"And loveIt's not the easy thing
The only baggage you can bringIs all that you can't leave behind"
This line from a U2 song has been dancing around my head today, especially the line "All that you can't leave behind."
That line describes my life. I have a lot of baggage, but it's nothing compared to some very close to me. They've got so much baggage, it's slowly pushing my life to the wayside, as I am forced, time and time again, to deal with their baggage at the cost of my own.
It's like a giant, super-sticky spider's web filled with baggage. Baggage to the left, baggage to the right. Baggage in front of us, baggage trailing behind.
AND IT'S NOT MINE!
I have been taking on their baggage for years, to "keep the peace," to "not rock the boat," to "make things okay," to "not upset the apple cart," or however that fucking saying goes.
I'M TIRED OF HANDLING THE BAGGAGE.
So... I started forcing some decisions. Ultimatums, if you will. Oh, how people hate ultimatums. I can't stand the fucking things. But here I am, forcing ultimatums on people. Trying to free myself from this giant, super-sticky spider's web, one strand at a time. Trying to live the life I put on hold, to help others live a lie.
No more.
If this house of cards ends up crumbling, then so be it.
It's not my baggage.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
A Child's Hug
(written: April 12, 2007)
I saw video of a child hugging his dad, crying.
Let me back up a bit.
The dad, just back from Iraq, decided to surprise his son at school.
Our photographer backed into the classroom first, followed by the boy's mom.
Then Dad walked in.
The camera swung around- caught the look of shock on the boy's face.
His lips trembled, his little body shook.
Then he launched himself out of his little chair and charged up to his dad, who swung his boy up in one motion and hugged him close.
The wireless microphone picked up the emotional exchange.
Dad: I missed you.
Boy: I missed you too, Daddy.
Cue the tears. Grab the tissues.
That video, shot by our photographer, has made it around the world.
The Today Show ran it.
Inside Edition ran it.
Access Hollywood ran it.
AFN ran it.
The Pentagon channel ran it.
I've seen that hug at least 20 times.
Each time I watch, I cry.
I cry because I remember the day my own dad came for a visit.
The year: 1969
The war: Vietnam
My mom and I were living in Seoul, South Korea.
We lived near her family while my dad did his duty for Uncle Sam.
It also make it easier for him to visit on the rare occasion that he got to take r'n'r.
He flew to Tokyo, then to Seoul.
He surprised me, not at school.
He was waiting when I came home from school.
Sitting on the front steps in full dress uniform.
I remember seeing him from down the street.
I'm sure my lip trembled.
I'm sure my body shook. I don't remember.
I do remember running down the street and launching myself into his arms, crying.
Dad: I missed you.
Me: I missed you too, Daddy.
Then, I took him by the hand and paraded him up and down the street, crying out in Korean, "Yuh-ghee nah abu-jee ee-suh-yuh!" "Here is my dad!"
You see, I had been teased unmercifully in the time I'd lived in Korea without my dad.
I have the curly hair and round eyes of my dad.
I speak the fluent Korean of my mom.
The kids said my dad must have "had his way" with my mom then abandoned us, as had happened with so many other families.
When I said, "No, my daddy is fighting in Vietnam," they laughed.
"That's just what your mom tells you."
Well, here was living proof.
Flesh and Blood.
My Daddy.
Visiting from Vietnam.
Letting me drag him down the street to meet everyone once and for all.
So they could see my Daddy loved my Mommy... and he loved me, too.
I saw video of a child hugging his dad, crying.
Let me back up a bit.
The dad, just back from Iraq, decided to surprise his son at school.
Our photographer backed into the classroom first, followed by the boy's mom.
Then Dad walked in.
The camera swung around- caught the look of shock on the boy's face.
His lips trembled, his little body shook.
Then he launched himself out of his little chair and charged up to his dad, who swung his boy up in one motion and hugged him close.
The wireless microphone picked up the emotional exchange.
Dad: I missed you.
Boy: I missed you too, Daddy.
Cue the tears. Grab the tissues.
That video, shot by our photographer, has made it around the world.
The Today Show ran it.
Inside Edition ran it.
Access Hollywood ran it.
AFN ran it.
The Pentagon channel ran it.
I've seen that hug at least 20 times.
Each time I watch, I cry.
I cry because I remember the day my own dad came for a visit.
The year: 1969
The war: Vietnam
My mom and I were living in Seoul, South Korea.
We lived near her family while my dad did his duty for Uncle Sam.
It also make it easier for him to visit on the rare occasion that he got to take r'n'r.
He flew to Tokyo, then to Seoul.
He surprised me, not at school.
He was waiting when I came home from school.
Sitting on the front steps in full dress uniform.
I remember seeing him from down the street.
I'm sure my lip trembled.
I'm sure my body shook. I don't remember.
I do remember running down the street and launching myself into his arms, crying.
Dad: I missed you.
Me: I missed you too, Daddy.
