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Passions in Poetry

serenity's interactive journal

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vlraynes
Member Rara Avis
since 07-25-2000
Posts 9136
Somewhere... out there...


625 posted 05-11-2004 02:37 PM       View Profile for vlraynes   Email vlraynes   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit vlraynes's Home Page   View IP for vlraynes


This is me... still reading along when I can... and hugging you all for the beautiful and heartfelt stories...

Karen?...

Your story about hiding under the table during the card game brought back memories of how much I used to love watching my parents play cards...  They used to play with my aunt and uncle a lot...sometimes at our house, but usually at their house.  They have 4 kids, all younger than my brother and I, so I'm guessing it was probably easier for them to not have to haul them all to our house...

Anyway... many a saturday night, my parents would load us up and we'd go to see the cousins...  I was the oldest of all the cousins, and I think, even then, I had the tendency to 'mother'... We all enjoyed one another and got along great, but I never bonded with the ones that were closer to my age, like I did with the youngest... To this day, we have a standing 'joke' about her being my 'favorite cousin'... Of course, though we say it 'tongue in cheek', we both know there is much truth to it...smile... but that's a whole different story...

Anyway... while the cousins played 'kid games', the grown-ups played cards... and I recall that most times I would get bored with playing...probably after the youngest kids went to bed... and I would just sit quietly and watch...  Mom and dad would try to convince me to go play with the kids... but, for some reason, I never quite felt like I 'fit in'... I guess I wasn't good with 'groups' even then...

My parents never understood why I would rather be with them, than with my cousins, but eventually they would give up their coaxing and allow me to sit there, in my 'grown-up' folding chair, at the 'grown-up' card table... a little further back from the table than them, of course, so I wasn't 'interfering'... and oh...I had to be quiet... this was cards... it was 'serious'...

So, I'd sit silently, for hours...'hiding', in a sense...because as long as they didn't 'see' me, I'd be allowed to stay... So I'd just watch...and listen...and in the process, I learned how to play Rook... that was their game.  They always had such a good time...even when things turned 'competitive', which they often did, they still always ended up laughing at and with one another... and I found myself wanting to be a part of that...wanting to 'belong' there...

I guess that was some of my early training in 'people watching' and 'listening'... and, of course, in the fine art of being quiet... I got very good at being quiet... but somehow that was okay.  I didn't 'need' to talk.  As long as I could 'hear', then I felt like I was 'a part' of their world...

This is sparking some other childhood memories, but I'll save those for another time...

For now?... thank you, Karen, for 'reminding' me... smile... and for creating this thread...this 'family'... where, if I choose, I can just 'be quiet'... and still feel as if I 'belong'...

Love you, lady...
serenity blaze
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since 02-02-2000
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626 posted 05-11-2004 06:25 PM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze

Hey ya'll.

I'm just popping in to say howdy--things have been a bit wet down here in N'awlins, but so far, we're still among the lucky ones.

We didn't get water in the house--yet. (more storms are a comin') but our power was restored a while ago, so I thought I'd take advantage of that and pop in to let ya'll know I'm fine.

Shrug.

Maybe some of the bugs will drown.



Now ya'll know why people in N'awlins drink so much, huh?

*gigglesigh*

Love ya'll bunches.
Sunshine
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627 posted 05-11-2004 07:07 PM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine


So they can add to the water???
Mysteria
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628 posted 05-12-2004 01:29 AM       View Profile for Mysteria   Email Mysteria   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Mysteria

The best kind of bug is definitely a drowned bug!

Oh and by the way, Mz. Serenity told me today about a very strange happening during one of her N'Awlins floods, and I doubt I am going to sleep tonight.  It seems that they don't bury people below ground there, and all I can think of since we spoke is her telling me about "pop up coffins!"  I swear she tells me these things to keep me awake so she has someone to talk to all night.  Flying cockroaches was one thing, then we hear of flying termites, but sheesh ~ floating coffins is quite another matter.
serenity blaze
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629 posted 05-14-2004 12:33 AM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze


Mr. Gibbs, our dear friend, passed away today.

