Writer's Workshop: My Personal Heaven

Sometimes you find heaven in odd places.

I find my heaven looking for smooth, flat stones along the shore.

Heaven is looking at the messages left behind by those

who have passed before me,

who were happy. And in love.

For some people, heaven is a beach in the hot sun.

For others, it's a cool day on a beach.

For some, it's not even the beach at all.

I don't understand those people.

Not one bit.

For me, heaven is where land and water intersect.

Whether it's the ocean or a river or a lake,

heaven is watching the water tickle the land.

And watching the sun's gentle kisses

touch the face of the water.

 

 

And say good-night to another beautiful day.

Welcome to my Heaven.

Lake Michigan.

Near Mackinaw City, MI, USA.

Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop!! (Prompt # 2:  Write a poem about the last thing that made you mad.)


What makes me mad tonight
is the sudden truth
that no matter how
much
I
love my
daughters,
their birth moms
will always be
first.

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Writer's Workshop: Poem About Something I'd Like to Forget

I can't get the button to work, but this post is prompted by Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop... join in the writing fun!
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“Thirty Days Later”

If I loved you
I cried when you left
     If you loved me
     You would have turned back

If I loved you
I’d watch each day for something
     If you loved me
     You’d wonder why I hadn’t begged you

If I loved you
I’d fight the urge to beg you
     If you loved me    
     It would kill you not to hear it

If I loved you
I’d lie awake each night
     If you loved me
     You’d be sleepless too

If you loved me
You’d face me
     And not wonder why the tears 
     dropped from my chin.

One of us has love.
wants it
invited it in
and checked on it each night to
make sure it was sleeping peacefully
before turning in for the night.

     The other one 
     Walked out the door
     Without saying good-bye.
     Or I love you.


(I cheated on this assignment.  I wrote this last year, exactly 30 days after my daughter Dawn ran away the second time. And with Mama Kat's assignment, there are LOTS of things I'd like to forget, but the heartache that went with not knowing where she was AND knowing she didn't want to be with us was nearly unbearable.  So I dusted this one off to share.  Cheers!)

Life Soundtrack--Writer's Workshop

Soundtrack of your life: Pick 10 songs that you would have on a soundtrack for your life, pick a line from each that you most identify with and write a short statement of why this song made it. This is written as part of Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop... 1. It Had to Be You, Harry Connick, Jr—“For nobody else gave me the thrill/With all your faults I love you still/ It had to be you” My husband and I danced to this song at our wedding. We are almost nearly total opposites, but after nearly 17 years, we are still like newlyweds. He’s just pure awesomeness, and I totally don’t deserve him, but I’m glad he settled on me. I definitely married up!! 2. On the Turning Away, Pink Floyd—“We could find that we're all alone/ In the dream of the proud” This song has just always made me slow down and stop and think. Now I just ponder how different my reality is from the dreams and expectations I had before I became a parent. 3. With Arms Wide Open, Creed-- "Well I don't know if I'm ready/ To be the man I have to be/ I'll take a breath, I'll take her by my side/ We stand in awe, we've created life…" When my husband and I drove across the state to pick up our daughter Leigh to bring her home with us, this was the first song that came on the radio after about an hour of silence. Perfect timing. We cried. Still do, but for totally different reasons. 4. In My Daughter’s Eyes, Martina McBride—“But the truth is plain to see/ She was sent to rescue me…” This song is my challenge to myself, a constant reminder that everything I say and do and think and feel will impact my daughters. I sang it several years ago in church, and ended up crying my way through the end. It still makes me cry. But I cry easily and often, much to my chagrin. 5. Leader of the Band, Dan Fogelberg—“Papa, I don’t think I said ‘I love you’ near enough” From the first time I heard this song until now, it makes me cry every time. I don’t talk to my dad, and he doesn’t talk to me. Me by choice, and him by circumstance, and I wish every day, every moment, that it was different. 6. Goodbye My Lover, James Blount—“It may be over but it won't stop there,/ I am here for you if you'd only care.” This is quite possibly the saddest break up song ever. My daughter Dawn (we had her for five years) has run away several times and made it clear through her actions that she doesn’t want to be a part of our family. (And this was after ODing and getting expelled from the school where she attended and I was a department chair.) It has nearly destroyed me in more ways than I care to remember over the past two years. But I have learned from it, and moved on to … 7. Candle (Sick and Tired), The White Tie Affair—“ All this darkness will surround you,/ Cuz I'm burning for you, Burning like a candle” I have learned that I can love my daughter without liking her a single tiny bit. And that it’s okay. 8. Say, John Mayer—“Say what you need to say” …because sometimes you may not have another chance to say what needs to be said. So say it. Say what you need to say. Now. 9. Crazy Train, Ozzy Osbourne—“Mental wounds not healing/ Life's a bitter shame/I'm going off the rails on a crazy train” This is one of my personal theme songs. It describes parenting a RAD/OCD/PTSD/BPD child to a perfection. I often start humming this as I am plodding through a problem spot. 10. Roll With the Changes, REO Speedwagon—“So if you're tired of the same old story/ Oh, turn some pages” I love me some REO. And this song is true. If you don’t like it, change it. Or if it changes without your input or consent, roll with it. You can. It might suck or it might be okay, but you’ll survive. My family… well, we are living proof that one can roll with the changes. It may not be fabulous or Lives of the Rich and Famous. But it can almost always be good. Honorable mentions… **Your Love is My Drug, Kesha—“like a lovesick crackhead” **Thank U, Alanis Morisette—“Thank you disillusionment/ Thank you frailty/ Thank you consequence/ Thank you thank you silence " **F*ck was I Thinking, Jenny Owen Youngs—“Skillet on the stove is such a temptation,/ maybe I'll be the special one that doesn’t get burned./What the f*ck was I thinking?” Broken, Seether, with Amy Lee—“I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away/I keep your photograph; I know it serves me well”

