Fine

 

So I found this poem that I had written in my art journals.  Its not mine, and I think it was written by some guy named Stevie Smith. Anyway here it is. It made me cry and I haven't been doing a lot of that lately. SHOCKER, I know.

Nobody heard him, The dead man

But still he lay moaning.

I was much further out than you thought, and

not waving but drowning.

I was much too far out all my life,

And not waving but drowning.

Yes that right there, that is pretty powerful. I always say fine. If you ask how I am I say I am fine. Whether I am or not, that is my response, I have learned from experience people don't really want to hear if you are good or not. They may ask but people genuinely do not want to hear the answer. Sure not a problem that is fine. Ha get it that’s fine only its not really fine at all. And probably about as far from fine as it gets. Well at least for me. I say fine because nine times out of ten there is absolutely nothing that you can do my heart hurts and I just have to deal with it, I just need patience and time. But on that tenth time when I am not ok, those are the big ones because if you can see with your own eyes that fine really isn't what is happening then its time for back up. I say fine because how can I explain the things that are happening in my heart. I can't, so I say that I am fine. Do not take my fine to mean that everything is fine and I don't need a thing. People think I am waving, I promise that I am not. People do that all the time in the world. They ask in passing not caring to find out and that’s ok we can't be everyone’s best friend, something I heard that I will never ever forget. We do it as a courtesy, for something to say, and as a courtesy for something to say I say fine and smile. We all do it. For some things are not so fine and are crumbling inside.

With the job in Plainview and not understanding what I was supposed to do and what the right answers are, I got a lot of people telling me that I was fine, that I would be fine that things were fine and it was more than frustrating. BECAUSE That is the problem, I am always fine even in those moments when I am not. I know its confusing and frustrating believe me I live it. But I was getting so frustrated , I was voicing my concerns and the things that I was worried about and because I am always fine, their answer was oh "you will do fine there". And I would, I would be fine, I would love my job and my class of kids and I would do an amazing job but my heart would not have been so fine there, for that I know for sure. Such a bind sure I would be fine, I would survive, but there would be no room to thrive.

SO my entire life, I just did what I had to do I survived everything. And sure I paid the price, but personally, my heart paid the price and I don't want to pay that price anymore because its taking its toll. I am really good a lot of the time but there are days that I am not and I can't keep pretending that I am fine. I have survived everything but its time to move from surviving to thriving. I want to be be not just fine, I want to be good even great and I want to thrive and enjoy and grow in the good things. And I am doing that, I truly am, but there are rough days really rough days and I am working on it all and doing life the best way that I know how.

Survive to thrive. Survive to thrive. YES !! This.

Yes, that is exactly what I want. And its true those are the things that I am going to have to keep working on, because I can tell you it takes a whole heck of a lot of work, pain, tears guts strength and courage to be able to do that. And I do it every single day. Some days better than others but I DO IT. Sometime its not pretty not fun, but I keep going and maybe I need to give myself a little slack, just a little, When you see fine, I am shaking in my bones. So if I wave; wave say hello, and walk the other way but don't assume that I am fine, I am just waving.
 

 

You don't know what you don't know Callahan.

 

 

 

 