I was going to say how sorry I was to have to tell ya'll that, but the truth is, there comes a point of suffering where our prayers change to suit the comfort of the dying--or is that a rationalization of the living...?

I honestly don't know.

But prayers do change with circumstances.

But he did indeed "pass over" today, at about three in the afternoon.

And call it weird, call it drama, call it whatever you like, but I was indeed listening to Hank Williams at that time, thinking about our dances and songs with a smile on my face...

I was singing to him, "blue eyes cryin'" in tribute to all of this rain we've had lately, smiling to myself in a rare moment alone with my stereo.

*   *   *

Mr. Gibbs lived a simple life of sliced Americana--he loved, he lusted, sang, fished, built ships, and buried sons.

He danced in his kitchen, he flirted outrageously, and adored his wife.

and he loved Hank Williams, titties and beer.

*   *   *

Rest in peace my lovely friend. You carved a niche for yourself in my heart and I can never, ever, hear 'that lonesome whistle blow' without thinking of you.



Godspeed.
vlraynes
Member Rara Avis
since 07-25-2000
Posts 9136
Somewhere... out there...


630 posted 05-14-2004 01:28 AM       View Profile for vlraynes   Email vlraynes   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit vlraynes's Home Page   View IP for vlraynes


Karen?...

... love you, lady...

God bless Mr. Gibbs...
May he rest in peace...
Sunshine
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631 posted 05-14-2004 07:09 AM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine


One thing I know...
he was loved well
by one serenity...

God bless you, Mr. Gibbs.
Nightshade
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632 posted 05-14-2004 10:20 AM       View Profile for Nightshade   Email Nightshade   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Nightshade's Home Page   View IP for Nightshade

Ah, dear Karen....Mr.Gibbs is sure to love God's choir as much as he treasured listening to your precious voice. Thankyou for sharing the adoration you had for each other ... forever and for always.
God speed Mr.Gibbs.
hugs through tears, Chrislane
serenity blaze
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633 posted 05-16-2004 02:57 AM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze

This has been a hard, hard week.

I cried so much this past week, that I was accused of witchiness yet again, and told that I had created the storms without that matched the tirade within.

I lost Mr. Gibbs this week, but yanno? I had lost him long ago and I knew that, already, before I'd heard of the time of his actual death. That disease that killed his mind, killed the comradery between us long ago. I felt him slip away months before, when he would ask me at his kitchen table, if he could buy me a drink. The first two times he'd done that, I'd laughed and played along--the third time, though, I saw his eyes, and realized he was in earnest, and didn't know me.

The drinks were on me then.

I've been playing hopskotch with death all week. Southern Louisiana was hit with storm after storm, flooding the same by-ways every time, as if the sky raised mocking fists of accusations--"How long will you endure?"

sandbag dullard thoughts replied:

"As long as YOU."

*   *   *

I brought my brother's ashes home.

I had always thought his place was with me. I have his books, afterall, and I have taken care of him since I was a child, understanding that the grown man in him was defenseless to the insensitivies of the world.

I understood.

Leave him alone.

He was called, "The Gentle Giant," or "Brutus", depending upon whom was calling.
Once I saw him, catch a lizard, by pressing his giant thumb upon the lizard's tail. The tail broke, and actually sparked a bite of blood, as the stumpy reptile ran away.

My big brother cried--he cried, and turned to me asking "why--why does this always happen to me? I didn't mean to hurt the little guy..."

He just wanted to hold him.

*   *   *

So I felt I had to ask.

This is a strange and difficult proposition, to ask your mother, for the property of your brother's ashes, but I had to have him, here, with his books.

My brother breathed books...he ached knowledge in his eyes, and the only demanding bit of him was the frustration of anyone's refusal to think--then he could be temperment and spark volcanoes---yes, just like a witch.

