I M Perfect lady

Tag: relationship

  • Half Dead

    There are two ways to look at relationships and what is defined as kind or unconditional will depend on which side you are standing upon.

     

    Most of my old relationships had the relationship as the ruler and I as its servant. 

     

    Now I arrive in each relationship as the ruler and the relationship serves me or doesn’t.

     

    In the past, I was a martyr in relationships.

     

    I looked up the meaning of Martyr.

     

    1.                   somebody put to death: somebody who chooses to die rather than deny a strongly held belief, especially a religious belief

    2.                     somebody who makes sacrifices: somebody who makes sacrifices or suffers greatly in order to advance a cause or principle. 

     

     Wow, is that right on or what.  I definitely was a martyr in my relationships…I made sacrifices of my self, my feelings and my truth to remain in relationships.  I suffered greatly to advance the cause…the family.

    I may not be adequately framing this, but in my old relationships it required me to be dead in order for me to be there.

     

    An aware, alive and responding me shattered the relationship.  I no longer suffered for the cause.

    It was kind to the relationship for me to remain dead and unresponsive, yet very unkind to me.  I have now reversed that order.

    I also feel that a thriving whole relationship requires two alive people…

    Otherwise it is half dead.

     

     

     

     

  • Fear Moves Me Away From You…

    My mother and I had lunch at the Pilgrim River yesterday.  Unscheduled, unplanned and unseen.

     

    Five years have passed since I laid eyes upon her and she looks the same, dresses the same, and seemed her old self, not at all how I envisioned her to be.

     

    Not sure what had me look in that direction, but I caught the side of her face from behind, and immediately I felt it was her, it had to be, and then she disappeared from view.

     

    A ghost from my past…a shocking sight.

     

    My body immediately responded, without a thought in my head, it needed no direction from me.

     

    The friend who was with me knew something big was going on, for all my emotions rushed to my face, our conversation evaporated, she could tell something was dreadfully wrong.

     

    We each spoke at once, her asking and me telling.

     

    What I told her matched my emotions.

     

    Mother and fear.

     

    When I knew she was exiting the dinner and not staying for lunch, I felt much better, my tight chest relaxed, the heart slowed down, the nausea settled, and the lump felt like it had been bruised, squeezed and twisted. 

     

    This visceral fear that my body displays leaves me shaky and vulnerable, as well as embarrassed that it responds this way, that I appear as a frightened child instead of the adult that I am.

     

    My body and soul were wanting nothing more than to disappear, there was not one teeny part of me that wanted to holler and run out to reconnect with her, not one. 

     

    I was pushed into my seat, caught like a rabbit in a snare.

     

    In less than a minute she reappeared outside in front of our window where a pane of glass now separated us, I in the shadows and her in plain view.

     

    Her chatting and smiling, reaching and touching this stranger, not knowing her estranged daughter looked on.

     

    It was odd to see her there, like I was now a ghost in her life watching and her unaware.

     

    It was only a few minutes and she and her friend parted and she was gone. 

     

    As I started to feel my body relax, she once again came into view.  Driving by in her van and slowly make a u-turn in front of me.  My last view was of her driving away hand to cheek, and then she was gone. 

     

    What is so enthralling to me, is how my body responds just being in the room with her.  How it isn’t a thought in the head or a mind full of reasons and excuses, for before I could gather my thoughts, my body was in full fledge panic mode.

     

    It has its own visceral reaction far ahead of me, and I scramble to catch up.

     

    How to explain this? 

     

    What I know to be certain is that my body language speaks for itself, there wasn’t a word I needed to say to my friend, she knew by the look in my face how I Felt about my mother.

     

    It isn’t anger, it isn’t resentment, it isn’t judgment, it isn’t a myriad of things I have been accused of, IT is fear and sheer panic.

     

    I fear my mother.

     

    I don’t like the way my body feels in her presence.

     

    I feel like an addict in a meeting, putting this out on paper…”I fear My Mother.”

     

    I fear what she stands for.

     

    I fear what she supports.

     

    I fear what she loves

     

    I fear her weakness.

     

    I fear her strengths.

     

    I fear her religion.

     

    I fear her forgiveness. 

     

    I fear what she fails to remember, but remembers to forget.

     

    I fear her.

     

    And my body agrees. 

     

    Perhaps fear is like love, you don’t get to decide, it happens to you don’t get to choose, it is chosen for you, you just get to ride along. 

     

    I don’t think I started out fearing my mother, it happened instant by instant and over time, I grew to fear my mother.

     

    Somehow it feels like a weakness that I fear her, that I want to stay away.

     

    That it has her in a higher spot, that she has control over me, that I am powerless.

     

    Powerless to me is being without  the power to get out of the way.

     

    Powerless is not moving away when you fear.

     

    Fear moves me away from you…