1 = red

2 = green

3 = violet

4 = pink

5 = blue

6 = yellow

7 = orange

8 = black


(and remember, the lines are merely a suggestion)


I haven’t participated in Trifecta or Trifextra for quite awhile.   The challenge this weekend is to write 33 words (which mine is, if you count “LIFE” — and I am, so there!) about color.  As cliche as this may be, I thought it was fun, and it made me smile.  It’s summertime afterall, smiles abound!

lakota prayer

lakota prayer by lindsay ostrom, on Flickr

Floating in the dark
Waiting for dreams
Cars moving ever forward
At a distance
I’m still floating
Always enough for
Everybody else
Why am I left
Wanting more

Yesterday, one of the worst tornadoes in history ripped through the Oklahoma City area.  My sister, who nearly died after being hit by a drunk driver just 5 months ago, lives in that area.

Thankfully, her home and her family were not directly effected. But it stirred up all kinds of emotions and fears.

Understandably, for her – and surprisingly, for me.

I’m still not sure why.  Perhaps it’s my own near death experience?  Perhaps it’s because I have not seen my sister since I flew out to OKC just 10 days after her accident.  She was still trapped somewhere in the dark depths of unconsciousness, struggling for moments of lucidity and awareness.  I stayed in the town of Moore, OK.  The very town devastated by yesterday’s natural disaster.

My family and I were planning on driving out to visit my sister and her family over this holiday weekend.  But we’ve decided to cancel that trip now.

And I wonder, am I allowing fear to rule this decision, or just common-sense?

My sister is planning to fly out here and stay most of this summer with my parents while she undergoes hyperbaric oxygen therapy for the brain injury she acquired from the car accident.

So I will be seeing her and her family within a couple weeks…but she’s planning to stay at our parents’ house — so the unsettled relationship that I have with my parents is starting to cause me some anxiety (again!).

I keep typing words, piecing together these sentences, slamming down the delete button — over and over again.  I am trying to figure out why this seemingly random string of events is bothering me so much.  What is truly going on underneath it all?

Life goes on, it always has, it always will.

But right now, I kinda wish I had a pause button.

:::     :::     :::     :::     :::     :::     :::     :::

I’m joining in Just Write again at The EO.  Attempting…it’s been too long.  Head on over and check out some really amazing writers!

The Blame Game.

I’ve made a realization over the past months that my biggest problem isn’t  that I grew up with a Borderline Personality Disorder mother.  Nope.  It’s that I’ve latched on to blaming her and her BPD for all that is wrong and unsavory in my world.

A year ago, I finally found out why I could never have the relationship i yearned for with my parents.  It was incredibly freeing.  “Thank God, I’m not the crazy one”  But…I fixated on it.  I devoured countless books on BPD and Adult Children of BPD Parents, plus many more general self-help titles.

I was weary from this forced transformation I was attempting.  I wanted to be healed – right now.  RIGHT NOW DAMNIT!

I wanted to get to a point that I could look back from and say, “whew, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with/think about that anymore.”

I will always be that little girl with a whacked out mom.  I’m realizing that this journey of healing is so much like the recovering addict’s journey.  Once an addict, always an addict.  There is no magic pill, or mantra to clean your slate.

Letting go of the blame is part of the healing process for sure.  And honestly, it’s one I could never imagine being able to do.  I was happily loathing them from afar…wishing they would up and decide to move to Timbuktu.

I picked up SARK’s Transformation Soup a month or so ago.  And the words nearly pierced through my heart.  “Stop Blaming Your Mother.”

At first I scoffed, well you don’t know my mother.  Then as I read on, it began to resonate with me.  I was unwillingly for sure.  I stopped reading the book midway through, pulled my bookmark and buried that book behind some old high school year books.

Those words haunted me in my dreams.  In my dreams, my mom and dad were nurturing me, being the parents I have always wished for.  In my dreams, my mom and dad apologized, and in my dreams, I forgave my mom and dad.

The dreams I had previously frequented — the ones where I was yelling and screaming at my parents to get away from me and my kids, the dreams that sometimes even escalated to violence — made sense to me.  I was angry, hurt, confused and I wanted to keep my parents as far from me and my family as possible.

These new love-laced dreams were disturbing.  What was my psyche trying to tell me?

“Heal, sweet Salem, just heal.”

I will never get an apology in real life.  But it’s not relevant any more.  I know who my parents are, and I can accept it {or at least working on accepting it}.

Forgiveness is not about forgetting the past.  It’s about allowing yourself to stop blaming — yourself, your mother, your father…whoever.

I have a fear of becoming my mother.

Probably a little more so than your average woman does.

Of course, the whole genetics thing is difficult to overcome.   The older I get the more and more I look like her (even though everyone always said I looked just like my dad when I was a kid – go figure!).  I hate catching glimpses of her while looking in the mirror.

I am realizing though, that I have very little control over physical traits – like how my face is shaped!

And that those traits don’t really matter much to my kids.

They just see their own mom when they look at me.

But my actions, my emotions, my parenting, and pretty much everything else – I do have control over.

And through those parts of myself, I try to give my kids the childhood that I wish I could have had.

The first and foremost being an emotionally stable mother.


A wish list from my inner child:

hugs and i love you’s – everyday – heck, multiple times a day even!

books read to me – I don’t ever remember either parent ever reading to me, ever.

a healthy diet – I grew up on processed, refined and pre-packaged junk food – ugh!

cuddle time – like at bedtime or just while watching tv – I hated feeling so alone and disconnected all the time.


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