rooted

I never noticed roots much
till I started gardening





I am so afraid of you.

(2018)

The Christmas Basket Case

I'm pretty sure it was the candle that caused this evenings "night-frustrations. "


These dream that have been routinely spiking my heart rate in the middle of the night are not scary of scaring enough to be called nightmares-- rather they are passive frustrations I have primarily with my family and how I am trying to throw off the ropes of being the "family hero".

The candle was part of a gift basket of some contention. My immune system has been weak for awhile, and any interaction with my sister or niece often results in at least 1 day off of work or a week of unproductive staring at screens while staving off what ever virus is going around. I was recovering from the flu (that I am 98% sure came from interacting with my sister). back in October, we had agreed to do a Smith Thanksgiving and an In-law/travel Christmas.  No presents. no plans. she tried to schedule something and I told her no thank you-- I am getting over the flu she gave me at the beginning of the month. she tried to schedule something with me again and i told her, I am recovering from the flu and would like to be well for a few weeks, I am happy to meet up at the end of January. She tried calling my phone and texted that she was coming over with "my present" on New Years Day morning. I had other places to go, and I didn't want to be sick. I told her so, and she decided to leave the present on the stoop and sent me angry texts later about treating her like a leper. 

I didn't touch the basket on the back porch. My husband brought it in by the end of the day. It sat by the back door for 5 and a half weeks, a reminder as I walked by it of a gift given out of coherency and dismissiveness of my own health boundaries; a reminder of how I understand Renee better than she has ever seemed to know or care to know me. 

Mom and Dad came up the first weekend of February to go to my nieces birthday party. I did not attend and was not invited to the toddler germ fest. I hopped that the lack of invite was an actual respect of my health concerns and not, as I had a small suspicion, an attempt to "cold shoulder me" to manipulate me back to groveling at my older sisters feet for inclusion. That shit doesn't work on me. At least not with people I have mostly given up on anyways.

On Sunday, I agreed to host brunch, as I often do when the parents come into town, for the nuclear family plus my niece. I took the basket up stairs and into a closet the night before. 

Sunday actually went pretty well. There was no passive aggressive remarks or blame and my sister actually apologized for being self-centered when she came over last time. she mentioned that she had seen a counselor this month and would be getting a prescription for post pardem once the second child arrived later this month. She also told me that her and her husband were moving north and that he had been offered a 50k salary job, something I had been wanting for her for a couple of years now. It was a celebration to see this positive transition come to her growing family.

Being a huge beach ball in third trimester with baby number 2, she asked if she could take a bath in our large downstairs bath tub. she asked about the bath bombs in the gift basket, and I mentioned that I had not touched the bath bombs yet, not mentioning that I had barely touched the basket at all.

I ran up stairs for towels and tore open the cellophane to acquire the bath bombs. It was a tearing of the tension I had been holding in my chest; a tip toeing of the line of not falling into manipulation games and staying away from my role of hero and forever helper. A breath of release that not as much would be expected of me if she was 4 hours away, and less need for me to worry if her family was making a reasonable income.

The next week felt lighter. I still had issues to work out about my relationship with my sister, but I decided to put those in an emotional shoe box and shove it under the bed of my brain for now.

On this "it's all okay" high, I decided to look at the gift basket in more detail. Among other things, there was a lovely candle. Know, I know candles get made fun of as the "easy gift" but I LOVE scented candles. That is if they are the right scent. this one was called lavender and white sage-- I had no idea what that would smell like, but I was envisioning (in retrospect) a lavender chamomile softness with a sharpness of brush sage or juniper. no.

A waft of deep musk and intense floral notes seeped out of the lid, and I quickly snapped it back on. I have no way of knowing if Renee chose this candle or if it was part of a pre-made package. and if she did choose it, I do not know if she smelled it first, or if she was just going off of the name. no matter what was true, the instant I smelled the candle, my hopeful optimism of having a sister who would respect and know me for the individual that i am curdled like cream. Not just because that this is a smell that I disseized, but because I know this was the exact kind of sent that she would love, and that I thought she would have known I did not like.

In high school, Renee's favorite scents were twilight rose and sweet pea; any smell that was musky and romantic were on her list. I loved cool cucumber and citrus; I sniffed samples of the  "Princess" perfume that was  sweet, fruity, and lightly floral in any women's magazine I found.  My logical mind gave Renee the benefit of the doubt; but my emotional mind just thought of every ill fitted gift she had ever given me, forgetting about the few gifts of dark chocolate and chai that I had actually appreciated. having a gift that was already surrounded with conflict of not being heard end up containing a scent that represented a direct opposite of taste between me and my sister threw my emotional mind into accusations of selfishness and inattention to anything that didn't ultimately serve her. My logical mind set this aside and decided that it would go to a thrift store, and continued on with my day.

But I am learning more and more that ignoring the emotional mind is for naught.
at night, I had my frustration dreams of Renee trying to "help"-- of Renee doing things without thinking that inconvenienced me and my plans; of having to re-route and go back and try again because my sister believed that her thoughts should be the same as my own. I don't logically believe any of this (OK, much of this), but what I thought was interesting was that in these dreams, I wasn't necessarily cleaning up messes; mom was. Mom was keeping the peace, and fixing the thing, and making excuses. 

I don't think I have thought much about how Mom had to mediate our differences as kids. I remember how she made a hybrid name for our first kitten because Renee and I fought over whose name was better; I remember me trying to relieve the burden on mom by dishing up my own food or packing my own lunch, while Renee didn't try to be self-sufficient in these ways, nor did she demand to be served, but mom simply went along with Renee's lack of time management skill or inattention to the announcement of dinner.

