Facebook, 'friends' and friends...
One of my 'friends' on Facebook finally posted one velvet-covered snide comment too many (she's the one that back when D bomb first got dropped her response was to ask me privately what I'd done, had I gained weight or something, to cause him to leave me... yeah, way to blame the victim :p ) and I snapped back. She's the 'for example' person, and the 'for two years I couldn't trust' person.
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So that "sometimes a shadow wins" isn't true today...Regardless of what some people might think, so many days are what I consider a 'victory'. Granted my standards for that are perhaps a bit low these days but hey, baby steps. And if you scroll through my facebook you'll see that there are plenty of things that I've posted that have nothing to do with the divorce crap.Every day that I don't actually scream out my inner agony. Every day that I don't burst into tears. Every day I don't do this www.youtube.com/watch?v=WaSy8yy-mr8 Every day I don't pick the knife back up. Every day I manage to post only something happy here (and really, those by far outnumber the occasions when I'm hurting too much to keep it inside and let some spill out instead). Every day that feels like a step forward instead of two steps back.It's so easy for some people to describe the past ("for two years I couldn't trust") and yet apparently forget how hard the day-to-day of trying live through the actual days that made up those two years can be. So pardon me if sometimes I don't always manage to 'smile though your heart is aching, smile even though it's breaking' and fall short of certain people's 'standards' for 'proper behavior'. But you know sometimes your 'standards' suck'. Why do you feel the need to impose/inflict them on others?For an example: years ago now, there were a number of times when I was taking animatedly, maybe a bit quickly, maybe a bit louder than normal. But I was NOT shouting. I wasn't cursing. I wasn't angry. I wasn't being mean to anyone, I wasn't abusing anyone or anything remotely like that. I was animated because I was eager and excited and enthusiastic about whatever my topic was. This person's response to me? That I should 'calm down and control myself'. Not just once but multiple times. It made me feel judged and bullied. Because of my abusive childhood I had a really hard time standing up for myself, speaking up, being brave. Screw that. If I want to draw 'all yellow' (Screaming Celtic Yellow at that :p ) then I will and screw you if in your narrow little world-view "Flowers are red" and that's the only color of the rainbow you will admit is appropriate. Life is messy and doesn't stay inside your pristine, perfect little lines.I'm done conforming. I won't be 'square and brown' inside. Pretending is a lie, a facade. How many times do you need to pretend before that's all you become? A facade and a hollow, empty person. Maybe I'm making it harder because I insist on trying to salvage certain parts of me that I'm not willing to give up or compromise on. Maybe it's so freaking hard because for the first time in my life to that point I had been brave and I had trusted and loved completely with no doubts or hesitations, I put up no walls, no protections, and now there is nothing inside me that doesn't feel demolished, broken, bloody. Maybe I'm making the process harder than it needs to be because I won't just 'put on a happy face' all the time and give the world a safe, happy, comfortable little lie which apparently makes some people uncomfortable.Does that mean I never put on a happy face? No, I do it most days. Sometimes just to hide behind the mask because it's expected. Sometimes because I'm tired and it's easier. Mostly because it's inappropriate where and when I am at the time to display being unhappy. Somehow I always used to be a "glass is half full" person. Right now I'm having problems believing there even is a glass. Maybe it's hanging out with the spoon that doesn't exist according to that kid in The Matrix.Probably the single most helpful thing, the one that's spoken to me the most deeply, that anyone's said to me so far in all of this is "The pain comes at the same level as the love". I put no boundaries, no limits on the love I felt and now that's exactly what it feels like the pain is doing. The price that must be paid, and I'm paying it now. In full. Maybe in time I'll be able to answer whether the love was worth the pain. Right now I can't, I'm too close to it, too deep in trying to dig my way out.
