I am trying desperately hard not to be pesky, right now I kind of feel like a fish out of water and I am flailing trying to make sense of all the things going on around me, and to find some kind of normalcy. I think of that poor fish gasping for air and that is kind of what I feel like at this point. I am just gasping, looking for water but wondering if there is really any to be had.........
This is so it. I am growing into this and learning that I do have a right to my story. Just because others are tired and can not handle the life that I have lived, for me it's all there is, its all I know. No where in the world does your lack of importance, your lack of help, your lack of seeing how my heart is still hurt mean that my story is unimportant and should be kept hidden. I think these feelings began to surface the day that I had Jury Duty. I had not been in a court house for some time, well really since I testified in Boston for Angela. Walking into that building was one of the hardest things i have had to do, I tried every excuse to get out of it believe me. There were so many memories and feelings as I walked into that building and I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself. I brought my book Know my Name By Chanel Miller , thinking somehow I could borrow some of her bravery for the day. Something to get me through, something to let me know that a lot of people have been through this process. A reminder that a most of us come out the other side. Yes; we come out on the other side but in how many pieces ? That is the important question.
I feel like for me I came out in many pieces; many broken shattered, hurt pieces all different pieces none the same. I left the process feeling more than ashamed and that somehow I had failed. I felt that everyone was looking at me through the entire process. And everyone kept telling me I was just a witness. That's all I was ; a witness. There were all the on lookers; yet no one was stepping up to help.I think of all the people that were involved. All the people that asked the hard questions and heard my words, and judged each and every action. Very few really listened, very few understood my heart.
I have gone through this life being ashamed of my story, feeling like less of a person for the things that have happened. I have been in the presence of people with barbed tongues that question and accused me of lying, because no one would want to do that to me. I just wanted attention. I can tell you that phrase that comment has suck with me all these years later. I was the chubby unpopular kid who would want to do that? I often think that if I was the pretty popular girl if I would have been treated any differently , I don't know, I will never know. But I hear their words still all this time later and they are just as sharp if not more because today they are still so heavy.
Because I wanted attention, I was the chubby unpopular girl! No one would want to do that to me.
The things that people have said to me the words that they have spoken all have sunk in and I have lived by their words for so long. Many people wanted me just to shut up , live with things and pretend that everything is ok. People have put a time limit on the things that have happened to me like some magic hourglass that my time of grieving, that my time to be sad has passed. My friends I more than wish that there was a time frame, I wish there was an hour glass to end the sad and the rage and the hurt that is inside my very soul , but that is not how this works. When your entire sense of who you are, and where you fit in the world is attacked from your earliest memory there are going to be lasting effects. There are going to be things that occur forever because of the things that have happened. There are going to be memories and feelings that will come, that I will acknowledge and then move on. That doesn't mean that I won't have joy, that I won't have happy. It means that there will be times when others need to be gentle, there will be times, I just need to know your there. There will be times I still need my art journals because the things that I feel just don't have words , even to this day, all these years later.
My stories are different than yours, my life journey is different and as you have every right to your story your feelings and beliefs. I have every right to my story my feelings and my beliefs. As different as they might be or as similar as they might be, we all have out stories and there is no right or wrong. They are just stories. I want my story to mean something to make a difference. I want my story, each part of it to see the light and eventually become something that happened as a fact and not another broken piece of me. Don't get me wrong there are still lots of broken pieces, but more pieces are healing coming together. I have a long way to go but damn I have come a long way. And I am ready to keep fighting, finding my way to exactly where I belong.
