I am invisible. A blank canvas. Often in the dark as the beat of my heart grows undetectable. I stand in the shadows of one who needs me… More and then some. He needs me more and for far too long. His broken body. “Mommy, did God make my legs.” Yes, he suffers and all can see. “Mommy, did God make my hands.”
Yes, my child you are created in the image of our loving God.
A sister said, “God knew which one of us to give him to.” (What were you thinking God? ~ Still, I do not quite know.)
Someone said, “You wear it well…” (Testosterone speaking?)
Later, a more startling observation from my oldest son, “Mom, you don’t dream anymore.”
Hidden from me now is the phenomenal woman others believe about me… Love inconspicuous… Unobserved. Untouched. Blocked by complexities of this thing, this caregiver thing, beating upon my veiled heart. “Mom, when others ask about him, they don’t see you. They don’t know your suffering.” Exhausted. The hurt hidden… a perfected long-suffering smile… Engaging.
Preacher man, “Dear God, Give me the ability to smile like her. Please.” Concealed too by the human condition we call the business of life. “But God will not give you more than you can bear.” Do you dare condemn me in my wilderness for being overwhelmed? Nuances of the human experiment… Busy. Discoverable. New pain stumbled upon old hurts… Busy. Unearth the Unresolved. Discover hidden secrets. Busy in this wilderness.
“God knew…. to” Empty out… My soul you were always different. All has poured out… and, now I must reload. It is essential. Except, I have become invisible. I walk towards the sun. It is a lonesome valley. My crutch is the pen… I write. It is my voice. My different! It’s sexy. My north star. Unabashed and pragmatic and defenseless… when I’m most vulnerable. (I have earned the way of vulnerability.)
Writing, it finds me and often creating equally sexy, smiling, creative, and fabulous dishes. Food. It is constant. Food lessens the pain and prolongs the joy. Food is magical… and often emotional. It now gives me a path to me… Not sure if it is “back” to me, or to someone I have yet to know. It doesn’t matter. Not true. Not true. Not true. No desire to return “back” to me. She left the room. I have begun to walk. I’m climbing. I don’t know where I am going. I have to write and walk and trust me now. Forge ahead… and since you are reading this, you are welcomed to come along with me. Discover me and as I do. Before long, I shall become more, so much more… than invisible. When I know me… so will you. Smiling through my wilderness. Loving the smell, the touch the taste of “Sweet Basil” with each new sunrise.
- I am a woman, a single mother of two wonderful sons. The oldest is a photojournalist and is co-owner of a commercial photography company. He is my photography tutor! The youngest is a man-child; he entered life through a catastrophic and devastating set of events. I am his mother, advocate and caregiver.
- During my sophomore year in high school, my English teacher, Mrs. Freedenberg took me to the side one morning after class and proclaimed, “You are a writer.” At that time, as pretty as my penmanship was, it was equally illegible. She arranged an after school tutorial for me to learn the mechanics of typing. Years later whilst a college student I wrote a paper titled, “The Deviant Society.” My professor at Northwestern University requested I meet with her at the end of day. She treated me to pizza where she too proclaimed, “You are a writer!” Her efforts were unsuccessful in convincing me to change my major with the recommendation of either a Journalism or English concentration. (Eventually, I transferred universities in support of a dear friend who needed to relocate because of an abusive husband.) Still, graduated with a double major in Marketing and Organizational Behavior… yes, Business Administration.
Where do I go from here?
- I don’t quite know. I’m dealing with my fears in this “blog” forum as I have embarked upon a path unknown to me. I may go unnoticed and remain invisible to wander off into the wilderness, and completely lose me. Or, I could keep walking and re-discover me.
What can readers expect?
- Again, I don’t quite know. I am walking… Obediently following the pull of my heart. My greatest challenge remains understanding how to maneuver this site. I will write… I will cook most days. My goals with each post is to reach deeper into the discovery of me to quench the fire burning within… It may come through a dish or just simply writing about me, the mother, caregiver, advocate and see… I forgot again… the woman.
“Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free.” Jim Morrison