So little Callahan , I am really not sure where to start . I keep you so far away and I know that you are just dying to be loved, to be noticed to be cared for and that scares me so very much. I don’t know how to love you and your hurt little heart. I am more than sorry for all the things that you have had to experience. For the things that you have had to live through , no little girl should know those things. I am so so so sorry, that you were not kept safe that you were not special that you were hated so much, even by me and not one person stepped up to take care of you. You were so little and I wanted you to be bigger to fight to make them stop. I wanted you to be innocent and not know what he wanted you to do, I know somewhere along the way he taught you what was expected, but you just wanted people to be happy, you just wanted him to be done so you could clean up and try to be ok. With Bob I wanted you to say something, I wanted you to hate him as much as I do. I can’t even explain how very sorry that I am you never got to be a little girl do little girl things, have little girl dreams you always had to think and predict what was coming next. You were so brave, so strong, and I fear that loving you I am not brave enough or strong enough to feel the things that you had to experience. You are this sad damaged little soul that is in pieces, that I see crying in the corner and its terrifying. There have been times that I have let you even a little close and it was more than difficult, your so hurt, are so sad and I fear that its too much for me to bare. The thing I hate the most being alone is exactly what you are, I don’t want to do that to you. That is what has been done your entire life……I don’t know how to love that little you, care for you give you what you need, you need oh so much. Your little heart is so tired, I know that, Your so helpless, so vulnerable and I want you to be so much older than you are , I want you to think things through as a woman not a little girl. I am scared to feel for you that it would shatter my already broken heart. I am not sure that I can handle the pain and sadness that you carry, and at the same time I know that you shouldn’t have to do it alone. I don’t understand you I don’t understand how strong that you were that you did everything he wanted and I know there were nights that were exceptionally bad but you always made it you survived, you cleaned up and not once did that spirit in you go away. You always had a kindness that was unbelievable to others to animals even to the people that were so terrible to you. Oh you would try so hard to make him happy you hated what he was doing but if that was what it was going to take to make him love you …..for that I am so sorry so sorry that you didn’t have a kind gentle dad that cared for your precious heart…..You fought in your little mind, you did what you could. You were so tired all the time, trying to sleep on top of the covers thinking that maybe if the bed was perfect then he wouldn’t hurt you. You were so excited picking out a shirt, it was a game to him. You were older, picking out those shirts, he made you hate yourself, your body your girlness. He made you hate being a girl . I am sorry that he hurt your heart I am sorry that he hurt your little body, that he didn’t care that you were just a little girl. I am so sorry. I am really and honestly going to try not to hate you. I know that you were 5 so little and I wanted you to fight to make him stop, to go away. You told mom in the car once that you wished it was just you and her after dropping him off at the airport and she smiled and said we were a family. I don’t understand all the things that have happened to us, I don’t understand why life has been so hard, why so many people have looked the other way. And I am sorry that I have done the same things to you that I hate in others, ignoring blaming, hating I just don’t know how to love you, I don’t have a clue, and I am scared that I today at 39 won’t be able to handle it, that I won’t be able to keep everything together that I won’t be able to keep smiling. And all of that from your own father that doesn’t even include Albert the monster that he was. I am sorry that you were so afraid that very first time. I am sorry that no one asked you why you were crying or if you needed anything. That kills me. You were so afraid, you couldn’t believe that someone else was hurting you. You were wearing that little sun dress, bare feet and all you wanted was to be a carefree little kid. You have always felt different as long as I can remember. You never belonged anywhere, you weren’t wanted, you were a bother to people and took attention from others that they didn’t want to give. So each hurt took a little more of your heart, crushed your soul a little more and you kept living. The rapes run into each other they were all the same time after time. The ones that stand out are the ones that were more violent. The ones when you couldn’t stop the tears and tried to push him away asking them to stop. The time with Albert driving in the van and he said that you should like this and you just stared out the window, hoping that he would be done soon. He said that you should like it, I understand that you didn’t that it hurt you. I am sorry you were sent with him sorry you had to be in that front seat. At the park, I am sorry that he killed your tadpoles, said such terrible things to you. I am sorry that he was never nice, never kind. It wasn’t your fault you couldn’t save them. I am sorry for the looks you got by him in church that somehow you were the one doing something wrong, you weren’t. I want to love you all that you have lived through all that you survived and I am so scared. Because I understand what they were doing I understand the evilness of what was happening and loving you brings the reality of the abuse and the rapes and all the assaults staring me right in the face and I am beyond terrified. I think its easier to hate you then I don’t have to confront reality. If it happened to you over there all by yourself, I can be sorry but I don’t have to feel it acknowledge that it was me, that I survived those things….

You know it just hurts, someone doing that to a little girl, I was so little what does a person get from that…raping a five year old, her body wasn’t made for that, her wobbly legs, her tiny hips its unthinkable its unreal how did you survive that. How did you pretend that everything was ok ? I don’t know how a little girl survives all that happened…..I don’t know …that life was hell…scared and alone all the time no one helped no one cared….

And the second that you try to be normal, you dance in front of all those people, you had an innocence you wanted someone to be kind to notice you and they did and you paid the price. You weren’t even old enough to be there…..I know that you just wanted to fit in…just wanted to be noticed but that got us hurt, things happened that I don’t even have words for, things happened that I can never unsee and if you weren’t showing off…..You knew what men were capable of why in the world did you want to be noticed ? Don all of them that is unimaginable….I am so very sorry….there are not enough sorryies for the things that you had to endure, and again you did it all you kept breathing, kept going to school you kept going and all I want to do is scream at the world to stop. I don’t know how you kept going, I know you were sad and affected , you were screaming inside for someone to notice. You scratched up your arms, bruised up your legs you tried to eat yourself ugly no one did a thing….then you couldn’t keep things quiet and you still were not believed because you always just handled everything. This was your life there was an acceptance, and you stopped fighting, I understand why you stopped fighting, but I hate you for not fighting, for not doing things different. The last time that Don came you just laid down….I understand you were scared, that you still hurt from the last time….you didn’t even try…..you gave up I hate you for that. You were this used abused wounded thing that just gave up….Bella gave you hope, she kept you going. You lived in this world where everything was going to be perfect, you were going to be a mom, make everything better. I don’t hate you for loosing her, I think you saved her from my father. I wish that we remembered more , things are so sketchy, who was at the hospital, who knew, blah blah all I remember is screaming at the Dr, at his words. His hand on my leg he said I am sorry you lost her and I didn’t want to live anymore. You were such a little girl how in the world were you supposed to handle that understand everything that it meant. There was no way, but I don’t understand why you don’t remember certain pieces. Now that you were older you had more understanding of what was going on what was happening and that frustrates me, because you still didn’t stand up for yourself. By then you were just a shell, a walking zombie, you came alive with whales again but so much damage had been done, you had been left so long….. I have looked at you some through the years and it makes me sad, you should have had things so different. I don’t know how to look at you and not see what was happening what you did, I just don’t know how And I am stuck between wishing things were different and knowing that nothing in this world I can do will give you all that you never had. You lost out on so many many things. You missed love and kindness and I give that all away today until I don’t have any left but I can’t ever give you enough for all that has happened. And we press charges trying to keep others safe, I know that testifying was unimaginable, and people pretended it was all over, it wasn’t even close. By the time that Charles got to you , you just wanted normal just like when you were 13, didn‘t you learn anything ? You just wanted to go shopping, inside there was nothing left. I know when that pillow fell on your face , it was all over. You were so far away He was going to get what he wanted…….and the yelling screaming in your head …..what …again….this is just what we are meant for….You talked to him on the internet, told him you would go shopping with him. So many red flags that you didn’t notice, why ? The words he said, how he talked why didn’t you know ??? You are smarter then that You knew what to do shut off your mind and go away. I know the exact moment when you went away. I know the words you said in your head I wonder if they were even heard. Then there is silence, there is a state when you have to accept what is happening and I hate that part, because there is absolutely nothing that you can do. Your heart was more than hurt no one noticing no one listening and in the end it was always your fault, people told you that over and over and you believed it, I believe there are times you were at fault and I am sorry. I am more than sorry, You have a few really good people around that aren’t running and who are here to help, we just have to let them and after all that’s been done that’s hard I know and I am more than sorry. SO VERY SORRY I am going to try, try to love you, try to see you as the little one that you were try not to see what was done but see you, just you. Its just beyond hard. I don’t understand you at all. I am sorry your heart hurts , I am praying for a miracle for us. 

