“The devil doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. He comes as everything you’ve ever wished for.”
Well, it wasn’t until years later that I’d finally understand that they were two of the ACTUAL devil’s own. He, the consummate wolf in sheep’s clothing, and she, by the name of “Angela,” the most beautiful angel of light one could have known. My friend, mentor, and “sister in Christ,” with a pit viper’s tongue, a knife in her hand, and a smile on her face as she plunged it into my back.
Meanwhile, here I am three decades later, having loudly and PROUDLY grasped hold of the grit, determination, and survivalhood of my Roman ancestors and risen from their ashes. If only I’d known then what I know now—and, even more so, that one day I’d be laughing at the thought of the THING (not “who”) that once haunted my soul!
If YOU are in the snares of a narcissist THING (’cause, NOPE, I do NOT and will NEVER believe those THINGS are truly “human”) … GET OUT! Don’t look back! All those “memories” of when you first met—when they were the sweet, charismatic charmers who always knew exactly how to fill your cup—are just ILLUSIONS! Nothing they do, say, project, or “feel” is REAL! It’s all a smoke show to lure you in, then CHOKE YOU OUT! Oh, and BY the way—YOU are not the “crazy one”! I PROMISE!
How, Cat? HOW do you keep on going? WHY haven’t you just given up?
me:
Umm, because I promised myself a long damn time ago that I’d NEVER let myself down again as these seasons keep changing and changing. And believe it or not, the Light in me IS much stronger than the dark! So, I picture FUTURE me standing at the horizon—with a sword in one hand and fire in my eyes—waiting for YOUNGER me to reach the divide! Also? I sing my favorite love song to myself literally every single day because I am my own greatest love story. That’s how!
For those parents out there who have had to bury a child, this post is for you. For those who have not, God love, bless, and keep you from ever having to do such an unnatural thing.
Many people have asked me over the years, “… but Cat, HOW do you still laugh, smile, and experience joy after all the losses you’ve suffered?”
It’s called “The Mathematics Of Faith”, and it’s factored by strength, fortitude, and resilience … the total sum of which is always “LOVE” … be it love for one another or the love we’re commanded to have for ourselves by the God that gifted us to one another in the first place, no matter how short or long our seasons. Perhaps the best part of this ‘lil quotient is that you don’t have to be a genius to figure it out! As a matter of fact, as far as faith and most matters of the heart are concerned, the deafer and dumber you are, the better! Fast-forward to today and everything I’m feeling as I revel in the victory of powering through what would have been her 21st birthday had she not moved on to The Brighter Side Of Grey so quickly. Grieving not just my tiny angel, but my husband and so many others I’ve lost along the way has been difficult, of course, but even more than that, it has been the utmost and highest privilege of my life. Why is that, you ask? Because it means I “got” to love them in the first place. Their deaths remain “nothing at all.” My prayer for all of you beautiful warriors out there is to keep on carrying on and let nothing and no one take that crown from your head or steal your faith. As for me? Although losing a child of my own flesh and blood (no matter her age or how fleeting the hours I had with her) is something I would never wish upon another parent, what I can tell you is this: You have to let go of the need for black and white proof, walk through all the grey and fear blindly, and trust the process. It’s scary, I know, but the fruits of the immense amount of courage it takes to stop trying to make sense of certain things are infinite. I PROMISE!
And so, with that—yes, my friends, I am still here, very much doing the math and calculating my faith. Guess what? The numbers are adding up to INFINITY, and I don’t exactly hate it. Carrying on!
“It’s turning out great, right? My homemade ‘kitchen flowers’ make me so happy every week!”
her:
“It’s really pretty this time, mom. Plus, it’s hydrangeas AND lilies, BOTH our favorites! But I have a question. Daddy always sends you flowers, so why do you need to buy your own?”
me (heart SWELLING):
“Because, daughter, WHY NOT? I decided years ago to stop waiting for the world and people in it to “bring me my happy” and get out there and start bringing it to MYSELF! It’s especially important for moms to treat themselves kindly when they can, because it’s a very hard job and sometimes the things moms do and give tend to go unnoticed or unrecognized, often unintentionally. Life happens and people get busy—ESPECIALLY most daddies—so moms have to remember to appreciate and value themselves regardless of who else remembers. You’ll always be able to make and find your OWN joy in life, as long as you’re willing to search for it. So, I want you to promise me that when you grow up you’ll treat YOURSELF to flowers often … because … YOU CAN and you DESERVE IT!”
her:
“Mommy? I am SO gonna do that AND have this same talk with your granddaughters one day! We’ll start a trend in our family called ‘get yourself some flowers, girl’!”
me:
“You just made my day, Gia! I’ve been WAITING for you to notice that I buy myself flowers and finally ask me why! Now that you know, I really, REALLY hope that someday when you have a house of your own and I stop by to visit I’ll see ‘homemade kitchen flowers’ on your counter from YOU to YOU!”
Eminem’s “Lose Yourself” was released as the lead single from the 8 Milesoundtrack. The official music video, however, was released a bit earlier on October 7, 2002.
Just about anyone can appreciate this lil’ gem of a hip-hop ditty, which is widely held as his masterpiece due to its enduring pop culture legacy that spans the masses. No matter your race, creed, color, gender, dialect, age, or varying—or even contrary—musical preferences, the “mom’s spaghetti” of this unforgettable rap can ignite a fire of motivation and resilience under your skin! This video is a montage of clips from 331 movies, edited together by “The Unusual Suspect” on YouTube to recreate the song’s lyrics.
And so, with that, happy 23rd birthday to one of THE most epic songs of all our lifetimes! Here’s hoping my grandkids and their grandkids will be banging this one out of their speakers, into their ears, and straight through their souls when searching for the courage and inspiration to step out from under their self-doubt and fear when standing on the stage of their lives—just like so many of us have on our own!
It’s “World Day of Bullying Prevention” once again, and I don’t know who needs to hear this right now, but if you’ve ever been the one some giant FUCKTARD did or said something cruel to during a time when you were already on the ground searching for even the smallest shred of light in all that darkness—only to have the door slammed SHUT and leave you all but blinded—I want you to know that you didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry you had to endure it, but I’m GLAD you’re still here reading this.
Even when everything feels lost, darkness does not get the final word. Sometimes it is the darkness itself that teaches us how fiercely to look for The Light.
Inspired by Disturbed, “The Light”
In the meantime, if YOU are the FUCKTARD who all but put your hands around the throat of someone who was already struggling to breathe … YOU’RE GROSS! Also? Karma is a Jean-Claude Van DAMN mother-effing bitch, soooo … have fun with all that!
Back in 1986, Corey Hart gave birth to this beautiful song, “Goin’ Home,” via one of my favorite albums of all time, “Fields Of Fire“! Little did I know that thirty-nine years later, its embers would remain quietly flickering in the deepest chambers of my heart.
MEANWHILE …
To My Kids:
This is me “standing at the divide”—better known as “the post office of my life”—not so silently praying, if not begging, for you all to take up permanent residency in YOURSELVES:
“When the seasons change and we’re in for colder weather I won’t let you down when the seasons change. I won’t go down. I’ll fight through the pain. I’ll be there right by your side. I’ll never let them bring you down when the seasons change.”
