CafeKel

*Please note this is just a thought based on an observation, it is not directed at any one person or event so please do not attack*

I was roaming around the blog world when I stumbled upon a soulfull post where a commenter did not voice the typical ‘ we support you’ comment, but instead ventured into voicing their opinion of the issue as they saw it.  Right or wrong, this opinion was rejected by the masses and it quickly turned sour.  On the surface the comments seemed  kind of bland and matter of fact, however the subject itself is a very touchy one perhaps the comments were not meant so straightforward - I do not know the meaning behind them, only that it made me think.

When do we pass the point of support and venture into the relm of becoming an enabler for the issue?

In the movie, “He’s just not that into you” GiGi mentions that we as women ’support’ our friends by telling them whatever we need to hear “He didn’t call because he’s scared of commitment” or “He’s intimidated by you” instead of simply stating the obvious - “he just didn’t like you.”  I laughed at the time, but it brought back plenty of memories from my own history where I had said or been the recipient of those very words. 

When I have a crappy day and have totally FUBAR’d what I believe to be my childrens lives, I come here and search for some symblance that I am not alone on this winding road called parenthood - I have yet to be let down because we all face those moments where we question our judgement or our choices as parents.

Growing up I was taught, “If I had nothing nice to say to just keep my mouth shut.”  I often admit, I am not good at keeping my mouth shut, but in times where emotions are high - you better believe I do not say anything if it is not nice.  When my dear friend had to deal with the loss of a family member and didn’t have the strength to pick up her house or shower or change clothes and she’d look at me with those eyes and ask ‘Am I crazy for feeling this way’ I did not reply with ‘Yeah you lazy woman, pull yourself out of it and get back to life.’

No.  That would have been cruel and heartless.  Instead I told her “the grieving process is different for each person and in time she will have the strength to return to life as she once knew it.”  But what if that went on for weeks or months even…what if she never returned to her former self - when do I stop supporting her with words of kindness and instead tell it to her with all the honesty I can muster?

When I find myself in a slump, wallowing in my own pain - spewing forth words and emotions I’d be better off not etching into all eternity, when do you comment back with ‘Get over it Kel, life sucks sometimes but we move on’ instead of hugs and votes of understanding? 

Its an interesting web of relationships we create here.  Some are perpetually up because that is what they show us.  Some are perpetually in a black hole because they have not found the sun yet.  And some are inbetween the two.  This is just a fraction of who we are, a small glimpse into what we feel or think and yet as a community we support each other 100%.  But where do we as a community stop supporting  with kind words of wisdom and instead support with truths that might hurt at first, but could bring you back to life?

*Ding Ding* I hear as a text reaches my phone.  I don’t rush to get it…

*Ding Ding* I hear again, persistent I think and reach for my phone…

Is the hurt so deep that *you* and *I* will never get along?

Swift and smooth, it came from no where and the wound was deep.  Wrestling with ones soul does not brace one for questions like these, but instead makes them more vulnerable when they do come under attack.

The hurt does not heal beacuse things do not change, I do not let go because there is nothing new for me to hold onto.

And in that moment, the honesty is so real, the things I’ve been denying myself for so long come flooding to the surface.  Pain and anger, the emotions I don’t like to deal with buried deep within my soul, festering and growing into something I cannot recognize anymore.  I was hurt.  I was betrayed by someone I never imagined could, my own blood, and the wound has not healed.

There is no where to escape what is in your blood, you can mask it but it does not go away - the battles we fight are as much with you as with ourself.

What caused the rift is inconsequential, but the meaning behind it is not.  Admitting I am no better and no worse than the person who hurt me is hard.  Admitting, to myself that despite the packaging - I am more like them the harder I try to be different makes my heart hurt.  The wrongs I’ve seen them do, the pain I’ve watched them cause has not taught me to be better, but instead has taught me to harden my defenses, build my walls a little higher and make my skin a little thicker.

Toughen up little girl - its a cold cruel world out there.

But it’s not supposed to be like that, I’m supposed to have learned from their mistakes and I’m supposed to be better and more understanding, but instead I am empathetic and feel the pain which only makes me less attached to the world around me.  Maybe if I shield myself enough, the pain will stop, the feelings will subside and I can trust someone, but no…the more I want to cry out, the more I actually fight for breathing room, suffocating in my own fear and self loathing.

But its not me I worry about - no, its the little me’s who I do not know how to protect from the world.  The little me’s who I want to learn to embrace pain and joy because they are not bad feeling, but mere feelings.  Its the little me’s who I’m most afraid will one day see, they are just like me and thus I have failed to give them more than I had.

This weekend I learned a few things about what I DID NOT DO….

I DID NOT laugh outloud when the kids rang the front door bell because they had chased the cat out of the back yard and Jr was going to bring him back inside.

I learned that a 25lb cat can out maneuver an Eight yr old boy any day of the week and said little boy will be pretty ticked off he was beat by a cat.

I DID NOT take a quick 6 mile bike ride Saturday morning instead of run because I wanted a something different to do.

I learned 6 miles in 45 minutes on a tiny seat with a big ol’ butt do not a good combination make.   Trust me when I say I feel like “I’ve been rode hard and put up wet!”

I DID NOT play another game of kickball - in which we still have not broken our losing streak - and I DID NOT laugh so hard I almost pee’d myself on the field from our pitcher putting the ball under his shirt pretending to be pregnant and ‘deliver’ pitch.

I learned that it’s called ’sliding’ into home for a reason.  Running and falling = bouncing = pretty beat up extremeties.

I DID NOT threaten to shave my daughters head because she would not brush her hair and I am so TIRED of the ratty/tangle mess its become that I was ready to rid myself of it forever.

I learned that a quick trip to my hairdresser in tears will not make her shave DQ’s head, but instead she will cut it so both mom and daughter are happy and smiling in the end.

I DID NOT learn how to spell MOM with your face!

What did YOU not do this weekend?

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