One year ago today, the masked and anonymous English band PRESIDENT released “Destroy Me,” a banger I fell in love with when they opened for Bad Omens in Dallas on March 19. The song would later appear on PRESIDENT’s debut EP, King Of Terrors.
“The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.”
Perhaps an even lonelier moment in someone’s life, however, is the first time they really “see themselves” standing in the wake of their own self-destruction and realize they handed someone the scissors that cut their life into shreds. By the time they understand what they surrendered, it may be too late to start that story over again and keep those scissors in their own damn hands.
So don’t go handing your heart or your scissors to someone who hasn’t earned the privilege and honor of holding them. Pressure can make a diamond, but discernment decides who gets close enough to cut it. Just sayin’.
There are seasons in a mother’s life when loving her daughter means holding on, and there are seasons when it means opening her hands. Gia is standing at the edge of one of hers, and I am learning that my job is not to hand her every answer – or every wound I inherited – but to remind her what belongs to her and what never did.
May she inherit the love, the strength, the humor, the stubborn hope, and every beautiful thing that came before her. But the chains? Those end with me. My daughter gets the crown. She gets the freedom to become. And when HER seasons change, I hope she remembers that becoming is not a betrayal of who she was; it is the fulfillment of who she has always been.
“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!”
When you don’t speak your truth, you tend to live a life in the shadows … a life of fear … a life of mediocrity.
Author unknown
Well, well, well! I bet you didn’t know there was such a thing as Tell the Truth Day, now, didja? July 7 is as good a day as any to practice saying what you mean. Stand up for yourself, my friend. Your voice deserves to be heard!
Always remember that sometimes the best thing to do is let your truth rip (as eloquently and diplomatically as possible, of course), then simply walk away. You don’t have to turn every honest conversation into an argument.
In my opinion, the best way to win an argument in the first place (IF, that is, your ego can handle it) is to educate yourself on the topic, listen, ask questions, and make YOUR points clearly. Once you’ve said what you came to say, consider DROPPING THE MIC and walking away quietly. After all, there’s no such thing as “two idiots arguing” if one of the idiots is smart enough to know when to fold.
Just sayin’! Wait! How did we get from truth-telling to “the art of war”? Hi, everyone! It’s me … CAT! Good luck out there, ya li’l truth bomber, you!
“Everyone gets lost sometimes. STAND UP! You may find it’s not as hard as you think, ’cause no one is born the King Of Silence! So, choose your voice! Just speak up … don’t back down … don’t wear that crown! LET YOUR VOICE SCREAM OUT! Be true to who you are! Sometimes in this life, the world may not be with you. Sometimes you must fight yourself with your fear behind you. You can’t feel on top of the world with the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
… because if only you knew how long it took me to finally embrace this beautifully broken angel living inside my heart who didn’t think she was “lovable” for just under forty years, you’d understand why I carry this picture of her in my wallet. I display it in my bedroom, bathroom, and office, and I give her a place of honor (just below the God who made me) in the most sacred temple I frequent: MY MIND!
For I am fearfully and wonderfully made!
(Psalm 139:14)
Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.
(Colossians 3:12, NIV)
Wherever there is a human being, there is an opportunity for a kindness.
“I get to love you! It’s the best thing that I’ll ever do! I get to love you! It’s a promise I’m making to you! Whatever may come, your heart I will choose! Forever I’m yours! Forever I do! I GET TO LOVE YOU!”
(Ruelle … and ME!)
Call it insanity. Call it pure vanity. Call it an overinflated—if not narcissistic and conceited—ego the size of eternity. If she was good enough for God to speak into Creation so “fearfully and wonderfully made” and good enough for His Son, Jesus, to die for, then she’s good enough for me to plaster her pictures on my heart and in my home. And please don’t confuse healthy self-love with “narcissism.” Having appropriate levels of self-love, self-regard, confidence, and self-sufficiency—while remaining humble enough to recognize just how “powerfully insignificant” our places are in all of this—is one of the benchmarks for human survival. If we don’t think highly enough of ourselves, why even bother attempting to fight our way to sur-THRIVE-al?
“Reparenting.” It’s everything! The first day in your adult life that you’re able to show that broken kid you once were (or the kid you never got to be) some empathy, grace, unconditional love, and compassion will be the first day of the rest of your life. I call “that day” my second birthday, and yes, my friends, I remember exactly where I was when I began reparenting “younger me.” It was April 8, 2008, and it truly was the beginning of who I’ve become.