On this day ten years ago, Three Days Grace released what has become, for me, one of the most bittersweet requiems—and landslides—of all the “mother guilt” I’ve carried in the wake of not just my own shattered childhood, but even more so my children’s. And then there was that moment a couple of years ago when I found her college entrance essay buried in my desktop downloads. I wasn’t sure whether to smile or cry as I read it. I ended up doing both, because …
I’ve often wondered if my life is just a bunch of pages in a comic book. It seemed that since the beginning, I was thrown as many adversities as my author could think of so I could become a character just like my in dad’s dusty old comic books that I would flip through under the covers when I was supposed to be asleep.I was born in the middle of a nasty divorce, and my teenage brother took up caring for me since my parents would be too busy fighting to notice either of us. I wanted to make things easier for the people around me, so I learned how to be independent and resourceful, and I was instilled with a personal goal to strive for excellence. The rest of my life has been met with similar misfortunes. Bullying and social ostracization, poor choices of friends and boyfriends, and finally, the abrupt death of my stepfather, who had raised me and despite the lack of shared blood took up the yoke of being my dad for 11 years. In the end, I had no friends, a dead parent, and a list of diagnoses of disorders that reads like a master list. The last thing I want is pity. That’s not why I say this. The reason I say all of this is because despite the years of bitterness and pain I felt being in my “comic book”, and the many times I wanted to give up completely, I have grown to love everything that has happened to me. Why? Because I know that if it wasn’t for all I had to endure, I wouldn’t be a fraction of the woman I am today. Because throughout everything, I made the decision to make sure my backstory would make me like Batman, not Joker. Every cruel word and deed taught me that the people who are hurting the most can cause the most hurt, and that I needed to be kind and patient – take them with a grain of salt because the last thing they needed was cruelty back. My anxiety forced me to become sure of myself so I could meet my own expectations for myself, and to learn how to move outside my comfort zone to succeed and connect with others the way I want. My ADHD and OCD gave me an incredible love for challenges. Yes, it is more difficult for me than others to do basic things, but in the end, I learned that I could turn the things that hinder me into my superpowers. My ADHD allows me to devote myself completely to my passions and always remain excited and looking for the next thing I can do to improve and gives me this unquenchable thirst to learn more and do more. My OCD gave me the strength to always strive to do my absolute best, while also forcing me to learn how to be gracious with myself when I make mistakes, as mistakes are just lessons that teach me how to improve and do better. My PTSD made me both gentle and tough. I gained more empathy and became incredibly resilient. It gave me a fierce desire to protect and support those who had no one else to support them, because if I had to suffer so that others might not, then I’m happy to show my scars with a smile. It made me love harder and care more, about others and about myself. I’m in no way perfect. I have my kryptonite like everyone else. But I am a fighter. I know that I can face whatever comes my way, and I am proud to say that I have grown into my own superhero. I just hope that someday, my “comic book story” will give some kid just like me the hope to keep fighting and become their own superhero, too.
… and so, with that, to my beautiful battle-born phoenix of a risen angel daughter: Only God knows when you’ll finally begin digging into the entirety of this virtual love letter I’m writing to you, your brother, and all of yours. And though I’ve appreciated you reading the entries I’ve asked you to thus far, I know it’s not quite time for you to sit down with “all of it.”
For now, just know that I’m so beyond proud of you, and there aren’t enough words in my soul to atone for—or account for—the many apologies I owe you for everything I missed while I was physically “there” with you, yet often nowhere in sight. Late at night, I couldn’t hear you crying. I suppose I was too busy crying myself to sleep while all the love around us was dying. How did you stay so strong? How did you hide it all for so long? Why couldn’t I take the pain away? Oh, that’s right. I was too busy free-falling in the dark for my own protection, trying to convince myself I’d be okay. Still, I have so many questions.
That was then.
This is NOW!
Maybe the truth is this:
Sometimes we change because something finally opens our mind. Sometimes we change because something finally breaks our heart. And sometimes, it takes both.
~ The Real Cat Williamson
Daughter, I am here to tell you, your brother, and anyone else who ever reads this that I am doing my very best to change for both those reasons. For now, I’M HERE, baby girl. I “hear” you and I “see” you.I’ll be right beside you if you ever go through hell and back again, no matter how close or far away I may be. And you will never close your eyes and fall alone in the dark. I love you, RISEN angel.
Through it all, though, I can honestly say that while there was once a time in my life when I truly didn’t know when the pain was gonna stop, I just kept working on it, all the while never knowing when the floor was gonna drop again. I stepped gently … softly … carefully.
At so many points, and even still sometimes on a day like this, managing all these emotions has just felt like putting up sails in a storm, and the many efforts I’ve made keep toppling me over. And while it’s true that all the ways I once used to cope only made me feel worse, those days are long gone. God? How do I maintain all this control? In the hardest of times, I just stay in my body … see through my own eyes … feel my beating heart … and breathe. Breathe. BREATHE!
Maybe what happened six years ago this night was always meant for me. Maybe tomorrow morning will be, too. Either way, I’ll remain steadfast in my role … my control … the only thing I ever really need to do is just … breathe.
When the nights grew cold but our blood ran warm and everything we’d touched just seemed to melt away and leave us alone, no one understood the noises in our head but US. Such a simple melody playing over and over again. But why would we wanna blend in when we are drenched in gold? Never far, never out of reach, the embers in the dark lay quiet … burning just beneath. Isolated … complicated … we found a way to make it out alive (and not feel so alone)!
These days, when I look at you, I see that you’re just like me … a misfit runaway with gold plating underneath. I love you, Gia, and literally couldn’t be any prouder to call you “daughter” if I tried.
“Is this the place that we called home to find what we’ve become? Walking along the path unknown … we’ve lived, we’ve loved, we’ve LIED! Deep in the dark … we didn’t think we “needed” The Light … or that the ghost inside us belonged to the other side.”
(Words adapted from Bad Omens’ “Specter”)
Looking back, it literally blows my FUCKING mind how many heaping piles of toxic, twisted, and dysfunctional behavior I was surrounded by—ironically, most often in the very places I was forced not just to believe, but to tell other people were “safe and loving homes.” I was expected to perpetuate those disgusting “FAUXrytales” because the powers that were my life demanded it under the threat of: “What would people think if they knew the truth?” For years, I choked on silence and secrets amid the ABUSE, CHAOS and VIOLENCE that wasmy childhood—and that still reaches into my adulthood—all to protect the image of the PERFECT family “behind the gates”!
And so, with that … YES! Yes, I AM the angry daughter … ever the work in progress … and I’ll STAY this angry until MY daughter has finally moved THROUGH all the anger she inherited from both me and the generations before. She’s wielding it like a torch through her own haunted spaces … just like her momma … so that someday HER daughter (who I carried within MY womb, by the way) won’t ever have to stay angry for longer than is necessary to keep the specter of herself at bay … unless, of course, like me, she decides to pull out its little diamond-studded leash and walk proudly with it like a wild and beautiful BEAST with MY fire in her eyes and resilience coursing through her veins!
Oh, don’t you worry, though, dear readers! I got this, bitches! I PROMISE! At least I’m brave enough to say it out loud:
I … am NOT … okay!
Well, at least I’m 77% sure I’m not okay … BUT … I will be, ’cause Imma cat and cats ALWAYS land on their feet (even with a “buttered-side-up” piece of bread strapped to their back)!
Meanwhile, in rolling from “squares” to “circles,” I find it no coincidence that, despite the fact that it had been drafted, locked, and loaded well over seven months ago, THIS was my Diary entry this morning:
A year ago today, my son sent me another one of those cryptic “music thing” messages.
Talk about the absolutely beautiful trajectory of this wonky yet ever-so-FULL CIRCLE that both my children’s lives and mine are moving in! He was brave enough to tell me that he was not okay … now I’m brave enough to say that I, too, am not okay … which, believe it or not, is exactly why “imma be alright”! What doesn’t kill me will always make me stronger, ’cause I’m their momma, and my work here won’t be done until I can rest assured knowing they have all the tools and examples they will ever need to BE OKAY! Dear GOD, how I love my fucking life (and also all my birds and squirrels)! Goodnight, everyone! It’s me, CAT!