*   *   *

So I did what anyone would do.

I told my sisters of my wishes first.



They filtered my request down to the queen mum gracefully, and I was allowed the dispensation of my brother's body.

Y'see, I had this urn...

but no, that never quite worked out.

(we'll spare you the dusty details, but it's true...)

But I'd had this box that my brother loved. He'd taken the hardware brass hinges off, and sanded it so lovingly....

I knew that is where he was meant to be.

The ashes of him fit perfectly.

He's here, with me, atop his books, The Complete Encyclopedia of Biblical Knowledge,
sandwiched by the Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire, with one white votive burning his memory.

OH.

And a little sister who types strange stuff on the internet.

(He'd have loved this stuff...)



Welcome home, Keith.
vlraynes
Member Rara Avis
since 07-25-2000
Posts 9136
Somewhere... out there...


634 posted 05-16-2004 03:30 AM       View Profile for vlraynes   Email vlraynes   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit vlraynes's Home Page   View IP for vlraynes


Karen?... ...

Keith is, indeed, home now...
and, no doubt, smiling at you...



Love you, K...
Sunshine
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635 posted 05-16-2004 06:52 AM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

Ashes & Books.

Somehow, someway, Keith just handed you a title.  He knew you would know what to do with it.

serenity blaze
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since 02-02-2000
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636 posted 05-16-2004 07:18 AM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze

giggle...

my brother has had a few fires before this last one, and I suggest to you that if you heard ashes AND books? you've got a sprinkler system.

sigh.

One year, soon after his term in Huntsville State Pen, he came home so emotionally devastated, that all we could do is offer him a room.

He did re-build after doing his time there, but all that he built, he lost in a house fire. Including, and most especially, his beloved dog, Rosie.

He borrowed a shovel from a fireman to bury her.

and yes, Keith is on my mind...sigh...

hugs sunshine
serenity blaze
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since 02-02-2000
Posts 28839


637 posted 05-16-2004 07:33 AM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze

He'd say stuff like that, when people were apt to whining.

"I borrowed a shovel to bury my dog."

yep.

You'd think that would end the conversation but he would pause, and heave a breath and continue,

"yep. I borrowed a shovel from the fireman who was pissing on the coals of my life."

silence....then?

"hell...he wasn't usin' it."

My brother had always resented not being born a TEXAN.

I think he more than made up for it.

garysgirl
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638 posted 05-16-2004 08:24 AM       View Profile for garysgirl   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit garysgirl's Home Page   View IP for garysgirl

Karen, I'm sorry about Mr. Gibbs.......
it sounds
like he was a normal guy, by what he loved......
especially the titties part...

And, I'm so glad that your Mother agreed to your
bringing your brother "home". It sounds as though he
would like being around his little sister.

I love you all.....
Sunshine
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639 posted 05-16-2004 09:15 AM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

I've been thinking along those lines myself...not being born a Texan...but then, I seem to be in a state of flux, myself.

My mother was "deathly" afraid of fire.  She feared she would lose her life in a fire.  I never got to find out the why of her fear, just that she had it.

Never did understand, later, why she chose to be cremated....
Nightshade
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640 posted 05-16-2004 09:49 AM       View Profile for Nightshade   Email Nightshade   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Nightshade's Home Page   View IP for Nightshade

Karen...you are more precious than you will ever know.
serenity blaze
Member Empyrean
since 02-02-2000
Posts 28839


641 posted 05-18-2004 01:22 AM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze

Thanks...

I've been thinking about this journal a bit, and wondering if it's a bit arrogant of me to presume that anyone would be interested in my meanderings.

I realized though, that it takes a bit of arrogance to be a writer, and although "writer" is not the only thing I've ever aspired to become, it is the most consistent. I have grown fond of saying that like "Scout", from To Kill A Mockingbird, I was born reading. It sure seems that way. I belonged to a book club since I was three--and that was a luxury my parents really couldn't afford. It was a gift my mother gave to me, and it was a gift of comradery. To this day, her bedroom is a cozy mess of paperbacks and notebooks - a small mountain of testimony to her love of the written word.