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}
In a world full of people who truly believe that the only way to be valued is by wearing name brand things near fancy people while doing epic, exciting, and name brand things, never forget to remember that no matter where you are, who you’re with, or what you’re wearing when you arrive, it’s all those intricate and boring details about you that make YOU “nothing, everything, and ALL of it“, just like a serving of not so bougie of water in a plastic cup or a cheap glass from The Dollar 25 Tree.
And remember this, too …
It’s REALLY tough to know the value of water until it’s gone, gone, GONE!
Unfortunately, there WILL be people in and out of your life who don’t even DESERVE to know who and what you REALLY are at your stripped-down, naked-swimmer core.
Let all those ’lil one-celled surface critters go hang with that kinda scummy stuff on top of the pond while you’re out there, way down in the Mariana Trench, where all the really mysterious pearls and epic treasures have yet to even be found.
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!
It took me a literal HELL of a long time to finally understand that one of my most self-sabotaging traits has always been the need to carry the load for the people in my life at any cost—even at the expense of my own preservation. Far too many times, I tried to protect the people I loved from the consequences of their own choices and behaviors when what I should have been doing was letting them feel every scrape and cut from those sharp edges so they could figure out their own survival.
For too many years to count, it was incredibly difficult for me to “love from a distance,” pray for the best outcomes, and save my precious energy for my survival. But here’s the deal, folks: sometimes you have to learn to say these most IMPECCABLE words out loud, as painful as it may be to “cut them” loose:
I AM NO ONE’S SAVIOR!
Holy SHIT! I think I just had another epiphany after writing the word “SAVIOR” in bold letters! Is this how it feels for God to sit back and watch all of us scrape and cut ourselves on the sharp edges of our poor choices and behaviors? Maybe part of free will is exactly that: the responsibility to choose, to learn, and to live with the consequences of those choices.
“Sow” this is how a person—and especially a parent—allows someone to learn the often bloody hard way that while we can indeed choose what we sow, we cannot always choose what we reap. WOW! Just when I thought I had the nuts and bolts of this thing figured out—MY MIND IS OFFICIALLY NUMB AGAIN!
My Dearest Cat:
Listen up, you divine apostrophe! No, you are NOT God, and no, you really CAN’T save people, you can ONLY love them. As selfish as it seems, you MUST continue to keep on choosing YOU, because, umm, what the hell use are you to any of us if your wings break again and you can’t keep touching that beautiful sky? So, put down everyone ELSE’S scissors and just keep shining your Light for the people in your life who need to see it, regardless of whether they even know they need it. In the meantime, when you feel helpless as you’re watching the people you love running with sharp objects, try and remember all the times God saw YOU running with scissors and how helpless He must have felt, too. If that Man has any actual hair on his head, surely YOU’RE the one who turned it grey. Yet, here you still are alive and well with scarred up cuts that are now your survival to tell. Yes, you fell down, but you’ve lived and have learned, what didn’t kill you DID make you stronger, and He HAD to let you do it. None of these seeds you’re still desperately trying to plant will take root otherwise.
Love ~ ME!
Happy New Year to all you beautiful people, and NOPE, this isn’t just another one of those cliché “resolutions.” It’s an impeccable promise to myself not to fall apart when I see people running with scissors, not to run with scissors myself, and to just keep being what I’m being: Jean Claude Van DAMN Iridescent!
SHARP EDGES
Mama always told me don’t you run – don’t you run with scissors, son. You’re gonna hurt someone. Mama told me look before you leap – always think before you speak, and watch the friends you keep. Stay along the beaten path. Never listened when she said, “Sharp edges have consequences.” I guess that I had to find out for myself. Sharp edges have consequences. Now every scar is a story I can tell. Should’ve played it safer from the start – loved you like a house of cards. I let it fall apart. But all the things I couldn’t understand – I never could’ve planned – they made me who I am. Put your nose on paperbacks instead of smoking cigarettes. These years you’re never getting back. Stay along the beaten path. Never listened when she said, “Sharp edges have consequences.” I guess that I had to find out for myself. Sharp edges have consequences. Now every scar is a story I can tell. We all fall down. We live somehow. We learn what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. {Linkin’ Park}
People who take selfies are narcissistic and vain!
