I M Perfect lady

I saw a glimpse of myself yesterday, a reluctant woman standing there, unable or even having the desire to walk away.

 

The game is over, the race is completed, the field is empty, it is all over and I am still standing there like there is more to come. 

 

Looking for more, unwilling to see the end of the parade or the final fireworks, hoping for something, waiting unfulfilled.

 

Unfulfilled with reality and waiting upon its completion to serve me my expectations, I sit and I wait.

 

Inside I am left with the feeling of being letdown, again, disappointed and sad and the feelings of profound loneliness and grief arise and the finality of never.

 

If never arises then all hope has to die, if all hope dies then I have to own never.

 

Never is such a barren place it reaches far beyond the stars, its hollow silent sounds echo inside of me.

 

Never means the game is over.

 

What happens if the game is over, finished, complete?

 

It seems like in order to move on, I have to own that I did what I could and now it is fruitless to continue to sit waiting.

 

At some point you have to know when to say when.

 

This all goes back to my being responsible, for me being the one in charge, in control of saving or helping or doing something for my siblings. 

 

Something, anything, but to get up and walk away!

 

Even if I haven’t been in their presence for many years, it was my hope that they would read my words, and use them as a guide,

that I was writing many signposts along this journey, for them.

 

I wrote for myself sure, but one eye was always on how they too could use what I said as guide.

 

I guess it gave me a sense I was still helping and being responsible, somehow I still needed that.

 

Below is what I read last night in The Presence Process, and it seems to explain to me, me.

 

“Many of us in this world appear to be helpful, but when it comes to the necessary ability of knowing how to nurture ourselves, we discover that we are at a loss.  We also realize that we tend to feel a deep sense of guilt whenever we attempt to do anything real and loving for ourselves.  This is because it is only our unconscious sense of helplessness and neediness that drives us to sacrifice ourselves in the name of helping others. The behavior of running around and trying to help everyone to our own detriment is always fueled by the reflection we see of our own helpless plight mirrored in the world around us.  We cannot give away what we do not have, so only when we have learned how to truly nurture and unconditionally love ourselves do we develop the propensity for authentic service. Unless we consciously step into present moment and own our life, our ability to be truly of assistance in this world will remain shallow and ineffectual.”

 

How sad that I was trying to nurture and care for them, while sacrificing myself.

 

How sad that I was given the task at such a small age to take care of and nurture so many lost children, while being a lost child myself.

One lost child taking care of so many other hurting lost children.

 

It seems that I am forever falling short of the mark, and that all my nurturing and caring is for naught.

 

Suffering children everywhere.

 

Unless and until I can nurture myself, guide myself and find my innocence, I will be unable to nurture another.

 

Mostly what I tried to do was both.  I was unable to let the hurting children hurt while I walked away to heal my own wounds.

 

And sadly, not one of the hurting children are asking for me to help them, or to nurture them, lead, guide, teach, talk, speak, or be with any one of them.

 

I had taken it upon myself to view them as hurting as I am hurting, view them as suffering as I am suffering, see them through my pain.

Perhaps even take on their pain as mine.

 

To stop the pain, the discomfort and the knowing that there is no mother coming, no father taking care, I will stand in front of and protect them from knowing and feeling.

 

Feeling so alone, hopeless, helpless and uncared for.

 

Yet this whole blog has been about the failure of our parents to parent, the affects of being abused, the pain and confusion of growing up in a home so twisted.

 

Maybe the guilt comes from letting down that façade I tried to build for them, by now revealing what is.

 

Somehow inside of me, I felt like I was the buffer of it all, that I could hold some of the pain back, and take on the burden by lessening their load, while my own load wobbled carelessly in the balance.

 

I somehow feel like a failure not being able to present them with a family.  Like somehow I failed to give them what they needed the most, and in the end I let us all down.

 

I had built up an inside expectation perhaps, that if I could save but one child, it would all be worth it, I just never knew I was only saving myself.

 

It seems so selfish and so wrong to simply save yourself.

 

To make moves to take your self away from abuse, while leaving the rest behind.

 

My mind has a hard time seeing the difference between the cold mother and me.

 

Yet inside I feel that my little girl is in a better place today, and that I have nurtured her and have guided her as a parent who

loves unconditionally.

 

I have loved her broken and twisted state, and have been with her as she stumbled forward without a map to follow, unsteady and unsure.

 

I have watched her walk on and away from the only love and family she ever knew, to rebuild and grow.

 

She did not walk alone.  One brother set out on the same path, together leaning upon each other, they moved forward, leaving behind many, two broken souls on a journey to becoming whole.

 

I had said this Blog is the longest good-bye, and perhaps it is.  I couldn’t just walk away uncaring, I had to leave words, even if they are just for me.  The book I wished I had.

 

Good-Bye is final, I could not carry you then and now, I leave you where I first picked you up, broken and twisted.  I am sorry, I have to put you down so you can walk alone.