Jsack's Mom's Blog

Welcome to my blog where I share my special needs parenting journey with my heart, truth, and love, one story at a time. ❤️

These Eyes of Mine

I look at these eyes of mine ,bluer than blue staring back at me from the mirror. The crystal blueness takes me back as I see one tear slipping across my cheek. There’s a vast ocean of pain that these eyes of mine hide. I do my best to deal with it, hide it, and keep it all in until it’s pouring forth like a waterfall of emotion. I think to my past and wonder if I could’ve been better. A better daughter, sister, aunt, and friend. I think of all these roles I played from a young age. I became an aunt at the age of six, and I was quite used to being the youngest child in my family. 

I sat on my Dad’s lap and watched my big brother holding this tiny baby. I had a mixture of emotion as I looked at him. Curiosity, excitement, and yes even jealousy. My Dad had left when I was four I remember it all too well; the crying, shrieking, and red hot anger of my Mom as she chased him out of the house. He was running for his life as she brandished a knife, and I knew this was a women on the edge between sanity and survival. He had pushed her to a breaking point and she had pushed back. My Dad left, ran out of our house and didn’t look back. He took on a new family, responsibilities, and lived in their home. 

I visited every weekend and holidays and this never felt like my home.  I was a guest and nothing more, and I struggled to feel comfortable in my own skin. This wasn’t my Mom, bedroom, or backyard. This was too much newness for a little four year old girl to understand. I didn’t feel like I was special, wanted, or appreciated. I remember attending kindergarten in the fall. I was badly in need of a haircut and it was picture day on Monday. This would be my first and last haircut that my step Mom ever gave me. I couldn’t sit still the bowl on my head was heavy and cumbersome. The hairs tickled my nose and made me sneeze. It was an overstimulatmg sensory experience and everyone just thought I was misbehaving. I was called a brat and left on my own after that. 

I looked in the mirror and saw this ragamuffin hairdo and I cried bitterly the rest of the weekend. My first Kindergarten picture and I looked like I had cut my hair with a butterknife! My Mom was furious and tried to fix it but the damage was done. I couldn’t even smile for that Godforsaken picture. It tore me up inside to look so ridiculous. The taunts, jeers, and stares overwhelmed me. I spent more time hiding or throwing my fists around to avoid any confrontation. I was no stranger to it in fact I welcomed it, then someone knew I was there and mattered. After that hideous haircut I avoided going near a pair of scissors or that stool again. 

Then just like everything that floats around elementary schools and germ warfare I got lice at the age of six. I was horrified and scared about what was happening to me as I scratched my head until it bled. My Mom blamed my Dad, my Dad blamed my Mom and I was sent to stay with my Grandparents for a week. I remember sitting in the purple clawfoot tub as my Gram rubbed pink calamine lotion over my head, neck, and eyebrows. I felt that hot water pouring over me and watching those dead bugs lying in the tub. As they swirled down the drain my tears mixed with the pink liquid as it streamed down my face and into my eyes. It burned a lot, but not as much as my hot humiliation of having contracted the condition anyway. 

These eyes of mine have seen a lot of pain, hidden a lot of lies, and have yet continued to be my windows of truth. These are memories I’ve stored away in the tiny box that I’ve buried in my mind. Then something will trigger it and like Pandora’s ill fated box it will open up again. These emotional scars I wear on my heart threaten to overtake me at times. I watched something tonight about children and what their Father represented to them. Some said pride, confidence, anger, pain, love, and nothing but emptiness because he was gone. This struck a nerve with me. A jangling nerve trigger that was hanging in the balance. And my bluer than blue eyes welled up with tears while I struggled to gain my composure. My children will never know of my pain, they will never experience that uncertainty or need to doubt their existence. They will know only love, guidance, respect, and firmness when discipline is needed. They will know only of my joy and gratitude when they blessed me with their arrival.  They will know that they are and will always be, the key to my heart. ❤️

 