(The Formerly Misled & Completely MISINFORMED “Not So REAL” Cat Williamson)
Yes, indeed, THOSE are the words I used to say about “selfies”! Upon further deliberation, however, I have since changed that narrative to something more like this:
Self-acceptance, self-LOVE, and SELF-appreciation are PERFECTLY okay in appropriate doses, if not a necessary evil, so, JUST TAKE THE FUCKING SELFIE!
If YOU don’t love you, 100% unconditionally, EVEN on your darkest of days, and value, see, and TREAT yourself as the EPIC living masterpiece that you are, why would anyone else?
In honor of “National Selfie Day“, here’s a little gift in the form of wisdom for those of you who refuse to jump on board the train for fear of people thinking you’re a self-grandioso, conceited “WHOOPEE! LOOK AT ME!” bus just waiting to run them over with your ego …
If it’s true (and it is) that we should treat others as we wish to be treated, isn’t it about time that you finally reach for a place of self-love, acceptance, and healing in your journey? Not only are YOU the one who “gets” to spend the most time of all with YOU, the last time I checked, The Big does NOT make trash! If HEloves and adores you, SO SHOULD YOU!
Hi everyone, it’s me, CAT! I am Fifty-ONE-Derful years old and fearfully and wonderfully made! So, please excuse the mess … I didn’t see it from behind. I caught a glimpse, but the reflection’s only mine.
With that, I want to challenge YOU to post a selfie very soon. It’s okay to love yourself, as long as you’re doing it from a humble place, always keepin’ it real, and being mindful that you’re “Nothing. Everything. ALL OF IT“!
The plane has officially landed, so where do I begin? I have absolutely no idea! Now is the time for me to sit down, reflect and try to put down in words exactly what has transpired since that destined moment that you passed “the message on the napkin” over to my tray table, my Angel from Flight 438. (As if I haven’t bombarded you with enough of my words already!) If anything, please remember that this is more mental therapy for me than anything, so once again, be patient. What follows is complete and total honesty and clarity – with myself, from within myself and due largely in part to you. This will be hard because there are so many things I don’t want to leave out, but I have to believe that somehow, someway, you will be able to fully understand and believe that these words come from a depth in my soul I truly never knew existed, and they are probably the deepest feelings for another human being, other than my kids, that I have ever felt or known. Here goes …
By now I assume that you have read “The Diary of My Perfection.” What did you think? Best seller? Has the picture of all things Kitty Cat become any clearer? I tried so hard to convey to you in person the fact that somehow over the years I have managed to rip myself apart at the seams into this extremely jaded shell of a human being that’s broken into a million pieces. The same goes for those people that have surrounded me. I feel as though my existence in many people’s lives has jaded them a bit as well. But perhaps my story helped you understand the magnitude of it all and helped more intensely clarify exactly how lost I have been here inside myself for SO many numbing years. I have been unable to feel a single, real thing, except for where my three babies are concerned, and until now they have been my only connection to human feeling, compassion or spirit.
As you have probably gathered by now, and perhaps even within moments of knowing me, I am very much comforted, enthralled and kept alive by my son’s existence in this world, and he and my daughter are the only true successes that I have ever known … at least until now. All good then. If I leave this world tomorrow, I leave successful! Christian, despite all odds, is and will always be one of the most incredible human beings I know. I am certain that just as his strength of character and wisdom have enlightened and inspired me, there will be countless other lives He will have touched along his way before it is all said and done. I made him! My daughter? God, I wish you could have met her! She is one of the most strikingly beautiful and amazing creatures I have ever laid eyes upon, both inside and out, and her smiles alone have been more than enough to sustain me in the worst of all my days. I made her!Even that tiny wonder that greeted then left me in only a few short hours of time … broken, yes, but perfect in every other way. I made her too! And as painful as it was to watch her life slip through my fingers, and as haunting a memory it is for me to live with, I find it surreal that I was able to hold that little girl in my hands from the moment she came into this world until the moment she left it. How many mothers can say that? Sometimes, Henrik, I’m almost thankful she’s gone. Does that make me depraved? Who knows? I look around at this place that we live in. So much evil, ugliness and disdain. She never had to know it. She just got to be tiny and innocent, grace us with her overwhelming presence, then leave this place completely unknowing and unscathed. This, I think I’ve found, was the blessing behind her very short existence. You know, I think I’ll keep running with that so that perhaps someday the agony I feel when I think about how it ripped my heart out watching her struggle and gasp for air will begin to fade. I truly hope that in time I will be able to reconcile those two things within myself so that the healthier of the two thought processes overtakes and consumes the other.
