What I really see when I look in the mirror.......

A blog I read a while back spoke of what we see ourselves as. What we see in the mirror, when we look at ourselves. The things I am sure no one else sees in us but us. It can be painful, emotional, spiritual and above all else it can all be a bunch of lies.

While going through some things today I found some old pictures of me as a little kid which is what led me to do today's post. The picture off to the left is of me at six years old which was 1972. That little boy is who I see in the mirror every single time I spend more than five minutes looking at myself.

For me it is very painful to the very core of my being. I grew up in farm country in Geauga County, Ohio and we as they say were "dirt poor" the son of a nineteen year old mother in her second marriage and also the son of an abusive father. A child who knew at the time of this photograph that he was different than other boys but wasn't sure exactly what it was.

A little boy who could write and draw with both hands until he was in kindergarten, when his teacher tied his left hand behind his back to his chair to force him to be right handed. Little boys need to only use one hand you know, and their right hands so they are in their right minds. A little boy who was deathly afraid of the dark. A little boy who couldn't fall asleep without his teddy bear. A little boy who had an awful lisp till he was eleven.

A little boy who desperately wanted "Mrs. Beasley" the doll and Barbie. A little boy who used dollies and pillow cases to drape "clothes" over his stuffed toys so they could play dress up and he could make believe they were all filthy rich. A little boy whose father was never home when he was awake until he eight years old, because he worked so many double shifts.

A little boy whose favorite play theme was "beauty queen". He would get his radio flyer wagon and put a cement block in it and then would spend all morning gathering these little tiny white flowers that grew on weeds that looked like miniature daisies. The wagon would be overflowing with them all but the seat and after lunch with an old blanket and a broken plastic flower pot would play "Rose Parade Queen" and wave to the invisible throng of loving fans adoring him.

The little boy who had to be "mommas big man" and help with everything she did so "daddy" would be happy and became in the process "the perfect housewife". The little boy who feared his father so that he NEVER hung around him. A little boy who most nights cried himself to sleep.

The little boy who got one pair of shoes at the school year and they had to last till June, the rest of the time he went barefoot. Cardboard in the bottoms if they wore out. New clothes for school but ALWAYS from Goodwill and the rare dress shirt from Montgomery Wards in Cuyahoga Falls. If they wore then his momma would sew patches on them, till they were nearly rags.

The little boy who was told he could do anything if he tried hard enough or worked hard enough but never really ever given the confidence to try to be something more than his was. "People don't get better than what they are, they just survive somehow.

It is what I see, sad thing is that little boy as a man is still afraid of the dark, still sleeps with a teddy bear, still is afraid of his father and still has a distant relationship with him. That man is afraid of any confrontation, rocking the boat and especially of not being "liked". There are still nights he cries himself to sleep. That man is still the insecure six year old boy.

That man is me---I can't believe I said all of that. Maybe I needed to. Maybe I needed to say it to let it go. Maybe now by being in school again I can become the man I want to be. With that said, that will be tomorrow's post..... the man I want to be.

Until next time I am so glad we had this time together.

A Difficult Post for a Difficult and Awkward Night

This is going to be the most difficult post that I have done in this blog to date.  It deals with so many different issues that have permeated my entire life, I am not even sure if I could accurately capture everything I want to try to say or need to say so the weight of these circumstances are conveyed accurately.

July 31st came and went in my personal life quietly enough, that date is my parents wedding anniversary.  I know you are already wondering how on earth this becomes my most difficult post.  Well my parents have married for 45 years and quiet frankly they never should have never been married that long in the first place.

I am sure somewhere along the way they really loved each other, even cared deeply for each other.  From what I remember of that period of most of my childhood is the mental, emotional and verbal abuse that my father used all of us, but primarily on my mother.  The majority of my childhood and early adult life I feared my father more than anything else, the real monster in the closet.  There were points where my mother temporarily left my father and we were placed in a "safe place" only to go back into that environment.  She has always felt she never had any way out.  She felt she couldn't support us on her own, and we will never know for sure if she could or not.  That process repeated itself over and over at least four times.

Earlier today my mother called wanting to get together for dinner to "celebrate" their anniversary so we said yes, what else was I suppose to do?  Most of me sat there vividly remembering that painful past, that seems like just like yesterday.  I wonder has the dynamic changed, now that my parents are older and in very ill health.  I wonder if my mother has forgiven him?  I wonder if my mother regrets staying all these years?  I wonder does the past ever cross either of their minds?  I wonder does any of it matter now to either of them?

Its hard trying sitting on your emotions while eating supper.  Its hard finding an anniversary card that isn't all romance, flowers and rainbows.  Well I did both things, I sat smiling, making small talk one more time and now I sit and blog about it, emotionally a wreck.  Maybe, I will revisit these ideas and this post in a few days and go more into emotionally what all of this means to me.

Until then I am so glad I am so glad we had this time together.