 

I heart your heart.  

One day I had this most amazing dream........

 

 

So I am not one that enjoys sleep. I kind of dread it actually. I hear people say that they lay their head on the pillow and they are out, WHAT.... REALLY...that is something that I just don't understand. Sleep is not a good thing and is usually filled with things that are scary and mean . For me sleep is a time to fight to run and try too get away. Not exactly peaceful and restful. But the other night I had the absolutely most amazing dream. Mind blowing amazing dream. It was one of those dreams that is more than real. A dream that makes you feel alive that gives you hope, a dream that touches a place in your soul like nothing else. It was one of those dreams and I want so much to remember to hold on to the feelings. My dream and nightmare life is on constant alert and to not want to wake up because something is so perfect is close to a miracle in my world. To wake up rested and refreshed is truly a blessing. And this is a blessing that I don't ever want to forget. Someday I hope it will be more than a dream but reality, a piece that I am working on.

The entire dream was more than a little crazy, it started off more than a little chaotic. I was in this old run down house, in the middle of nowhere. There were holes in the walls and there was nothing else around at all ,anywhere. This old house way out in the country. There were weeds and tall grass everywhere. Stones from the smallest pebble to the biggest of boulders covered the ground. The yard was filled with kids. I was trying to get them all situated and happy. It was a happy place, people were happy, the kids were happy, and I was trying to make everything right. There were a few kids that were back by this big tree making ice-cream. They were all laughing and joking, they were all in their bare feet, everyone was safe. I was running around trying to make sure that everyone was taken care of and had anything that they needed. And there was a car out front a lady who had a story like mine and was sharing, but she was all over the place, I was sad when I saw her wanting so badly to talk to her, but she was way too busy. I took the first steps almost walking to meet her at the car but it just wasn't right, so I stayed away. She was walking in circles giving the kids stickers and stamps and was trying to prove how not affected that she was by anything. She was all about the attention and I wanted nothing to do with that. I just made sure the kids were ok watching from the background, not getting too close. It was a feeling that I feel a lot . Kind of watching everything happening but not being a part of it, for so many reasons. That longing is there but I worry about being a bother or a pest. Then to the left out of no where I saw another woman. As soon as I saw her, I started crying. That gentle cry, when the tears just fall when you just know that something is so right . I didn't know who she was but at the same time I knew exactly who she was. She was almost ready to go, I had almost missed her, but I wanted a hug, I needed a hug. With no hesitation, and my eyes filled with tears I very quietly went up to her and looked at the ground, then looked slightly up and I asked her if I could have a hug. With no words, with no feelings of disgust, she just opened her arms. I walked into her arms and she just held on to me.

 

 

 

 

 

It's hard o explain. I basically melted in her arms, she knew and understood with out me having to say a single word. She was holding me, and I cried and cried and I spoke of all the things that can't be spoken of. And she just held me, and at he right time she would tell me that it was ok, that she understood and I held on and cried some more. And of coarse, I would try to let go thinking I was being a bother and she would tell me it was ok and she just held me tighter; gently rocking me. For once I felt no shame, no anxiety, I wasn't afraid, I wasn't embarrassed, I wasn’t used goods. I was a women with a hurt heart who was with someone who completely understood and was holding my heart. It was absolutely the most amazing feeling. I cried and talked and held on. I talked about all the things in my head, all that has happened and she only held me tighter. I have never in my life ever had a dream that was this amazing. I was so accepted so cared for, and I just didn't want to wake up, I could have slept forever in this dream.

This dream means so very much. I wish that I could explain what being held like that felt like. When you have grown up not knowing unconditional love. And to truly experience it, was more than powerful. I don't have a clue who in the world that this woman was, but I am going to call her Linor <3

I am grateful for this dream, I woke up and I was so refreshed, and rested. I can remember waking up and thinking no, I am not ready, I don't want to wake up yet, I need to be here, being helped, being heard talking and crying .....But I was awake....there was no going back but that feeling oh my goodness. I didn't hate myself, I didn't hate at all, I only felt love and that was more than amazing. The nights since have not been so great but at least I had this one and I am sure that I will never forget, and will hold on to this for as long as I live. Blessed to have this most amazing dream, I am grateful. And I will hold on to it.
　