“It didn’t kill me … but something changed. A piece of me lost … forever estranged. I walked away … yet not the same. A shadowed soul … a quiet flame. That day took part of who I was … left me searching, without a cause. I carry on … but feel the void. A heart once whole … now destroyed. It didn’t end me … but I’m not whole. An echo remains deep in my soul. I’m here … I breathe … but truth denied … A part of me that day quietly died.”
{Author Unknown}
You’ve oft heard it said, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger!” Indeed, I wholeheartedly agree! HOWEVER, what prolly also should be said literally every time someone utters those ever-so-famous “seven words” is:
“… but not before it literally fucking BREAKS you first!”
No, I don’t think God was laughing that day or that He laughs on any of the days we spend facing the wrath of His angels. In fact, I’m certain that He was on that hospital wailing WITH me and holding me tight as every shred of what I’d come to believe as truth turned out to be the devil’s lie. God DID give me wings, but it was MY job to learn to fly. I had to face not just Zack’s, but my own “devil in the mirror” before I could ascend to the sky.
So, yeah, I’m still here and none of those moments killed me, but here’s to that sorry ol’ devil for trying, right? (#IMWINNING, lol!) I guess what I’m saying is that if you haven’t had one of these moments yet, God love you. No, seriously.
Even more seriously, though, while this, err, “fight club” of sorts really, really stinks and the membership fee sucks massive BALLS, know that once you get your card you’ll be welcomed and embraced by the rest of us who’ve gone toe-to-toe with everything that was meant to break us and lived to tell about it! Until then, take NOTHING and NO ONE for granted, please. Life is precious and so is your mental wealth, so here’s hoping that when (and not if) your time finally comes to hit the floor and shatter, you’ll find every bit of power, grace, fortitude, and resilience hiding within yourself to join the ranks of us who’ve SURVIVED (and even THRIVED) “post-mortem”. And, oh yah, one more thing …
The back story on this song is about a miscarriage my ex and I went through before I got sober. The loss of our son Jude after 7 months of pregnancy was so devastating it sent me into an alcoholic & drug spiral that lasted a year ending with an overdose and me finally getting help from 12 step anonymous programs. For many years I carried the guilt and remorse wondering if I had done thing differently would the outcome had changed. Eventually through recovery and therapy I came to accept and make peace with the loss. Many times when late term miscarriages occur we rightfully attend to the mothers & pour over them all the compassion and care we have to offer. My story is one of the devastated father. The men who lose their son’s & daughters before they ever get to know them. My prayers are with anyone who is has or will experience this soul crushing loss. It does gets better. When we share our pain we divide it. When we share our joy it multiplies.
Ten minutes later, and not less than two minutes before I delivered her, my mother found her way to my room. There she stood holding my right hand, while Pete was holding my left, when Gina Marie, our precious baby girl graced us with her brief but powerful presence. She was 9 inches long and weighed just over a pound. The few hours she lived were the longest of my life, and there are no words to describe my anguish. The baby I had prayed desperately for on my literal hands and knees had been cruelly ripped from my womb and now I held her broken little body in my arms. She kept trying to hold on to my finger, but her tiny hand was too small to grasp it. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as I helplessly watched her gasping for air and struggling to live, then watched her take her very last breath. I struggled for so long to find a single good thing that came from all that heartache and trauma, as it is something I will truly never understand, but what I can tell you is that there in that otherwise frigid hospital room, racked with grief and agony in my very darkest of hours, I had never felt so truly loved. How blessed was I to be surrounded by all the people I loved and cared for the most and who loved me in all the best ways they knew how? My husband, who after all he went through to bring that little girl into my life, and who despite my best efforts to push him away never once in our lifetime together at that point had ever physically left my side. My father, who despite his shortcomings, seemed to love me in the best way he knew how, and despite our many battles, I know would have traded his life for my daughter’s in that moment. My sister and one true and unconditional rock, there at the foot of my bed on her hands and knees sobbing inconsolably for the indescribable pain that I was in, that if she could have, I know she would have taken from me. And, of course, my beautiful mother who has loved me all the days of my life and I was blessed to have standing beside me when each of my children came into this world, and then again when one of them left it.
It’s called “The Mathematics Of Faith”, and it’s factored by strength, fortitude, and resilience … the total sum of which is always “LOVE” … be it love for one another or the love we’re commanded to have for ourselves by the God that gifted us to one another in the first place, no matter how short or long our seasons. Perhaps the best part of this ‘lil quotient is that you don’t have to be a genius to figure it out! As a matter of fact, as far as faith and most matters of the heart are concerned, the deafer and dumber you are, the better!
Fast-forward to today and everything I’m feeling as I revel in the victory of powering through what would have been her 21st birthday had she not moved on to The Brighter Side Of Grey so quickly. Grieving not just my tiny angel, but my husband and so many others I’ve lost along the way has been difficult, of course, but even more than that, it has been the utmost and highest privilege of my life. Why is that, you ask? Because it means I “got” to love them in the first place. Their deaths remain “nothing at all“.
My prayer for all of you beautiful warriors out there is to keep on carrying on and let nothing and no one take that crown from your head or steal your faith. As for me? Although losing a child of my own flesh and blood (no matter her age or how fleeting the hours I had with her) is something I would never wish upon another parent, what I can tell you is this …
You have to let go of the need for black and white proof, walk through all the grey and fear blindly, and trust the process. It’s scary, I know, but the fruits of the immense amount of courage it takes to stop trying to make sense of certain things are infinite. I PROMISE!
While you likely believe that the fortress you have forged out of callousness, bitterness, and unspeakable pain and sadness is keeping you safe and serving you well, let me assure you that it is NOT! Trust me when I say it, ’cause I’ve been there and done that, too! Once upon a time (and sometimes even now), I was the reigning QUEEN of “Go away and just leave me the fuck alone!”
Yeah, I get it, you’re an outcast … always under attack … always comin’ in last … bringin’ up the past! No one owes you anything! I think you need a shotgun blast … a kick in the ass! So paranoid! WATCH YOUR BACK! Oh my, here we go! Another loose cannon gone bipolar. Slipped down, couldn’t get much lower. Quicksand’s got no sense of humor. I’m still laughin’ like hell! You think that by cryin’ to me … lookin’ so sorry … that I’m gonna believe you’ve been affected by a social disease? WELL, THEN TAKE YOUR MEDICINE! I’m so sick of this tombstone mentality. If there’s an afterlife, then it’ll set you free. But I’m not gonna part the seas … you’re a self-fulfilling prophecy. I created the sound of madness … Wrote the book on pain … somehow, I’m still here to explain that the darkest hour never comes in the night. You can sleep with a gun, but WHEN YOU GONNA WAKE UP AND FIGHT FOR YOURSELF?
Shinedown, “Sound of Madness”
Happy Birthday to Shinedown’s The Sound of Madness! May its title track live on in infamy as the hard-to-swallow truth pill and fight song for all the ones who got left behind but then found their will to SHINE DOWN!
FIVE. That’s the number of Father’s Days we’ve had to celebrate without you, Superman. But then, FIVE! (Oh, yah, in case you missed the memo, he’s “Five” by order of appearance in my halo as a child of either my blood or my heart.) Meanwhile … HONEY? Are you watching this through your telescope from the other side of the stars? Have you seen this young KING who has shown up in our family picture?
Imagine my surprise when this text came in yesterday while I was out showing houses. While at first glance, my heart wanted to fall through my stomach, instead it only swelled. I mean, how many times did you send me flowers for absolutely no reason at all, but even more so when I’d been out working even though you said I didn’t have to?