---The "sometimes a shadow wins" is a reference to the song Brave by Sara Bareilles. It's on my playlist of songs to inspire, to give me strength, to make me feel better, hopeful. www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUQsqBqxoR4"Smile though your heart is aching, smile even though it's breaking" is of course from the song Smile, which has been covered by a whole lot of people. www.youtube.com/watch?v=JMhD7JT0iok"Flowers are Red" comes from the song by that same name by Harry Chapin. (yes, he did other songs besides "Cats in the Cradle" ;p ) www.youtube.com/watch?v=nHm2KdTTKUwThe 'all yellow' and 'square and brown' references pertain to a poem that's become an urban legend. No one seems to know where it came from, who really wrote it, or even what it's called (if it ever had a name which, personally, I don't think the person that wrote it would have named it). Most sources claim it was handed in as an assignment to his English teacher two weeks before he killed himself. I do know for certain that it was written before 1981 because that was the year I first came across it and performed it during drama class. The spell of it has been on me ever since, and I've remembered it all my life, trying to be mindful of it and to try not crush other peoples' enthusiasm but to encourage it instead.
He always wanted to say things. But no one understood.He always wanted to explain things. But no one cared.So he drew.Sometimes he would draw and it wasn’t anything. He wanted to carve it in stoneOr write it in the sky.He would lie out on the grass. And look up at the skyAnd it would be only the sky and him and the things that needed sayingAnd it was after that He drew the picture. It was a beautiful pictureHe kept it under his pillow. And would let no one see itAnd he would look at it every night. And think about itAnd when it was dark. And his eyes were closed. He could still see itAnd it was all of him. And he loved itWhen he started school he brought it with himNot to show anyone but just to have it with him. Like a friendIt was funny about school.He sat in a square brown desk. Like all the other square brown desksAnd he thought it should be redAnd his room was a square brown room. Like all the other roomsAnd it was tight and close. And stiff.He hated to hold the pencil and chalkWith his arms stiff and his feet flat on the floor. Stiff.With the teacher watching. And watching.The teacher came and smiled at him.She told him to wear a tie. Like all the other boys.He said he didn’t like them. And she said it didn’t matter.After that they drew. And he drew all yellow.And it was the way he felt about morning.And it was beautiful.The teacher came and smiled at him.“What’s this?” she said.“Why don’t you draw something like Ken’s drawing?”“Isn’t that beautiful?”After that his mother bought him a tie.And he always drew airplanes and rocket ships. Like everyone else.And he threw the old picture away.And when he lay out alone and looked out at the sky. It was big and blue and all of everythingBut he wasn’t anymore.He was square inside and brown. And his hands were stiff.And he was like everyone else.And the things inside him that needed saying.Didn’t need it anymore.It had stopped pushing.It was crushed.Stiff.Like everything else.
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So that "sometimes a shadow wins" isn't true today...Regardless of what some people might think, so many days are what I consider a 'victory'. Granted my standards for that are perhaps a bit low these days but hey, baby steps. And if you scroll through my facebook you'll see that there are plenty of things that I've posted that have nothing to do with the divorce crap.Every day that I don't actually scream out my inner agony. Every day that I don't burst into tears. Every day I don't do this www.youtube.com/watch?v=WaSy8yy-mr8 Every day I don't pick the knife back up. Every day I manage to post only something happy here (and really, those by far outnumber the occasions when I'm hurting too much to keep it inside and let some spill out instead). Every day that feels like a step forward instead of two steps back.It's so easy for some people to describe the past ("for two years I couldn't trust") and yet apparently forget how hard the day-to-day of trying live through the actual days that made up those two years can be. So pardon me if sometimes I don't always manage to 'smile though your heart is aching, smile even though it's breaking' and fall short of certain people's 'standards' for 'proper behavior'. But you know sometimes your 'standards' suck'. Why do you feel the need to impose/inflict them on others?For an example: years ago now, there were a number of times when I was taking animatedly, maybe a bit quickly, maybe a bit louder than normal. But I was NOT shouting. I wasn't cursing. I wasn't angry. I wasn't being mean to anyone, I wasn't abusing anyone or anything remotely like that. I was animated because I was eager and excited and enthusiastic about whatever my topic was. This person's response to me? That I should 'calm down and control myself'. Not just once but multiple times. It made me feel judged and bullied. Because of my abusive childhood I had a really hard time standing up for myself, speaking up, being brave. Screw that. If I want to draw 'all yellow' (Screaming Celtic Yellow