Give someone a hug just because.

I heart your heart.





 

 

Wearing His Shirts

So this has been brewing for a few months now. Because I keep writing and keep erasing, it’s something that is so innocent, that was ruined, that I want so much to understand. Being excited to wear your dad’s shirts seems so ordinary; but for me it’s something completely different. Its something that bothers me almost haunts me really. It’s a constant nagging, itching burning tearing awful in your chest heavy kind of feeling. And no matter what you do it just won't go away. My father’s shirts are something that for me hurts my heart; only it’s worse than that. Most things go away after a few days and you forget that it even happened; it’s not a big deal. Wearing my fathers T-shirts was for me, terrible awful. Wearing his shirts that I would be so excited to wear has become something I am more than ashamed about and feel incredibly guilty about. I wanted to wear those shirts, they were huge and often would drag on the floor, they were so long. I hate that I wore those shirts. I hate that I can still see the pictures on the front of my favorites. There was the totally eighties bright baby blue one, with the sparkly Dallas letters on the front. The letters were like those iron on’s that were not really all that soft. There was the bright yellow one that we got in Buck snort Tennessee. I can not believe that I still hold my little five year old self accountable for picking out a shirt to wear to bed. Somehow my picking out a shirt and being so excited was in my mind reason to be assaulted. I hate that I would be so excited, I hate that I wanted him to look at me and smile and be special. I wanted him to really see me.

I can not seem to get away from this piece of my history. I was talking about it a few times in the last few weeks and then there was a post on face book about the things that we wear and the feelings they have for us. All the work that I have done and it comes to the simple fact that I picked out a shirt, and I blame myself for the things that would happen to me after picking out that shirt . I feel guilty that I asked for what happened because I wore his shirt. In my head, I do know that is INSANE, so that is the good part. But deep in my bones, I wish that I wasn't excited. I wish that I didn't still see those shirts and the pictures in my head. I can remember feeling so little standing by his dresser I couldn't even reach the top. And I could barely reach the shelf. I can remember how they were folded and I can remember thinking how cool that those glass Avon cologne bottles were. I can remember the color of his dresser and I remember him standing there with his arm on the top. And then there was little me standing there with my bare chest picking out a shirt to wear to bed. In most homes that might be something that wasn’t dangerous, might even be a good thing but in my house as many things it was different. It was dangerous and not at all, innocent.

I remember seeing him standing there and thinking he was huge, so tall. I guess when you are five, most people are tall. I can remember thinking that I wanted him to look at me and be special to him. I wanted him to like me and that just never happened. And the kid that I was I never stopped trying. Even when he was at his worst I wanted to run to him, I wanted him to be proud; I wanted him to keep me safe and sound.

Its crazy thinking back, even as I got older, I can remember going into his dresser and like somehow I was still looking for answers. And I would touch all those cologne bottles. I would straighten things; look at the shirts like somehow there were clues in his dresser as to why he hated me so much. I can remember doing that even as I got older. 

I do understand in my head that I was a little girl and it should have been ok, it should have been safe to wear one your dad’s shirts to bed at night. For me it wasn’t just a shirt, I wanted to pick out just the right shirt, to make him proud to make him like me. For me it wasn’t just a shirt, it was so much more!!!!  It was a way for him to love me, to see me really see me. It was those few seconds when I would get excited and hope that one of my favorites was there and folded and waiting for me to wear it that I remember and feel awful about.  I wanted to wear that shirt to keep me safe and sound and seen and loved. I had hopes of being seen and being protected. I knew what was going to happen at night. I knew that it wasn’t going to be good and I knew that I was going to be hurt. And yet I would still stand there excited, wanting what I knew was impossible. And that I do not understand. I hated what he was doing, I hated how he would hurt me and I continued to hope and be excited that if I picked the right one, maybe if I wore it just right then maybe somehow he could love me.  That is completly unimaginable.  What a monster, what a complete monster.

And the tears flow……I wanted him to love me.  I wanted him to see me, not hurt me.   I have seen dads with their kids and the look that the dads have, that their kids are just precious just awesome, I wanted my dad to look at me like that. I wanted to make him happy just because I was me. I wanted to make him like me, make him love me. I wanted to know that look, that kind of love.

This is one of those rough pieces of my past. I hold myself accountable for wanting all the things that every five year old girl feels. Maybe the shirts were just part of it for him, pick out a shirt, go to bed with him, maybe it was just part of his evil cruel plan. I don’t remember many words from him, but his eyes his actions spoke loud and clear. I was nothing, I meant nothing, I was nothing absolutley nothing, I couldn’t do anything right, I was good to be used and abused and often I didn’t even do that right, I was just so small.