Can I tell you, Henrik, and could you ever really believe me, when I say there were moments during our time together when I wasn’t actually sure that you were real? Had it not been for the fact that my son and the other boys on that plane confirmed that you were indeed on it, I might still not know whether you were real or imagined! A more likely scenario was that you were an actual Angel sent to me from God. Man, it sounds too ridiculous and again I am sitting here saying, “No, Catherine, you can’t say that to him. It’s weird and creepy and this poor fucking guy doesn’t need to hear this.” But as you can see, I’ve gone ahead and included the sentiment because it is very real to me and I feel as though I have nothing else to lose. Do you remember that during our visits there were times I just reached out and touched your face with my hand? I needed to feel your skin to convince myself you were real! Do you know how long I waited for a single human being to come looking for me inside this darkness? You can’t even begin to know. Please refer to “The Diary of My Perfection” and more specifically to the final plea I made to God just days before I left for France:
Well then, how about an angel? Can You send me another angel, and preferably one a little taller than two feet, and older and wiser than 15? Someone I can talk to? Someone to hold me and make me feel alive? How about someone who doesn’t think I’m just whining? Someone who understands my heart, my pain, my grief. How about one person that will look beyond my surface to find the broken little girl hiding inside herself? Someone who will hear me and not say everything is okay. How about someone who doesn’t think I’m perfect, or that all the things I have should preclude me from feeling any pain? And can You send me a hug, or a kiss, or a touch? Will anyone even want to touch me?
That was just rhetoric! A genuine prayer, but not one I was expecting to be answered. I cried out to God, and yes, I meant what I asked for, but it was more sarcasm on my part than anything. I think I told you that as I boarded that plane to France, I did so hoping for only the best in my wish to “leave some things behind” but not really expecting it to happen. I have almost become comfortable dragging these demons with me everywhere, so a more likely outcome, which I’d have been fine with, was just a much-needed vacation with my son. Nothing more. Nothing less. I am all too accustomed to NOT getting the things I truly need or want!
Henrik, you walked onto that plane and stopped my heart! Like my daughter, you too are strikingly beautiful, and sitting beside you gave me peace. I just kept watching you, and the more I watched, the more I had to know you. Then watching you watch that baby? It melted me from the core in mere seconds. One sweet smile in that child’s direction and I was absolutely done. I wanted to jump out of my skin, into your existence and know who the hell you were and had NO IDEA how I’d manage the plane ride home if I couldn’t speak to you (although as you know I did try to resist). Everything inside of me just wanted to keep that hat pulled as far down over my eyes as possible and just “cry and think” my way home. What were you thinking? Only God Himself knows. Well, God and you that is. Can I tell you something else? When we parted ways at the airport that day, I can honestly say I did not think I’d ever hear from you again. For one thing, and to reiterate, I wasn’t even sure you actually existed in the first place. Those ten hours were just too sweet to be real. Second, I was scared to death thinking that you were just being polite and kind since you were all but trapped with me there. I honestly didn’t think I’d hear from you again, which was fine, because just those hours alone carved a decade of filth off my soul.
So why was I compelled to slit open every one of my veins and so quickly spill the entire contents of my soul into your lap? I instantly trusted you, Henrik, and I don’t do that. I trust no one and am highly skeptical of everything and every person I see. You looked into my eyes when we spoke and kept me there. I tried but couldn’t look away. I don’t do that either. In fact, that’s one of the things I’ve always had a problem with – making eye contact with people. Maybe that’s because I’ve been too afraid that if I actually did look someone in the eyes when I was speaking, and they actually looked back at me, they’d see the rotted-out schism between my mind and body and run as far away as possible. I am petrified of people, Henrik. Scared to death of anyone not of my womb. Surface level is all I can do. Nothing deeper. Don’t need it.
I’ve been thinking a lot about our conversation on the plane. Remember, I told you that the night before I had shed the very first layer of my skin with Adoram. But, Henrik, it was dark outside, and we were staring out into the ocean. When I spoke, I was just “speaking” and he was listening. It was almost as though I was a song playing on a radio that he couldn’t shut off. Poor fucking Adoram. The first of two innocent bystanders foolish enough to ask me, “What’s wrong?” The first true casualty in the war of reconciling my soul. We drank, I cried, he stretched out his sleeve and wiped away my tears. But he wasn’t actually looking at me! I was in a very safe place talking to him … in the dark, no eye contact. But with you? Looking into your eyes comforted me and I wanted to stay there because it felt so good and safe. Do you remember what I wrote in The Diary about Gia? Some of the sweetest moments in my life have been those mornings she grabs my cheeks with her tiny little hands, forces me into eye lock and says, “I Love You, Mommy!” It’s a miracle that she somehow intuitively knows this is what I need. But how did you?
