Change as it ever was

The first snowfall (so far today)some reading for your snow watching pleasure…

The First Snowfall

1819-1891

THE snow had begun in the gloaming,
And busily all the night
Had been heaping field and highway
With a silence deep and white.

Every pine and fir and hemlock
Wore ermine too dear for an earl,
And the poorest twig on the elm-tree
Was ridged inch deep with pearl.

From sheds new-roofed with Carrara
Came Chanticleer’s muffled crow,
The stiff rails were softened to swan’s-down,
And still fluttered down the snow.

I stood and watched by the window
The noiseless work of the sky,
And the sudden flurries of snow-birds,
Like brown leaves whirling by.

I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn
Where a little headstone stood;
How the flakes were folding it gently,
As did robins the babes in the wood.

Up spoke our own little Mabel,
Saying, ‘Father, who makes it snow?’
And I told of the good All-father
Who cares for us here below.

Again I looked at the snowfall,
And thought of the leaden sky
That arched o’er our first great sorrow,
When that mound was heaped so high.

I remembered the gradual patience
That fell from that cloud like snow,
Flake by flake, healing and hiding
The scar of our deep-plunged woe.

And again to the child I whispered,
‘The snow that husheth all,
Darling, the merciful Father
Alone can make it fall! ’

Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her;
And she, kissing back, could not know
That my kiss was given to her sister,
Folded close under deepening snow.

I shaved my legs for this???????

So today, I met a guy from the internets for coffee at the bookstore.  He was sick (coughing,sneezing, watery eyes, tired)  or maybe he just didn’t want to be there.  Tough to tell when you haven’t been out on a date for so long.  Regardless, it was over in a few hours, and no one got hurt, and other than the shaving and the hours trying on clothes to get that, casual but, not desperate look, the hair and make-up…….a little, but not too much.   I think of it in retrospect like a job interview, weather you get the job or not, at least you still got out of the house and had free coffee. Meh.

change is left…..good???

More of the baseline stuff…………………

So I grew up as an outsider in my parents house.  I was on my own a lot, while the other kids had close friends, there was no one in my grade, or my age to bond with in the neighborhood either.  I was always playing with my brother’s of sister’s friends.  I was resented for this, so was always trying to please, to fit in, to belong.  But my relationships were always tenuous, and I was always insecure.   When I started school, and began finding my own friends,  the insecurity never really left me.  here too, I bounced from place to place, from group to group, always pretty sure people didn’t really accept me, or really get me.  I had a few boyfriends,(some of which still hang around as much as I’ll allow….Boys, you know who you are!)  Bob was always there for me though, always stood by me, as much as Mary Jo would allow.  But, he did love me unconditionally and completely, even though he did it quietly.  For that I will always be thankful, because he taught me how to love another person.  I just never really learned how to love myself, it is our mothers that teach us that.   Bob also taught me how to love and appreciate the world around me, nature, birds, science….. how it all works, and the beauty of complex simplicity.  The interconnectedness of all things. This was the one relationship I felt secure in, as long as it wasn’t in Mary Jo’s face.  She still didn’t handle it well, that he loved his ‘outsider child’.    That is who I became; but, I took it literally.  The ‘outside’ became my companion and teacher.  I spent days studying bugs, grass, pond life, and being in and a part of the water.  Water was everywhere and a part of most outside activities.  I recognized early on that it was the source of all life, and worth respecting.  The pattern, for me, was set; insecure around groups of people, confident in nature.

It wasn’t until I started a family of my own that I felt truly belonged.  I chose to create my own way of mothering, but I was confident that these children belonged to me and I to them.  It was the closest and most secure bond of my life, and I cherished and nurtured it with every fiber of my being.  I married someone with the qualities of my mother, as we all tend to do.  Determined that this time I would be loved, accepted, and secure.  But it turned out to be the same relationship, in the end.  Jealous, critical, insecure and explosive.   It lasted 25 years, because it was a responsibility to us both to raise our children securely and in a family setting.  I don’t think it made them feel secure.

change is good….. right???

This is a question I ask myself everyday, sometimes multiple times a day.  I have yet to truly convince myself of this, but there have been times in the last year where I was pretty sure this could be true, and many more when fear slapped me upside the head, made me question my will to live, and wonder what or if I had possibly been thinking.  This blog is dedicated to the exploration of change in one life and how it impacts everything….for better or worse that happens as a result.

Let be start by giving you a baseline.   I am a human female, born in 1958, the second child of four to Bob and Mary Jo.   I was born in Michigan, in the United States of America.  I was born in the Spring, a time of change, and nearly from conception it was pretty clear I was going to be a change for the worse for Mary Jo.   I will regale you with all the reasons why she cried for the most of the pregnancy and threw up or was hospitalized for the rest at some later date, if time permits us all such options.   The first big change comes in my life begins upon arriving home with Mary Jo, and having her return to the hospital shortly thereafter without me.  This is where the hero of our story to date comes in on the scene.  Bob finds himself with a dangerously ill wife in the hospital, a scared 18 month old that terribly misses her Mommy, and a newborn that barely knows who her mother is.   A month later when Mary Jo comes home, weak from surgery and recovery.  She can’t believe how much her now 19 month old, beautiful daughter has grown, and finds a strange baby in her home that she is too weak to take care of, and cannot make herself care for.   To make matters worse her husband seems enchanted by this baby, he even hears it when it cries to be cared for in the night, when she does not.    It is as if this baby had changed her perfect family into one she no longer felt a central part of, one where she now felt pain and uncertainty.   It was not Mary Jo’s fault, she had no tools to deal with this change (women weren’t encouraged to use tools much back then) she felt jealous, guilty and ashamed.  She did the only thing she had truly been trained to do, bury her feelings and try her very best to pretend she felt more for this baby, and ignore the fact that her husband felt so much more.  Had she been given more time to adjust, more support, more drugs, maybe love and acceptance would have taken root and replaced the fear, instead by the time she had fully recovered from her illness, she found herself pregnant again, and life moving too quickly for her to look back at the baby she didn’t feel for.  Change kept coming.