Smile.

Okay. Now that was flowery. I can't read that "garbage" my mother reads. *chuckle* She's into detective stories and thrillers, and I try, I truly do, to read her weekly offerings:

"This one is really good!"

grins and a shake of head here...

Then I try, and find myself outlining the plot in my head, trying to turn the page that seems suddenly heavy without tossing it against the wall while screaming inwardly (and tsk...sometimes OUTWARDLY) "PREDICTABLE!!!"

sheesh.

(I was once threatened with eviction from the student library at the University of New Orleans for book-tossing.)

*wince*

Perhaps I should have taken that suggested seminar in anger management.

But anyhoo, I was worried that I was boring people with my journal.

Then I realized that reading is a choice.

So feel free to toss this thread at will, good poets. If I've learned nothing else in life, I know how to duck.  

*   *   *

I'm morosely preoccupied with death these days. I went to the "wake" of Mr. Gibbs tonight, and no, I'm not exactly all weepy.

I am regretful tho, that his last birthday, I was too ill to go sing happy birthday to him as per his request. I knew it would be his last party too--and I tried, but when I stood, the floor swept up to confuse me and I honestly didn't know which end up was up.

"Tell him I'm sorry..." I told his daughter, and I stayed home on couch patrol, frustrated with myself that I couldn't RAGE myself well.

I was seriously ill those months, and that is an extremely lonely place to be.

I didn't have a lot of help, but to be fair, I am a horrible patient, and I can make "helping" me damned near impossible. My sister compared me to a dog when I'm ill, in that I am more apt to go crawl under the house to die than I am to go weeping to a doctor.

"I'm fine." Dammit. "REALLY."



But as I type, I've a pork roast marinating, which I'll bring to the family tomorrow evening.

My husband saw it and said, "oh boy".

sigh.

I guess I'll bake two.

He's a stingy sort, and doesn't understand the niceties and mores of custom. He doesn't understand I have a need do to this sort of thing, either. He calls me stupid for doing stuff like that. He'll be looking for that roast for dinner. I'll just have to fake him out with a substitute, huh?

*wink*

He's always been a jerk like that, but now he is a SICK jerk. He's scared too.

"Quit drinking or die."

That is what the doc told him.

So he quit drinking.

The biopsy on his liver did not detect cancer, but did show a level 3 stage of cirrhosis (sp.?) of the liver. That was on a scale of 1-4.

He now faces 48 weeks of self injection of interferon.

There's an apt irony that the treatment for Hepatitis C involves self injection, doncha think?

Self injection, and more than a little bit of pain. The very thing we both fled through self-medication all of these years, we're now supposed to administer to ourselves.

Karma is a bitch.

*  *  *

Yet in the spirit of honesty in which I started this journal, I feel like I need to confess my total resentment.

Now, now he needs me.

And yes, there is the part of Karen that wants to be able to do this joyfully, and with a good heart, but there is also the me that he left on the couch to die alone.

This man stood over me and said, "I know you're dying."

Then he walked out of the door.

And I wish, I really wish I could forget that he did that. And I can't.

And the fact that I can't makes me feel ugly inside--and I wish I knew some way to remove that from me.

I never liked me much anyway, but this part of me is just intolerable to look at. It's so much like the parts of him I always condemned.

I wish I had a drink. Or ten.

*   *   *

I did keep the card of that psychologist though. The edges are worn now from me pulling it out of my wallet, then stuffing it back, hidden behind my library card.

It might be a good time to ask for help.

*   *   *

I'll think about it.

Until then, I have two pork roasts marinating, and I'll cook them up Hawaian style.

Tonight?

Sleep will be enough.

*   *   *

Thanks for listening to me whine...


