Quotes of the day:
Too self-absorbed, my Inner Critic says, you can't write as well as X (insert the name of any blogger here), it's not intellectual or deep enough, too superficial, you can't post that, in fact why don't you just stop blogging altogether ... A Breath of Air
I write frivolously at Sacred Ordinary, but Ronni's Time Goes By has writing of substance. Sacred Ordinary
When professionals gather, why does the air go out of the room? What is this thing about how we all have to behave like Samurai and scowl and say “Hai!” a lot? Why can’t we loosen the fuck up? Listics: A Sandhill Joint
Lately I have been thinking that my blog is nothing but navel gazing, self absorbed ... well ... yes ... twaddle. Come to find out that other bloggers question their write-a-bility, profession-a-bility, worth-ability. Yes indeed. I even found myself counting comments recently and comparing myself to others all over the blogosphere. That is fatal. Of course it is. I yam what I yam. Comparing is not going to help me grow. Age and diet is doing that for me, thank you very much.
Yesterday I noticed Molly sitting quietly by my brief case. She looked as if she knew I would be leaving for the day. She seemed anxious, sad, even. Tears welled up in my eyes and I felt them choking in my throat. Hearing little Terry's cries in my brain I realized that children of divorce carry abandonment feelings and memories with them forever. I am a child of divorce. My son is too. One day one of our nearest and dearest people packed their bags, boxed up their stuff and moved away to another house. And nothing was the same again. Always longing, forever yearning for something missing, remained in their place.
Well, who knows what Molly was thinking as she sat there staring into space like a wise old Sphinx. And maybe it was coincidence that she chose to sit right next to my briefcase just before I was about to leave. Her eyes triggered my memories, ancient pain that rises up quite often to greet me lately. It reminds me of Richard's post about crying more than he used to.
Writing is a struggle. Sometimes it feels like the bane of my life.
And yet writing saves me too. For I reach into the depths of my life and pull forth the self of my soul, stuff of my thoughts and memories, and find myself again and again.
"I realized that children of divorce carry abandonment feelings and memories with them forever. I am a child of divorce. My son is too. One day one of our nearest and dearest people packed their bags, boxed up their stuff and moved away to another house. And nothing was the same again. Always longing, forever yearning for something missing, remained in their place."
Thank you for putting words around that truth.
Posted by: fp | April 13, 2006 at 10:54 AM
Thank you for this (and for the link). I've been finding it hard to blog lately too. Not for the reasons you mention, but because of the stresses of life, which need to be answered before I can do this luxurious activity, and because of competing writing projects. Today I had an especially hard time getting something out, and almost announced a haitus, but the thought of fellow bloggers kept me going. I'm glad of that. So you keep going too, okay?
Posted by: Richard Lawrence Cohen | April 13, 2006 at 11:43 AM
Yes...you keep going.
Where else am I going to find a thought provoking post like your recent one on anger. Your inate ability to share your private thoughts is what makes your blog unique.
Posted by: Chancy | April 13, 2006 at 12:22 PM
Tamar - not to deny the special sadness of children of divorce, but children of intact marriages suffer similar feelings of having the rug pulled out from under them too, when there is a major change in family configuration: for example, a beloved older sibling leaves home or a parent dies. You post reminds me that Loss is something we can all relate to. And make meaning out of.
Posted by: savtadotty | April 14, 2006 at 02:28 AM
... and it is such a relief to know I am not the only one. Thank you Tamar.
Like Savtadotty, I am not a child of divorce but I am a child of a home that often felt very emotionally unsafe indeed while I was growing up. To give meaning to the legacy of that in my adulthood, to find my voice, is part of what I am trying to do on my blog. And the courage you show in your writing over here has helped me in so many ways.
Don't you dare stop! *grin*
Posted by: mary | April 14, 2006 at 03:50 AM
Mary,
Your "twaddle" post inspired this one as I had been feeling similarly to you recently. So ... thank *you* ... so ... don't *you* dare stop! *grin*
Savtadotty,
Yes I agree. There are so many different situations throughout our life that cause those feelings - not only divorce. It reminds me of that wonderful book by Judith Viorst: "Necessary Losses."
Thank you, Chancy. Sometimes I need that bit of encouragement to help me keep on keeping on ...
Also, fp ... thanks so much. Your acknowledgment means a lot to me.
Dear Richard,
Each time I consider a period of hiatus a post pops out of me before I can say "hi" and "atus." I admire how you take that from time to time and I always miss you until you come back!
Posted by: Tamar | April 14, 2006 at 07:21 AM