I wonder if this crop of fifty year old women who are recovering from growing up with narcissistic mothers should have a sit down with Gloria Steinman. Thank her for paving the way for our sisters, but wish that she could have helped our mothers find the strength to move into themselves, without leaving us as the collateral damage.
This is what was in my head this morning. Something I remember from my childhood, but have absolutely no context for. None.
And yet, it feels right.
I had a 2 hour massage yesterday. Seriously. The woman who does these massages actually changes your life! She did mine anyway.
Three years ago, on my mothers’s birthday, I fell down some steps and broke my arm. It was one of those moments in your life when all things around you crash in on you, and you just sit there and think, “nothing is ever going to be the same after this.” I was right, it wasn’t. It was far enough into my mom’s alzheimer’s that she could barely carry on a conversation with me on the phone. It makes my stomach hurt to even think about that conversation. I went out that day to walk over to the gym, I was working on getting myself healthy. As I started down the steps, this voice inside me told me not to do it. I ignored the voice, and fell down the steps.
Three years have passed and though my arm is strong and recovered, the rest of me is not so much. The massage yesterday was a force of change that I still cannot believe. In releasing my muscles, she was able to realign my femur, which was trying to poke out my butt. Then she released the knot in my knee, my shoulder, and both my feet. When I went to stand up I was overwhelmed by this feeling I had forgotten, standing in my body and not being in pain. I had forgotten that you can actually be in your body and not be in pain. I FORGOT THIS! How is that possible?
And so, slowly I turn, and step by step I move myself into a place where my body and I are not at odds. Where I can walk again, and be in the world again, and not have to pretend that everything is alright and that I am just like everyone else, except that I am miserable.
I actually smiled yesterday, while I was standing up.
This morning I woke up with a little more hope. A little less pain. A whole lot of anxiety. But a feeling like I may be able to survive.
This is something I have not had in what feels like a long time.
I HATE that I am an Eeyore. I want to at least be moving toward Rabbit or Piglet. I understand anxiety and fear. But this Eeyore hopelessness is just draining.
I wonder what it would be like to be a natural Tigger? Or just a comfortable Pooh Bear?
Did I work at the Disney Store too many years?
…. I do it so rarely, that when I want to blog I can remember how to get on line and then create a new entry…it is VEXING!
I have cried a lot today. Happy new year, crazy crying lady. I think it may have just hit me that:
1. Like Danny Glover in “Lethal Weapon” I am too old for this shit. Being that working 10 hour days in retail with only one potty break and not eating actually makes me sick for a few days.
2. That it is already 2013 and I did not do anything to celebrate or acknowledge it’s passing, besides
calling my sister at 3:30am to hold my head as I threw up and shook from exhaustion.
3. That there was actually someone in my life for the first time in WELL over 20 years who would do that for me.
4. That no matter how well I do at work, I have a belief that everything is going to drop out from beneath me and that I am going to be homeless, jobless, and have to tape my shoes together with duct tape and hold up signs at intersections that read “have a degree in theatre, music, film and yoga. totally, unemployable, please help”.
5. That my parents are dead. Now this is not news. Dad died 8 years ago, Mom a year and change. But for some reason this just kinda snuck up on me and hit me like it was new today. Might help explain the crying. Or some of it. But suddenly I feel very old and very mortal and very sad.
6. That I am afraid of being old, mortal and sad. I am afraid of the pain I feel in my body and in my heart. I am afraid that I will wake up tomorrow and not know how to answer my phone, or I will be confused about how to reply to e-mail….
…..or worse, I won’t be able to figure out how to use my blog. And that will mean I am old, broken, and a waste of viable human organs. This is not a happy spot for me. And I have decided that I am going to try to get myself acting “as if” I was happier. With the idea that acting will actually lead to being.
So today, I am sad, and leaking from my eyes and my chest hurts and my brain is foggy. But tomorrow when I wake up it will be a little better. See, I said, “when I wake up”! Things are getting better already.