The S.A.M.Story Part XV

PART XV

The music automatically started playing as she drove away.  This time the familiar tunes would do the reverse, as she yearned to be there, with him, and unlike her original journey it would lengthen her drive back to her home knowing each mile was taking her away from him, doubling the distance.  The same songs that had made her excitingly anticipatory now made her nostalgic, weighing heavy on her heart; making more want for the love sung about in the melodic words.  

Leaving the country road and approaching the highway her phone beeped notifying of a message.  She laughed through her tear filled eyes and couldn't wait to see what he already had to say as she had barely left!  It was SO like him to know just the perfect thing she needed!  Pulling over she scrolled down.  She was surprised to see several messages but not from him as she had thought.  Not realizing the poor service at his house, incoming calls and messages that had been delayed and intercepted had just then started coming through.  Most of them were from friends and family but there was a number she didn't recognize.  It was from her doctor.

To listen to the message she pressed one, but being more focused on the timing, as she asked herself, "What doctor calls on a Saturday?", she missed some of the words being spoken and had to replay it.  All she clearly heard was MRI and tumor.  She shouldn't have been surprised as all the prior symptoms had made it more likely than not.  But she was.  Maybe because she had tried to change the outcome by remaining positive and hopeful.  In some ways she had used this trip to "Denial" as a place of escape-to forget; if only for 24 hrs.  It had served its purpose!

She was now angry because the world, the life she had waited for, had just changed course. The puzzle pieces she had been collecting most of her life had almost been enough to accomplish her "dream"-having just gathered some of the most important remaining pieces from him.  The doctor's discouraging words were as if someone had just pushed her almost-completed-1000-piece-puzzle off the table and onto the floor.  

All the emotions that had been stored inside her heart came pouring out her chest in the way of sobs.  She was crying, not only for the current words she had just heard, but for the unspoken ones she had kept inside and never shared, and for the imagined and desired ones of comfort, not yet uttered.  She was crying because she felt so alone.
  
There had never been much dialogue around the topic of physical well being between them so they had implicitly chose not to open up that subject.  Some things remained classified even defying S.A.M.s .  Their health was something they had not actually "discussed", yet was honored between them as an almost sacred subject, kept in their personal vaults.  Medical needs had only been brought up regarding their aging parents' health problems back when they first "met"-bonding them in an understanding way that only comes from empathetic sharing.  

As close as she felt to him and as hopeful as she had "dreamed" of being with him, her doctor visits were a S.A.M. she had chosen at the time not to share.  She like him, "pretended" that if you don't acknowledge something, then maybe it doesn't exist.  But she knew, and it had affected her expectations.  Answering her own, "What are you doing?!" question she knew she had been adamant about requiring commitment because she needed someone who was willing to 'stand the test of time' as they say.  She knew what he didn't.

She had never wanted him to feel as if he "had" to stay with her and eventually marry her because she was ill, as he was so caring.  From the beginning he had a compassionate heart and she wanted to make sure he was in this because he was committed to her, through love, and not staying only because he wouldn't desert her; out of sympathy.  

It was one of the reasons why she had chosen to stay intimately, carnally detached- as she would otherwise evolve into an emotionally distorted woman; becoming clouded in appetite, prematurely advancing the relationship and forgoing the clarity needed for such a crucial decision.

It was also why falling for her "beauty" had to be much deeper than only outside appearance.  Subconsciously her doctor appointments had solidified her need for commitment-for a ring- wanting someone  'in sickness and in health' and for eternity; as "till death do you part" had then become such a conceivable possibility.  Only she had not wanted nor expected it to come like this.  And not now.  Would he understand now why what she 'wasn't wearing' mattered so much to her?


Already pining for him and feeling all alone she drove the lonely road, not knowing he was  feeling it too.  He had watched her drive away, and still sitting on his porch almost an hour later, he was reflecting on the most outstanding 24 hrs he had ever had, subsequently missing her immensely.  

He, like her, wanted to physically escape the distressing moment they were emotionally experiencing , although it wasn't able to happen.  Wanting to drown out the tough parts of life and the echoing words disclosing unwanted truths, they each turned up the music volume to unhealthy-to-eardrum decibels as their only other option.  He on his porch and she in her car, separate yet together, simultaneously chose music as their anesthetic.

The Shelf On The Elf

One of the Kindergartners told me about an elf who showed up at his house.

This elf on the shelf moves around "spying" on him to report back to Santa about his behavior.

It had made me suspicious as I looked around the shelves in my home.

Was there some mini-midget with pointed ears and tiny shoes stalking me?

What would his report state (about me) to the Big Guy up North?

* Has red nightie.  Flannel. 


* Thinks Christmas is still two months away.  


* The only holiday baking smells are cinnamon Red Hot gum.

*  No decorations. 

*  Currently on vacation in Denial.


*  Wonders why the news is highlighting houses decorated in festive lights in sync to holiday music.

*  States that her shopping is done (because she isn't going to do any.)

*  It sounds like the cat is purring to the tune of "You're a mean one..."

P.S.  Did the Grinch have a wife?

Elf
 


I am not sure what happened, but when I got up this morning there were the likes of miniature Ruby-like-Slippers sticking out from a fallen shelf. 