at that :p ) then I will and screw you if in your narrow little world-view "Flowers are red" and that's the only color of the rainbow you will admit is appropriate. Life is messy and doesn't stay inside your pristine, perfect little lines.I'm done conforming. I won't be 'square and brown' inside. Pretending is a lie, a facade. How many times do you need to pretend before that's all you become? A facade and a hollow, empty person. Maybe I'm making it harder because I insist on trying to salvage certain parts of me that I'm not willing to give up or compromise on. Maybe it's so freaking hard because for the first time in my life to that point I had been brave and I had trusted and loved completely with no doubts or hesitations, I put up no walls, no protections, and now there is nothing inside me that doesn't feel demolished, broken, bloody. Maybe I'm making the process harder than it needs to be because I won't just 'put on a happy face' all the time and give the world a safe, happy, comfortable little lie which apparently makes some people uncomfortable.Does that mean I never put on a happy face? No, I do it most days. Sometimes just to hide behind the mask because it's expected. Sometimes because I'm tired and it's easier. Mostly because it's inappropriate where and when I am at the time to display being unhappy. Somehow I always used to be a "glass is half full" person. Right now I'm having problems believing there even is a glass. Maybe it's hanging out with the spoon that doesn't exist according to that kid in The Matrix.Probably the single most helpful thing, the one that's spoken to me the most deeply, that anyone's said to me so far in all of this is "The pain comes at the same level as the love". I put no boundaries, no limits on the love I felt and now that's exactly what it feels like the pain is doing. The price that must be paid, and I'm paying it now. In full. Maybe in time I'll be able to answer whether the love was worth the pain. Right now I can't, I'm too close to it, too deep in trying to dig my way out.
---The "sometimes a shadow wins" is a reference to the song Brave by Sara Bareilles. It's on my playlist of songs to inspire, to give me strength, to make me feel better, hopeful. www.youtube.com/watch?v=QUQsqBqxoR4"Smile though your heart is aching, smile even though it's breaking" is of course from the song Smile, which has been covered by a whole lot of people. www.youtube.com/watch?v=JMhD7JT0iok"Flowers are Red" comes from the song by that same name by Harry Chapin. (yes, he did other songs besides "Cats in the Cradle" ;p ) www.youtube.com/watch?v=nHm2KdTTKUwThe 'all yellow' and 'square and brown' references pertain to a poem that's become an urban legend. No one seems to know where it came from, who really wrote it, or even what it's called (if it ever had a name which, personally, I don't think the person that wrote it would have named it). Most sources claim it was handed in as an assignment to his English teacher two weeks before he killed himself. I do know for certain that it was written before 1981 because that was the year I first came across it and performed it during drama class. The spell of it has been on me ever since, and I've remembered it all my life, trying to be mindful of it and to try not crush other peoples' enthusiasm but to encourage it instead.
He always wanted to say things. But no one understood.He always wanted to explain things. But no one cared.So he drew.Sometimes he would draw and it wasn’t anything. He wanted to carve it in stoneOr write it in the sky.He would lie out on the grass. And look up at the skyAnd it would be only the sky and him and the things that needed sayingAnd it was after that He drew the picture. It was a beautiful pictureHe kept it under his pillow. And would let no one see itAnd he would look at it every night. And think about itAnd when it was dark. And his eyes were closed. He could still see itAnd it was all of him. And he loved itWhen he started school he brought it with himNot to show anyone but just to have it with him. Like a friendIt was funny about school.He sat in a square brown desk. Like all the other square brown desksAnd he thought it should be redAnd his room was a square brown room. Like all the other roomsAnd it was tight and close. And stiff.He hated to hold the pencil and chalkWith his arms stiff and his feet flat on the floor. Stiff.With the teacher watching. And watching.The teacher came and smiled at him.She told him to wear a tie. Like all the other boys.He said he didn’t like them. And she said it didn’t matter.After that they drew. And he drew all yellow.And it was the way he felt about morning.And it was beautiful.The teacher came and smiled at him.“What’s this?” she said.“Why don’t you draw something like Ken’s drawing?”“Isn’t that beautiful?”After that his mother bought him a tie.And he always drew airplanes and rocket ships. Like everyone else.And he threw the old picture away.And when he lay out alone and looked out at the sky. It was big and blue and all of everythingBut he wasn’t anymore.He was square inside and brown. And his hands were stiff.And he was like everyone else.And the things inside him that needed saying.Didn’t need it anymore.It had stopped pushing.It was crushed.Stiff.Like everything else.
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