“Thank you”. Just “thank you”, he said. Lol. He has no idea how to show his appreciation to me? This young man who we literally never saw coming has been such a driving force in both her and my life already, and I’m hoping that you approve. Wait! No! I KNOW YOU WOULD! Actually? Now that I think of it, there’s a song I recently heard that I had intended to blog to Christian, but instead, I’m blogging it to both him and the kid by tweaking the words my way:
It’s funny how a little plus sign can change your life overnight … even when it belongs to another mother … and turn a boy into a man … and how hearts so big fit inside small Superman-caped wrecking balls who eventually grow into an extremely brave men with no fear at all!
To My Number One:
I hope you love with all you’ve got and never try to be something you’re not … always a fighter, dreamer, survivor! Heart full of fire, keep looking them in thеir eyes when you shakе their hand, “Sir” and “Ma’am”. Understand God’s got a plan for you and I hope you know you’ll grow up to be the man I always knew you could be. I tried not to blink too long, but before I knew it, you’ve gone and fallen for another and I’m okay with it, ’cause guess what? SO HAVE I! Before you take somebody’s little girl away and ask for her hand, take a knee and say:
I wanna love you with all I got … never try to be something I’m not … always a fighter, giver, provider. Heart full of fire, look you in your eyes as we both stand, like God planned, slip that band on your left-hand and promise you that I’ll always try to be the man you see in me!
To My Number Five:
I hope you love with all you’ve got and never try to be something you’re not … always a fighter, dreamer, survivor! Heart full of fire, keep looking them in thеir eyes when you shakе their hand, “Sir” and “Ma’am”. Understand God’s got a plan for you. Although I may not have given birth to you, or seen you during your “Superman-caped” wrecking ball days, as a mother, I am so damn proud of the man you are becoming and am certain your own mother must be, too. Someday I truly look forward to meeting the woman whose plus sign you belonged to. Only time will tell what the future has in store for you and my girl, but in the meantime, I’m so thankful you’re in my halo! Both her dads must be, too!
Listen, I dunno who needs to hear this right now, but pain really does demand to be felt, and dare I say that internalized pain that doesn’t hurt you anymore is actually dangerous. So, if you’re that child in a long line of family people who either refused to feel a thing and chose to avoid dealing with that gift that just kept on fucking giving, KNOW THIS:
But none of them were ever gonna heal from it unless someone finally faced and ROSE from it, and that, my fellow black sheep, was YOU validating the realities that no one wanted to talk about. You CANNOT move on from all that generationally gifted pain until you face, FEEL, and overcome the gauntlet of emotions and friction you WILL endure as you go through this journey to freedom.
PAIN
I’d rather feel pain than nothing at all. (Three Days Grace)
Quite thankfully, NO, the “broken and despondent angel on her knees” in this picture is NOT who I am, yet, in so many ways, she was in the way long days gone by. Then? I started counting my blessings instead of my scars.
Meanwhile, everyone’s gotta pick and choose the battle cry “fight words” that fit them best, right? Especially in that, for the most part, we are what we “believe, say, think, and manifest” ourselves to be. And by “for the most part,” I mean to make WOEFULLY clear that despite the fact that yes, there are people in this world who REALLY take that literally, NO, it doesn’t ALWAYS quite work that way:
I believe, say, think, and manifest myself to be an orangutan driving a Bentley across the water.
💥POOF!💥
So, how’s THAT working for ya? I’m guessing that you have NOT just transformed into a primate with a really pimp ride on skis, just Jesus-ing your way across the Sea of Galilee?
… BUT …
All in all it’s a good life, I got what I want … I can’t complain!
Now, those are some words you can “believe, say, think, and manifest” right this minute … no matter what, every day! See how that works? Gotta love it, and all these often EPIC amounts of bullshittery and SHAM PAIN moments living amongst sometimes not so “human-ity” here on Earth!
By the way, if you ARE gonna try and manifest yourself into an animal, maybe DON’T make it an orangutan. While they are, indeed, HIGHLY intelligent, ALWAYS smiling, incredibly majestic and important creatures, eating with your feet just CANNOT be that fun all the time. Ya know what I’m sayin’? Oh, and one LAST but certainly not LEAST thing:
On this day in 2012, Shinedown released the album that gave birth to what I believe is one of their most poignant songs of all, “Amaryllis”, which I’ve diaried here once before:
I’m a divinely punctuated queen who is abundantly aware of her risen reflection in every mirror. The girl who once waged war with herself and her many wounds, now brings flowers to her scars instead! … If you DON’T have someone special in your life, take 20 minutes today to get YOURSELF some flowers! Having a healthy, loving, forgiving, and unconditional relationship with YOU is the first step to becoming living royalty. Meanwhile, this song was particularly special one for Zack and me, because when we met, we were both an “amaryllis”.
Bukowski was right. Creation truly is a solitary act. Just ask the Queen Of The Night, the exquisitely beautiful “mystery girl” who blooms alone but once a year in the dark. In order to make her coveted appearance, she must first be exposed to frigid temperatures, but not before being induced to dormancy. This process, of course, requires not just her, but those who love and care for her to be patient. But, alas … when she’s ready, she’ll unfurl her petals and stand strong and tall amid the solitude of her own weed-free and healthy soil.
Epictetus once said,
The trials you face will introduce you to your strengths.
Yes, my reign here in The Queendom has required an immense amount of time alone as I’ve been lovingly, carefully, diligently, patiently, and often thanklessly tending to the avant garden I started planting with the conception of my firstborn “bulb“. I wouldn’t have had it any other way! This self-imposed “isolation” of sorts has been preparing me. Sharpening me. EMBRACING ME! This true creation of mine has had to be a solitary act, lest I have failed to ever know who I really am and what I was truly capable of “widowed” and apart from the crowd or as someone’s “better half“. All of my most beautiful petals have unfurled in the darkness while no one ever really knew what was going on inside my “disrespectfully private”, if not reclusive world.
AMARYLLIS
In a while now I will feel better, I’ll face the weather before me. In a while now I’ll race the irony and buy back each word of my eulogy. All the uninvited tragedies. Step outside. Ask yourself now where would you be without days like this when you finally collide with the moment you can’t forget. So, do I remind you of someone you never met? A lonely silhouette? And do I remind you of somewhere you wanna be? So far out of reach. Oh, I wish you’d open up for me ’cause I wanna know you. Amaryllis. Bloom. Stay a while now. Undress your colors ’cause they’re like no others I’ve ever seen. I could get used to your company. Step inside. Ask yourself now where would you be without days like this when you finally collide with emotions you can’t resist? {Shinedown}
As we begin Mental Illness Awareness Week today, I’m reminded once again of exactly why Rocky IV is one of my truly favorite movies:
Rocky IV is my favorite, because in my mind I have always felt it’s been “me against the Devil” in both the brightest and darkest moments of my life, and he’s the one always saying to me, “I MUST BREAK YOU”! Yet, I absolutely refuse to let him take me down!
I mean, seriously, people! There’s a reason why Heaven reigns from above and hell only thinks it’s reigning from below. And while I’ve never been one to say I’m better than anyone—meaning any mortal human with warm blood running through their veins—I do believe that I’m way fucking better than many “things.” The devil and all his vices—pain, suffering, anguish, and self-loathing—are below me and can all literally kiss my ass.
I WIN!
THEY LOSE!
C’mon, people! Put on those bloodied and torn gloves and FIGHT like a GLORIOUS bastard! The past is the past! It’s over! It’s gone! There’s NO point in going back there. There IS no easy way out of this, and there’s NO present like the time you have right in front of your fists! Also? Unless your arms are attached to your back, the last time I checked, punches only land going FORWARD!
