whispers screams and nothings

two years ago i wrote a blog that took me two hours and was such a release for me... and since then, life has taken hold and i have found myself wishing i a) had the time and b) could write things with impunity - without anyone who knows me being able to come back to me and judge or question what i was writing. so here i am, writing to no one, hoping no one i know ever reads this, and hoping i can find an outlet for this ache inside of me.

if you are reading this, there is some reason. it's not that you know me, or that i have a flashy site or a sexy picture... and my blogs aren't going to be themed or even logical... i am a stream of consciousness writer. and i love writing.

i decided earlier tonight that i wasn't going to give away details of myself that would allow anyone to say, "hey, this sounds like so and so." inevitably, however, details will spill out, and i will sound like your neighbor or your sister or your college roommate. and if so, that's good: i hope you will learn something. and if you comment, and i hope you do, if you comment, i won't divulge anything that will allow someone to connect the dots. at first, i thought, "i'll take on a persona, write what i am feeling as if i were someone else." but that won't work either. so here i start... a stranger, a delicate enigma, in the quiet peace of cyberspace, about to spill her soul.

i am not an unhappy person. i have so very much for which to be grateful. i have a family, a beautiful, crazy, dysfunctional family. i have friends for whom i would walk through fire. i have a job, a roof over my head, food on my table, full use of all my faculties (ok, so that's debatable), and a relatively healthy body. i can not complain, or rather, i wish i didn't want to complain. but somewhere deep inside of me is a little girl, clenching her fists, screaming at the top of her lungs, wishing anyone anywhere could hear her. most of the time, i quiet her by reminding myself of the things i listed before. i travelled around the world and have seen poverty and death and a thousand reasons why that little girl should just go away. and yet, there she is. and she has gotten much louder in the last few weeks. *i want to stress here, that i've seen plenty of professionals who all conclude that i am not crazy, don't need medication, and have within me, the means to deal with anything that comes to me. so my illustration of the little girl is not to say that i hear voices or that i have a split personality or anything like that: so stop thinking it. i just don't know how else to explain what i am feeling, especially since i essentially do not know anything about my intended audience.

so as i sit in the darkness of my modest home, listening to a random cd which throws me back 10 years, i wonder: why did i think i wanted to write a blog that i don't want to share with those people i love the most? why did i think this would even remotely be a good idea? why not get a journal and actually write? (i love my handwriting, by the way) and i don't have an answer.

where do i want to actually start? i could go chronologically: start with my very first memories... ironically, through all my moving around, i am back to the same place my first memories were created... several decades later (sorry, those of you hoping i was some young, hot, available muse), and what feels like several lifetimes later. but here i am, in *** yeah right. sorry: a little sarcasm (it's a family trait) will eventually make its way through the entire post.. i am here, and here is not where i actually started, but where my brain first remembers. i had a decent childhood. i had two parents, three siblings (too much information already), two dogs, two cats, one friend... my parents didn't beat me, i didn't fall victim to any of the terrible things that we hear about now: again, another reason why the little screaming girl shouldn't exist in me. in comparison to so many other people i know (and one to whom i am married), i had a silver spoon -type childhood. i always had a place to sleep, always had food, always had church and family and everything our parents' generation held dear to raising children. i didn't always get what i wanted, but i always had what i needed. and perhaps that bears repeating: not for you, but for me. i didn't always get what i wanted (toys, boyfriends, fashion, etc) but i always had what i needed. and i was a happy kid. maybe that's the key: if i could find a way to reconcile that to my life today, maybe i would be a happy not-kid. and i'm not unhappy... i said that before. i am not unhappy. but i am not content, either.
time to change the cd...

for instance: tonight was by far the happiest my husband, kid, and i have been in two years. hours (no kidding) of laughing and goofing off, and just being together... and yet, when my kid went to bed, and my husband went upstairs, and i was left to do the dishes, i was listening to james blunt and thinking of a former boyfriend. how lame, stupid, ungrateful, and ugh was that? seriously, what is wrong with me? all i've said i wanted from my husband is for him to be a part, and tonight he was, and everything was awesome... and the minute it ended, i couldn't even hold on to it in the quiet. immediately, in the very few moments i get of quiet in a day, i couldn't reflect on how good things were... instead, i sat there scrubbing the dishes, thinking about this other person. i am ashamed. and i want answers. but i don't expect them. that's the enigma in me: i don't get it... i get that everyone wants greener pastures, i don't subscribe to that crap. i made a decision two years ago to begin a life with my husband (those who are paying attention will have just put one piece of my ten thousand piece puzzle together) and i went into that fully aware of what i was getting and what i was giving up. so don't try to tell me that everyone feels that way or any other cliche. i don't believe that. it's a cop out.

i am pledging to not let this blog be about how crappy my relationship is or how much of a martyr i am, or poor me, or "feed my ego." i don't ever concentrate on the negative... my photography teacher taught me that... you focus on the negative, you never see how beautiful the picture is.

i want to point out that if you enjoy music, any kind of music, and only ever listen to it on a crappy cd player, you will miss so much... my husband (the same one that i slighted, even if only in my head) put together this incredible system and i am sitting here listening to a cd that i used to play daily at work on a crappy cd player, and i loved it. now it is as if i am hearing it for the first time. for instance, the current song is a rendition of "i don't know how to love him" from J-s-s Chr-st Superstar. i heard it every day for 3 years. i didn't ever hear the strings in it before. it's one of those "relaxation" cds that were all the rage 10 years ago: and it is so beautiful. i have to close my eyes, it's that beautiful. music is healing to me: and my cd collection is as vast as anything (couldn't come up with an example, because the music is so beautiful)... i am sad that our children don't hear music the way i am listening to it right now. ooooh, there's a snare drum... never heard that before either...

my husband just came downstairs and i have to pay attention to him: perhaps i'll have a few more minutes to write again tomorrow...