Mysteria
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642 posted 05-18-2004 02:39 AM       View Profile for Mysteria   Email Mysteria   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Mysteria

Karen, you may never forget George leaving you on that couch when you were sick, but because of who you are are, I think you will forgive him.  Funny how life turns us around sometimes isn't it?  He does need you now, and because I know you as I do, I also know you will be there, until it either makes you or breaks you both.  Just as sure as he will be eating a wonderful pork roast tomorrow, you will be there to join him.

This journal of yours lets each of us go inside ourselves just a little bit further to get to understand ourselves more did you know that?  Through this journal we experience just about every living emotion known to mankind (why isn't it womankind?) well anywho...I am sure there are lots of people just reading along for the ride, and discovering emotions and things about themselves they didn't know before reading.  "Scout" is a good nickname for you Mz Serenity, and by the way, that is my all time favorite book, and movie.  You scout out words that trigger emotions in every person you try to reach and succeed, so I would say that is quite something to be proud of, and shucks you can sing too      

Gawd, but I lub ya witch!  Hang in there, tomorrow is just another day, as crazy as today.

Psst - I loved the story of the little plaque too, only you can make me laugh when I am crying - now that is an art lady.  I am glad your brother is "home" where he belongs.
Sunshine
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643 posted 05-18-2004 06:47 AM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

quote:
Then I realized that reading is a choice.

Sure is.  Irks the dickens out of me when I check and don't see any new posts on this thread, from anyone...

Irks me when I still feeling like I'm taking over your thread...albeit, "interactive".
quote:
now he needs me

I know THAT, too...

I'll be back.  But leaving the hugs here, for you to pick up before you take the roast over...so that you can share mine with yours, with them.

Dark Angel
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644 posted 05-18-2004 09:14 AM       View Profile for Dark Angel   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Dark Angel

I'm always here.. lurking about and reading, I'm sorry I don't leave something to say but most of the time I am left totally speechless and choked up...that's a really really good thing.

Luv ya'll.

and Karen

Maree xx

The clouds never expect it when it rains, but the sea, changes colour, but the sea, does not change.
~Stevie Nicks~

Janet Marie
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645 posted 05-18-2004 01:11 PM       View Profile for Janet Marie   Email Janet Marie   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Janet Marie

quoting Sen:

"And I wish, I really wish I could forget that he did that. And I can't.

And the fact that I can't makes me feel ugly inside--and I wish I knew some way to remove that from me.

I never liked me much anyway, but this part of me is just intolerable to look at. It's so much like the parts of him I always condemned.

=======================================

I cant not respond to this...I started to by email, but in the spirit of the thread and knowing there are many of us who feel like this...I will talk about it here....

Like so many times before, we mirror KA....
Since my surgery, I have been working thru much of the same feelings, different circumstances, but the emotional realities are the same...

You have every right to be angry, disappointed and disgusted...the resentment is an honest and natural reaction to being disregarded by someone who is supposed to be "on our side"  
In truth, there is nothing "ugly" about that side of you...its actually an inner strength and defense mechanism trying to kick in...
you need to draw off of it...find your voice in it... how you accept this part of you will be what defines you from "being like him"

All too often as women we wont embrace this part of us...we are taught that we have to be the givers, the caretakers, the mothers, and have be there for every one else, even at the cost of our own being and spirit.
Thats fine if we have some resemblance of the same support system backing us up when we need it...but far too often thats not the case.....

Forgive me the bitter pill...
Im a tired moth....tired of forgiving only to have the same treatment replayed. Tired of giving myself away when there seems to be few who are willing to invest in me, the same way I do for them with out question.

The same ones that seem to expect so much of me, arent willing to give me the same respect or support back.

I've come to realize there is a fine line between being "faithful and forgiving" and being a door mat...

Dedication becomes a curse...they know you will ALWAYS be there...always forgive them, and so it becomes something that is taken for granted...passed over...No effort has to be put into someone who is always there.

Constance becomes like an old pair of shoes...like good ole Shep who always comes when you call and forgives the times you kick him when he gets in your way.

