(Sorry, it's a whine-y post.)
Holidays are just hard anymore because the angels died. The demons live. And I still have skeletons in my closet. Granted, fewer skeletons...but I still have a pretty good pile of them. They aren't exactly pretty, and they're embarrassing. But, they're there.
When you grow up in an abusive household, you learn to become a very private individual. When you decide to write, or become an advocate against those abuses...you CAN'T be private. It's stripped away, even though you know it's for a common good. It's a strange dichotomy. And, I won't lie--it sucks because your natural instinct--what you really want to do is to bury it all & forget it. All you've ever known is to retreat far into yourself when things get tough and to keep time-honored secrets. But, I think to be a true advocate, you have to come out of the closet waving your skeletons and pull some of your heart out to wear on your sleeve, or you can't be as effective.
Maybe it isn't just the writing that makes me wiggy, then. Holidays, like today, remind me of what I have missed, what I miss about my grandparents, and that I might not completely understand the way things are supposed to be, like I should. And, I've decided that I want to be that advocate, even if it means waving my skeletons around in public once in a while. =( I think...I'm still on a sort of sabbatical. I think I have a clearer direction of where I'm headed though...
If this is a hard holiday for you, my tightest, safest hugs. If today is joyous---then I hope you had the happiest of days and got to spend it with all the most important people in your life.
As a side...my daugher made me a homemade card--a la grade school. With crayons. =) Very sweet. She & Mr. Jade both came down to tell me they loved me. =) So sweet-I am a lucky woman. I just need to keep reminding myself of that. ;o)
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2 comments:
*hugs* I barely even spoke to most people till I was in high school. I always thought it would be so cool to write because I loved to read, but when faced with the glaring openess of a blank page, I'd just freeze, for a long time...sometimes even still. I getcha.
Happy Mama's Day, a touch late.
Writing is such a healing thing, but it's also scary. Take heart, though. It's scary for all of us. I like to say I write because I don't like to talk, which is true to an extent, but writing says volumes more than talking ever can. Non-writers don't get it.
I've been meaning to an advocate post of sorts for some time and haven't yet. Maybe I'll get to it.
I'm sorry Mother's Day is so hard for you and hope it will get easier as your daughter keeps lavishing attention each year.
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