I am trying to understand this piece of my past, and it’s hard. It hurts my heart. Not being loved, not feeling special and wanting it so much. The things that my little five year old brain had to think about were not five year old things.  The things that I had to think about were not even adult decisions.  The things I had to think about were decisions that no human being should ever have to think about. I couldn’t just make a decision I had to think about what all the consequences might be. In my head, I think I should not have stood there in my little underwear picking out a shirt, and being excited, I knew what was going to happen next what was coming how in the world could I be excited!!!!!! I do not understand. I am trying to understand but I do not. I have figured out bigger pieces, this one will just take some time.

I heart your heart, Callahan. Be gentle with yourself.

Pearl Jam : Daughter

So Close Yet So Far Away....

So yes, that's how things are for me.  Some things are so close I can feel them then they are gone, just like that.  And all I can say is well then those things just weren't supposed to happen.  SO today I sit here typing this and yet another job that was so close is out of reach and I  have a peace about that, but at the same time, its sad.  It just wasn't the right one, there was no housing, there was no place that I would feel safe and that is big .    Today I was supposed to be in Plainview meeting my principle and fellow teachers, finding where I was going to live and seeing my class.  It didn't happen like that.  It all seemed so right, but there was something that just wasn't, and I couldn't explain it, it all seemed so perfect but something was holding me back.


It all happened so quickly, being asked if I would take a job that I had to move.  Sure why not, a move would be good. I send an email and my resume and within a few hours I get a response from the principle that she would like to speak with me, two days later I have a phone interview, and she is calling my references.  My head was spinning, third grade, my favorite grade and I was being told that she was going to recommend me for the position.  So I cried.  And I cried some more.  And I sent a text asking if a friend would go with me, and with out any hesitation she said yes when can we go ?  It was a long two weeks let me tell you, so all this back and forth with the new principle she wants to hire me ..then silence.  I was thinking of moving and packing and things that I needed for an apartment, my mind was overwhelmed and chaotic.  I wrote her three emails called twice finding out what time that she wanted to get together Friday.  I let her know my plans,   how excited that I was and nothing.  I have said during this process that I wanted clear answers.  I wanted to know for sure if this is what I was supposed to do, or if I was supposed to stay here and try to find something.  There was so much going on in my heart that I just couldn't share, I didn't know what I was supposed to do, it was a job a real live teaching job someone wanted me to teach in their school that I would be a perfect fit for.

And that silence that I am so used to in my life....that deafening silence and you know something just isn't right. So as we were getting ready for our Fort Worth stay-cation, I sill had not heard a thing so I again changed plans and said well, I guess her silence is as loud as it gets. And then the email Friday that she was super excited but she also looked into leasing and that there just wasn't much available.  In the first email I had asked her to help, since I was not finding places for us to live.  I think in her silence she knew that there were no options for me.  And in her silence I knew that this was not the right position for me.  And it makes me sad because so many things were good and perfect and right.  And then there were also some things that weren't so right, that wouldn't be good for my heart.  I mean I would be fine anywhere, that's the problem I always am, on my worst days, if you were to ask I would be fine.  Only I am not.

SO moving there to that little town called Plainview I am sure that I would be fine because that is just what I do. But also in moving there it would not have been the best move for my heart.  So in Mrs. Wrenns silence I knew this was not meant to be.  Part of my heart was relieved another part was more than sad.

I just want to teach more than anything. I want a classroom full of kids that I can care for their hearts and teach them the things that they need to know.  I will not give up, but I want this more than anything.  I have done everything I can possible do. I sent probably 10 emails this morning already hearing back from one principle, and those are all good things, its just hard.   I don't think people understand I want this more than anything and this is one thing in life that I am sure I can do really well.  I can make a difference and I will notice those little thins that make a difference. 

I want to be so excited about different things that are coming up and I just don't want to be crushed again.  I know I am doing everything I can and putting resumes out there and turning in applications but that doesn't seem to be enough. 

The entire situation was more than frustrating, I was torn between a job getting paid being able to support Vincent and Mariska.  And My heart.  My heart isn't ready to be alone yet again, I have finally found a few real true honest genuine people here and I am not ready to be on my own again.  I am on my own because that is who I am I don't like to let people in, I don't like to be a bother.  I am not ready too go back to the place that I was in 4 years ago, with nothing and no one.  People kept saying "oh you will be fine, you will be fine"......they don't understand I know I WILL be fine, its the fact that I want more than just being Fine and I am working on that here.

In so many things I am so close and so far away.  I am grateful to those people who told me to care for my own heart. I am grateful for the silence to know that moving wasn't the right choice, right now.  And I am grateful to have a home here where I am supported and even loved even in my craziness. 

I don't have a clue what these next few weeks hold hopefully that perfect job and that perfect fit that I am after.  But I know that whatever I am looking for its right here.  I know that here my heart is taken care of and I need that so very much. I haven't ever had enough of that ever, and it takes getting used to.  I know that my arms are open and I am more than ready to  take what comes my way. 

I heart your heart.