(It closely resembled the tornado stricken Kansas house accident.)
Did I mention the slippers fit perfectly?!

Mirror, Mirror, On The Wall

There are more mirrors in my life than I have paid much attention to.

Then unavoidably, one day, I turn a corner and there one is,
With me gazing into it and another image reflecting back.

Have you ever come across one of those?

Oh, for me, it might be the image of a friend, a sibling, a neighbor, my mother,  a coworker, one of my children,  a parent of someone else's child, my ex guys, someone at church, or someone else's child.
Someone other than me-or who I thought I was or hoped I was.


Who knew my life was a mirrored fun house?
Or is it a reflective nightmarish maze I get stuck in?


It can and has been both.

When my son was visiting I saw my self-reflection of the both sides of parenting that I did.
I saw misunderstanding, impatience and ignorance,
And I saw that I don't know how I did all the positive that I did with such a tumultuous life.
My son is such a conscientious and loving father.
So in that respect, I have been a much harsher judge of myself than is justified.
The image wasn't that bad after all.


I sometimes see the wavy mirror,
Where I have vacillated between decisions with little consistency.
Which of course has caused chaos in my life.

Or I might see the mirror that distorts what reality is.
Making me look bigger or smaller than I am.

Sometimes that image has been humorous and sometimes it is deceptive.
Sometimes I can just alter my position without altering myself and the image appears to  change.  
(There are a lot of those mirrors in Denial.)

The distorted-reality-mirrors also have the negative images of me that others have conjured up.


In another, I see unrecognizable beauty when I am caught off guard, not recognizing the loving countenance.


I also see age, creeping slowly fast approaching, initiating me into a maturing woman and a grandma.


I see in some cases, that yes, "Mirror, mirror on the wall, I am my mother after all."
And that it is not always a bad thing. 
Like teaching myself to use the computer.
My mother has modeled that you are not too old to learn a new skill.
She learned e-bay in her 70's!
(Sorry to reveal your age mom-it might get you a discount or a free scooter-chair trial?)

The good thing is that like a carnival experience, 
the mirrors don't have to be permanent.
(Well, maybe aging is a continuum...)
Did I mention how I love and can laugh a long time by myself at some mirrors?


I can also feel my way out of the mirrored rooms in my life if needed.
And for those individual ones by the wayside,
I can just walk away from them.


I addition, these reflections, although sometimes uncomfortable,
have been beneficial.
They have helped me resolve to change the images I do not like viewing,
and commend myself for the images that were only a distortion of mind,
not reality.


So.... 
Mirror, Mirror on the wall,
I like who I am becoming after all!



"Did you ever wonder if the person in the puddle is real, and you're just a reflection of him?"  ~Calvin and Hobbes
  

 

Sometimes Your Knight In Shining Armor Is Just A Retard In Tin Foil

Granted I naively believed the name Sir Reynold Wrap meant he must be a noble man.
With a name like that how could he not be?


I remember questioning how someone who was so perfect could still be available?!
How had he flown under the radar of all the desperate-single-women-seeking-a-good-man?

I concluded it must be because no one else had been able to see his 'potential' quite the way I had.

They saw a foil dinner.
I saw a gourmet meal.


They saw reality.
I saw what I wanted and needed to see.


That, was someone who would make me feel special,
Maybe even make me BE special.
(At least that is what his words promised.)

Someone who would require some work,
But not anything that I myself could not help 'fix'.


I saw a distraction.
A good-looking one, which made it all that much easier.

Others saw red flags.
I saw my favorite color.

Shockingly (only to me), when it came time to face commitment in battle and the heat was on, 
All I found was charred remains of my foiled 'knight.'

I had wanted to blame him for not living up to what I knew he could have been.
For him showing up on his white, spay-painted, (in actuality) black-horse.
And for convincing me that the paint cans were not his.
That someone just happened to leave them at his house.
(At least that is what he said.)



But I kept coming back to the fact that I had formed the foil into a knight.
I had put my heart into it.
It had taken quite a bit of my time,
And a lot of my creativity and imagination.
Also countless trips to Denial to get all the information needed to construct him.




I had used the 'extra strong, heavy duty' type to fabricate my needs,
so recovery took even longer.


Have you ever tried to smooth out foil after it has been used?
You can never get all the wrinkles out and make it as shiny and new as it was in the beginning.
You can roll it back up and tell yourself lies, but you can never fully restore it to how it was  before you touched it,
No matter how hard you try....


What I did learn that was that I could try again.
That only I

could prevent future unnecessary torching of my heart and dreams that turned to ashes.
I could better use the facts I had previously ignored and improve my judgment.

I vowed in the future to use clear plastic wrap,

And to look for  Sir Calgon instead of Reynold if I ever wanted someone to 'take me away' again. 

"I have a history of making decisions very quickly about men. I have always fallen in love fast and without measuring risks. I have a tendency not only to see the best in everyone, but to assume that everyone is emotionally capable of reaching his highest potential. I have fallen in love more times than I care to count with the highest potential of a man, rather than with the man himself, and I have hung on to the relationship for a long time (sometimes far too long) waiting for the man to ascend to his own greatness. Many times in romance I have been a victim of my own optimism."
— Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love)