I have often blamed myself for Renee not learning to be self-sufficient , but I came away remembering that it wasn't just me who did things for her; who swayed under her charisma-- it was all of us. Dad hated to see her cry, Mom hated to see her go with out, and I hated any conflict that came with me not giving in. So, she had emotional power over all of us simply by being  or playing sensitive and helpless. Which means I am not responsible for Renee's habits and deficiencies;  she is. The route she chose was one which manipulated people to do things for her while maintaining a decorum of blamelessness and niceties.

And that basket represented me not playing the game; a gift I didn't want, didn't need, and had mutual agreed that we wouldn't get for each other was an excuse for me to play the "nice" game. If someone gets you a gift, they are being "nice". and if they are being so nice, then you need to be "nice" in return and receive them along with the gift.

But I don't play nice anymore.

And I won't play nice again.
 

Deficiency.

I can't seem
to get enough
                  SUN.

Sick
  & SicK again
      from lack
                    of SUN.


"You are my Sunshine,"
I sing,
"My only Sunshine."

                  But I'm not happy
                  'cause you're always gray.

                  because
                  I'm
                  not

                  your only
                                SUNshine.


And that causes
the clouds
to stay.

Web Worm(s).

The tree
outside the window
is dying.
             Maybe.
               I think.

The tree
next to the swing
is losing its leaves with each sway.

"Maybe it's webworms," I say.

"No," comes a reply,
          "The webs were full of spiders."

"Well," I say,
            "Something
                                is stressing it out."

"Ok."

        And we go on with our day.

losing home

The son of man
Has no place to rest his head.

The Servant of man
has no home.

Do I consider myself
a servant of men?

They say I do
So much

But do I ?

I am a part of
one,
   Two,
         three,
                four
at least,
           communities.


When I left the man
I made
my Oppressor

I lost
        my roots.
I lost
       my family.

I lost a warm mother.
An informative father
a loving cat
a fun group of people
                        on holidays and birthdays
                        with online notifications & graduations.

I spent
          four years

learning names
allergies
birthdays
occupations
and relations.

I spent
          four years

guess names of states and phrases at parties
washing dishes after gatherings
preparing rooms for guests

all that work,

all that
          Love

seems lost.

                  I still Love them.
               
I still think of yarn and Cynthia.
Still think of root beer and Galen.
Still think of bunnies and Rosie.

I still think of Philly and the Brubakers.
Still think of Seattle tales and Heiki's clan.
Still think of Sarasota and Keech crew.

I still think of all of you.

I still want to say,
"Merry Christmas!"

I still want to guess which soup has bay.

I still want to strategically sit in the living room
 So I can have Galen and Rosie on my Catch Phrase team.

I want
that kind of family.

I want
a family.
            an extended family

            That understands
                                      who I am
                                      who I am becoming
                                      and where I came from

The way you did.

I don't want
 
to be with someone
who has said all the terrible things I had to endure
to be with all of you.

I don't want

to be with someone
who thinks he should be patted on the back
for sharing his day in 10 minutes

                              and calling that
                                                      a conversation.

I don't want

to be with the black sheep,

                                            But that's what it was
                                            if we are all being honest.

My access to a family I loved so much
 was through someone

                                   who refused to be part
                                   of his own family.

If I had less need
of self care
                maybe it could have worked.

But as we grew,
I knew
          I would not be coming home to all of you.

I would be coming home to him.

                                            I would need more support than that
                                            If I were to be
                                                                  a servant of men.

Even when he began to wake up
he could not provide
                                the support
                                                 I needed
                                 the connection
                                                       I craved.

And too much damage had been done
                                                           to myself esteem
                                                           to my trust
                                                           to myself

                to make any of his amends

                viable.

                                                                               the corpse was already dead.

It's sad
                       no really, it is.
                                                           It's sad,

That he didn't listen to me sooner,
That he didn't wake up
                                                     until he had killed me
                                                     until I was done.

It is sad.
                                                   because I loved him
                                                  almost as much as I loved you.

                                                  I loved you all so much.
                                                  and you reciprocated.

                                                I can never thank you enough.

If only
           he was not the black sheep
If only
          he treated me the way you did
If only
         he had the same passion for life
                                                 and justice
                                                  and wholeness
The way
             you all did.
                                             How did he live with you?
                                                      How did he grow with you?
                                         and Not
                                                      LEARN
                                and Not
                                             SEE

How to be the wonderful people
                                         who welcomed me?
                                                   
                                                                                    I may never understand.

full.

My heart is so full.
                         
                  My Heart is so               l.
                                         f           l
                                               u

My Heart is so Full                                                         t
                      There'e barely room to                    a               h
                                                              b           e                             e.
                                                                    r



My Heart is so Full
       my heart is so FULL.

My heart is so Full,
           There's barely space to
                                                        f
                                                        e
                                                        e
                                                         l
                                                         .

My mind is so blank.

My Mind is so Bl_nk.                

My Mind is SO blank

There's barely room to                                                                     

TH  NK.                                                           

      I                                                                  

My Heart is so Full                 

                       My Mind is so BlaNK

My Heart is so full.                             

                             so FULL        My Mind is so bla_k

                  SO bl_nk.
SO full.

                    there no more

                          room.

(My heart is so full)

[My Mind is so B_ank]

(My Heart is so full)

{My mind is so Bl_nk}

(My Heart is so Full)

[My mind is so Bla_k]

(So Full)

{So BLANK}

(It's too Full)

I could faint. 

[I can't wait]  

Sometimes.

Sometimes it's hard to stand up.
Sometimes it's hard to breathe.

Sometimes it's hard to sit down.
Sometimes it's hard to leave.