With that … BYE, mental illness! It’s me, CAT! Looks like YOU’RE beneath me, too! So come at me again, bruh. I dare you! Momma NEVER takes her gloves off now, soooo:
🎶
“Baby, baby, I have shed my skin, and I know how it feels inside to be walkin’ down an endless road not knowin’ if I’m dead or alive. But some things were worth fightin’ for, and that feeling will NEVER die. So, I’m not askin’ for another chance … I’M JUST TAKING IT and PUNCHING TODAY IN THE FACE!”
🎶
“Cat, what does that even MEAN?” Oh, yah! “Punching today in the face” is a “Wheelchair Dad” thing. I won’t go much into it because I really want you to click the link below and discover what it means for yourself.Suffice it to say, though, Dan and Andrea Kotter and their six beautiful babies—who I recently stumbled across on social media—have managed to truly “punctuate” and inspire me in a profound way.
“In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.”
(Genesis 1 NIV)
🖤
Wish that you could build a time machine so you could see the things no one can see? Feels like you’re standing on the edge looking at the stars and wishing you were them? What do you do when a chapter ends? Do you close the book and never read it again? Where do you go when your story’s done?
MEANWHILE …
You CAN be who you were or who you’ll become! The Sun goes down and it comes back up. The world it turns no matter what. Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, if it all goes wrong … darling, just hold on! It’s not over ’til it’s all been said. It’s not over ’til your dying breath. So, what do you want them to say when you’re gone? That you gave up, or that you kept going on?
If you are standing on the edge right now, just looking at the stars and wishing you were them, remember that you kind of are. You are “nothing, everything, and ALL OF IT,” so keep the faith, hang on to hope, release yourself from prison, and JUST HOLD ON! HOPE really IS a good thing!
Oh, and one last thing to all you “Reds” out there who are struggling to find your way out of prison—or, more so than that, have found your way out but are just too scared to really let the light of hope shine through because you’ve become so accustomed to life in the dark that you literally don’t know how to live without it:
Dear Red,
If you’re reading this, you’ve gotten out. If you’ve come this far, maybe you’re willing to come a little further. I could use some good people to help us get my project on wheels. I’ll keep an eye out for you and the chessboard ready. Remember, Red, hope is a good thing. Maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies. I will be hoping that this Diary entry finds you … and finds you well.
~ Your friend, Real Cat
Happy Birthday, The Shawshank Redemption. You were my husband’s favorite movie, you are also one of mine, and perhaps one of THE greatest movies of all time. Because knowing what I know at this point in the game, hope really DOES begin in the dark. I am living proof of that beautiful Genesis promise.
Lay me down and wash this blood off my hands for me. While I cry out, don’t let me die before I go to sleep. And I can’t keep going, but I cannot start again. These walls I make, they hold me in and hold me back today. Oh, but tomorrow’s new, then I’ll walk right out and walk right over you! And if you hear me screaming, please don’t let me fall again. This road I walk is paved with the broken promises I’ve made. At least a million I’ve fallen, but NEVER will I break! My time is on its way … I’ll fall, but I won’t break!
“Never Will I Break” — 3 Doors Down
Been there! Done that! Yes, I’m an unbreakable and bendable steel magnolia, but I still get tired! Who else can relate?
Keep the faith, my friends, and remember to treat yourself with patience, love, and grace. Take all the time you need to rest, recuperate, and allow yourself to PLAY when the shit is hitting the wall and you’re dodging those proverbial bullets.
You’re a human, not a machine! Also? Don’t forget to breathe!
Hey, look, sometimes a beast really does have to do what the REAL beasts do! Does it get kinda messy sometimes? YUP! Am I the nicest, kindest, sweetest, FUNNIEST, sometimes most ANNOYING bitch on the face of the planet with an unfiltered and REAL truth-bomb mouth that ain’t winning too many popularity contests right now? Umm, YUP! Do I doubt myself even a little? Fuck NO! Been there. Done that. That weak bitch is dead, and this one won’t allow her resurrection.
Kick ass, don’t worry about the names, remember that boundaries are EVERYTHING, and that yes, they can get kinda messy! Not only are YOU worth fighting for, but if you’re a parent like me, YOUR KIDS ARE WATCHING EVERYTHING!
Three years ago this hour, the police chief of my small North Texas town walked into the hospital where my broken daughter lay to tell me they’d found my husband dead in his car, courtesy of the hollow point he’d put in his own head.
No, I don’t think God was laughing that day or that He laughs on any of the days we spend facing the wrath of His angels. In fact, I’m certain that He was on that hospital floor wailing with me and holding me tight as every shred of what I’d come to believe was truth turned out to be the devil’s lie. God DID give me wings, but it was MY job to learn to fly. I had to face not just Zack’s, but my own “devil in the mirror” before I could ascend to the sky.
Yes, the end IS coming, and no, I don’t think I mind. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again … as hard as this “living” thing can be, I have no intention of dying unless and until HE says it’s my time. In the meantime, imma stick around here as long as I’m allowed as the UNBREAKABLErisen QUEEN I was born to be.
As for the devil? Come for me, motherfucker! In case you haven’t noticed, my soul is already spoken for, and PS, you’re NOT the one who gets it! That’s not a challenge … IT’S FACT!
Wow! I guess that wasn’t too graceful, now was it? If you’ve been around this Diary long enough, you know damn good and well that sometimes I’m Heaven, sometimes I’m hell, and sometimes I really can’t tell which is which. Through it all, though, I always did know it would come to this, my “roll, roll, roll … I’m movin’ ahead.” THIS living queen who “rolls” as God’s favorite daughter is NOT gonna sleep ’til she’s dead! I’ve got punctuating to do and phoenixes to raise, so I have no other choice but to be alright.
THANKS FOR ASKING
‘Cause I’m alright. Thanks for asking. There’s a million things I’d love to say, but you don’t wanna hear. Yeah, it’s alright. I don’t need your blessings. I’d rather face the wrath of angels than the devil in the mirror. I don’t think God is listening. She told us to follow, but left us behind. I’ve never seen an angel, but I know the Devil, and he told me I’m fine. “What doesn’t kill you will only make you stronger.” That’s what everyone keeps telling me. I’d rather capsize than chase an old horizon. Throw me back into the deadest of seas. I know that God is laughing. She gave us our wings, but never taught us to fly. They say the end is coming, and if that’s true, well, I don’t think I mind. Heaven or hell? I can’t tell which is which. I always knew it would come to this. Roll, roll, roll … I’m movin’ ahead. Roll, roll, roll … guess I’ll sleep when I’m dead. {Five Finger Death Punch}
For every other person who “shows the world” nothin’ but the lollipops and rainbows in their lives, there are the ones like me who are here to keep things REAL! I hit the ground this weekend and leveled the YEARS of blood, sweat, tears, and toil slaying my dragon. Literally, and not metaphorically, all that hard work went in the fucking toilet. Yes, my friends, even phoenixes crash and burn, especially when what’s eating her alive is a living, breathing spider web that is currently trying to devour my babies.
For now, I’ll just have to forgive myself with all the power and grace I am, get the crown back up on my head, pick up my sword, and put this bitch to sleep again. I am only as weak as my very worst enemy, which, for now, has just become me. This, too, shall pass, and, “Just for today, I will try to live through THIS day only.”
The next time you see me, I’ll be at one of the most MAGICAL places on this planet with the Mona Lisa, gearing up to return and face a dragon. Oh, and by the way, I will NOT rest until the day that FUCKING Venom suit is finally off my kid’s body. In the meantime, this one’s for you, my Dragon BITCH:
You … are going … to be … OKAY! As long as there is still breath in your lungs and you wake up again tomorrow morning, there’s still a chance for you to find The Light! The Moon does always fall, but The Sun always rises, too. I promise, promise, promise. All of which now reminds me of some of the most beautiful words I never knew I needed to hear until I heard them from a Swedish Flyboy on an American plane coming back from France …
“Keep your face always toward the sunshine—and shadows will fall behind you.”
