I Disappointed YOU?

You were angry.

Your hurtful words just flew.

I could feel the sting.

You said I disappointed you.

I was silent.

As your anger pelted me.

I was silent.

And I just let you be.

I just let you rage

Releasing all your pain

Did that make you feel better?

Tell me, what did you gain?

Are we closer now?

No, the opposite is true.

Wondering do you love me?

Wondering do I love you?

Is there any shred of love left?

Any for us to restore?

Was I was silent

Because I don’t care anymore.

Each time you hurt me

I changed

With each lie

I rearranged

I got tougher, harder, meaner,

I grew a thicker shell

I grew wary and untrusting

Frankly, mad as HELL

And now, I disappoint YOU!

How exactly can that be?

Was it while working two jobs?

To provide for you and me?

Or maybe it was my strength

You leaned on without concerns.

Is that why I disappoint you

And your anger burns?

I was silent.

Your words really hit their mark.

I was silent.

Broken in the dark.

 

Self critic – a bully and a victim

Do you ever stop and think about how many mean things you say to yourself everyday. If I had a dollar for every time I called myself fat or stupid, I would be able to pay cash for that Alpha Romeo I want. I would never treat my friends that way – I love them. Today, in just the last hour, I called myself a fat cow, an idiot, a dummy, and a few other words I should not write here. Wow. When I look at these words written in front of me – I see a bully and a victim – and they are both me!

Why do I do that? I blame myself for my son’s illness. I blame myself for my husband’s issues. I criticize myself when the house isn’t spotless or the dinner isn’t perfect. How do I stop?

I do so many things I don’t want to do.

I don’t want to pretend I am OK when I am not.

I don’t want to bully me.

I don’t even want to eat these cookies.

STOP!!!

I need to get back outside. Back in the saddle. Back in the garden.

For now, I am putting away the vacuum cleaner – AND the cookies, and heading off to my craft room with my Charlie dog.

After the clown show

You see, grief doesn’t end, at least not for me. In 18 days, it will be three years since I lost my son. To the world, I am “OK”. Because I get up everyday and put on the clown show. I smile, socialize, interact – everything the world has come to expect from me. I have to – I am the strong, responsible one.

At the end of the day, when the clown show is over – when all my adult responsibilities have been fulfilled, I can curl up with my dogs – alone, in the dark. Then, I can grieve. I remember. I cry. I smile. I love. No clown. No pretend. Just me.

The clown show is exhausting to me. I welcome the dark, late at night.

I don’t think I want to be a clown anymore – maybe, just maybe – people will just have to accept that I am different now. I need to learn how to stop pretending.