Memory · mythology · Nature · Personal · Pets · religion · Story · Uncategorized

Epiphany – A Story Interlude #2

I’m not sure how many vital epiphanies happen in an individual life, but I remember my first.

I was twelve years old and stepping out of the shower in the middle of the day. I remember the floor plan of the bathroom and my dad applying carpet squares over it’s linoleum. I discovered my younger sister sleepwalking there one night when I got up to pee and she wandered in to move towels from cupboard to counter and then return to bed.

I had candles burning and the lights off (there was also a small window). I pulled back the shower curtain, picked up a towel and stepped out. I stopped moving because I realized that, not only did things like butterflies, frogs and pets die, so would I.

I thought about having open heart surgery. I’m sure of only two memories from that time. I’m told I liked to climb out of my crib and escape outside. What I remember is running through grass, sliding underneath flowing shrubs and wanting to live there. And I remember holding the hand of a white lady while walking down a white hallway with bright lights.

All of this began a journey. I was shocked, but not aghast. I had questions. I corresponded (with parental supervision) with a Wiccan coven in Texas. I read more mythology and discovered Joseph Campbell. I studied the philosophies of multiple religions. I read about Native Americans.

I thought about starting my period and wishing I hadn’t. Despite being really girly and loving color, clothes, eyeshadow, nail polish and perfume, I hated messes and bodily fluids. I thought about Mom taking the stray Mama kitty and kittens to the vet and the vet euthanizing then because of an infection passed to the babies while nursing. I follow the wheel of the year, equinox/solstice, moon cycles, and nature. I tried attending Unitarian Universalist church and joining two different pagan groups. I studied reiki and shamanic journeying.

Many years later, I am pagan with beliefs leaning Native American, shamanic and Wiccan. I maintain altars and the smell of incense centers me. I’m not afraid of death, but the process still scares me. And, I still rail against loss. Who doesn’t?

Family · gender · Memory · Personal · relationships

The Habit of Sorry

From childhood, we start apologizing. Sorry, Mom. Sorry, Dad. Sorry, Teacher. Sorry, World. At some point though, boys get a pass and girls just get habituated.

This conspiracy is built on a lie. The lie is that staying small (apologizing, not taking up too much space) will keep girls safe. In reality, this makes girls less safe because they don’t learn how to fight for themselves without also taking steps to ensure everyone else has had their needs met. That everyone else stays happy. Their power is muted. They try to keep the peace and minimize the danger. Staying small and saying “sorry” becomes a dangerous habit.

I find the current idiom of “sorry, not sorry” a useful transition. The recipient is disarmed. On the other hand, passive aggressive isn’t the best coping skill. I’ve learned to use disengagement. In a few memorable instances, I’ve said, “I’d only have this argument if I cared about your (fill in the blank). And I don’t.”

When my marriage was ending, criticism and control was so common that I slipped back into the automatic “sorry” habit to avoid constant conflict. The incident that made me realize it was:

My spouse was on overnight duty one summer weekend. Our duplex had no air conditioning and retained heat. We used fans to create air currents by pulling from the coolest side. We commonly left windows and doors open with screens only. I left the front door open and double locked the security screen door. I went to bed.

I was awakened early the next morning by banging and shouting. He was waiting at the door with a bunch of military gear. He wasn’t happy. He wanted to know why I’d locked up when I knew he’d have all his stuff with him. Still groggy, I started with “sorry” and began to explain. Then I stopped myself and asked, “Would you want to sleep alone in a house way out here with unlocked doors?” I got only an,”Oh, yeah.” I realized I’d been making myself smaller and letting him take up more and more space.

Habits are hard to break, especially when they are being reinforced. Trying to replace them with something else, like a question, helps.

Family · Memory · Personal · relationships

The End In The Beginning

How do you know when a relationship has ended?  There are obvious moments: When one of you asks for a divorce.  When you realize that you are happier when you arrive home to an empty house.  When you stop caring about his opinion because it is always so negative, or critical, or judgemental.

But a hundred tiny moments come before those big moments. Some are identifiable landmarks.  Others are cumulative.

In my case, I began by putting the other person first.  Every time I chose myself instead, the relationship developed a crack.  Those small cracks waited for the bigger events to fissure and spread.

The first cracks and the first landmark evolved together.  While he was away at basic training, he wrote and sent a “Dear Jane” letter which he followed with a request to destroy it without reading it.  I did. A few months later, he proposed by phone.  I planned the wedding.  When he got home, he visited a childhood friend and cancelled the wedding – also by phone.  At the time, I was unaware of any connection.  I called it cold feet and panic. We were young.

A few days passed. Driving home with my parents, I simply knew he was at the house waiting.  I told them and, when we got there, he was.  My grandfather had refused to talk to him, so he was napping in his car.  I talked to him. I was 21 years old. I agreed to wear his ring and to keep talking. All this resulted in the wedding he planned and I flew to Louisiana for. He forgot a bouquet and none of my family or friends could attend.

He shaped the circumstances, but I was always the one who chose and acted. I wound up with the responsibility.

I didn’t have to forgive. I didn’t have to say, “Yes.” I didn’t have to leave home.