childhood, Uncategorized

Hanging on to stuff

I remember dad got me these really cool sunglasses after I burnt my eyes. They were completely red matching my red high top sneakers that I wore till they were in shreds. The frames had red leather blinders so no light could get in from the sides. My eyes were safe and wouldn’t burn again. I didn’t know a person could burn their eyes. Yet I burnt mine on a hiking excursion. The glare off of the white snow crust, the bright reflection off of the glaciers. That glare is evil. I suffered from a painful blinding ache for days. Trust me, that isn’t something you ever want to experience.

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Later I lost them. Put them somewhere safe or left them somewhere and they were gone. I felt horrible. Sick to my stomach horrible that I lost them. I knew they were expensive, important. Dad’s old school reaction didn’t help my gut ache. That I should be more responsible, careful with my things. That they were expensive. Didn’t he think I knew that? Every time that my parents were in the bathroom together with the tap on I knew they were fighting. Fighting about money. I hadn’t meant to lose them. I loved them. They were red. They matched my shoes. They were gone.

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We keep things in case we need them, as mementos, for that one time we might need it. As a tangible piece after losing someone. Keepsakes, memories, things. I’m like that with photos. Thousands of photo’s to jog my memory of the wonderful adventures I’ve had.

Our stuff our collections of mementos don’t mean anything to others. We cart it around and display it. When we are gone it goes too. It’s just stuff. Even our photo’s don’t mean as much to others.

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Hanging on to things. Hanging on to the past. Feeling guilty when losing things. Becoming a hoarder when you feel you have no control over your life or income. When life becomes so scary so hard that all there is, is stuff. The connection between emotional tumult and things becomes blurred. It doesn’t have to be that way but for many it is.

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On a side note. I keep feeling shocked over how much stuff, junk actually is created. Every dollar store, Wal-Mart, knock-off brand, a cheap version that ends up in the landfill. Let’s face it, two minutes after using cheap replicas they break assuming they worked in the first place! The constant redecorating, redoing, replacing of things that aren’t even broken is such a common occurrence nowadays. That gives me a tummy ache for entirely different reasons than the one I had over losing my sunglasses.

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memories, Uncategorized

My heart grew

I have noticed that I think back to my children being young often. Missing their sweet chubby young years. When I was pregnant with my first I was terrified. I hadn’t even planned to have a baby and then all of a sudden I had to make a family for the kids and try not to lose the baby. I was raised to play housewife and mother so I knew how to do that. I just didn’t know how to do that in the world. It might not sound like a big difference but it is. Especially at twenty-two without any solid groundwork laid. I was afraid I wouldn’t know how to love my unborn child. I was so afraid I didn’t dare speak my fear aloud. I am terribly superstitious about putting my fears into words. I had built such a great wall around myself. I had jeered at lovers and newlyweds. I avoided close friends and families. I laughed at the girls thinking they were in love. Ran rowdy with the boys that were no good laughing at their women who sat at home believing their men to be honest and faithful. I kept my walls high and believed that was how I wanted my life to be.

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Then I held my daughter in my arms. Her skin so soft. Her fragile little body, all 5 lbs of it. Trusting me to care for her and protect her from all that might come at her. I would sit for hours holding her while she slept. Tears would sneak down my cheeks from the deep love as my heart hurt from the depth of it.  I knew that in a blink of the eye she would be grown and gone. I wanted to treasure each moment. Love each stage my children went through not worrying over the terrible two’s or waiting for the pre-school age. I vowed to love every stage they went through growing up.

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As I try to bring forward my childhood, my past to lay out as chapters in a book I find my mind wanders. It grasps onto peak moments without easily grasping the hidden pieces.

That moment when all-encompassing love touched my heart and it grew. I treasure that moment. It is a memory easy to think of when faced with troublesome writing. I was willing to have feelings for who could help but love these beautiful little beings.

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