Then, I took him by the hand and paraded him up and down the street, crying out in Korean, "Yuh-ghee nah abu-jee ee-suh-yuh!" "Here is my dad!"
You see, I had been teased unmercifully in the time I'd lived in Korea without my dad.
I have the curly hair and round eyes of my dad.
I speak the fluent Korean of my mom.
The kids said my dad must have "had his way" with my mom then abandoned us, as had happened with so many other families.
When I said, "No, my daddy is fighting in Vietnam," they laughed.
"That's just what your mom tells you."
Well, here was living proof.
Flesh and Blood.
My Daddy.
Visiting from Vietnam.
Letting me drag him down the street to meet everyone once and for all.
So they could see my Daddy loved my Mommy... and he loved me, too.
Life
(written: June 8, 2006)
My Life
It is what it is
The storytelling
That blossomed into lies
The depression-fueled lows
The cocaine highs
The dreams that came true
And those that failed miserably
Money evaporating before my eyes
Leaving me in the dark
I fell hard
But I never stayed down
Does that make me a victor
Or a sucker for more
more pain
more gain
more pride
more shame
New life
New strife
with no end in sight
Each failure increases hesitation
Do I try again?
Whats around the bend?
Wouldnt it be easier to lie down
and never wake?
But I cant do that
For Ians sake
Pick yourself up, girl!
Take a look around you!
My brain chides, cajoles and berates
Pick yourself up
Theres nothing wrong with
your legs
your eyes
your brain
Take it all in
Use the lessons youve learned
Brace for those yet to come
Some may not be pleasant
Some may be quite fun
But whatever you meet
Face it with your head held high
It is what it is
This thing called Your Life.
My Life
It is what it is
The storytelling
That blossomed into lies
The depression-fueled lows
The cocaine highs
The dreams that came true
And those that failed miserably
Money evaporating before my eyes
Leaving me in the dark
I fell hard
But I never stayed down
Does that make me a victor
Or a sucker for more
more pain
more gain
more pride
more shame
New life
New strife
with no end in sight
Each failure increases hesitation
Do I try again?
Whats around the bend?
Wouldnt it be easier to lie down
and never wake?
But I cant do that
For Ians sake
Pick yourself up, girl!
Take a look around you!
My brain chides, cajoles and berates
Pick yourself up
Theres nothing wrong with
your legs
your eyes
your brain
Take it all in
Use the lessons youve learned
Brace for those yet to come
Some may not be pleasant
Some may be quite fun
But whatever you meet
Face it with your head held high
It is what it is
This thing called Your Life.
Hiding Places
(written: September 1, 2006)
EVERYONE HIDES.
That's a fact of life. HOW we hide is a different story.
I know a woman who hides behind hair extensions, fake nails and colored contact lenses. She's a beautiful woman, but you'd never tell because she looks like such a Barbie. She also hides what could be a lovely personality behind bitterness, jealousy and pettiness. There's not much to enjoy in her company anymore, and what's worse, no one can tell her.
A good friend of mine is hiding behind loneliness. She is planning to marry a man she does not love. He is not a nice man. He's very conniving, making decisions for both of them, then apologizing after the fact. I won't go into detail but you know what I mean. I think she's afraid she won't find love if she lets this man go. I love her dearly, but know that she needs to make her own decisions. That's the hardest part.
Another friend of mine hides behind what he calls "his career". He's been working away at the same job for 20 years-- moving from city to city. He keep saying he'll think about "settling down" once he finds a city he likes. He's still looking for that city.
Do I hide? You'd better believe it! I hide behind the biggest wall of all - my weight. I packed it on when I got pregnant and never lost it. It comes in handy when I want to be invisible, because no one looks twice at an overweight woman. I've tried to lose weight a countless number of times. But I realize, I really DON'T want to lose weight. I don't want attention. I like being invisible. I don't even mind the sneering looks I get from trim, fit people who think I'm a lazy slob. Let them. They don't know me. I don't care what they think.
I hide in my shell. Will someone crack it?
EVERYONE HIDES.
That's a fact of life. HOW we hide is a different story.
I know a woman who hides behind hair extensions, fake nails and colored contact lenses. She's a beautiful woman, but you'd never tell because she looks like such a Barbie. She also hides what could be a lovely personality behind bitterness, jealousy and pettiness. There's not much to enjoy in her company anymore, and what's worse, no one can tell her.
A good friend of mine is hiding behind loneliness. She is planning to marry a man she does not love. He is not a nice man. He's very conniving, making decisions for both of them, then apologizing after the fact. I won't go into detail but you know what I mean. I think she's afraid she won't find love if she lets this man go. I love her dearly, but know that she needs to make her own decisions. That's the hardest part.
Another friend of mine hides behind what he calls "his career". He's been working away at the same job for 20 years-- moving from city to city. He keep saying he'll think about "settling down" once he finds a city he likes. He's still looking for that city.