{Author unknown}
So, chin up, knuckles out, and keep the faith, my friend, because life really must go on.
LIFE MUST GO ON
Sitting alone in the cold of the night. You’re trying to find what you need to survive. You’re so afraid you can’t go on. Left in the silence that tears at your heart. They only remind you how broken you are. You’ve lost your way. But hope is not gone, ’cause The Sun always sets, The Moon always falls. It feels like the end – just pay no mind at all. Keep rolling … rolling … Life must go on. Do you remember and long for the past? When love was eternal and joy seemed to last. Yesterday. Forever is gone. We have our misfortunes – the darkest of days. We must endure and keep strong. Just look to the morning … the promise awaits … and know that this life must go on. And the Sun always sets. The Moon always falls. It feels like the end – just pay no mind at all. Keep rolling … rolling … Life must go on. {Alter Bridge}
THE FLOWERS! It was one of my favorite things about him. He’d send me flowers even when I wasn’t home, whether I was sitting in a classroom somewhere, or on the rare occasion that I traveled without him, they’d be waiting in my hotel room!
The fresh flowers that are always on my counter these days (and will be until I take my last breath) may no longer be sent by him directly – but trust me when I tell you – they are, indeed, BECAUSE of him! He made damn good and sure that I knew I was priceless, valuable, and WORTHY of all the best and most beautiful things in this world every single day. The never-ending array of fresh flowers in this house for me (and sometimes even Gia) was just one of the ways he accomplished that. So, when I tell you that he made me a queen and QUEEN I shall be all the days of my life, “all the flowers” are just one of the many reasons why!
Jean Claude Van DAMN I am such a lucky woman. He may be physically gone, but who he was and his legacy of love are still very much alive in the fabric of our lives. True love never dies … it just slips into another room. So, with that, why not go and get YOURSELF some flowers today, because you are worthy, too!
I am me. I’m my own best friend and the one person in my life who I know will never let me down. I’m the person I get to be with until I take my very last breath and set my eyes upon The Brighter Side Of Grey. I’m the only one I can count on when all my cards are down, come Hell or the highest of waters.
It was the day the world went wrong. I screamed ’til my voice was gone and watched through the tears as everything came crashing down. Slowly panic turns to pain as we awake to what remains and sift through the ashes that are left. But buried deep beneath all our broken dreams we have this hope. Out of these ashes, beauty will rise, and we will dance among the ruins. We will see Him with our own eyes. Out of these ashes, beauty will rise. For we know joy is coming in the morning. In the morning, beauty will rise. So take another breath for now, and let the tears come washing down. And if you can’t believe, I will believe for you. ‘Cause I have seen the signs of spring! Just watch and see! Out of these ashes, beauty will rise, and we will dance among the ruins. We will see Him with our own eyes. Out of these ashes, beauty will rise. For we know joy is coming in the morning. In the morning. I can hear it in the distance … and it’s not too far away. It’s the music and the laughter of a wedding and a feast. I can almost feel the hand of God reaching for my face to wipe the tears away and say, “It’s time to make everything new.” “Make it all new”. This is our hope. This is the promise. That it would take our breath away to see the beauty that’s been made out of the ashes.
… whereas some moms might see a “tragedy in ink” down the road temporarily penned on their teenage daughters’ hands, I instead see the limitless potential and possibilities for the extremely talented young Phoenix I’m raising who knows exactly who she is, has a pretty good grasp on what she wants and where she wants to go, and isn’t afraid to express herself, be herself, and see things in herself that may look a bit dark on the surface but are, in reality, extraordinarily beautiful! Sometimes I literally pinch myself because I can NOT believe I made her. I’ve made TWO extraordinary human beings!
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again:
No one will ever truly understand either the depth of each of their hearts’ bounds or the mountains of ashes they’ve both had to ascend from to teach themselves how to fly. I am such a lucky mom, and I just can’t say it enough! But this girl of mine? She’s one you’ll need to watch out for. As in, STAY OUT OF HER FLIGHT PATH unless you are willing to have your actual eyes burned out by her Light!Her Light makes my Lightlook like the 5-watt bulb from a nightlamp, even when it appears that she’s “going dark.” I’d be doing myself a grave disservice if I didn’t say that someday, when I’m grown up, I hope to be just like her! I’m so proud to be their mom! BOTH my kids are my heroes! With all that being said, and so far as the “ink” of it is concerned, all I have left is this:
Got a tattoo that said, “together through life”. Carved in your name with my pocketknife. And you wonder when you wake up, will it be alright? Oh oh. Oh oh. Feels like there’s something broken inside. All I know, all I know – is that I’m lost whenever you go. All I know is that I love you so. So much that it hurts. Got a tattoo and the pain’s alright. Just want a way of keeping you inside. Oh oh. Oh oh. All I know, all I know … is that I’m lost in your fire below. All I know is that I love you so. So much that it hurts. I see the road begin to climb. I see your stars begin to shine. I see your colors and I’m dying of thirst. All I know is that I love you so, so much that it hurts. {Adapted from “Ink” by Coldplay}
As I’ve said many times before, from the first week he married me, there was never a time that there weren’t fresh flowers somewhere in our home for me. Some he sent, and others he picked up, but their method of delivery didn’t really matter, because …
…I JUST LOVE FRESH FLOWERS!
He only had to hear me say it once, and the rest is merely history. As our lives got busier and his career took off, however, there were times that he just couldn’t go get them, so I started making fresh flower arrangements on my own to fill the voids. My little treks to my favorite flower haunts soon became one of the brightest spots of my week, and still are to this day. It always made him happy to come home and find that I’d treated myself.
Suffice it to say, not a week has passed since the day he left, nor will there EVER be, that there haven’t been fresh flowers in this castle he left behind for me. I’ll continue to treat myself like the queen he saw in his eyes who deserves only the best treatment from everyone, including myself!
Zack brought Gia flowers fairly often, as well, and sometimes to ONLY Gia, which I loved, and so did she. Part of my process with her now is to deeply imprint into her psyche that SHE, TOO, IS A QUEEN! It’s not uncommon for us to be at the market and her to run off and come back with flowers she chooses for herself. I’ve made her promise that when it’s time for her to leave this nest she’ll remember that she can buy herself flowers, too, regardless of whether there’s a man in her life.
KINGS & QUEENS:
I once again challenge every one of you to go and get YOURSELF some flowers this week! They don’t have to be expensive. You can make your own arrangement with flowers from the grocery store and wildflowers or even weeds growing on the side of the road, which is par for the course with me. If you do “go and get yourself some flowers,” PLEASE MESSAGE ME A PICTURE OF THEM! It would absolutely make my day to see that I’ve made a ripple in your pond with this thought process!
Long before August 22, 2019, when Zack turned our world upside down in the most egregious way possible, Gia had been on a downward spiral of her own. It was November of 2018 when, during a random spot check of her phone, Zack walked into our room with a look of fear on his face like nothing I’d ever seen. He’d found that she’d Googled, “I don’t want to live anymore” and “I want to kill myself.”
Our world came to a frozen halt!
Prior to his suicide, Gia had been fighting a darkness of her own for years, at the heart of which were depression, anxiety, and PTSD stemming from the unsettled relationship with her “real dad” and the subsequent fallout his girlfriend and her daughter bestowed upon her. “Girlfriend” is the highly skilled and calculated “first do no harm” nurse THING with an agenda that’s seeing its way to fruition as I write this. They did a number on her, which is still a source of unrest for her to this day, as not only is he still with her, but he’s planning to marry her.