So then, what of all our visits and chats? You have blown me out of the water, Henrik, and I’m not sure what to do with it. You hugged me so many times, and with every one I felt a steady release of pressure from deep within my core. Each time you hugged me, my breathing got a little easier and the tight grip that constantly clenches the pit of my stomach loosened. That night when we stood in the parking lot? Do you remember that hug? The one where I had my face pressed sideways against your back and you pulled my arms around to the front of your chest? I could hear your heart beating, Henrik, and can still hear it even now! It sends chills up my spine when I close my eyes and remember. It was at that very moment that I decided if you were in fact an Angel, you had to have been the kind that could actually manifest itself into a human body, because how else could I have felt so much from a being that didn’t exist?
The night that I gave you the music and the medal, you were so concerned I had given you so many pieces of myself, but what had you given me? God, man, you did give me a piece of yourself. Can’t you see that? How can you not see that? You gave me your kindness and true compassion and you gave me your eyes so that I could begin to find myself. You made me want to look into the mirror and try to see what you were seeing! For 16 years I have searched for my own reflection in another person’s eyes but could never find it. I looked into the mirror and felt ugly. I felt dirty, empty and invisible. I see the way people look at me but have never really understood it. What the hell could anyone possibly see? There’s nothing here. I’m hollow. “Lights, smoke and illusion!” Please, please, please, Henrik, hear what I am saying: Last July, when it was finally time for the doctors to take the bandages off my chest and stomach, I came home and couldn’t even walk past a mirror, much less look inside one. I knew then that my destruction was finally complete but just didn’t know how to reckon myself with the reality. That’s when I decided to not EVER search for my missing reflection again, whether in a mirror or through the eyes of another! I just gave up. Two full days passed before I was finally able to take my shirt off, and I couldn’t actually look at myself for weeks. When the day finally came, I just stood there and cried. I touched my scars, held my stomach, dropped down to my bathroom floor and cried for so many hours you can’t begin to imagine. I thought my life was over, which was par for the entire course, and I knew from that day on I would NEVER show “myself” to another living soul, whether physically or emotionally. When I was done crying, and God, I remember this like it was yesterday, I stood up, wiped away my tears, straightened my shoulders and began to devise a plan that would allow me to continue the “grand illusion.” I got dressed, got in the car and had Him drive me to a little shop across town that carried prosthetic implants I could stuff inside my bra to disguise my mutilated chest. I walked back out of that shop a whole and “perfect” woman again. Got back home, pulled into the driveway and never looked back. I have played the game very well, I might add, with the cards I’ve been dealt in a manner that would cause no one I love to suffer.
So, then what of all that? Do you know that although you never asked (and I have to tell you I am more than impressed with your fortitude of principle), if you had, I would have very willingly given myself to you? That’s what you gave me, Henrik … Breathe. Desire. I trusted you and trusted myself and would not have been afraid to let you see me. That is such a huge thing for me to both say AND realize. Every time I walked away from you, I walked away wanting to look into the mirror to try and see what you were seeing. That is what you gave me,Henrik! You made me feel alive and important. You asked nothing from me and made me believe it was possible for someone to genuinely care for me as a human being worth trying to know beyond the surface. You made me feel beautiful! Absolutely, intensely and extraordinarily beautiful! I can look into a mirror now because of you and I’m no longer afraid of what I’ll see!