We need to learn to love ourselves more than we love the people in our lives...we need to love US, as much as we love being "in love."
And most of all we need to find the strength and resolve to hold them accountable when they wont give us equal consideration and respect that we give them.

Its so damn easy to say the words...
living them out is a whole nother matter...
Actions speak louder than words...

Ya know that Brooks and Dunn song...

"you better kiss me...cuz youre gonna miss me when I'm gone."

Or not................

either way... theres less of me "here"

dont know if this make sense to anyone but mothyme..but I thank you for the place to pour it out.

love you guys

Sunshine
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646 posted 05-18-2004 01:39 PM       View Profile for Sunshine   Email Sunshine   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Sunshine's Home Page   View IP for Sunshine

JM...Amen.
Nightshade
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647 posted 05-18-2004 01:48 PM       View Profile for Nightshade   Email Nightshade   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Nightshade's Home Page   View IP for Nightshade

Care taking is hard on the mind, body and spirit. I threw myself headlong into a relationship that I knew in my heart of hearts was going to be difficult if not down right dangerous. There were times when sleep was out of the question, eating made me feel like throwing up, and I just couldn't seem to get the house clean enough....sanitized....exorcised.
   Demons dwelled here. Demons where there was supposed to be peace and joy. I never, ever thought I would be spending my evenings waiting on the edge of the couch, chain smoking, purse and keys by my side just in case I had to flee. Evenings spent watching over someone whose breathing suddenly slowed...eyes half open..yet not seeing. Emergency rooms and intensive care, were the places I frequented more than grocery stores or WalMart. I wanted to save him. In doing so....lost myself, bit by bit.
   When he did "see the light" and turn his life around, I helped him regain his self-confidence enough to get his highschool diploma, long overdue. Of course, that meant that now my nights were spent doing his homework. Yes..I did his homework. While I wrote essays etc., wishing it were for my own self as I didn't finish highschool either.....he was sober and having an affair. Ain't life grand?!!
  Fast forward a few years. Yes lets. I am now married to him. I love him more than I ever thought it was possible to love someone. He loves me - he is the one who must live with his shortcomings day after day. There is no need to remind him. Like your George, Karen, he is suffering from past mistakes - physically.
  As it was said in Legends of the Fall, "he is the rock that they broke themselves against."  Do I get weepy? Sometimes. Do I feel anger? Sometimes. Would I change my life and it's experiences? Never. Many of us have to walk through the darkness to experience the light. Sometimes.
   Hugging all of you tight. Chrislane
Enchantress
Member Empyrean
since 08-14-2001
Posts 37801
Somewhere in time~


648 posted 05-18-2004 01:57 PM       View Profile for Enchantress   Email Enchantress   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Enchantress

All of what you said JM made sense..

after reading..
"The same ones that seem to expect so much of me, arent willing to give me the same respect or support back.

I've come to realize there is a fine line between being "faithful and forgiving" and being a door mat...

Dedication becomes a curse...they know you will ALWAYS be there...always forgive them, and so it becomes something that is taken for granted...passed over...No effort has to be put into someone who is always there."

That is when I started to cry.

I know exactly what you mean..and when it's our turn to hurt...who's there for 'us'?

Karen, I'm glad your brother is home with you..I remember you writing something somewhere when you received his books and I was so pleased for you..but this thread wasn't there then to tell you.
I am so happy it's here now, for everyone.

I come here often..mostly to sit, read and relax..but lately I'm finding just how much we as women all have in common.

Karen?

I know I'm not supposed to eat it, but..
may I please have a piece of that pork roast?

Love you all so very much.
Janet Marie
Member Laureate
since 01-22-2000
Posts 18986


649 posted 05-18-2004 01:58 PM       View Profile for Janet Marie   Email Janet Marie   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for Janet Marie

"he is the rock that they broke themselves against."


==============================


yessssssssss .... exactly .........

*sigh*
 
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