I had another very real dream like always. It was at some gathering that could have been a birthday party, or family dinner. Someone found old videos of me and put them up on the screen. The first one (which of course does not exist is this reality) was of me talking to my ex-stepdad. It was a very loving and adoring clip, portraying innocent happiness and affection. I guess I was about 11 or 12. The next video was of me giving a speech to a large crowd. The subject or the audience is not important. But I was funny, I was confident. The one thing that stands out the most about these videos is: that is simply not me anymore. I had fire behind my eyes. I had an open heart towards the world. I had spirit and spunk.
I am very aware that as you age, you get a bigger picture of the world. Cynicism tends to attach to you and become an ever-present companion. At least in my case, but I know I am in the majority here. When I examine my past and search for the clues that lead to the end of the rainbow, or in this situation...the lack thereof, it is not hard to see the stain on my shirt.
I have become estranged from half of my family. My mom and dad divorced before I can remember. They each remarried shortly after and I now had TWO families. I lived with my mom, stepdad and two younger sisters. This stability lasted until 6th grade. Divorce again. This time I saw the ugly monsters that reside inside people. To see someone that you love and trust suddenly twist and roar maliciously at you and everyone else that has loved them unconditionally, that right there rips a chunk of your heart and spits it out in the dirt.
A child's heart and head can heal with a quickness that is almost miraculous. There are only so many band-aids though and once the heart has callused, it is not soon to repair. After such a beating over years of tumbling up and down these rolling hills, self-preservation mode kicks in. I must guard what is left of my heart. To put it in a not too mushy phrase: I only have a handful of fucks left to give and I must use them wisely. If a dog bites, you forgive and put your hand out again. If the dogs bites 9 out of 10 times, stop petting the damn dog.
Comparing certain family members to a dog is not my intention but the metaphor works so I'll stick with it. I have since moved away from this creature that constantly nips at my soul. This has left me heartbroken for the most part. I have undoubtedly learned that my head is the leader in this separation and my heart is just along for the ride (which hopefully keeps in tact). Separating myself from what was once half of my identity has been one of the hardest things I have ever ever ever had to do. I miss this dog because at times it was playful and cuddly. I just have to remember that I feel much happier when I'm not being bit.
This right here is enough cause to justify my cynicism, callousness, and overall withdrawal from the norm. I won't drag on any longer because I've already Debbie Downed myself as I tend to do when playing this ever present saga in my brain. Analyzing ever single iota of facts and emotions and what-ifs and hows.
I mourn for the past. I cry for the ones I've lost who are still here. I hurt for what could have been. But this is so futile. So pointless. I am here now. I am not her.
