Friday, July 30, 2010

Things I might look for (so as to tear down the walls)

Watch out when you start really wanting something. Having coffee with Cindy today, I asked her to order the children's book "Everybody knows what a dragon looks like" I told her I would write her a check. Thinking about it now I wonder "why?" I have read this book maybe ten times already. Do I really need to have it?

Watch out when things start making too much sense. I remember studying the book "You can live forever in paradise on Earth", with Chris Berger, the Jehovah's Witness. It all made perfect sense. The bible suddenly alive with interconnections. The trouble was not that the logic didn't make sense, but rather that I didn't believe in the existence of God.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Lists

September 29, 1987
Indecision about my mind. Just that wondering if I see things my own way, and what that is, and where it will lead. Sifting through things that I like, that he likes, that she likes, that they like and trying to find the balance. Striking up a balance in myself.

Daring to say, do, be things I might otherwise become. This is all pretty vague. What is the difference between things chosen and things given? Like my family (given), my in-laws (chosen?)

What is it exactly that we choose anyway?

Power struggle
Cris won't get out of bed in the morning. If I want to sleep in, Cris comes back to bed when things have quieted down. I don't think this is fair.

When I get up, I'm up to stay at least until ianthe takes her nap at say, 1:00, then I might take a nap, say one time out of ten. Oppose me dear. Inflict guilt upon me because we have fallen through fate into this endless and constricting love relationship. But Guilt! Is it necessary? Do I create these feelings in you? You lie in bed.

Why I have no patience
1. There are other more important things in life to be done.

2. Nothing we do now is very important. Harris said when he came home from school today, "I wonder what will come after people." I asked him to explain. "First there were dinosaurs, then animals, then people. I wish I could not die so that I could see what's next." I told him that's the way it goes.

3. I wonder if there is a drug to clear your mind. I should call Pat (my therapist) and ask him if he could refer me to a good psychiatrist.

4. I am seeing through people. It bothers me.

5. My tongue gets all thick and twisted when I try to read books to the children.

6. When I read, I'm having trouble gleaning the message. Words just seem too concrete to be taken seriously.

7. I cannot comprehend who is making all those television commercials.

8. How am I going to keep myself on the ground? I have too many things to do.

9. I have not the art of conversation. I cannot understand what people are talking about.

10. I am having severe anxiety attacks when I see someone I know and I know they want to say things to me and I don't know what to say back and I get all embarrassed and just say yes yes to them but I don't know or understand what the significance of what they are saying is.

11. My mind feels like I have stuck in the incoming/outgoing syntaxes.

12. Maybe I'll call Pat tomorrow. I am all sweaty just thinking about it. Just too nervous and tense.

13.. I wish I could get away for awhile.

14. Cris says it is just enlightenment. It seemed to help for a few hours - passing it off as such. I really don't think there is much virtue in experiencing what this life is to me.

15. People are always so rigid and expect such rigidity in return.

16. People expect me to be/act/do as they have expected/explained/cajoled me into feeling/acting/doing. I cannot comprehend what is expected. Well maybe comprehend the wants/wishes/desires, but I cannot put it into action. I cannot act.

17. I cannot see beyond my glass cage.

18. Other people do not understand and are not aware of their blinds. I am all alone in myself and by myself all alone amongst all these others who seem to expect reality as it is.

19. I have lost the ability to explain in detail what it is I see.

20. Cris always shows everything to people when they come to our house. I ridicule his show and tell.

21. I find myself acting in these roles also. I find myself a hypocrite.

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I have not written in a very long time. I have thought about writing, but I am so busy trying to not do anything and trying to relax and trying to do everything. So busy. I do this every summer. I am so happy to be alone. I sometimes stay up too late, then sleep until noon, and then when Anthony comes home, I regret the lost hours alone I could have spent being alone and quiet.

I hate the heat. I hate the dark greens of summer. I don't want to go outside. I sit in the basement with the curtains half open. I watch the neighbors play, talk, work, mow. Our grass grows tall. Our weeds grow freely. Our mulch floats away in the summer downpours. I read books long into the night, watching the frogs on my windows.

I have read this journal entry several times this summer. Thinking, maybe I should write it, maybe I should skip it. Skip it? no. It is like a list of me. No really - exactly me and how I feel still today - except for the trapped angry part. I have a wonderful husband, and nine months of the year, I actually interact with other people.

This one fact --> I had spent six years isolated with Cris since being tossed out of my parent's home on December 28, 1979 (the date is burned in my memory). Cris strictly controlled my friendships and my outside-of-the-house-activities. During those years, I held several part-time jobs, had three children, maintained a friendship with 2 people - Scott and Hallie. I was allowed to visit the library once a week. I checked out vegetarian cookbooks, books about building your own home, and every book about religion and philosophy.

In 1985, near the end of my horrible isolation, I invited Jehovah Witnesses into my home. They came every week to see me, I made them cookies and tea. I spent hours completing the "homework" they assigned me, and preparing "questions" to ask them. Eventually, they said I was required to join them outside the home. I attended one strange women and "scary well-behaved children" study group. I also took my children, properly attired in the "scary perfect child" way, to a Sunday "service". Faced with the prospect of actually joining this "Stepford Wife Community", I realized I couldn't keep pretending. Shamefully, I admitted that although their logic seemed sound, but I just didn't believe in the whole "god"thing. Details, details. They told me they couldn't hang out with me anymore.

I have been thinking a lot about these "lists" in my journal. How interesting to see how aware I was of my difference. I see how attending MCAD, with other people. Other people that had no interest in controlling me - other than assigning projects, papers and readings. This sudden interaction between me and others created a crisis in my mind. Cris had been controlling me. He used the "insanity" card on me. He used the "enlightenment" card. None of the labels he threw at me struck me as quite right. 

I realize that I keep repeating it, but I actually raised my children to recognize others as "different" than us. We were special, better than others. 

I see in these lists my deep depression: "I really don't think there is much virtue in experiencing what this life is to me." I see my understanding that I was outside of others: "..wondering if I see things my own way..." I was trying so hard to escape the disaster of my hellish marriage or wishing that Cris would stop having affairs. I saw the outside world of others that had no children. The students were younger than I was and living a life I never had. I watched with amazement and envy. I had crushes on attractive younger students. I enjoyed my studies - so much more interesting to learn with others than while alone with no one to clarify or discuss new ideas.

I thank Phoebe for gifting me these journals. I can look back and remember. I look back and remember and realize what struggles I have had to become the woman I am today. The wife that enjoys being a traditional housewife. The mother that loves and helps her adult children unconditionally. The teacher that teaches best one-on-one. The grandma that reels in happiness when her grandchildren are around. I love being alive. I love me.