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Shields Up!

Have you ever just felt sick and exhausted after interacting with a person? Have you ever felt doom, anger or just not right at a certain place or home?

We are what we radiate. Joy, sorrow, anger, chaos, etc. Too many times I have come across people who are negative. They have a problem to each solution. Seeing someone who is stuck in a semi private hell is a thing to behold—from a distance. I say from a distance because their hell, negativity permeates to their surrounding areas. It affects their environment and all who are in it.

I’m not saying we should ignore our emotions. Quite the opposite, we need at acknowledge them and become self aware. If you are angry most of the time, if those around you make you angry, then it’s time to take a good look at yourself. Be self aware.

Usually the source of anger is locked in a spiral that they are unaware of. Catching their loved ones into it like a tornado of emotional destruction. If you are caught in this spiral with a loved one you are probably codependent. Trying to fix everything along the way for them, setting up perfect situations so that the source of anger won’t find a trigger to add to the anger or start up again once they are semi calm. Shield up, let them sit with their anger. It’s hard but you need to let them process their emotions and find the core of the why’s of their anger.

We live in this wonderful cauldron of diversity. Learning to accept the differences in each other, promoting tolerance is very easy to do. Is it healthy to be upset because someone didn’t do something your way, even if the task was completed? Instead of criticizing the style, welcome the end result. Life will go so much better once we understand and accept that we don’t have the right to force what we want on each other.

As for me, I shield up. From very small it is a tool that has helped me to survive. First we need to refuse to take on that person’s anger. You are not a toilet for them to dump their anger and dysfunction into. We can listen without absorbing. Be loving, be patient but make sure that you realize that their issues are theirs to work through. No one has a perfect life, but we can choose to find joy and peace. Shield up! Don’t let anyone rob your happiness.

Pencil drawing by Lauren Pettit

The why’s of my poems

In the matter of a day I wrote 8 poems dedicated to my mother. We have a difficult relationship and I have accepted that. That will never change unless she is willing to acknowledge and own her behavior. Having tried many ways to appease this woman I realized that there is nothing I can do or have ever been able to do to erase the offense of being born and who I am. Maybe I’m foolish in thinking that if she can be honest for once, she can make changes in her persona and we can work on mending things. I don’t want it for myself, but for her to have peace. She is in a hell of her own making. How does one help a caged animal that bites itself and others?

I do not want her love. My skin crawls whenever she touches me. She is older now and wants me to hug her and hold her as she cries. She cries for herself and fact that she has lost all control over us. She doesn’t have father to mistreat anymore. Mercifully death took him. She is full of rage that I do not allow her to victimize my children. I will not put them in harms way. In the past I allowed a relationship but soon things were clear. She was playing her dysfunctional favoritism games with them. Making them compete against each other for her favors and gifts. Her privileges were removed. My children are safe.

I am not angry, that anger has long gone. Disappointment resides when I remember to think of her. When you communicate with someone and are left feeling upset, have to always walk on eggshells to avoid offending them and their presence only brings you toxic feelings such as the ones that exist from being gaslighted, then it’s time to move on. Let go with love. Love of yourself, and love for them to find their own truth.

I wrote the poems to give a voice to my past. To release the words I could not formulate as a child.

Getting rid and letting go of the things that no longer serve me.

I feel free.

Pinched Faced Lady of Mercy

Pursing her lips, hiding her snarl.

Tight grips on writhing child.

Mothers who drag their evil spawn to the holy altar. Making sure they are free of sin and do not falter.

Killing their spirit and taking their will. Forced into obedience to save them from hell.

Doesn’t the Bible preach peace and love? I guess they missed that part of the holy dove.

Scrubbed clean on the outside and ripped souls from within. Small children bow heads and the prayer begins.

Now off to the house with our devout abusive mother. Who likes to get laid, just not by our father.

She loves Jesus, God and the Holy Spirit. You’ll love them too because she can will it.

This church of the home we must be meek. Rules with all styles of abuse and a tight slap across the cheek.

Once in the home she goes back to her angry self. Pinched faced lady of mercy I can say nothing else.

Praise and Misery

If we could all have your energy to continually hate, to forget the wicked past, deny and negate.

You were given a job, you chose to be our mother. Not realizing we would be such a bother.

So you beat and berated all of us, but it was done proficiently and you never did cuss.

You held your superior demeanor and all knowing power. Making your offspring suffer and cower.

Today you don’t want to acknowledge the family dysfunction. That doesn’t suit your needs or views at this junction.

You silence the truth and our voices by turning to the following choices

Religious tv channels, bibles and hymns. Let’s not for get your gospel musical whims.

I see you dancing drunk full of Jesus. Ignoring the truth as you pleaseth.

