Strength

Having the courage to hold on,

withstand,

persevere.

There are times when it takes far more strength

to let go.

~Nursey~

 

Never explain--your friends do not need it and your enemies will not believe you anyway. Elbert Hubbard (1856 - 1915)

It's all about choices.

The forks in the road of our life mold our destiny.

Choices

To be adventurous or to be cautious.

To be loving or to be cruel.

To be impartial or to be biased.

To be enthusiastic or to be indifferent.

To be disappointed or to be satisfied.

To give up or to endure.

 

The hardest choices to accept are the choices of others.

Choices that hurt deeply.

Choices that affect your life, your heart, your being.

Then, you choose to weep.

~Nursey~

 

Feelings,

they are hard for me.

I visualize my heart inside a protective stone wall with an iron gate.

Sometimes the key to the gate is just placed in the lock,

 for anyone to turn.

Sometimes the key is hidden, misplaced.

Sometimes, I deny there is a key and the gate remains locked.

 

 

 

Stones,

in no particular order, of all sizes, representing the disappointments and the pain.

The largest stones set there by me, for all the things I can't forgive myself for.

The mistakes and the regrets.

 

I hide the key from myself most often.

 

I am my own worst enemy.

 

 

 

 

One of my goals for 2007 is try to reach out to my Mother one more time. I haven't had any contact with her in over 5 years. Before that was hit and miss. I can honestly say I really haven't had a "relationship" with her since 1984.

I don't know why, I've never understood our relationship. I'm not angry. I have no idea if she is. We just don't .... connect.

 

I'm taken back to my high school days, my senior year.

 I was crowned Homecoming Queen.

The gymnasium was full of people. I was given a crown and a huge bouquet of flowers.

As the King and I made our exit, the spotlight following us, I detoured. I walked straight to my Mother who was in the front row of the bleachers.

 I handed her the beautiful flowers took the tiara off my head and placed it on hers, then bowed.

I saw pride in her eyes, along with tears.

It wasn't something I had planned, it just happened. It actually kinda pisses me off now, and I don't know why that is either.

 My Mother treated me poorly my whole life. I'm not saying that in a whiny, pathetic tone. Just the facts.

When I was very young, I used to ask my Dad if she hated me, he would act appalled and try to convince me otherwise.

Later, he admitted to me that she didn't like me all that much.

That was easier to hear than the lies.

So, I sit here. Trying to figure out if it's even worth the effort. She has never known my son. She made it perfectly clear she wasn't a built in babysitter when he was still in the womb. She also asked that she not be called "Grandma." My son refers to her, lovingly, as "Betty."

 

My Mother still thinks of me as that 17 year old Homecoming Queen.

Sassy teenager, rude, even obnoxious at times.

My Mother has never known me as a woman.

Strong, caring, witty, successful, and giving.

 

I don't think she does want to know me, she may have to like me then.

 

Seven years ago, Hook and I met. We were both just getting over bad marriages. Both of us had been married 14 years. Both of us swore that we wouldn't trust, love, or be emotoinally involved again.

 

 I was still married when I met Hook. My ex-husband was in the military and had gotten orders. With the crumbling state of our marriage I stayed here....he moved on.

I lived in a cheap one bedroom apartment, had no funiture, I took nothing from my "home" except my clothes and a few trinkets that meant something to me.

Hook was staying with his Mom. He was on the road so much, he only needed a place to keep his things and shower when he was home.

The relationship was different than either one of us had ever experienced. I was a naive in so many ways. Hook used to tell me I'd trust Charlie Manson. I had surrounded myself with people who did not have the best intentions. I couldn't see that then.

 Hook, on the other hand, was street smart. Trusted no one. I told Hook he would question Mother Theresa.

But we survived, a long first year of passion and fighting, learning and compromise. It was probably the hardest year of both of our lives.

This song takes me back to those days.