What would it take to forgive you?--Writer's Workshop

OF the three Writer's Workshop prompts I tackled this week, this was the hardest. Probably because thinking about my dad makes me cry, and thinking about forgiving others makes us examine ourselves. Thanks MamaKat, for asking me, "What would it take? Write an imaginary scene where someone you are still angry with finally deserves to be forgiven." It's not a scene really, as much as it is a stream-of-consciousness view of my brain at work. What Would it Take to Finally Forgive You? __________________________________________ What would it take to finally forgive you? First, I’d have to forgive my body. My ovaries and fallopian tubes and endocrine system. And scar tissue. I’d have to forgive biology and chemistry and obstetrics and gynecology and And endometrial biopsies. And genetics. And probably God. Then I’d have to forgive a whole series of birth parents. And their extended families. And their dealers and pimps and boyfriends and girlfriends and acquaintances. And the few might-be-decent-had-they-not-stood-by-and-watched aunts. Social workers who tried. And the ones who lied. And the ones who didn’t care enough to do either. Before I could forgive you, I’d have to forgive my cousin’s wife who said she’d rather be childless than chance the drama we have. And the boss who told me my daughter would have to learn that we couldn’t always be there for her. And the shrink who told us she’d always needs meds. And the other one who falsely gave us hope. I’d have to forgive the tiny voice in my head for Not being loud enough when she screamed NO NO NO NO NO! at me at the top of her tiny lungs when we decided to give it another try and add to our family. She really should have at least tried to yell louder. Every time we tried again, she could have tried to find better ways to get my attention. That little voice’s failure will be hard to forgive. And before I could forgive you, I’d have to forgive your parents, for the ideas they planted in your head. And that would mean forgiving your siblings— the halves and the wholes. It would mean letting go of the subtle snubs about real grandkids. And I’d have to forgive her. Your wife. The one who wouldn’t and didn’t invite us to your wedding. The one who stood back and didn’t push you to tell us you’d married until months after, and only because I asked about the picture of you in a tie. I’d have to forgive her for not being grandma to my (adopted) daughters. And that’s all I really wanted from her. No it’s not. That’s not true. I really wanted her to just give me a chance and not see me as competition. But before I could forgive anyone or anything or you for being you, and her for being her, I’d have to forgive me for being me. It was me, after all, who walked away. I said goodbye. I told you that you knew where I lived. And told you that I wouldn’t play the same game you and Mom (pre-divorce) did with your parents and step-parents. That me and my kids, and you and your wife were a package deal. An all or nothing commitment. And you let me walk away. But I’d have to forgive myself for doing the walking. I don’t know if there is enough forgiveness for that. But I’m lying. And putting off the real honesty, which is this cold, hard truth: All it would take for me To forgive you Is for you to knock on my door and ask, “How’re my granddaughters?”