Do I hide? You'd better believe it! I hide behind the biggest wall of all - my weight. I packed it on when I got pregnant and never lost it. It comes in handy when I want to be invisible, because no one looks twice at an overweight woman. I've tried to lose weight a countless number of times. But I realize, I really DON'T want to lose weight. I don't want attention. I like being invisible. I don't even mind the sneering looks I get from trim, fit people who think I'm a lazy slob. Let them. They don't know me. I don't care what they think.
I hide in my shell. Will someone crack it?
Symphony of Life
(written: June 4, 2006)
I took time to listen today... and I heard quite a lot.
I heard the light patter of my son running down the hall from his bedroom to the computer room to watch morning TV. (He's done this every weekend morning since he could walk - he's now 11)
I heard the soft snores of my dog as he napped in his crate. He's a black lab/golden retriever mix and a real bundle of energy except when he's sleeping. He snuffled and snored until I threw my blanket back and touched the carpeted floor with my bare feet. In that instant, Marley scrambled to his feet and was ready for me to open the bedroom door so he can bound joyfully down the hall, his nails clicking and scrabbling on the hardwood floor.
I heard the soft fall of rain outside my kitchen window, drops plinking on the cover of my barbeque grill, or slapping on the leaves of all the trees in the backyard.
I heard the whir and whine of the weed-wacker as my husband trimmed the jungle-like grass at the foot of our front yard.
I heard the dulcet tones of Stephen Fry narrating the latest Harry Potter book on my cd player as I layered ingredients for our lasagne dinner.
I heard the running shower, accompanied by my son's wordless humming, sometimes swelling to aria-like proportions as he indulged in his nightly waterfest.
I heard the soft whirr of my computer as I sit in my lamplit office, catching up with emails as the rest of the house grows silent in the night.
Another day has gone-- and with it, the sounds that make up a Symphony of Life.
I took time to listen today... and I heard quite a lot.
I heard the light patter of my son running down the hall from his bedroom to the computer room to watch morning TV. (He's done this every weekend morning since he could walk - he's now 11)
I heard the soft snores of my dog as he napped in his crate. He's a black lab/golden retriever mix and a real bundle of energy except when he's sleeping. He snuffled and snored until I threw my blanket back and touched the carpeted floor with my bare feet. In that instant, Marley scrambled to his feet and was ready for me to open the bedroom door so he can bound joyfully down the hall, his nails clicking and scrabbling on the hardwood floor.
I heard the soft fall of rain outside my kitchen window, drops plinking on the cover of my barbeque grill, or slapping on the leaves of all the trees in the backyard.
I heard the whir and whine of the weed-wacker as my husband trimmed the jungle-like grass at the foot of our front yard.
I heard the dulcet tones of Stephen Fry narrating the latest Harry Potter book on my cd player as I layered ingredients for our lasagne dinner.
I heard the running shower, accompanied by my son's wordless humming, sometimes swelling to aria-like proportions as he indulged in his nightly waterfest.
I heard the soft whirr of my computer as I sit in my lamplit office, catching up with emails as the rest of the house grows silent in the night.
Another day has gone-- and with it, the sounds that make up a Symphony of Life.
Soul
"The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience."~Emily Dickinson
Yes, Su is quoting again! Seriously, I saw this and it really spoke to me. It's so easy to shut our souls down because we are upset, tired, frustrated or depressed. I am guilty of that. My heart and soul shut down, then the rest of me quickly follows. Before I know it, I've sunk into a pit of depression and lethargy. This usually lasts days to weeks- and takes a major event (or a good beating), to bring me out of it.
Lately, though, I've tried to find reasons to keep me from sinking into depression (lifelines, if you will... as in "throw me a line, I'm going down for the last time"). Anything that will light a spark of hope, which can blossom into moments of self-love.
So... the above quote comes at a very good time. It's a good reminder to keep the door to your soul open, even if a tiny bit (ajar), so that when the next ecstatic experience arrives, it can come in-- instead of bouncing off the door and ricocheting back into the stratosphere.
The quote reminds me that there's always good around the corner, once you slog through the shit.
Yes, Su is quoting again! Seriously, I saw this and it really spoke to me. It's so easy to shut our souls down because we are upset, tired, frustrated or depressed. I am guilty of that. My heart and soul shut down, then the rest of me quickly follows. Before I know it, I've sunk into a pit of depression and lethargy. This usually lasts days to weeks- and takes a major event (or a good beating), to bring me out of it.
Lately, though, I've tried to find reasons to keep me from sinking into depression (lifelines, if you will... as in "throw me a line, I'm going down for the last time"). Anything that will light a spark of hope, which can blossom into moments of self-love.
So... the above quote comes at a very good time. It's a good reminder to keep the door to your soul open, even if a tiny bit (ajar), so that when the next ecstatic experience arrives, it can come in-- instead of bouncing off the door and ricocheting back into the stratosphere.
The quote reminds me that there's always good around the corner, once you slog through the shit.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)