Sonar

Last night, I went in to check on my little boy before I went to bed. I do this every night because I am paranoid like that. I never turn a light on because I can maneuver in the dark quite well. I always check to make sure he is breathing and not wheezing, he is covered, and if he is covered, I check to make sure he is not too hot. You too can do this by touching your child’s neck. If they are sweating, they are too hot. 

After I was assured that he was indeed breathing and comfortable, I turned and walked straight into the wall. I hit so hard that my head nearly made contact with the wall. As it was, I was able to stop the forward momentum of my head just an instant before it would have cracked against the wall. My chest and shoulder hurt, and my neck really hurt from the jarring of keeping my large head uninjured.

My child awoke with a start because when an adult slams into the wall, it is noisy. He said, “Mom, what are you doing?”

“Just checking on you,” I said as I walked back over to give him another kiss goodnight.

Normally, I do really well in the dark. I like the dark. It doesn’t scare me, but I do have alters that cannot walk around in the dark. When they are out, I am really careful, so that I don’t run into walls or fall down stairs, but this time the switch must have been as soon as I turned away from my child.

It reminded me of another time I literally bit it when walking in the dark. Many years ago – before I even I knew I had others, I turned off the lights and tried to head up the stairs to bed. Imagine my surprise when my face met the corner of the wall with my body going full speed ahead. I hit my teeth so hard they hurt, and worse, I had a piece of something that felt like a broken front tooth in my mouth. I hurried into the bathroom to check out the damage and had to laugh when I realized the “tooth” was really a piece plaster that I had eaten. The next day the dentist took an x-ray to make sure I hadn’t damaged the roots, and I walked around with a fat lip for week, but all was well – except for the corner of the wall.

Last night after slamming into the wall, I refused to turn on any lights even when I went in to wash my face and brush my teeth. I had to prove to myself that I could indeed maneuver in the dark. I did fine, no bumps, no bruises, and no using Desitin instead of toothpaste (I’ve done that in the daylight before – it is really yucky).  I still have sonar abilities – at least parts of me do.

Goodbye Uncle Lee

My uncle, who I wrote about here, died this week. Although I haven’t seen him for several years, I will always appreciate the tender kindnesses he showed us when we were little. One time when we had been without food for a while, he came into town to see us. He brought a jar of peaches with him, and we practically inhaled it.

He asked, “Are you hungry?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. I didn’t want to appear greedy, but of course I was hungry. He took us all out and bought us hamburgers. He believed that if a child was being naughty, the child needed sleep, food, or attention.  If you gave the child what he/she needed, the child would be content.

Thank you, Uncle Lee, for your gentle kindness.

Thank you to a dear teacher. . .

Before Ientered my favorite teacher’s fifth grade classroom, I was afraid of her. I’d heard from other students that she was strict and scary. I prayed I wouldn’t be assigned to her room, but when class lists came out, my name was near the top of her list. I was scared.

On the first day of school, I went in expecting the worst, but I discovered that while she didn’t put up with any nonsense, she was fair. I knew what to expect in her classroom. She didn’t play favorites – everyone was expected to do their best and to treat others kindly.
           
 This was the hardest year of my school life. Because of my family background, I became a target for the mean girls. Recess became a nightmare of teasing and taunting. However, as I entered her room, the teasing stopped because she wouldn’t have tolerated it. I felt safe. She didn’t judge me based on who my parents were. She loved me. I knew she loved me, and knowing this made each day a little more bearable. Recess was a time of extreme sadness, loneliness, and depression, but the days in her room were pleasant. I don’t remember what I learned that year, but I remember that she made me feel important.

I often wonder what she thought when I took the herbal supplements mom sent with me at lunch time. Now that I am teacher, I wonder what she thought about my home life. I wonder if she prayed for me. I bet she did. I bet she prayed I would find friendship. I bet she prayed that other children would be kind to me. It was hard having my one good friend in a different classroom that year. But part way through the year, another girl with a crazy home life moved in, so of course we became friends and the taunting at recess was easier to take.

She couldn’t have known how truly troubled I was. She didn’t know that I wished for death during recess or that I wished for the courage to drown myself in the creek that flowed next to our school. She probably just tried to help me as best she could. I wish I could tell her that her best was enough.

I didn’t see her for many years after I left that school. I went to her viewing after she died. She still looked the same – beautiful. Teachers often don’t know the impact they make on a child. I am thankful God blessed me with this great teacher. I am glad he said, “No,” to my prayer and put me on her list. She blessed my life in ways she will never know.

Morningside

I found a Neil Diamond CD at a yard sale a few weeks ago - double set - for only 50 cents. One of the songs on the CD made me kind of sad. It is called Morningside. It is a song he wrote after his grandparents died - alone.

Lyrics: The words in red are my thoughts.
Written by: Neil Diamond

Morningside
The old man died
And no one cried
They simply turned away
I know this is what will happen when my father dies, and while I am not sad that he will die, I do think it is sad for anyone to die alone - even if that is what they have earned by how they have treated those around them.

And when he died
He left a table made of nails and pride
And with his hands he carved these words inside
"for my children"
My father has filled our lives with nails of one type or another - they symbolize all the pain he has inflicted on his children. He is proud, too proud to admit he has done anything wrong. Everything is always someone else's fault. And yet, I think of the things he built with his hands: a desk, a dollhouse, planes (that terrorized his little girls), and all the other things he repaired. The man can fix anything because he is brilliant.

Morning light
Morning bright
I spent the night
With dreams that make you weep
Morning time
Wash away the sadness from these eyes of mine
For I recall the words the old man signed
"for my children"
The dreams of those of us who carry the burden of abuse, would truly make you weep. They are dreams that sometimes make us feel like we are coming up for air when we awake shaking and sweating. I am thankful that I haven't had a truly bad dream for quite a while. It was nice when I could confront my father in my dreams and tell him that he could no longer hurt me. I held him by the throat and said, "No, you cannot call me because you don't respect boundaries!"

I am always thankful when the morning is able to dispell the hurt and depression of the day or sometimes days and weeks of sorrow that have come before it.

In times past, Dad was proud of my accomplishments, but after I testified against him, he no longer considered me his daughter. I am okay with that because it means the phone calls laden with guilt also stopped. He could no longer attempt to manipulate me.

And the legs were shaped with his hands
And the top made of oaken wood
And the children sat around this table
Touched with their laughter
Ah, and that was good
By his hand and his choices, he created the pain that all of his children carry, yet we are strong, and let me tell you, we laugh. The bond that was created by his abuse is strong. We (my sisters and I) survived a path that made us who we are, and while sometimes the pain overwhelms us, our love and connection is amazing. We survived and thrived!

Morningside
An old man died
And no one cried
He surely died alone
And truth is sad
For not a child would claim the gift he had
The words he carved became his epitaph
"for my children"
My father's children have chosen to turn away from the gift he gave because his gift was not good. We have chosen to be good parents, productive members of society, and loving people. We found our own gift because his gift would have doomed us.

I still wish I could have a good father instead of a rabid father. At times, my heart aches for the little boy my grandmother so loved. I wish he could have made choices that would have helped us all. However, I know my Heavenly Father loves me. I have amazing siblings that have seen me though so much. I also have my own children and husband who enrich my life, so I choose the gifts of love they bring to my life and gladly accept them all.