Happy Birthday to Me

I am continually amazed and thankful for the wisdom that comes with age. I turned forty this year and I have to say that it wasn’t one of my favorite birthdays. Quite honestly, I was in a funk for a few days before and after “the big day.” There is absolutely nothing that sounds fun and cute about being forty years old, but I have ultimately realized, while forty may not be cute, there is a distinct wisdom that comes packaged with having lived almost half a century. When I look back over my life, some things just make so much more sense now. Events in my life that tormented and terrorized me when I was younger seem so insignificant to me now. Most of the things on which I placed insurmountable importance when I was in my twenties and thirties, I couldn’t care less about today.

One period of time in my life stands out among the rest as one of the most traumatic and life changing. I was in my late twenties and I had two small boys ages two and four. I took every aspect of being a mother very, very seriously and I put a lot of pressure on myself to make them and everything for them, perfect.

My parents were going through a divorce after a very rocky twenty six year marriage. It certainly wasn’t any big surprise and being that my sister and I were adults, I honestly thought that their divorce would be just a mere technicality, the signing of papers. That couldn’t have been further from the truth. The divorce started out bad and quickly took a turn for the worst. Each side set up their own camp and the unfortunate casualties, caught in the cross fire, were forced to choose sides. When I refused to choose, I became public enemy number one, a traitor. The fighting between camps was unbearable and I would get weekly phone calls from family members telling me what an unappreciative, insensitive, horrible person I was, with no regard for anyone but myself.

I was mortified at how hateful and vindictive these people who had raised me could be. The people who told me they would always love me, no matter what. The very people who convinced me that, “you can’t count on anyone in this life but your family,” had turned on me like a pack of vicious dogs fighting over a piece of bloody meat. I was absolutely devastated.

Having troubles in my own nine year marriage, on top of everything else, made me feel like I was living in a pressure cooker. I did pretty well for about a year and then the weight of the constant stress started to take it’s toll. I started having frequent, severe, anxiety attacks. These attacks caused a feeling of sheer terror and panic, equivalent to the feeling of being on a doomed airliner or being trapped, with little air, in a small space underground. Most unfortunate was that every time one of these attacks would occur, the overwhelming feeling of impending doom was so severe that there was no meditation, breathing technique, or rationalization that was going to convince me otherwise. All of my senses were heightened and my body’s fight or flight response was on full throttle. Heart racing, sweaty palms, trembling, darting eyes, shortness of breath, rising heat from head to toe and tingling hands would precede an escalating feeling that I had to get out of wherever I was or I would absolutely lose control.

The attacks started out relatively mild but quickly progressed to a debilitating level. At my worst point I didn’t want to leave the house at all, I was absolutely terrified of these attacks. I did leave the house, because I had to, but I cried all the time and was so anxious, even when I was at home. I started pacing, because I was too anxious to sit or lay down, I literally trembled inside and out, all day, every day. I couldn’t sleep, I stopped eating and began losing weight, a lot of weight. With my functional ability so obviously declining, I obsessively worried about my children. What were they going to do without me? Who would take care of them? What would they think when they were told that their mother lost her mind? I was unaware that it was thoughts like these that were fueling my anxiety

My primary care doctor was prescribing me one antidepressant after another and nothing seemed to be helping. In fact, some of them actually made things worse. One of my dear friends finally intervened and got me an appointment with a Psychiatrist. She drove me to the appointment, I can remember that ride like it was yesterday. Sobbing uncontrollably, I just knew that as soon we stepped foot in that office they were going to throw a straight jacket on me and transport me straight to the nearest psychiatric ward. More anxiety fuel.

