Pilgrim's Journey > February 2007 Archives

February 4, 2007


Things have been rather unsettled for us for a few days. It's getting better, but the past few days have been really rough so no one has written. Therapy on Tuesday was really hard-- I think we already wrote about that. Then on Thursday Jo went to see our nutritionist. I don't even want to touch on that, but it set off a lot of guilty feelings having to do with the fact that the boys eat meat while jo is a vegetarian. And we have horrible memories of seeing animals being hurt... and cannot eat meat. It let to a bad appointment. Then on Friday on Dr. Phil there was a young lady who confronted her dad, who had tortured and killed her mother when she was 2 years old. It got us so emotinal and brought on flashbacks that we can't stand to think about or put up with seeing. So the past few days have been a bit crazy. We've been doing some journaling and talking inside trying to figure out what to do. We've also been doing some research on how to work together inside better. We found some writing by someone named Sarah Lambert online who has written some helpful articles on multiplicty. Hopefully those will help.

Posted by pilgrim at 7:34 PM | Comments (1)

February 13, 2007

Dealing with grief again

One of the most important people in the world has died.
She wasn't someone that anyone would recognize.
She was never on television.
She never invented anything.
She most certainly did NOT make a lot of money.
But she was brave. And great. And beautiful inside.

I found out that my favorite teacher died.

She believed in me.
She wrote me letters as I was growing up-- a lot. She always signed them, "Love you, Mrs. ____"
She let me come visit her at her house.
She and her husband took me out to dinner a few times.
When I lived in far and got into the Gifted program , she sent me flowers with a note that said "I knew you could do it."
School was a safe haven to me-- I LOVED school. I never wanted to leave there. On the last day of 2nd grade, I cried like a baby as I got on the bus. She reached her hand up to the bus window and told me everything would be ok, that she would still be there in the fall.

That year Tuck was around a lot, we went through our "I'm really a boy" stage. At Halloween we dressed up like Peter Pan. She was ok when Tuck kept going around saying "I'm a boy, I'm Peter Pan," and she kept saying "OK, you're a boy, you make a good Peter Pan." She told us we were great at playing football with the boys at recess, and that we were nice and sweet when we played with dolls with the girls at recess.
She tried to help me learn to cope with life, with changes, with new teachers that came along, with moving a lot. Her letters are filled with advice, and with little things like talking about her garden, her husband, the weather. (I still cherish all those letters.)
She used to say things to me "Missy, the world is full of change, and you're going to have to learn to deal with it-- its going to be ok. " And "Missy, not every teacher you have is going to be friendly, and not every situation you go through is going to be good-- but that's what makes like an adventure."
I loved it when she called me Missy. It made me feel strong. Competent. It makes me wonder... is that the beginning of our Missy inside that we later developed?

Did I tell her thank you? Enough? Did I tell her I love you? Enough? Did she realize that I worshipped her? That the world revolved around her when I was 8? That I lived, breathed, and adored her that year? Were all my letters, drawings, and presents those 15 years or so enough?
She taught me so much. It was in her class that I decided to become a special ed teacher. Do I carry on her legacy well enough? Do I do the things she taught me well? Did she know what I became? I wrote to her, and to my kindergarten teacher, about how I became a teacher to be like them. But did she understand--- I WANT TO BE LIKE YOU. THIS IS FOR YOU. I DO THIS BECAUSE OF YOU.

She wasn't supposed to die. She was supposed to live forever. Favorite teachers are supposed to live forever.

my heart hurts.

Posted by pilgrim at 6:51 PM | Comments (7)

February 23, 2007

Comments on Journals

There are no implied rights to posting a comment. Free speech means you can say what you feel you need to say without the GOVERNMENT coming down on you, not me. If you decide to be an insensitive idiot your comment will be deleted and you will be dismissed and ignored. There is no Comment Constitution out there saying Blog Owners must uphold the First Comment Amendment and they can’t delete or moderate words. I delete stuff off my blog all the time because there are a plethora of idiots out there and they seem to flock to my blog making moderation necessary.
By the way-- people who post comments intending to hurt our feelings, or make us feel bad... IT DOESN'T WORK. I don't give other people that kind of power over me anymore. Getting nice comments is cool, that's a nice thing to see. Getting stupid, snarky, mean comments, I just think, hm.... look, another stupid person who thinks they're being cool.And then I laugh at you.

Have a good day all.

Posted by pilgrim at 2:58 PM | Comments (4)

February 25, 2007

Emotional Rollercoaster. Wheee!!!! .....Not fun.

What I'm trying to write down probably won't make much sense, as it's difficult to type and hard to connect my thoughts together.
All weekend long things have been very switchy, and all of us are on a huge emotional roller coaster.
Its so strange how you can work and work in therapy, and get over some things. Like get over how come people treated you, and you get set up boundaries with friends and colleagues and your spouse.
And you can figure out that what other people say to you and about you really doesn't matter much, especially when they try to put you down or provoke you. You learn that it says a lot more about them than about you. You learn to shrug it off and get on with your day.
This is all good.
you spend time around your parents.
And years of therapy fly out the window.
And its incredible how in seconds you can feel a quarter inch tall... by something they did say or didn't say, or did or didn't do. Or a look, or a sarcastic comment. Or in my case, a dozen sarcastic comments.
I want to be around my parents when they visit. Some inside don't. Some are afraid. Mae keeps saying "I want mommy--please, I want mommy."
Today has really, really not been a good day at all. After talking to my mom on the phone and holding everything in, I finally just broke down and started crying.
There's just too much. I feel like shit and a quarter in tall. I feel like nobody wants me. I feel like I will never be the good daughter. I feel like a stupid idiot for wanting anything from them in the first place, because I know they will never give it. Yet still I keep hoping, and I'm so stupid for doing so.
And that's just MY feelings. Add in Carolineine, Jo, Mae, Tuck, a few other kids like Claire, and things have been crazy inside for the last few days.
We are not handling it well.
I just wish they wanted me. I just wish they would choose me some time. Choose me over their friends, over drinking, over "driving around and looking at stuff". I just wish I felt like they wanted me. that's all.

Posted by pilgrim at 6:31 PM | Comments (7)

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