So, let me begin to close by letting you know how things are going for me now. As you can imagine, He is hurt, angry and wrecked beyond belief. You read it in his email. I can’t really say that I blame Him and if the shoes had been reversed, I probably would have written you something even worse. These weeks have been painful for Him. He feels jilted and remorseful and is finally beginning to realize the role He played in my becoming what I have over the years and how badly I needed Him all the while. We’ve talked and talked and talked some more and today I told Him all about you. Things no man would ever want to hear from his wife: “A stranger walked onto my plane, into my life, ripped open my heart and saved it. I love him. Here are the reasons why.” Every one of the thoughts and feelings I have expressed to you herein has been made abrasively clear to Him by now and He knows that for as long as I’m alive on this Earth I will always hold a candle for you and that I will always eagerly await our communications. I think He’s sorry He’s not you and He wasn’t the one to reach me inside here, especially given the fact that He’s had almost 20 years to be the man who I felt so compelled to trust and give every single piece of myself to but instead chose to take me for granted. He understands that although we’ve decided to try for our children’s sake to co-exist and perhaps somehow repair the 19 years’ worth of mutual abuse, either way I will always want you to be a part of my life. I told Him that if what He wants is for me to lie to Him and myself and say you never really mattered to me, that you will ever stop mattering to me or the two weeks between us never happened, I would never be able to say and mean it. Lying to Him that way would not only be unfair to Him but would belittle one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever known, and I simply refuse to do it. I must convey all these things to Him somehow, clearly and concisely, Henrik, and still can’t believe that I have to do this. Again, with me and my recent cases of “don’t do it, Catherine” but then I do it anyway. He is hurting so much but I won’t lie to Him, myself or anyone else ever again!
So, now are you beginning to understand? You know, along with every other thing you have given me, these last weeks have also helped bring closure to one of the most painful chapters of my story, the life and death of my relationship with Mitch, my “blaze of glory.” I loved him, Henrik, so deeply, and as much as I possibly could have given the heart I had to work with at the time. But you see, he and I came together at intersections in our lives where we had both begun unraveling. We were equally broken and sick together and hid our pasts away within the safety of an unconditional love. I found him, or he found me, not sure which one, not too long after my rape. He was recovering from his own self-destruction and had only recently spent four years at Angola State Prison in Louisiana for a series of really stupid decisions. He too was violated inside that place, many times in fact, and his time in prison hardened him in ways that even he didn’t realize. We shared that bond – the violation of our most sacred temples, our bodies. I didn’t even have to tell him what that night in the parking garage had done to me. He already knew firsthand! So, then we came together, each having found a safe, warm place to be broken. There were nights that this man, this six-foot, three-inch vision of masculinity and strength, would cry himself to sleep in my arms because he couldn’t find his reflection either! He too was an illusion to most everyone he knew and all he saw when he looked into his mirror was a body with its manhood completely excised from its being. He’d served the sentence but was never able to leave his prison. There were so many times that he would look at me and say, “Thank you, Catherine … thank you for loving me. Thank you for letting me be me again.” He said I made him feel alive inside for the first time in all his years and that he had never felt so completely safe with another person. He said that each time we were together he was more able to leave his stolen virtue behind and remember what it felt like to be a man. But you see, until now I didn’t really understand how profound his words to me were. I appreciated hearing all the things that he would say and the gratitude and sentiment he showed me every single day we were together. But only now do I understand exactly how he must have been feeling. Henrik, for ten years I have tried to understand “why”? Why did God put Him in my life only to take him away? What was it all for? What did it mean? I can’t believe that a decade later I finally understand: It was ME God placed in HIS life just as YOU were placed in MINE! The plan was never “forever.” Maybe I was his Angel? That man was tortured from the inside out for all that he’d done and had been through and was an empty, walking shell when I found him. I know with every shred of my being that the night he left this world he left knowing how beautiful he was and how it felt to be truly valued! He died having known compassion – true and unconditional love and friendship – and having been able to give himself, show himself and be “seen” by another human being completely. I did that, Henrik. I did that! I did for him what you have done for me and now I can finally let him go.