Meanwhile, her years at St. Mark’s were spent moving in and out of a tribe of girls that only perpetuated her depression. “The Squad,” as they called themselves, were and still are clustered together like herpes blisters to bolster these infectious beliefs:
🔪 That being popular is the only power available to them.
🔪 That said popularity and power are directly linked to the societal insinuation that: “In order to be popular, and therefore powerful, you MUST be pretty and thin, have JUST the right shade of skin, and oh, yah … you gotta have LOTS of STUFF!”
🔪 That the most desirable and valuable sources of the power they seek are the truly feminine attributes: “The more physically developed, naturally gifted, talented and intelligent another girl is, the more dangerous her threat”.
🔪 That cruelty is a necessary evil in pursuit of “the power and position” within the hierarchy of a group.
🔪 That shunning, ostracizing, mocking, and humiliating any female whose naturally powerful attributes pose a threat to their own popularity and power by exposing, via comparison, their LACK of naturally powerful attributes, is the most effective way of reducing the other girl’s power.
🔪 That the “lower status” girls are typically the kindest ones, with the most effortless demeanors, and, therefore, most likely to just stand back and be trampled on by a pack of desperate loser TRASH.
LONG story short …
“The Squad” could neither stand NOR tolerate her lingering presence, much less allow her to enjoy any security within the group. Her genuine likability, kind heart, natural beauty, intelligence, effortless athleticism, more developed physique, and “affluence” by virtue of her family were threats to the popularity and power they so desperately craved amongst their bottom-feeding, loser selves.
THEY WERE JEALOUS CUNTS WHO COULDN’T HANDLE HER SHADOW, SO THEY HAD TO FIND A WAY TO LEVEL THEIR VERY SPARSE LITTLE PLAYING FIELDS BY LEVELING HER!
Wow, that’s harsh Cat! They were young girls who probably didn’t know better.
NOPE! Wrong answer! By this point in their lives, they most certainly knew better and, likewise, knew exactly what they were doing! For the record, a few of their pig-like, “let’s relive high school vicariously through our daughters,” white-trash, day-drinking, pot-smoking, pleather-wearing, titties-and-asses-hanging-out-all-over-social-media, “making out with other moms in nightclubs” mothers actually supported, if not instilled, the “do what you must to ascend to the top” mindsets into their daughters’ psyches from a very young age. Lol, one hasn’t lived until they’ve actually heard a sixth-grade TWOT of a girl say to the carload of other sixth graders packed into your SUV on the way home for a Friday-night sleepover:
My mom said that the new girl’s family is VERY rich, her grandparents live in a mansion, and that I should try and make friends with her so that SHE can make friends with her mom so my DAD can try and get their business.
Umm, really? It’s beyond pukeworthy, but also? ABSOLUTELY TRUE! These are the kind of “white-collar” trash bag families my daughter was associating with.
But I’ve digressed …
Yesterday, I finally got to the bottom of something that’s literally been eating her alive. As it turns out, her stunningly beautiful face and very developed physique had become more of a problem for “the Squad” than we’d suspected. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen your already broken daughter just staring at her plate and fighting through that mental gauntlet so many of us fall prey to:
I’m hungry, but maybe I shouldn’t eat this, because after all, I’m just a huge cow with gigantic legs that are twice as big as Taylor’s.
That’s right, people, turns out Gia has had a dragon of her own circling her fragile heart.Fortunately, though, she talks to me about everything, albeit some days more than others. Now that I think of it, both my kids talk to me about everything, and eventually I get to the bottom of all their truths. With each day that passes, I’m learning more about the self-sabotaging voices she’s been fighting inside her mind, and as we talked through the war she was having with her food yesterday, she finally spilled these sobering words:
Mom, the thing is, I hate the way I look. I hate my curves and hate being so tall. And Mom, I never told you this, but last summer when I was at a Squad sleepover, we were upstairs, and Taylor started making fun of how much bigger my legs were than hers. She said, “Look everyone! Two of MY legs equals ONE of Gia’s!” Then she pointed out how much bigger my legs were than EVERYONE’S, and they all started laughing. THEN she started talking about my big, huge chest, and they started laughing even harder, and I felt like dying inside, and wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. They were supposed to be my friends Mom, but NO ONE stood up for me! Not even MJ! I wanted to call you to come pick me up, but I didn’t. I HATE MY BODY! Why DO my legs have to be so big? Maybe I just need to eat less?
And there you have it, folks! It was a cruel and heartless CUNT bitch move! After all that my daughter had done for worthless sewer rat “Tae Mae,” the only way she could make herself feel bigger was to bring my daughter down to her “giant” knees. When I imagine my beautifulMona Lisa sitting there surrounded by “her tribe,” the girls who were supposed to stand up for her—not only against the world, but against each other if necessary—in yet another “circle of abuse,” it makes me literally want to puke. It was her very own “Spic And Span,” and it was unacceptable!
I was infuriated beyond comprehension at first, but quickly remembered that I needed to keep calm and control my reaction. So, I took a deep breath, thought things through, and this was my response:
Gia, I hear and understand you. I have been where you are and felt these same feelings, and I’m sorry that happened to you. It was unacceptable, BEYOND untrue, but damaging, nonetheless. But going forward, if you are to rise above this, you CANNOT worry about other peoples’ opinions. Remember: What other people think of you is none of your business! Any cruel disregard for your heart, emotions, and feelings is about THEM, not you, because in all their pathetic weakness, those “words” are ALL they have to slay you with. THEY HURT YOU BECAUSE THEY FEAR YOU! And remember this: You’re a queen, too, my beautiful little girl – a lioness perched on a hill! You DO NOT and WILL NOT consider the opinions of pitiful, insignificant, irrelevant, weak herding sheep that laugh at, mock, or torment you just to gain power, because you are MY daughter, and you are stronger and better than that! We can’t change the past, but we CAN change the future, so here’s what: Finish your breakfast, go get changed, let’s hit the gym today and do the work! Deal?
And so with that, we WILL keep working toward our soul destinations. My daughter is that fighter who will “keep on fighting on,” because she is mine, and that’s what GOOD queens do. Goodnight, everyone!
FIGHT ON FIGHTER!
Some songs arrive at exactly the right moment. For me, for KING & COUNTRY’s “Fight On, Fighter” became a reminder that what hurt you does not get to own you. Your fire is still yours. Your strength is still yours. And however many times life knocks you down, you keep getting back up and showing the world who you are.
Inspired by “Fight On, Fighter” — for KING & COUNTRY
Yesterday, I saw a post that really punched me in the face. Yes, that pun was intended. It was a super cool canvas rendition of the fight between Rocky and Ivan Drago, and after having thought about it literally all day and night, this is what I’ve come up with …
Gia and I are huge Rocky fans, as was Zack. Rocky IV is my favorite, because in my mind I have always felt it’s been “me against the Devil” in both the brightest and darkest moments of my life, and he’s the one always saying to me, “I MUST BREAK YOU”! Yet, I refuse to let him take me down!
Ironically, one of my favorite songs, “No Easy Way Out”, is from the Rocky IV soundtrack. The Sunday night before he killed himself, it was playing in the car on our way home from the gym. He was crying as he squeezed my hand three times (“I – Love – You”). Five nights later, he was gone. The mask came off and his fight was over. Meanwhile, I’ve listened to this song on repeat the last 62 days, just thinking, reflecting, remembering, and “wanting to know why”. But at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter, does it? Zack’s fighting days are done. He lost. Went down. Tapped out. Still, my fighting days are not done yet, ’cause guess what, people? I’M STILL HERE! Am I bloodied and bruised with black eyes, a fat lip, and some scars that are here for the rest of my lifetime? Absolutely!