Tear Soup

 

So this is a book that I found that is more than amazing.  It talks about healing and the time that it takes and how each and everyone one of us heals differently and for a different amount of time.    Some can smile through the pain some need lots of extra time some don't even cry at all because its all been taken before.  There are so many reasons for why a person heals the way that they do, it is what it is.  And yes sometimes healing can even take years. I think there are different levels of tears, and things that you realize even later that still make you sad.  I think there are some sadnesses that will never totally go away.  We grow we learn to be happy again but there is just something there that we can't totally explain.   So here is the Story Tear Soup by Pat Schwiebert and Chuck DeKlyen Illustrated by Taylor Bills.  If this story touches your heart I say go buy it and read it and cry and if you need to call me, because I heart your heart. Know that someday you will feel better, I mean we have to someday, we just have to keep going.

TEAR SOUP

 

 

There once was an old and somewhat wise woman whom everyone called Grandy.

 

She just suffered a big loss in her life.  Pops her husband suffered the same loss, but in his own way. 

 

This is the story of how Grandy faced her loss by setting out to make tear soup.

 

 

For many years the custom of making tear soup had been forgotten.

 

As peoples lives became more rushed they found it much easier to pull

 

"Soup In A Can" from the shelf and heat it on the stove.

 

But several years ago Grandy got a taste of a well seasoned tear soup.

 

One of her friends made it from scratch when her child died.

 

As soon as Gandy tasted the rich flavor of that carefully made soup ,

 

She promised herself never again to assume that quicker was better.

 

Because of her great loss Grandy knew this time her recipe for Tear Soup would call for a big pot.

 

With a big pot sh would have plenty of room for all the memories, all the misgivings, all the feelings

 

and all the tears she needed to stew in the pot over time.

 

She put on her apron, because she knew it would get messy.

 

It seems that grief is never clean. People feel misunderstood, feelings get hurt and wrong assumptions

 

 are made all over the place.  

 

To make matters worse, grief always takes longer to cook than anyone wants it to.

 

And then..........

 

Grandy started to Cry.

 

At first she sobbed.

 

Sometimes she wept quietly.

 

And sometimes when she was in a safe place where no one could hear her...............

 

She even wailed.

 

Grandy knew she had to make much of this part of the soup alone.

 

She learned from past experiences that most people don't like being around tears. Her friends would

 

worry if they knew just how many tears Grandy's recipe called for this time. 

 

So, the old and somewhat wise woman reflected on her own special recipe as she looked down into

 

the large overflowing pot of memories.

 

It was a task she would repeat many times during the next few months.

 

Grandy winced when she took a sip of the broth.

 

All she could taste was salt from her teardrops.

 

It tasted bitter, but she knew this was where she had to start.

 

And for now, it was the only think on her menu.

 

There were things that Grandy never wanted to forget.

 

These included the good times and the bad times, the silly and the sad times.

 

With her arms full of memories, Grandy made many trips to the kitchen.

 

One at a time, she slowly stirred all her precious and not so precious memories into the pot.

 

But eventually she ran out of things to add.

 

Grandy's arms ached and she felt stone cold and empty.

 

There were no words that could describe the pain that she was feeling.

 

Whats more, when she looked out the window it surprised her to see how the rest of the world was

 

going on as usual while her world had stopped.

 

Her Grandson, Chester, who just wanted Grandy to be happy hoped, that his chocolate drops would

 

make her feel better.

 

Mrs.Bloomklotz, Ms.Chadwick and Mr. Long, all brave yet fearful neighbors, dropped by to see how

 

Grandy was doing.

 

They filled the air with words, but none of their words took the smell of tear soup away.

 

Grandy was gracious because she knew how helpless her friends felt.

 

They wanted to fix her, but they couldn't .

 

All Grandy really needed from them at that moment was a knowing look and a warm hug.

 

There were also days when Grandy hungered for a thoughtful ear.

 

Sometimes she would ask total strangers .

 

"Care to join me in a bowl of tear soup ?

 

" No thanks," most would reply. " I don't have time for tear soup today."

 

Even some of Grandy's friends hurried past her house and pretended not to notice the aroma of tear

 

soup coming through the open door.

 

Grandy found that most people can tolerate only a cup of someone else's tear soup. 

 

The giant bowl, where Grandy could repeatedly share her sadness in great detail, was left for a few

 

willing friends.

 

"I'm here," Midge cried. "I got here as fast as I could and I'll be here whenever you need me.  

 

What a tragedy. 

 

I am so sorry that you are having to make such a big pot of soup."    

 

Oh what a relief. Grandy knew that she didn't have to be careful what she said around Midge.

 

Midge wouldn't try to talk her out of anything she was feeling.

 

And Grandy could even laugh and not worry that Midge would assume Grandy was over her grief.

 

"Sorry I couldn't get here sooner," Said Midge

 

"No problem," replied Grandy. "I've had plenty of help. But most of these friends will be history

 

pretty soon. They'll be over my tragedy long before I am.  But I know that you will still be around."

 

"I don't know what to say, but I'll be glad to listen," Midge said Tenderly .  "C'mon tell me all about it

 

while we make some bread to go along with your soup."

 

These two friends who had shared a thousand laughs and just as many tears, pounded at the bread

 

dough together.

 

"I feel like I'm unraveling." Grandy Cried.

 

"I'm mad. I'm confused. I can't make any decisions. Nobody can make me feel good.

 

I'm a mess. I just didn't realize it would be this hard."

 

"Why don't we go for a walk while we wait for the bread to rise." Midge suggested.