30 Things I Vow to Do This Summer- Writer's Workshop!

This is in response to Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop... Check it out and join the fun!!

Here are the 30 things I vow to do this summer... behold their funness. Or total lameness, depending on your perspective.

1. Get sunburned 2. Spend too much time on facebook, blogspot and the beach 3. Drink too much diet coke. 4. Drive to Michigan 5. Watch my mom play with my foster babies and work on connecting with my teenagers 6. Out-fish everyone. 7. Write lots of bad poetry 8. Read lots of brain-candy novels 9. Ponder a PhD. 10. Fantasize about being in better shape. 11. Read Othello and Merchant of Venice. 12. Sleep on the beach in NC. 13. Spend time with a HS acquaintance and my own personal Blog-Goddess. 14. Go to a water park 15. Live on my budget 16. Drink more water 17. Water the plants 18. Do my social services paper work on time. 19. Learn to use all the bells and whistles on my camera 20. Take more pictures 21. Delete a ton of old computer files 22. Watch less tv 23. Keep my car cleaner 24. Keep my laundry done-r 25. Make my children read no matter how much they complain 26. Paint at least one room in my house. Maybe two. 27. Have a personal date with each of my daughters at least four times each. 28. Kidnap my grandson for a while 29. Do something crazy in the middle of the night. 30. Scratch my husband’s back. Because he likes it. And I love him.

Writer's Workshop: Ten Things I've Unlearned

10 rules I've unlearned

(meaning 10 things you thought were expected of you or

were the “right way” of doing things, but that you now ignore).

1. I do NOT have to use the same laundry soap my mom does. Or dish soap. Or bath soap. Or anything.

2. I thought I had to bully my children to attend, be successful at and finish college. Now, I’ll just be happy if one of them graduates high school. Seriously.

3. My children do not need to look like me or come from me for me to love them. In fact, it’s kind of more fun when they don’t because of the endless opportunities it provides to generally mess with strangers.

4. There is actually more than one way to fold a bath towel. (I love you mom, and I’m sorry this list seems to have so many jabs at you. I guess it’s a good thing you don’t know I’m doing this or you might kill me for talking about you in public. But let’s face facts: My children, thanks to your well-planted neuroses, refuse to fold towels because they know I’m going to flip out it they aren’t done like yours.)
5. Big brick house with too much space + two crazy car payments = unhappiness.
    Cattywampus half-century old house + two paid-for beaters = happy contentment.

6. Keeping up with the Jones’ is only good for making one out of breath with leg cramps. Who likes to run anyway? Crazy people, that’s who. And I have enough of them in my life.

7. I can love my children and be proud of them even if they are as nutty as overpriced health food bread and crazier than Oprah at a free chocolate give away. And even if they have probation officers and three different therapists. And go to special schools. And generally make life NOT boring.

8. I do not have to have a credit card to survive… Thank you Dave Ramsey for showing me the light that is financial independence!

9. I don’t have to make a living at writing to be happy. I just need to write.

10. Just because I’m fat does NOT mean I should stay home from the pool. Yep, I’m rockin’ the flab in a swimsuit! Avert your eyes or stare at my chubby glory. I don’t care. I love the ocean, I love to swim, and you swimsuit models will not keep me from my joy. Go eat some pizza and you can join me.

11. (Just because I like to be different.)  I can believe in God and have faith in that belief and NOT have to be a Church Person.  I have found that the Church People I generally meet are more into Church than Faith.