Squirrel writing Vol1.


There are so many things swirling in my head. Some are connected and some of what is winging through is a reaction to a session I had this afternoon. This is another epistle of squirrel writing and instead of trying to be clever I am just going to name them by volume from now on.

Some of you who have been following me for a while know that my past has some very dark places. I spent a lot of time running away from the reality that my home life was not The Donna Reid show…. And in true Janeism, I was going to say “Leave it to Beaver” but even for me that would be so inappropriate. But this is the whole point…stay with me. I am making a joke about something that last year was terrorizing me like I was going through it all. And in some cases I was because I was finally became aware of the tragedy. I was missing huge pieces of the puzzle. I was sexually abused as a young girl. I am fully aware of it but I have dealt with it and healed. That’s the point, it is history. I can make a joke about it. Now I KNOW I have healed from it. This came up today because in a therapy session I was listening to some country music about a young woman who allowed her drunken father to blow away in a tornado in Oklahoma. And once I figured out where she was going in the song, I laughed. Then there was another song where the woman set fire to the house to burn up her whisky drunk father. Last year I would have empathized with the anger and the hurt. Now all I feel is compassion for the writer of the song to have so much hurt to pen such a desire to kill her father. I never felt that in my situation. And I said to John, I have forgiven my father. I knew in my heart it was true and saying that out loud was really huge. And it is because I have moved on. It is not my present moment. In actuality, it is not even in my thoughts much unless it is brought up. As I said, I have forgiven the people who made big mistakes towards me but I am still working on forgiving me.  I am not going to go into this tonight as it needs more thinking to bring it to where I can talk about it.

I have been writing about figuring out a direction for me to take. I see in huge increments and always have been a big picture person. I think it is the dreamer in me. And that is a family trait. I do not think this is a bad thing at all. The best parts of my life was when I had a focal points. I wanted to sing and so I put my heart and soul into my music since I was five. I have been a performer of sorts since then. It is part of me. And I can now speak to something that was said to me and I always have taken it as being something negative and it bugged me. That is my ability to perform. I am an actress and a performer. It IS me. I have been doing that since I was old enough to put a musical instrument in my mouth in kindergarten and play a song. When I was seven years old, I performed solos in choirs. I had a part in a play in the fourth grade where we had a stage prop failed and I fixed it in character. I still remember Mrs. Kehoe saying I was a natural actress.  I am no longer accepting that as a failure in me. It is part of me. I won awards for my performances in music and in theater. To take that and make it something ugly is wrong and I don’t accept that. The difference now is that I can get off the stage. But I choose when and I choose the audience. And I am very selective. I need to mull this around a bit more but this is me doing squirrel writing.

Slowly as an adult my being was squashed and the music faded from me. It got stuffed down with all the crap that came with my first marriage. But as a teen, there was a time when I dreamt of being an opera singer and so I prepared to do that. In my senior year of high school, the dream was not dashed, it was morphed. Reality was that I was not of the quality to get in to the Eastman or Oberlin, and I was surrounded by those who did. It was fine because I fell in love with the drama and the makings of good theater. I developed the skill to make others perform well.  I then had a dream to go to NYC and was actually on my way there to off Broadway to work with my cousin who was enmeshed in theater society there. Fate interjected and I met my husband. I continued to do production in local theater and play and sing in local performing groups. Then life intervened and it all faded. I cannot even tell you now why. The dream shifted to home and hearth. I wanted a family to fill in where the huge hole from my childhood remained. I wanted the Waltons. That dream was shattered when I found out at 21 I would not get pregnant easily, if ever. I never stopped trying.

Then life slowly enveloped me. I gave up and drifted in and out of consciousness from the cloud of self-medication on alcohol. I drank in a societally acceptable form: at home and only at night. Slowly I lost who I was and I had no dream. I actually had thoughts of just letting go and letting the blackness take me. When I reread this I had a moment of remorse and was going to erase what I wrote. But again, it is the truth, my truth and it is what made me who I am. If you chose to judge me I cannot stop you. But it does not matter.

Then one day, I woke up. It is funny the computer autocorrect woke to work. And that was the reason. My home life was ridiculous. I escaped from one form of abuse to a more hideous abuse; one that slowly takes the soul. But I found myself when I became a teacher. Again, I had a dream. I prepared. I went back to college for 14 years. Oh my, that is pathetically true. This is the first time in 14 years I am not in school. But that is going to change soon, I can feel it. And I became a teacher. It is my calling. I know that. All I have with being a performer makes me a good teacher naturally because I can tell a story. But again, life swallowed me up. But I never went under. I never gave up and I hung on with my finger nails. We are all heroes of some sort if we look.

Now I am not a wash or feeling like I am drowning at all. I feel like I am adrift though. As I was typing this tonight, I felt the healing that has occurred and is happening. I see in my writing an emerging strength that was not there a year ago. I am becoming the defender of my own being. Somehow through all the work with my mentors and pages of writing I am peeling back the sheath of victimhood and defenselessness that I have lived with for so many years. And what is emerging is a funny, very strong woman who can make you laugh and cry with you when you need to cry. My empathy is very strong along with being naturally compassionate. I love LOVE once again. I can also embrace my areas I still need to develop and grow and I will take the time to do the work to heal what I need to. I can actually type that I do not care if you are in agreement with me. It’s ok. I actually like that I am standing tall on my own. There has been some cosmic shift, a gift of sorts. And I also grateful for the support I have been given.

But like my fellow friends and bloggers who seem to be facing changes in their worlds, I am anxious to continue. I want to prepare. I want the compass to point and say this is the way. Right now I holding kryptonite and the needle is spinning. Maybe that is the point, to stop looking out, but to look inward and discover who I really am and accept it. And there is much good there…..I was going to counter with a self-effacing comment about a lot of bad. But I am not. We all have room to grow. When we stop, we die. Maybe this is the time I find Jane. Maybe it is time to bring her out of the shadows and into the center stage of my life. There are always going to be critics and the idiot in the fourth row who does not get the plot. “Ca ne fait rien.” This is one of my favorite French sayings which I loosely translate to “it does not matter”.


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