 

"I know exercise is supposed to help me but I feel like I have concrete blocks strapped to my legs.

 

We'd better not go too far or you'll have to carry me home." moaned Grandy.

 

Mrs. Cries-a-lot called and reminded Grandy that she has been making tear soup for years

 

and would be more than glad to come right over and show her how to make it the correct way.

 

"Thanks, but no,"said Grandy.

 

"This pot has my name on it."

 

Grandy knew better than to let Mrs. cries-a-lot or anyone else tell her what she should do to get

 

through this terrible loss.

 

Next her recipes called for some comfort food.

 

For Grandy this meant mashed potatoes or ice-cream. Comfort food always makes you feel better--

 

at least for a little while.  It gets past that big lump in your throat when other foods can't.

 

"I think I need some chocolate too." After all, it was her soup.

 

Grandy kept attending worship even though she was mad at god.

 

Sometimes she yelled at God and asked Why this happened. And sometimes she demanded to know

 

where God was when she was feeling so alone.

 

Still, Grandy trusted God, but she didn't understand God.

 

She sensed that people believed that if she really had faith she would be spared deep sorrow, anger

 

and loneliness. Grandy kept reminding herself to be grateful for ALL the emotions that God had given

 

her.

 

On some afternoons people would ask questions like,

 

"Is it soup yet? "  or

 

"How long is it going to take? You have been at this for over a month now. Its time to get out of the

 

kitchen."

 

Grandy fumes at the caller's advise.

 

Grandy looked forward to getting the mail each day. She dreaded the day when no more sympathy

 

cards would come.

 

When she was alone and needed to think she found it helpful to keep notes on her soup making.

 

Thank Goodness Grandy and Pops have been married a long time.

 

They already knew each other's tear soup would be different.

 

Secretly Grandy wished pops would put more flavoring in his soup, but he doesn't want to. 

 

And he's perfectly content to dine alone and sip his own soup.

 

Making Tear Soup is hard work.

 

Sometimes it was all that she could think about. Even the things Grandy used to love to do, she didn't

 

have the energy for, nor did she care about anymore.

 

Some of Grandy's friends over the years had not tended to their tear soup. Their soup boiled over and

 

the pot scorched.  What a mess. It took them a long time to clean up their pots and to start over. 

 

The smell of burnt soup still lingers in some of their homes.

 

Grandy knew there were times when she needed to take a break from her soup making.

 

Even though it was hard to do, she forced herself to get away.

 

Grandy heard that a neighbor was having to take her turn in the kitchen.

 

Some people thought that the neighbor was eating too much tear soup.

 

So Grandy being old and somewhat wise woman, called and invited her to a special soup gathering

 

where it's not bad manners to cry in your soup or have second helpings.

 

Soon the thoughtful cooks sat at Grandy's table and discussed the process of making tear soup.

 

There are some parts that require help from Friends and some parts you just have to do alone.

 

They shared stories about soup making they wouldn't dare tell anyone else for fear of being judged a

 

bad cook.

 

They all laughed knowingly when Grandy remarked, how on days when she was day-dreaming while

 

driving, she was glad that the car seemed to know where she wanted to go.

 

These people had become Grandy's "new best friend's."

 

One day Grandy and Chester were going for a drive, Chester asked,

 

"Mom says that you've been making tear soup. What does she mean?"

 

"Well, tear soup is a way for you to sort through all the different types of feelings and memories you have when you loose someone or something special. Remember when your baby brother dies right before he was born and your mom sat for days holding his blanket and weeping? She was making

 

Tear Soup."

 

"You made tear soup  yourself by acting out your own disappointment when you shouted at Jason, wishing that his brother would die too."

 

"Remember when Billy's dog died and he didn't want to play with you? Not feeling like having fun is one of the ingredients of tear soup, also."  

 

"And remember when aunt Meg got divorced and they had to move? There was a lot of tear soup simmering in that house."

 

"Some days when you're making tear soup it's even hard to breathe. Some days you feel like running away. You just hope a better day comes along soon. And then comes one of the hardest parts of making tear soup,"

 

"It's when you decide it may be ok to eat something instead of soup all the time."

 

The next morning as Grandy was cleaning up, Chester asked her if she was making tear soup.

 

"Well, I don't think that you actually ever finish. The hard work of making this batch of soup is almost done though. I'll put the rest in the freezer and will pull it out from time t time to have a little taste."

 

"So what else have you learned by making tear soup, Grandy ?"

 

"I've learned that grief like a pot of soup, changes the longer it simmers and the more things that you put into it. I've learned that sometimes people say unkind things, but they really don't mean to hurt you,"

 

"And most importantly, I've learned that there is something down deep in all of us ready to help us survive the things we think we can't survive."

 

"Grandy, you know so much. What will I d after you die?"

 

"Don't worry, I will leave you my recipe for tear soup."