When I walked in, there were no white coats and no straight jackets, just a gentle faced Asian man, sitting behind his desk wearing a navy blue dress suit. He looked at me with the most caring eyes, his demeanor convinced me that he didn’t think I was crazy at all, even though I was sobbing uncontrollably and could barely talk. He explained to me that I was suffering from Anxiety Disorder and he could give me some medication that would help me. He put me on a combination of anti-anxiety medication and an antidepressant. Most importantly he offered me an explanation as to why none of the antidepressants had worked for me before. Antidepressants can take up to two weeks to start working. He assured me that the anti-anxiety medication would give me some relief from my symptoms until the antidepressant started to take affect. I clearly remember how I felt after I took the first dose. After about thirty minutes it felt like someone had turned off the pressure cooker. My mind was so quiet and calm. It was the first peace that I had experienced in a very long year and a half. I thanked God and then drifted off into a restful sleep.

Two weeks later, at my follow-up visit with the Psychiatrist, I hadn’t had one anxiety attack. I was actually starting to feel like myself again. The doctor confirmed that I had been in a very bad state at my initial visit and that he had been very concerned about me. He recommended that I continue with the medication and make an appointment with a Psychologist to help me understand some of the feelings that I was experiencing. I will never forget him or his gentle eyes. He helped me to escape from the cycle of anxiety that had consumed my life. With his help I was able to stand up and continue peacefully on my journey to where I am today.

I have not spoken, at length, about that time in my life until very recently. Partly because I didn’t want to give it energy and partly because I was embarrassed. Today at work, we were discussing a patient in a similar situation and I found myself telling my story, out load, with no shame or embarrassment. After I finished the story, I was kind of surprised at myself, speaking so assuredly and with such candor. After hearing the entire story from my own mouth, I thought to myself, “It’s no wonder I had a nervous breakdown, my whole support system was crumbling down around me at a time when I needed it the most.” I was amazed by how clear it all seemed. I wasn’t fragile, crazy, or mentally ill. I was simply a young girl with a huge amount of responsibility, a walking casualty of a raging family war that had robbed her of the only life she had ever known.

There is no amount of money that could convince me to trade the wisdom of my forties for the cuteness of my twenties and thirties. As a matter of fact, I think I’ll go shopping today and get myself some bigger pants. I want to be ready for that middle age spread everyone keeps talking about.

Peace Be With You

Like everyone else around the world I am stunned and saddened by this devastating and senseless act of violence. My thoughts and prayers go out to all the families and students who were victims of this horrific event.

I am in awe of the compassion and maturity of the students that I have seen interviewed on television. What a great group of kids with bright futures, so full of promise.

All we can hope to do now is to search for chards of goodness that may come from this tragedy. I have to believe that out of all evil, some goodness must come.

Peace be with you Virginia Tech.

The Love Box

When I was in first grade,
my teacher, Mrs. Miles had what she called
a "Love Box"

It was a big box
wrapped in Valentine paper
full of little trinkets.

Everything from whistles,
to gum, to little plastic animals
basically, a kids dream.

At the end of each day,
she would stamp our hands
with a smiley face if we were good
or a frown face if we got into mischief

On Friday, if we got all smiles for the week
we got to choose anything we wanted
from the "Love Box"

I was a very chatty kid
that had a very hard time
staying in my seat (I still do)

So, needless to say,
I didn't get called up
to go into the "Love Box" very often.

In fact, I can only remember
getting to pick a trinket
one time.

But, oh what a glorious day!
It took me forever to choose,
I finally took a small plastic snail.

I treasured that snail back then
and today I treasure the lessons
that I learned from Mrs. Miles and her box.

Although I didn't realize it at the time
I learned that people who do good things
are always rewarded.

It may not be an instant reward
at the end of a day,
like picking a trinket from the "Love Box"

But the reward will come
sometime when you least expect it,
quite possibly when you need it most.

It may not be wrapped with a big red bow.

It may not be shiney and new.

It may be the blessing of a wonderful friendship,
the health of your loved ones,
or having wonderfully spirited children.

It may be that you were 5 minutes ahead
of a terrible collision,
a reward that you never knew you were bestowed.