I really AM God’s favorite daughter! This “risen to power and grace” divine apostrophe I’ve become is all HIS doing, I just know it. There IS no explanation as to why I, too, haven’t taken the easy way out after all of the years of pain and suffering that tried to snuff me out. God just handed me this heavyweight belt I wear for what reason I will never understand. Zero did I earn it … zero do I deserve it … but speaking of great fighters, Jean-Claude Van DAMN I’m honored to have it! It’s the most valuable thing I possess! It cost HIM everything and me NOTHING, other than my completely blind faith in “the process”. Some don’t understand this, and, in fact, may think it’s CRAZY for me to believe in something I can’t see or touch. I can’t see or touch the wind either, but its effects are very real! So, with that, I am Rocky, the devil is Ivan Drago, the God I serve is the referee, and I … am … WINNING!
This trip is almost over, and while I’ve made a strong push against The Dragon, part of me is still so sad. The tours have been long and the sights overwhelming, but I am at home in this country. Being here brings me a grounded sense of wholeness and peace that’s impossible to describe. Its history beckons me and calls to mind that although these last sixteen years have felt so treacherous, they’re merely a blip on the radar of my life.
As I’ve wandered here through each village in a perpetual state of eyes wired shut, I’ve imagined having been here in some other space and time walking these very same roads. What did it look like? How did it smell? How did it sound, taste, and feel? So many battles have been fought here and many of these sights have been desecrated and rebuilt, if only to emerge even more breathtakingly beautiful than before. Countless pools of human blood, sweat, and tears have soaked these fervent soils, yet still her flowers bloom.
So, what does France tell me? What does she scream to my soul? She says that humanity is but a history of sometimes less than optimal circumstances leading to either growth or death in endless cycles. Each sunset begs the opportunity for me to leave the past behind and awaken to a horizon that hands me infinite choices, beginnings, and endings. My history can really mean something if I let it, even if I never personally witness the outcome.
I analyze everything, I know what you mean. I answer by questioning all that I need. And I want you to surrender, I want you to see all the signs, all the faces inside of me. I see I’m not perfect, but that’s all I see. Lost in a portrait in a picture of me … this can’t be everything I see. Then my canvas is incomplete. Your color’s everything to me, and my canvas will set me free. My outline’s solid and made up of crying. And nothing’s that you say just burn my eyes. I want to surrender; I want you to find some comfort in the spaces between the lines.
I was born in Providence, Rhode Island, and outside looking in, our family was picture perfect. My sister and I were raised by parents who chose not to divorce despite the multitude of odds stacked against them and years of turmoil and dysfunction that besmudged our family tree. My mother bore the brunt of childrearing, which as it turned out was not probably for the best and the primary reason I have manywonderful memories of New England. She did the best she could to make a safe environment for us. She suffered, struggled and sacrificed in every possible regard for the sake of everyone under our roof, most especially my father, and certainly for me and my sister. She was there for everything she could manage to be present for considering that she worked so hard at a career she’d built over years with Texas Instruments and Raytheon, and through that career she made sure my sister and I had all of the things we would need to get out there and survive, not the least of which was college educations that she paid for on her own. She took each of her roles as wife, mother, daughter and daughter-in-law as dutifully and faithfully as she possibly could under any and all possible circumstances. At one point in our life my father’s mother had even come to live with us after my Grandpa passed away and there, too, Mom took the brunt of her overall care and well-being, which I have to tell you is something I still don’t understand to this day, because my grandmother was a mostly cruel and selfish human being who cared nothing for my mother whatsoever, yet happily and selfishly enjoyed the many comforts and caterings to her every whim that my mother alone provided her alongside everything else she had on her already full plate at any given time without any regard or consideration for her overall care and well-being. What Ida wanted, Ida got, no matter the cost to my mother, and this was just how it was.
My mother didn’t exactly have a fairytale childhood much less was there an appearance of anything “picture perfect and charmed”. Born the second oldest of eight children, she’d been raising kids since she was old enough to change a diaper by the time she’d met my father. Her family demographic was probably near poverty level and I know for a fact that she never owned a store-bought dress or new pair of shoes until after she married my father. Her Catholic faith was very strong though, and at one point she’d even considered becoming a nun. Life took her down a different path, however, where she would stumble upon the man and his family that would test her faith forever.
His father, Ernie, was one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever known. He was loving and kind, caring and thoughtful, and all about his family. The man was a saint by even the harshest standards, and I’d be hard-pressed to find a single shortcoming in his character. In the 18 years I knew him, I never once heard him raise his voice or a fist, and never once heard him speak an unkind word about another. Which is not to say that he never ever said them, it’s just that if he did, he never let his impressionable grandchildren see it. To this day I smile when I remember the “worst word” I ever heard him say: “Garl darnit!” This was his version of profanity, and it took a fair amount of anger or frustration to get him there. My Grandpa was the polar opposite of any man I’d ever known until the day I met my late husband, but I’ll get to that much later. Suffice it to say, my beautiful Grandpa was and remains one of the brightest stars that has led my pathway from the sky. His legacy is one of true love and kindness and the memories he left are completely unsoiled in my mind. Of course, he was but a mortal man, and with that, it’s certain that like all of us, he’d had his moments, grievances, “grudges” and maybe even “yelling, screaming and profanity”. As any good man and father should have, however, he was wise enough to shield the younger eyes that were watching and ears that were listening to anything less than impeccable words. Little did I know that he’d set the bar by which I’d judge all men impossibly high, and that it would be years before I understood why.
Ida, my father’s mother, as we later found out, hid a dark childhood secret of her own, and thus led a miserable existence. Even from the grave she managed to pit her sons against each other throughout the entirety of their lives by manipulating them with her contingent-based system of affection and reward. If she didn’t get what she wanted, when she wanted, how she wanted it, her response to her sons was always the same:
I’ll fix you! I wash my hands of you! You’re nothing to me! I’m done with you! YOU’RE NO LONGER A PART OF THIS FAMILY!
Although my grandparents were not necessarily wealthy, Grandpa was a hard worker and they never wanted for anything. This suited my grandmother well. Unfortunately, that “what have you done for me lately” mindset funneled its way through to our own family home and ultimately almost cost me my sanity and life. Again, I’ll get into that later. Sufficed to say that in my lifetime, up to and including my very darkest of hours, I, too, have fallen prey to that familial gift that never seems to keep on giving and had all but blackened and asphyxiated our family tree. Dozens of times, for as long as I can remember, I’ve heard the very words that my father and his brothers grew up hearing from their own mother’s mouth:
I’ll fix you … I wash my hands of you … You’re nothing to me … I’m done with you … YOU ARE NO LONGER A PART OF MY LIFE!
It wasn’t until I was in my late 30’s that I began to recognize that my “picture perfect” childhood was nothing but a farce, and now I’m going to speak my truths, no matter the cost, because at this point I have NOTHING left to lose but the lovely Venom suit that’s been wrapped around my body from the moment I drew my first breath. Welcome to the pages of my life …
PAGES
What happens to a man when he spills his heart on a page and he watches words flow away then his feelings lie on the page alone there waiting for someone who cares to read them, to open their eyes to see them, to see if they can make his thoughts their own, to find out that maybe your life’s not perfect? Maybe it’s not worth what he gives away? You can see that this broken soul is bleeding. So, you can see your feelings inside yourself and wander through my heart. Letting you see through me now only consumes me. Forget your pain … you watched me fall apart. What happens to a soul when it’s trapped inside his emotions and all of these words he’s spoken, they bind him to the life he’s left behind, and every new step he takes he knows that he might not make it to all of these dreams that he has yet to find?