 

  

 

So yes, I love this story.  I found it in the clearance section at Half Price Books and didn't even read through the entire book it was just one of those things that I picked up and I got home and read it and I cried and cried. I am better but still working on my very own tear soup.  Not many people stay, that is for sure but here I have a few special people and that is truly all that you need.  There are times that I can put the soup away , and there are times that its out and there are more ingredients that I need to add.  I realize that my tear soup has been a work in progress but its the progress that is a good thing.  There will always be tear soup in my life because of the magnitude of things that have happened. I need to know and understand that its ok for others not to understand, and to stay away, that is just how it works.  I will keep working, and try to be gentle on myself when it seems my soup is going to boil.  I would rather see it and acknowledge it and take gentle care of my heart, then become cold and pretend that I am fine. It seems that lately, I have been adding to my soup, new things that I have yet to understand, but I am working. So from my healing heart.  I don't ask you to know or to understand or even accept my tear soup but at least be gentle and kind its my soup .

 

 

 

I heart your heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



   

Where's My Happily Ever After ??

So ......I think that my life is about to change, I think that good things are coming but I am not sure what they are or where they are. I am pretty sure that I am scared out of my mind.   There are so many things that I want to say and I hope that I can find just the right words to figure out what is in my heart, my picture of my very own happily ever after. Lately some moments I am so sure that a move is the right thing; that someplace else is where things are going to be better where the memories will fade and I will be better.  Then the next day, I think what am I crazy I have no savings yet, I am not prepared, I have nothing to lean on there, I have no furniture anymore and know absolutely no one ! Some days I see the options so clear other days they are clear as mud and so I cry, because I don't have a clue.

I think my happily ever after is different, its not the fairy tale riding away in a carriage with prince charming its much more than that, it might not be anyone else's fairy tale happy ending in the world but its mine. And I can promise you with my whole heart that I want to find my very own happily ever after and I want it more than you can imagine.  It looks different, its where my heart is happy, where my children know that I love them, its having a classroom with happy little hearts everywhere.  It is having a good guy in my life that makes me feel safe, that is patient, that listens to my heart and loves my children.  In my happily ever after the nightmares will lessen, the flashbacks will subside, and I won't hate myself for all that has happened.

It was when I drove around the colony, that I realized just how much feeling that this place has for me.  Places that I drive by and remember the people and times.  This past year I have made many awesome memories.  Things that I will never forget kindnesses that I can never repay, and for those things I will never be the same.  But if I stay here some of those places will stay alive and have power in my head and really I don't want to do that anymore.  If I stay I can grow some of the amazing relationships that are just blooming. If I stay there are amazing programs that I can get involved with, and help kids; nurture their little hearts because I understand.

If I go, its all new, and I will have to stretch more than I ever have.  I will have to get out meet new people.  I will have to do things that I am not sure are even in me.  Even here, I have stepped out of my box more than I ever have and its been good, I think that I have grown, and its been good for me, am I ready to do that all on my own, I just don't know.  I know that I would for my children but what would be the cost to me.


There is no peace yet about the choices that I am going to have to make in these next few weeks. There is no peace and no real answer as to exactly what I am supposed to be doing. I am going to try to remember to breathe.  I am going to try to think through each and every piece, little by little.  I want to be  sure of each and every one and I am pretty sure that somewhere in this I am going to have to have a little faith. Because in this life there are not many guarantees at all,  But I want this to work more than anything.  I want new pieces of my puzzle and I want to grow and maybe even like the person that I am becoming. I want Happily Ever After.

I have survived hell and back a few times. Things were bad really bad, but I always made it through.  There was always something that kept me going, that kept hope alive in me.  I don't have a clue what it is or what to call it but I have always had it. A hope a dream a knowing that things were not always going to be so rough.  A good friend of mine always said to me, when you hand is right in front of your face, things are so clear and exactly that IN YOUR FACE and you can't see anything else. But as you move your hand away, things fade and other things begin to get clearer. I am sure that he said it much better than I am but you get the point.  Sometimes I work so hard trying to heal the past that I ignore the present. I think maybe here its like my hand in front of my face will that change in a new place or make things worse ?  I don't have a clue, not one single cell in all my body knows.

I have realized that some this summer, is that I forget to live.  I forget to have fun I forget that I don't have to have all the answers that I long for.  Even in the knowing it can't change anything.  All I can do is go forward.  I think I am going to have to learn to acknowledge when those things come up and let that be ok.  But I also need to be ok with telling myself, I am really enjoying myself right now and I will not let my past rob me of the good things to come.  Believe me that is easier aid than done but its said, its written and I am going to try.  So where ever I end up, whatever Job that I have, I am going to make it.  I am going to have a classroom full of happy hearts, Somewhere in some school district.  Vincent and Mariska will continue to grow and become the amazing people that they were meant to be.
 

 

 

I think this kinda says it all.  I want so much and I think sometimes that I don't even know what it is that I want.  Its one of those things I will know when I am there.  And I am not there yet.  SO I keep going.  I am going to take the next few weeks trying to remember to breathe.  I am going to try and enjoy each second, my kids laughing, the birds outside, the Friday night pizza and a movie. Washing dishes , watching the garden, listening to little giggles and pounding feet.  I don't have a clue what is next, not a single clue as to what the right thing to do is.  So I will try and be patient, I will try and have a little faith and I will wait.

I heart your heart.   I am grateful. Thank You Thank You.  So I pray, I cry, and I hope that the right thing will come, and the decision will bring peace.

 Jason Castro : Hallelujah