Well, it isn't like Christmas's past, that's for sure.
It is, however, in many ways, much, much, better then many of them have ever been.
Even despite some relationship and medical upset, it's still been a year full of improvements. I started to get some feeling back in my severed nerves, and actually was able to generate some sales for my little non-bakery business.
Weather-wise, it looks like we are just going to squeak into a white christmas, as the temp is hovering around 30, and has been for the last couple of nights. People have been joking all around about how they may have to mow their lawns on Christmas Day. Pretty Peculiar. Funny, though.
For the past couple of days, I have been agonizing needlessly about something that I had stuffed into a box, many years ago, in the attics of my life, only to find out that letting go of trying to keep the lid on the box, was actually fairly liberating and renewing.
It's funny how we make things so complicated as people.
I found out years ago, in my own evolvement, that we can mind f**k ourselves like nobody else. Which is to say that I have not only danced with the devil quite a few times; I have, in fact, let the devil in the room and actually mated with it, in the form of the beast of burden that was my familial legacy. Which is how and why I can say that it's truly pitiful, when it comes right down to it, how long we will stay in situations that are not good for us. I spent my whole childhood in some sort of weird purgatory. When I think of that past life, I get the picture of Al Pacino in the movie: The Devils Advocate, walking towards the guy he was about to suck dry, rubbing his hands together, saying, "....why, a little bloodletting, a little fire setting, a little soul raping, nothing is too depraved for my legion of followers, buck up, my son, it's gonna' be a hell of a ride". Truly, it took me years to figure out how wrong and hinky that was. As Mary (the main character in the TV series, In Plain Sight,) would say......I hate hinky.
I forgave myself some time ago, for being an innocent child without any power to deflect most of it, but recent events have brought it back and forced me to open a box that I had forever thought closed. It wasn't as painful as it could have been, actually. Which doesn't mean the box is going to stay open. Some things should never be allowed to see the light of day, and that particular box is one of them. It just made me realize a bunch of stuff about love, and how awfully tweaked most versions of it, are.
Which leads me right back to the beginning of this diatribe, i.e. the complications that we make for ourselves. I had to unwind at least a million strings of ribbon, just to get to the darn thing, then when I dug it out, I realized that the only reason I hadn't dug it out sooner, was because I was too nervous and frightened to deal with it. The first time I opened it, it almost destroyed me. I spent at least half a decade drinking, drugging and essentially throwing myself on the mercy of the world (which, actually, was tons nicer then the non-existent mercy of my family). The fear of the first encounter with the thing had not only wound the box up in knots, but my spirit, as well. It felt good to open the thing, clear the dust out of it, and repack it a little neater, before putting it away this time.
I don't think I could have managed if it hadn't been for Rich, being there, right by my side.
I thought for a long time, that the secrets in that box were so bloody, ugly, dirty and surreal, that they really shouldn't EVER see the light of day, not EVER. They caused so much destruction when they were put in there, the first time, that it simply wasn't safe to let them out. I really believed this. I believed that nobody would believe it, as it was like a very bad Alfred Hitchcock movie. I believed that those terrible and heinous trust violations that were perpetrated on a young, idealistic, and innocent girl, with the only commodity that anybody wanted, were much too tawdry and menial to be real. I never was entirely sure if things had happened the way I remembered, or the way I had been told they had happened. I realized after opening the box, that it didn't actually matter whether I ever know the entire truth about any of it. I don't want to know, actually. No matter which version was the "right" version, it was a long time ago, and so much water under the bridge.
I've sought the truth out a lot in my life, and while I believe it's true that "the truth will set you free", it will, but not before it carves your heart up into a gazillion maggot infested pieces that are used for so much soccer, purgatory style. Most of us cannot bear it. I did bear it, because I had to, but I don't believe that other people we care about, should have to.
I did realize though, upon repacking the box, that the events that created a necessity for that box in the first place, had colored my entire life. They created a great belief in conspiracy in me. They created a significant and lengthy distrust of all things "hidden", and they fractured and scattered my spiritual energy for a very long time. I also realized that the many times I've exhibited severe rage and frustration, it was because I couldn't get the shit back in that box, as it was just much too full. So, of course, I made sure to put the box away, back in the attics of my life, a little neater this time, hopefully.
And I realize that I think I know what love is, now. Real love. Not the kind I grew up with. And not the false kind with all the bells and whistles (otherwise known as lust, that is really merely the devil having fun at our expense). Rich has shown me that love isn't any of those things, but is, rather, a rock-steady and no-matter what dirty awful secret you share with me, I will honor it, and keep it safe, kind of love. Which, actually, is the only reason I could pack the box up a little more carefully this time, and put it in a safer place, where the contents won't be wantonly disrupted by the whims of fate.
I don't know what I did to deserve this kind of love, but I am grateful, oh, so very grateful to finally have found my "home" and good friends and a kind of peaceful contentment that I didn't ever expect to find. I am so very grateful, and so........I think to myself, as I sit here waiting for the snow to fall..........and so......... this is Christmas.
Blessings to all and may you all find your own hidden treasures in the attics of your lives. :)
It is, however, in many ways, much, much, better then many of them have ever been.
