sometimes you just gotta' row

the stop matters. a good stop would’ve been great.

with 4 comments

a dilemma of conscience. she hasn’t risen by mid-afternoon. it’s nearly the same to me whether she does or doesn’t. i feel badly about not feeling badly.

then there’s the idea it was because she’s been mentally ill for all those years. it means she’s developed a series of behaviors and fronts a relationship with the world that can be categorized according to a series of diagnostic and procedure codes. when you’re a kid, dependent upon a parent to validate your very existence, categorization means shit. some people don’t give it because they don’t have it; others, like Mother, take it away.

it didn’t start with her, the savage disdain. by all accounts her father demonstrated a similar set of sensibilities; beat and humiliate any semblance of self-respect out the kids, slash away anything that might be dignity from the wife and, why not, kick the dog.

when did it start? before him, who was the monster…his father, mother and, before that one, who…and, so it goes. nobody to take responsibility and the toxins are passed on like the baton in a relay race.

couldn’t do it, though the damage was done long before i left home when came my own kiddies. between us, we wouldn’t let me be one of those savages. you work at learning how to parent, yet remain certain and afraid you didn’t exorcise all the demons. so much time and love worrying about it. second guessing. changing more and more, never knowing how much is enough. a wearying toll.

a day arrives, has arrived, when you know this shit has cost the better parts of your lifetime. relationships, oh so many. gnashing and doubting and worrying. never knowing if any of it is right or better. a million cuts. daily.

when that shock of realization rattles in you know the life is behind you and it’s mostly in rags. but, it’s worth all the tears at twice the price, if you didn’t become one of them.

did you?

i thought relief would be found in and around some flavor of forgiveness and that’s what i’d been aiming for. today i’m sure that path has all been another form of denial. like the spouse justifying the black eye, she’s been that way because she didn’t know better, came from a destructive home, is mentally ill…etc. it doesn’t matter to me whether it matters to her but, she doesn’t get forgiven.

the truth is you can’t save yourself. can’t. the damage has been rendered long before the consciousness and self-awareness required for self-rescue surface. yes, it is fucking unfair but if you can save a child, your child, well, you have saved yourself. just not quite the way you expected. hurts like hell but you have to be grateful anyway.

Written by glh

October 29, 2013 at 18:48

4 Responses

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  1. Of course you can save yourself, not if you make your bed of excuses and feeling sorry for yourself but you can condition yourself with patience and fortitude. Damage cannot be undone but the human psyche can always be melded, scars may remain but the gaping wound can be sewn together and taken care of so it’s nothing more than a scar. People can always change they just have to actually try.



    October 29, 2013 at 19:50

    • a shattered porcelain figurine, painstakingly re-assembled and glued together, resembles its intended form but is no longer part of the collection



      October 29, 2013 at 20:12

      • It is what you make it, if you believe a person can’t be fixed then a person can’t be fixed. The human mind is not a porcelain doll but an ever changing ever adaptive organ that when used in such a manner, can topple many great traumas. My pain is deeply rooted into my psyche like a weed with its roots throughout my entire being, but it doesn’t mean I can’t dig it out over time. I just have to stop leaning on ‘mental illness’ as a crutch to accept my fate as that of misery and actually do something about my own life.



        October 29, 2013 at 20:17

        • me; i’ve reached a point of realization about my relationship with my parents and other family members where i know i’ve spent my entire life anticipating the day when a light would go on. it never did and i now know it’s not possible. feels like they’ve been giggling their way through. self-absorbed drunks to the end.

          sure, i survived and, a good deal that is but, survival leaves scars and it takes place in a narrow corridor where light is rare and the view is limited. a dog can be taught to walk on its hind legs but it doesn’t do it well and while it’s cool the critter can do it at all, running on all fours is what’s natural.

          it’s the end game, the letting go the louts along with the fantasies, and feeling duped by what i thought was virtuous intent. hopefully the dust will settle, the rawness will heal and the next chapter will be no less interesting but…hopefully brighter.



          October 31, 2013 at 16:30

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