Mrs. Miles died of breast cancer
when I was in the third grade.
I'm almost 40 now and I still remember her.

What a wonderful reward it would be
to have touched someone's life
in such a way that they still think about you
over 30 years later.

Amazing, the rewards still continue
even after we're gone.

I feel good

I wish that I could feel as good every day
as I feel today

It's a good hair day
that always helps

But that's not it
I'm peaceful today
calm

Nothing is stirring on the inside
my mind is quiet

I'm not worrying
about anything

I'm not overly excited
about anything

Just happy and free

Nothing hurts
I feel confident

I couldn't complain if I had to

I feel loved
I feel in love
I feel blessed, so blessed

I'm not concerned about my body image
I'm cute in my own way
just the way I am

I wonder why I can't have more days like this

They are so few and far between

Is it the planets
are they aligned in the house of me

Is it hormones
something I ate (fruity pebbles)
or didn't eat (frosted mini wheats)

I wish I knew

It feels really good to feel good

Heaven

it covers me
a blanket of warmth

makes me feel healthy
makes me feel strong

i know i'm alive
when the sun shines
on my face

weightless and carefree
the world floats off my shoulders
for a time

just the sound
eases my tension

there's no feeling in the world
like being in water

the sun, a breeze, the water

HEAVEN

He's Mad

Something is just not right here
but how could she know for sure
so young and impressionable
what did she know about what was normal

Prone to periods of silence
followed by random fits of rage
very little desire for any acts of love
distance growing, more distance, more silence

She tried for over a decade to break it
the silence, the madness
eventually learning that it was no use
trying turned to wondering
which lead to assuming - he's mad

Every now and then he'd blow
the silence swelling inside would burst
like a balloon filled with too much air
a very loud "pop" - he's mad

Either it wasn't done
or it wasn't done right
from an empty toilette paper roll
to dishes in the sink

Always something different
something that had been growing
and festering inside the silence, the madness
just waiting to be expelled

Errupting he would spout things out
things from today, yesterday,
last week, last month, and even longer
those things that made him mad
those thing that fed the silence

No responsibility, totally unaware
no pride in anything you just don't care
you can't even take care of yourself
how could you ever take care of a baby
It's not your fault, it's just how you are

Just a girl she'd sit quietly and listen
try not to cry, it will be over soon
crying will only make it worse
he already thinks you're useless
Thinking, thinking....I should leave, he's mad

Learned to walk on eggshells
tip toe around the madness
just learn what you have to do to avoid it

Uptight and unaware of what was happening
pieces of her soul, pieces of her psyche
being chipped away day after day
Thinking, thinking....I should leave, he's mad

How could she leave, no one else would have her
so unaware, irresponsible and scattered
this girl with no pride in anything
she would surely be alone for the rest of her life
Wondering, wondering
is it him that's mad, or is it me?

Me

I’m not being me
Why

I wish I knew
Why don’t I like being me

Never feel good enough
Always feel like I should be doing more

More people should like me
I should give more

Be more kind
Care more

Not care so much

A better mother
A better friend

I don’t keep in touch
Call enough

Why is it so overwhelming being me
I try
God knows I try

Why can’t it just ever be enough
Enough of me
For me

I’ve lost myself
Trying to be a better me

I don’t even know who the hell I am anymore
Or if there was ever anything wrong with the not so great me

I’m tired
A lot

I’m not surprised
Trying to be this extra special me

Conflict

Guilt

Doubt

Creep into my happiness
Showering it with acid rain

I smile and laugh out loud
Sometimes right through the pain

Heavy weights rest on my shoulders
A burden to say the least

Trying to relax
Enjoy my life

Looking for some peace
God please give me some peace

Family Ties

I feel angry

angry at everyone

I hate feeling angry

I've been trying

to sort it out

I used to trust

I used to believe

when someone said

they cared

I had no reason

to think it wasn't true

If they called me friend

I didn't question

I feel alone now

somehow

alone in a world

full of people

people who can

and might betray me

at the drop of a hat

I mean why wouldn't they

they have no ties to me

no blood relation

it's not like they're

my mother or my grandparents

or anything, right?