Your ridiculous cries to have family union. To line us up for your poisoned unholy communion.

I close the door and leave you to your own. Miserable, confused in a hell absolutely alone.

Hush Little Child

Behave well and don’t make a scene. If you embarrass me I’ll make you scream.

Pinching your arm you wince in pain. Hold in your scream or I’ll do it again.

Now we are home and you’re not safe and sound. Go get the belt, you’ve got another round.

Your cries mean nothing to me. I straighten my hair, oh the vanity!

The sight of you is your offense,

Put down your arms held in self defense.

I’m a great woman can’t you see? I’m a pillar of the community.

Nothing you say will be believed.

I destroyed your credibility.

You’re an awful child, you look like your dad. No grace or beauty you make me mad.

Now you are older and so am I.

“Why don’t you care for me?” is my cry.

I remember nothing of the past. At least what you claim I did to you, I am aghast.

You must understand what I have done, doesn’t count and is long gone.

You must love and honor me my dear Christine, I will always despise you but that’s something unseen.

Declaration from an Orphan

I grieve the death of my best friend and protector. The one whom we could seek for impartial counsel. One who loved without judgment and reproach.

I grieve the recognition that the one who lives is deaf to the cries and struggles of her children. They cannot seek refuge without a stabbing embrace. There is no peace within or through out her.

Love has died and a deep chasm of emptiness lives.

Ode to the Clueless Mother

Bringing new lives into the world

Vast and devoid of emotions

Leaving children to their own

Punishing them for unknown offenses

Years go by of full dysfunction

Family norms set and learned

Mother reaps the love from the so called scorpions she has spurned

Demanding love and devotion from those she has offended

Walking away in judgmental peace ignorant of how she is wrong minded

Letter from a Child Grown Old

How toxic people, including abusive parents are continually unwilling to change—how to break free

Bent and twisted by your will, Children who didn’t understand your ills

Quietly we accepted the abuse, Mistakes groomed for your use.

Anger, rage, verbal, physical and emotional attacks, Whips from leather belts on our backs.

Accustomed to getting your way, The confusion you must feel now sitting there today.

Why don’t they love me? Call me or care?

It might have gotten lost while you yanked out our hair.

As adults you have transferred your attacks, No physical evidence your hand is retract.

But the most vicious thing of all, is your tongue and lies as you cry in vain to pictures on the wall.

Deep denial, you get a pass, Are you surprised we don’t kiss your ass?

Nothing really has changed and that’s your choice.

Your silent victims now have a voice.

It’s up to you whether we can progress. It’s all the same, I couldn’t care less.

Do as you please and always do, but don’t cross my kids and keep them out or your view.

See, I like my kids I think they are great, I feed them great love and bypass the hate.

This is the gift of hate you have given to me, I turned it to strength and love with honesty. Things that were denied in my past, I ensure my love for my kids will always last.

Refusing to acknowledge your faults, I feel sorry for you and must bid you adieu.

I leave you with peace to walk your path, I’m shielded with love, safe from your wrath.

Killing my inner child

Depending on the day my routine changes. Being flexible and open minded is a must for me to get through the day with minimal cynicism. I’m not sure if I was born a grumpy skeptic, or raised to be this way.

My mother told me a story of when I was a toddler playing on the floor putting together a puzzle. I have alway loved all types of puzzles. I was about 3 years old with chubby cheeks and curly auburn hair. As the adults visited one gentleman known for his tall tales was going on about his latest boast. People were too polite and sat there absorbing his latest tales when I paused for a moment looked up and said, “bullshit” then went back to work on my puzzle. In my house my parents did not swear, I guess I was born with a thesaurus of expletives already installed.

At home we do our own thing and are not forceful of our ideas and beliefs. Guests are welcomed and taken care of. But what if you have a repeated guest who feels the need to spew his religious views and proclaim his righteousness? One who questions why on earth I would teach my 6 year old how to multiply, divide and how to read when all I need to know is in the Bible.

I felt as if I were killing my inner child who had a few things to say. That honest, raw inner child. Should I release her? I chose to be an adult and just let him have his say and go on his way on this occasion. Next time I might let my inner child run free and honest.

Life in Spanglish

My husband has a blog and I adore him even though we do not agree on certain topics. He is a Caucasian and an atheist, while I am a spiritual Latina with a history of Santeria and Catholic roots. We come from different cultures and yet we have an interesting time fusing our lives together.

Jim is kind enough to sit still long enough for me to apply Vicks on him and insist that he wears socks to prevent illness. While accepting my traditional ways that make no sense to him. (I love you) 😉

I’m placing this artwork made by my daughter to ward off any evil eye! No jodan!