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Safe

My favourite place at the end of my day is in my husband’s arms. He makes me feel safe, loved, and cherished. We’ve been together a long time it’s hard for me to imagine life before him. There was a time when I didn’t feel safe to give my heart to anyone. I had countless boyfriends cheat on me and still want a relationship with me. That’s not how I operate its loyalty, monogamy, or nothing. I had a very verbally abusive ex who I began to not feel safe with. At first when we were dating everything was great, than that nagging feeling in the back of my thoughts will plague me. As the relationship progressed I thought I could change things when I he became sullen and moody. I wouldn’t talk when he wanted quiet, I wouldn’t talk to anyone when he wanted me by his side. We had one class together in high school and I was intrigued by him. He was a two  years older than me and I wasn’t shy and made friends easily. He liked what he saw in me so we began dating. At first it was new, fun, and exciting then like everything in life the bloom was fading from the rose. He started to show his true colors through his jealousy. I thought that I could change him by changing myself. This became a pattern of my obsession to improve myself. Better hair, makeup, clothes, and becoming fitter. I began to not recognize that person in the mirror as I slept less, ate more, and worked out religiously. In his kind moments that were fleeting, he’d tell me I looked so good I was good enough to eat. I didn’t really know what to think of that, I was 16 years old and never thought of myself as I prey before… It was really bizarre I remember one time hanging out with him and we were in his car. He was kissing and cuddling and watching the luminescent moon over the water. It was beautiful and romantic but it escalated quickly to tugging, pulling, and pinning me down. He wanted much more than I was willing to give. I of course said no loud and clear and he continued to press me further. I felt cornered and I came out fighting and punched him in the face and got out of the car. I started to run but he had my leg and my shoe came off in his hand. It was dark, scary, rocky, and I felt very unsafe. I didn’t know where I was as this was the first time I had been to this area.  I managed to climb up on some rocks while he tried to talk me down. I could smell him and see his thick, shrouded, aura emanating from him as he walked away. He got in his car and he left, roared out of there while I was huddled up on a rock in a skirt and sandals. I stayed up there and prayed for some resolution. These were the days before everyone had cell phones to capture their every move. I knew I couldn’t spend the night there and I was going to be in a lot of trouble because it was way past my curfew. I started to climb down and make my way across the rocks to the road. My feet were so sore and I had developed a blister. I was so scared and longed for the safety of my home and my bed. I trudged on and tried to shield myself from the icy cold wind blowing off the water. All I had to cover myself was my jean jacket. I was dressed to attend a dance which I did that my boyfriend was working at. I continued walking along the road praying that someone safe would find me. Suddenly there was bright lights heading towards me and I continued walking, then the car drove past me and I could hear tires squealing as it headed towards me. I ran as fast as I could and I heard music blaring then dead silence. I wasn’t safe but I knew I needed help. Then I heard my name being called it was my boyfriends friend and he told me he was looking all over for me. He was told I had a bitch fit and ran away. He drove me back home and I talked less and listened more. I felt relieved to be able to escape that debacle. I knew my ex was moody, was used to getting his own way, and every intuitive thought screamed at me to run not walk, away from him. As soon as I arrived home and thanked my ride for rescuing me I sat down and took a hard look at my life. I wrote down five things that I wanted for myself. 

  • 1. I wanted to feel safe. 
  • 2. I wanted to be with someone who loved, respected, and cared about my well being. 
  • 3. I wanted to feel comfortable in my own skin. 
  • 4. I needed to take care of myself mentally, emotionally, and physically. 
  • 5. I would never try to change a person again, and pay more attention to my empathic feelings. 

I took this list and then wrote a letter goodbye. I read it to my ex and we parted ways. There was apologies and attempts to win me over with charm and gifts. I looked at the list I had made and stuck to my guns, and didn’t give in. Fast forward twenty-five years in time and I’ve met, fallen in love, and created a life with a wonderful man who is on my list. He’s my soft, safe, place to fall when my world is scary. He loves, respects, and cares about my well being as well as our children. My husband makes me feel comfortable in my skin by showing me he’s comfortable in his. He gives me outlets to take care of myself mentally, emotionally, and physically. And when I’m not he makes sure I get more sleep, flowers, chocolate, dessert, and movie nights for just the two of us. I never try to change him, I just love him for who he is. Sure there are times I wish he’d fold some laundry, but that’s  minor in the long term view of our relationship. He helps me be a better, woman, wife, Mom, and friend. And knowing that he loves all of me, even the scary parts of my personality is a gift. I feel safe in knowing I’m loved and safe with him. 💗

This has been my submission to http://www.morethancheeseandbeer.com Sunday confessions. Which I know it’s Thursday now. I wrote and saved it but couldn’t find it till now. Please check out the anonymous confession on Ash’s Facebook page and all the other talent that link up. Thank you. 💕 


 

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