Even despite some relationship and medical upset, it's still been a year full of improvements. I started to get some feeling back in my severed nerves, and actually was able to generate some sales for my little non-bakery business.
Weather-wise, it looks like we are just going to squeak into a white christmas, as the temp is hovering around 30, and has been for the last couple of nights. People have been joking all around about how they may have to mow their lawns on Christmas Day. Pretty Peculiar. Funny, though.
For the past couple of days, I have been agonizing needlessly about something that I had stuffed into a box, many years ago, in the attics of my life, only to find out that letting go of trying to keep the lid on the box, was actually fairly liberating and renewing.
It's funny how we make things so complicated as people.
I found out years ago, in my own evolvement, that we can mind f**k ourselves like nobody else. Which is to say that I have not only danced with the devil quite a few times; I have, in fact, let the devil in the room and actually mated with it, in the form of the beast of burden that was my familial legacy. Which is how and why I can say that it's truly pitiful, when it comes right down to it, how long we will stay in situations that are not good for us. I spent my whole childhood in some sort of weird purgatory. When I think of that past life, I get the picture of Al Pacino in the movie: The Devils Advocate, walking towards the guy he was about to suck dry, rubbing his hands together, saying, "....why, a little bloodletting, a little fire setting, a little soul raping, nothing is too depraved for my legion of followers, buck up, my son, it's gonna' be a hell of a ride". Truly, it took me years to figure out how wrong and hinky that was. As Mary (the main character in the TV series, In Plain Sight,) would say......I hate hinky.
I forgave myself some time ago, for being an innocent child without any power to deflect most of it, but recent events have brought it back and forced me to open a box that I had forever thought closed. It wasn't as painful as it could have been, actually. Which doesn't mean the box is going to stay open. Some things should never be allowed to see the light of day, and that particular box is one of them. It just made me realize a bunch of stuff about love, and how awfully tweaked most versions of it, are.
Which leads me right back to the beginning of this diatribe, i.e. the complications that we make for ourselves. I had to unwind at least a million strings of ribbon, just to get to the darn thing, then when I dug it out, I realized that the only reason I hadn't dug it out sooner, was because I was too nervous and frightened to deal with it. The first time I opened it, it almost destroyed me. I spent at least half a decade drinking, drugging and essentially throwing myself on the mercy of the world (which, actually, was tons nicer then the non-existent mercy of my family). The fear of the first encounter with the thing had not only wound the box up in knots, but my spirit, as well. It felt good to open the thing, clear the dust out of it, and repack it a little neater, before putting it away this time.
I don't think I could have managed if it hadn't been for Rich, being there, right by my side.
I thought for a long time, that the secrets in that box were so bloody, ugly, dirty and surreal, that they really shouldn't EVER see the light of day, not EVER. They caused so much destruction when they were put in there, the first time, that it simply wasn't safe to let them out. I really believed this. I believed that nobody would believe it, as it was like a very bad Alfred Hitchcock movie. I believed that those terrible and heinous trust violations that were perpetrated on a young, idealistic, and innocent girl, with the only commodity that anybody wanted, were much too tawdry and menial to be real. I never was entirely sure if things had happened the way I remembered, or the way I had been told they had happened. I realized after opening the box, that it didn't actually matter whether I ever know the entire truth about any of it. I don't want to know, actually. No matter which version was the "right" version, it was a long time ago, and so much water under the bridge.
I've sought the truth out a lot in my life, and while I believe it's true that "the truth will set you free", it will, but not before it carves your heart up into a gazillion maggot infested pieces that are used for so much soccer, purgatory style. Most of us cannot bear it. I did bear it, because I had to, but I don't believe that other people we care about, should have to.
I did realize though, upon repacking the box, that the events that created a necessity for that box in the first place, had colored my entire life. They created a great belief in conspiracy in me. They created a significant and lengthy distrust of all things "hidden", and they fractured and scattered my spiritual energy for a very long time. I also realized that the many times I've exhibited severe rage and frustration, it was because I couldn't get the shit back in that box, as it was just much too full. So, of course, I made sure to put the box away, back in the attics of my life, a little neater this time, hopefully.
And I realize that I think I know what love is, now. Real love. Not the kind I grew up with. And not the false kind with all the bells and whistles (otherwise known as lust, that is really merely the devil having fun at our expense). Rich has shown me that love isn't any of those things, but is, rather, a rock-steady and no-matter what dirty awful secret you share with me, I will honor it, and keep it safe, kind of love. Which, actually, is the only reason I could pack the box up a little more carefully this time, and put it in a safer place, where the contents won't be wantonly disrupted by the whims of fate.
I don't know what I did to deserve this kind of love, but I am grateful, oh, so very grateful to finally have found my "home" and good friends and a kind of peaceful contentment that I didn't ever expect to find. I am so very grateful, and so........I think to myself, as I sit here waiting for the snow to fall..........and so......... this is Christmas.
Blessings to all and may you all find your own hidden treasures in the attics of your lives. :)
1 comment:
awesome post! I'm so happy that Rich has been your rock, the one to show you what real love is. all of the heartache and pain you've been through brought you to this place, and you deserve it!
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