Happy Birth Day to Me!!!

On this day, twenty-six years ago, I gave birth to a 9 pound 5 ounces, twenty-two inches long son. I've kept a journal written to him from early in my pregnancy. I've continued to keep it over the span of his lifetime. It still belongs to me, and until I die, I suppose, or there becomes another reason to turn it over to him, I will keep it.

There I have chronicled his 'firsts'.... day at home, sounds, smile, successful sleep through the night, recognition of a voice or a face, rolling over on the bed (and sometimes falling off), word, illness, step, fall, bump or scrap, playmate, toy, blanket, favorite song or book, outing, potty seat, separation from mom, day at 'Mom's Day Out', stay at grandparents, sadness or disappointment, recognition of self in the mirror, babysitter, tricycle, the list goes on and on right up until his first day of kindergarten and eventually high school graduation, first job, dream, hope, emerging talent, kiss, heartbreak, girlfriend, car, move from home.

It contains random letters from his dad, words of wisdom and love and appreciation for the roles we've played in his life and he in ours, and our wishes for his well-being and happiness, strength and success in life. It's a memory book and a book of our hopes for his future, our gratitude for every moment we've known him.

Today I will add a new post to the journal in celebration of his birth. Though separated by hundreds of miles, I will keep my child close in heart this way. I will look forward to the day he can visit to read and share this moment with me. I will recall his first birthday, and in his absence an echo will be heard through the stillness of the empty house, as I quietly hum....'Happy Birth Day to Me'... .

I love you, Will!!! I hope you have a great birthday, wherever you are!!

Parental Issues...'Honor Thy Father and Mother'?!?

The following is a comment I left in response to another blogger's post. It's always a good thing to have a point of reference, a comparison, to help us place our own 'issues' in perspective. Perhaps I should have just saved space in her blog, and blogged my feelings in response here, but making a connection with others is vital sometimes too. I decided I could do both. (I have to note that 'Acidman' continues to be our mutual connection, and I feel he lives on through us in this way!)

The comment:

I appreciate 'Tessa's' comment, and will take it to heart.

I understand your dilemma. My mother is alive and well, though she complains all the time, dramatically so. After years of counseling, partially due to putting up with her verbal and emotional abuse, I'm learning how to confront her when necessary and set some boundaries. Not that this is easy or as simple as stated, but it's what I need to do for myself.

It has taken some effort, and fortunately I have sisters to support my efforts and reinforce this, in fact, one confronted her with me the first time she gave us the opportunity recently. We decided to take advantage of the door she opened for us, and share how her behavior made us feel, and to explain how we felt all would benefit from change on her part.

This happened only weeks ago, and I'm 54, yet it's the first time in my life that I've felt confident enough to know what it is I want from her and to tell her. I've decided to ask for what I desire from her, at least when we are in a conversation or in the same location. I am actually out of town now, and included a visit with her as part of my travel schedule. It's the first time EVER that she made it through several days without a negative comment or criticism.

I guess I'm just trying to say, I had begun to believe there would never be peace between us, but this week has proven me wrong. I'm happy for this, and know that I will feel better about myself for continuing to make the effort. I realize some people are never going to change, ever, and I don't feel that we should subject ourselves to abuse in that case. Had she NOT agreed to make an effort to refrain from some of this behavior in my presence, I let her know I would not give her the opportunity to continue treating me as she has in the past by showing up.

I would not have wanted to lose my mom without getting beyond the treatment from her that I'd dealt with my entire life. I was always seeking validation elsewhere, but finally understood no one else could give me what I needed the most from her. I'm glad for what is happening, I'm optimistic, for the first time, and hope it is the beginning of change that will last.

I know I, personally, would have to go to my mom if she were dying, even if we had not made peace, and take away from that encounter a good feeling about myself for attempting to show 'respect', as Tessa indicated she did with her mom.

Ultimately, it's how we feel about ourselves that matters most. Each person's experience is unique in many ways, despite the similarities. I say do what YOU can best live with for the rest of YOUR life.

A Portrait of 'Self-Analysis'....

....of a 'work-in-progress' (perhaps some would view this as 'self-indulgence' or 'absorption'). Whatever one calls it, it requires self-reflection, truthfulness, and exposure...kind of like the process of developing a photo.

Well, I want to study the development of self by examining a recent photo. Mind you, this is not easy to do. I wasn't especially fond of what I saw in the photo. I later found myself pondering the varied feelings I experienced, and this is what I've concluded, so far. I am a 'work-in-progress', aren't we all? I think we shall always be as long as we breathe.

Have you ever found yourself staring at your own face in a photo, wondering how you came to look the way you do? You may wonder who that person is, physically and otherwise. I found myself doing just that when browsing through some family photos taken recently at a wedding. With several generations present for comparison, I began to form a sense of identity and where I fit in the ranking. It made me a bit uneasy.

At first I thought my dress was just ill-fitted, too youthful, the wrong color or size...something was distorting my face, making my head and neck seem larger, broader, fuller. I concluded that I looked more like a (now don't get your panties all in a wad when I use this description, I'm just being honest about how I perceived myself at first glance...I have no prejudices or criticism of a person truly in this category) transvestite, a 'manly looking woman' in ladies clothing. The dress did not seem to suit the person's face.

I used to think of myself as somewhat 'feminine' looking, but that trait seemed absent from this photo. And it troubled me. Was I in denial? Aging and not accepting it, as evidenced in the dress I chose for this occasion? My thoughts were all over the place, kind of like this writing. (Bare with me, I hope this will all come to a single point in the end.)

I shared the photo with an accepting, supportive friend, whom, of course, encouraged me to believe I looked just fine. I wasn't buying it. I didn't recognize that person staring back at me from the photo, and I was not comfortable with the photo or the feeling it generated within me. I tried to let it go, momentarily.

Then as I sat in the bathtub today, where I find myself doing a lot of reflecting, moreso than bathing, it dawned on me. I HAVE changed!! (Duh, thump my forehead with the tips of my fingers!) I'm not the youthful person I used to be...no longer a 'girl' all hormonal and giddy and naive and innocent and searching, seeking to find herself and her way in the world (although there IS still a fair amount of some of this present in my life today).

No, what I see as 'manly' is 'strength', perhaps, a strength that comes with the passage of time and experience. Hopefully, there is a strength of 'character' in that face. For many, the years show in your face as having been kind or tough. Fine lines, or maybe wrinkles, tell a story, replacing the innocence of youth. I've 'bulked up' in preparation for what lies ahead. Life has provided this for me.

Some things have softened. My eyes seem different...weaker? When I'm tired now, it shows. I don't see some things as cleary as I did before. I still don't understand some of what I see in this world around me, in others, and maybe within myself. But I do think my heart is still open to possibilities. I'm more forgiving than in the past, and yet, I'm rightfully protective....I'm more vulnerable, and I know this, and I guard myself, shield myself with the strength I've gained, the knowledge I've acquired from living, and it shows. It's right there to be read on my face.

I looked tired. I was tired. I am often tired. I'm challenged to 'give it a rest', to put some things aside and just be, to breathe and let go. In the letting go, I embrace the life I have created for myself. I become aware of the changes, both good and not so good, and my ability to adjust and to continue to grow, and to face myself, the person in the photograph, and love her and forgive her and wish her well in this journey of life.

'Hasta La Vista', baby!!! Don't look back!!! (I'm holding my nose, preparing to jump in the water with both feet first (mind you, I can't
swim, ha!)..deep breath....) Here she is....