Family: Let Go Of The Old Dream Or Go Crazy

At some point, I needed to live for me. No one would ever rescue me. I had to be my own hero. And I had to be OK with the anger the family members felt when they had no more control, when I would no longer exist for them. When I finally expected them to cross the street to meet me halfway, or return the same amount of respect and kindness I gave them, and they were unable, its sad- but in the end- freeing.

Let go of the old dream. Begin a better dream. MAKE a family that can give you back what you give.

*Now that we are adults, its no longer about survival. It's about creating a beautiful life for ourselves.

I have all the scars and echos of the past that, unfortunately, and in some ways, fortunately, have carved me into me.

*I write, sing, paint, dance like a woman running from the fire into the barley meadow fields where everyone is quiet and peaceful and serene. I'm waving my dark ash smeared arms about, screaming "I just came from a fire" and they all look at me strangely. Some have soft oh-shaped mouths and sympathetic eyes. The fire will never touch them. The fire is a myth, the fire is inappropriate dinner table discussion.

The fire has burned everyone a little. 

But when I run into a real burn victim- hands like lobsters wit haunted, hungry faces, its a precious event. I cherish the contact.  

There are few. Not so many in the barley-meadow town, but, some.

I do yoga like the barley people, therapy, eat veggies, live like them and slowly, create a life for myself they take for granted. I make the brick house with my own hands, but, in the end, I have a brick house just like them. 

It all comes slower. And judgment falls and I don't smile as often as I should or maybe, I shake and stutter, but, I am not alone. There are a few rough hands in the river. Some because of the fire and some are just cut that way.

In my brick house I don't want the same story. I worked so hard for my place, that I'll be damned if I spend the precious years being numb, stupid, and herded into mindless consumption and participation in the machine that breeds fires.

And don't go back to the well. There's only fire in the well.