The One

she helps with
life's little tasks
that seem so mundane

she loves me
even when I
don't like myself

she knows when
saying nothing
is enough said

she makes me laugh
when it's the very
last thing I want to do

she misses me
when I'm not
around

she'll stay in an
uncomfortable position
when I fall asleep on her
because she
doesn't want to
wake me

she always
makes time for me

she is what
she appears

I can believe
what she says

she's

uncomplicated

always shares

makes me feel beautiful

makes me feel
like I'm the only one
she's ever loved

is loved by
everyone she meets

but loved
most of all
by me

she's

the one

A Grown Up World

All of me
slow to heal

Guiltless power
don't want to feel

Understanding
deprivation

Swallowing
life's realization

Another lifetime
I'll be back

Curtain call
fade to black

Stronger growing
silent still

Beautiful flower
on a window sill

Trumped up courage
relentless pain

Drops on the window
tears of rain

House of cards
the joker's wild

Pile of lies
defenseless child

Clay to mold
with sins to fear

When will sickness call

Silence growing
conclusions drawn

Discontentment
goes on and on

Broken promises
empty words

Grey on canvas
pictures of birds

No wrinkles
no mess

Less clutter
less stress

Heat's too hot
air's to thick

Two steps forward
hit a brick

In the door
out the door

Our neighbors
our friends

Rounding second
headed for home

Confusion never ends

So hard to find
an invisible self

Beauty becomes
everyone else

Black to white
dark to light

Each day a war
wake to fight

House of mirrors
locks on doors

Painted shudders
polished floors

Pig tails pony tails
the cutest little girl

Struggles still
in a grown up world

The Circus

would somebody please help me understand
I was good, I did what I was supposed to do
I graduated, went to college, got married, had two children

I believe I got my sister's conscience
as well as my own
I couldn't even have a mean thought
without feeling guilty, still can't

the good girl, always so thoughtful
their pride and joy
"we love you"
"we're so proud of you"
"you'll always have your family"

I left when she said we had to go
stopped crying when she told me to, after my dad left
tried to understand a grown up's world
I was just a little girl

we're leaving, we're staying
your father doesn't love me

he's leaving, getting an apartment
your father doesn't love anyone but you

he doesn't love your sister
he can't stand your grandparents
he doesn't care about anyone but you

he's selfish
unsocial
hates animals
a bastard

your grandparents adore you
they are such good people
so good to us
they never deny you anything

your father has never liked them
all he cares about is you

my sister and her absent conscience
was it gone or did she choose to ignore it

was my father's lack of love
to blame for her problems

or

was it that she constantly heard
"your father doesn't care about anyone but Kim"

a circus of martyrs
masters at escape
escape from blame

masters of illusion
creating only what
they want you to see

watch us saw the girl in two
half for her father, half for us

as long as it's advantageous

you're not the girl you used to be
so angry, take a look at yourself

we love you, we love you not
we're so sorry we forgot

forgot that you were human too
not an object to be held on to

you're with us or you're against us
what are you going to do

just remember if you're with us
you're against your father too

go ahead make your choice
we won't hold it against you

why did they have to saw the girl
if they never planned to share

why not just make her vanish
vanish into thin air

An Eye For An Eye

A cop killer on the loose
shot two cops and a dog
on a routine traffic stop.

Hunted down for nearly 24 hours
in a thick brush of trees
by the colleagues of the men he shot.

They found him, they shot him,
several times.

I'm sure the sheer adrenaline
that comes from hunting an armed
killer in a densely wooded area
would make one trigger ready.

I have to wonder though,

if we were to arm,

families, colleagues and friends
of slain loved ones,

and allow them
to hunt down their killers.

How many of those killers
would be brought back alive?

Justice? Maybe.