If we don't look, it doesn't exist

I have a soft heart.  It breaks when I know or see someone is hurting.  I think partly because I can imagine their pain.  Partly because I am a mother, it is instinct to want to help.  Stopping short of fixing their issue, which sometimes takes all I can do, not to do that.  Especially my kids.

I talked with someone today that knows she handed someone some important documents over 2 years ago.  When those documents were needed they were not located.  More importantly, she was told they were never turned in.  Now, here is the deal; I believe her.  I know she is forgetful at times, but she can relay every detail of that day.  Problem still exists, they are no where to be found.  This is costing her several thousands of dollars because of that.  Thousands……….

Now here is my deal.  I believe her.  But I can not prove or disprove.  When others were asked, the response was, ‘no, we never had them’.   

I just believe her and my dilemma is that there is nothing I can do to change that.  I listened to her on the phone just sick about this whole thing.  And I had that feeling.  So, how do we handle those “situations”?  work, home, family, friends…………….  How do we fly under the radar (if you will) unnoticed?

Injustice is everwhere.  But, out of apathy do we turn the other cheek?  I guess I have been at that place that needs to be heard.  Knows the truth.  But is not listened to.  Are those people turning around like they don’t see?  Please God don’t let that be me.

But here I sit pondering the situation as if I held the majic key to unlock this mystery and help this precious woman move on.   If confrontation of the key part of this issue would erase this , I would.  I did.  And that went right down the tubes to the ‘you don’t know what your talking about’ sewer.

So, she knows,  I am pretty certain I do……………. That is where this stops.  And I hate it.  See I have always had a problem standing up for myself.  Oh, I have, I try and I will but met with oppostition I normally stand my ground until the heat gets too great.  I have literally said to myself,  “how important is this?”

I suppose one of my glaring defects is that I have carried around with me my ENTIRE life the thought/fact that I don’t matter.  That has caused me some major pain/tears.  Therapy only gave me the recognition, the work begins afterwards and somedays I am successful, others not so much.

So, when you see a homeless person, an elderly person or a child heck, anyone that is not being heard, being put down, leaving to rot………………….. stop.  People stop and lend YOUR hand.  We all to often seem apathetic and that is where it stops. 

I am learning, growning into a person that can make a difference to the life/day of these people… IF I take the time.

We ALL matter.  (thought to ponder)

When will I learn

Ok, let me preface this (albeit humorously) that I am a self driven, motivated woman.  With most areas of my life.  Ok, the ones that either make me happy or the ones that cause me pain.  That netherland inbetween is usually left alone.  So, I am always on guard of my weight.  I was skinny as a rail as a child but as my late teenage years came to a close i was overweight.  And I continued to either ramp up how to combat that (yes, usually there were drugs involved) or blissfully filling the
void with more carbs.  With me still?
So about the time my birthday was saying "your how old?" i got serious and pulled off a 50 lbs weight loss along with lots of gym time.  I was blissfully happy at that accomplishment.  And I swore that would never happen again.
Well it did.  Within 3 years or so I was back up those and then some.  Add another 4 or 5 and I was heavy!  I decided to take the gastric bypass route. 
Today 7 years later I have held off all the weight and now I am in love with working out...  I may have a few pounds I could lose but honestly that excess skin is already and issue so  enough is enough.
so back to the gym.  I work out 3 sometimes 4 days a week.  cardio and weight lifting.  YU-MY.

So all is well and then these crazy body parts started acting up.  Knees !  and we NEED our KNEES.
I won't go into detail but after surgery 2 years ago and ignoring the doctor telling me i would not run again,  i found that i could and i did.  never more than 3 miles at a time and at that i would have to break for a minute here and there.   And they last Oct i hit (figurativly) a stopping point.  Pain in the right knee was too much to ignore.  back to the doc and some meds and off i go.  ok, enough.  I am in a world of hurt.  my right one gave out about a week ago and the left aches like it is on fire. 

Steroid shot yesterday and a brace.  of which i will post.  I am a 54 year old grandmother of 4 when am i going to act like it.

Jj

Now you see it, now you don't

I have decided that the blogs I have posted about the childhood rhetoric I was in, was to let the air out of the balloon.  I am tired of looking around the corner for the ‘monster’ under the bed to pop out, because that is what this feels like.  You never know when a memory will start the avalanche.

I do want to clarify that she got sober and never drank again.  So by me only including the bad is not a complete picture.  He never did.

So, the really painful stuff helped mold who I am.  How I chose to see it is up to me.  So, yes, it wasn’t a good life and where do I make peace with that?  How do I deal with and let go of?

Don’t know.  But I do know that hiding from anything and trying to ‘go around’ the pain may work for a minute but that doesn’t last. 

I am closing this blog  post.  No evidence of being positive or helpful. 

Run, Run, Run

See, I told you this would probably be piece meal as too much at once will push me into a tailspin.

I want to clarify something; it wasn’t just “her”.  The HE in our lives (if you can call it that) just walked out one day and if ‘she’ hadn’t forced his hand he probably would have disappeared for good.

So, not to bash but the secrets I kept involved him too.  I never told anyone they were divorced – until forced too.  In the late 60’s I just don’t think the big ‘D” word was spoken.  At least that was my perception.  He too had a drinking problem, but that part of our lives was good and bad.

Since this is about LIE’s and other bs we tell ourselves, I will try to keep it at that.  This isn’t all about them, this is, I suppose, a small way to let the darkness out and light in.

I struggle with the truth.  The truth about growing up.  Because for some reason I believe the “lie” has become the ‘truth’.  How scary is that. 

I hid the embarrassment of her behavior from all that I could.  The night the disgusting idiot that was to later become her husband for a few years, got drunk (ok, they both were) and in a drunken stupor, she kicked him out.  He lay on the hood of his car crying out, “please let me in”  PLEASE!  My poor brother was so young and probably attention starved for a true male figure in his life opened his bedroom window and let him in.   She was furious!  I was scared.  I was always scared.  I came home from school one day and walked in to her bleeding profusely from her nose.  Her eye was swelled up almost shut.  It was horrible.  I did not know what to do so I did what I did best; I shut down.  This is that big of a deal.  Oh come on,  she will be ok…………… won’t she?

She was drunk one afternoon and drove to my dad’s house like that.  When we got there D (oldest sibling) got her keys and wouldn’t let her drive home.  Oh my gosh!  She went ballistic.   A fight ensued, as it always would and I can’t remember the outcome.  I think D drove us home……. Think being the operative word.  Another memory lost and probably for good.

Fights in the middle of the night, seeing her stumble around, eyes glazed over………………… How pushed down this was but how scary it is to know it is there.

When I was 10 or 11 I was molested by the maintenance worker where we lived.  Here is how my “lies” manifested themselves.  When I walked back into the apartment all I could say was, “I hate that man”.  Not scream and holler what a bad thing had happened.  Upon recalling that I am certain my entire world was shut down and this was just one more thing to sweep under the rug.  Another adult had ripped more of my security away from me.  And I thought it was my fault. 

See, of recalling and writing as this comes up, perhaps I can begin to let those walls down.

I am going to a church thing this weekend.  A spiritual weekend.  And you know what I am afraid of?  “as it is all about me”, are they going to try to break my walls?  Cause that just isn’t going to happen. 

Lie # 5;  I have walls?