We have given ourselves a year or maybe even longer. He needs to do some serious soul-searching and self-repair as well if this is ever going to work. He too has been damaged by his past, our past, and also needs to shed some skin. We have tortured and abused each other to the point of no return but our history together has got to count for something. We are living here together and will remain married on paper but are separated in every other way. He’ll do His thing, I’ll do mine … basically nothing will change as this is how we’ve existed for years. Only now there are no false pretenses or expectations as to what we either can or can’t make of this farce of a marriage. I won’t lie in a bed with Him or any other man for that matter and give myself completely unless I can honestly see myself as beautiful and whole in someone’s eyes as I felt in yours. That is what I want, that is what I need, and after 20 years of living this way, I will settle for nothing less! What I want and need probably most of all is to finally be able to have my own husband, the man I’ve been chasing endlessly around for almost 20 years, try to begin to see who I am, what I am, what I’ve become and be the one who I can truly connect with, and not in the imaginary way it has been this whole time. Maybe, just maybe, then the years of chasing Him will not have been in vain and the hole He left in my heart can be patched and filled. This next year will be about legitimately trying to find and repair ourselves, separately. When the time is right, and who knows when that will be, we’ll begin to spend some time together, try to get to know the new, healthier people we will hopefully each be becoming and see if there is any shred of hope left between us other than our kids that we can salvage. I honestly don’t foresee that happening at this point and I think He is a little more hopeful than I am. That is probably because I truly don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look into His eyes and not see the huge joke He sees in me reflecting back. We’ve pushed each other and pushed each other and then pushed each other some more and now it seems we’re so far away that all this could be pointless. There is so much water under our bridge and so many damaging things have been said between us over and over and over … many of which still ring inside my ears, and probably his even as I write this. But I will give it my best effort for the love of my children and because I do love Him as well. Twenty years are too many to throw away and something tells me that if ever it were possible for Him to really look at me and see me as you did then our relationship could truly come full circle. How are we gonna make that happen? I have absolutely no idea. I think He does truly love me somewhere deep inside, but I need to know the reasons why. Does He love me because I am the mother of his children, and He doesn’t want to hurt or leave them? Does He love me because He only thinks He loves me, and He really doesn’t want to give up or fail? He needs to find an honest place, as painful as that may be, to land when it comes to me. I think right now the person who came back from France is scaring Him half to death and maybe He has no idea how to love the “healthy person” that actually knows for the first time in her life what she truly wants and needs.
Like me, He has a lot on his plate and now it is His turn to deal with the demons He’s been harboring inside himself. What worries me most is that I’m not even sure He realizes how damaged He is inside because I know if we’re ever going to truly be able to love and know each other and have the actual, “real thing,” He will first have to come to the place that I have. That’s a little scary though because there is a fair enough chance that once He dissects it all from deep inside out, He’ll realize that He never even loved me in the first place. That too is a chance I will have to take in all this. Only God knows if it will ever be possible for us to fully connect on every emotional and physical level the way that I know I need to. It’s just going to take some work. Lots of time and lots of work. I feel very sorry for Him because I know that He’s hurting. Far above and beyond everything else that this next year will bring, He will also have to reconcile himself with the fact that He now lives here with not only me, but yet another ghost in my heart as well. Your shoes, my friend, will be incredibly hard for Him to fill but now I know that just about anything is possible. Maybe, just maybe, God will send Him an Angel too.
In the meantime, know that I am fully aware that within the confines of these pages have been set forth so many open parameters that you may feel as though I have overstepped any possible bounds of reality. You may actually find after having read this letter that you think I am surely insane and perhaps it would be in your best interest to say goodbye, call me a “friend of sorts” and walk away scratching your head. I am prepared for that consequence, won’t like it, but will accept it if I must. I will respect any of your wishes as far as which category you would like to place me in to best suit your life and needs. I can’t really imagine how I would feel if I was in your shoes. You’ve just been handed a lifetime sentence of lingering in my life and mind. Only, you can choose not to accept the “in my life” part of your sentence and simply walk away. Fortunately, your participation is not at all required for the latter. You are here in me for as long as I’m alive and there is no amount of time that will ever change that.
Oh, and one last thing. You know by now that one of the things we shared was a similarly intense love of music and that in my life when I have been unable to “otherwise speak” or “feel” it has always been my music. So, here is the song of my life. “So Far Away.” I imagine that it is the one song that will be playing the loudest in my head if the day finally comes for me to walk away from here for good. God only knows that sooner or later it may be time for me to move on once and for all and start over fresh somewhere else. Believe it or not, I kinda love you, Henrik. You truly ARE an angel to me! Please pray for me and my family, as I’m sure you already are, and more than anything please take these words for whatever they are worth to you. Or don’t take them at all. Either way, they remain. Catherine
SO FAR AWAY
This is my life – it’s not what it was before, all these feelings I’ve shared. And these are my dreams that I’d never lived before. Somebody shake me cause I, I must be sleeping. Now that we’re here, it’s so far away. All the struggle that I thought was in vain. All the mistakes one life contained; they all finally start to go away. Now that we’re here it’s so far away, and I feel like I can face the day. I can forgive and I’m not ashamed to be the person that I am today. These are my words that I’ve never said before, I think I’m doing ok. And this is the smile that I’ve never shown before. Somebody shake me cause I, I must be sleeping … I’m so afraid of waking. Please don’t shake me. {Staind}
