A fellow blogger of mine wrote a post sometime ago about “The Green Eyed Monster” asking what wakes “the monster for you?”
Write an anonymous letter to someone you’re Jealous of!
I may raise my eyebrow here and there when I hear people my age have degrees. I have always wanted to go to college and “make” something of myself. School didn’t come easy to me at all. They’re lots of people in the world who are successful and it didn’t come easy. When looking back, I could have made better choices. When taking a few college classes years ago. I could have applied myself better, stuck it out, and got the help I needed at the time. Yes, it would have taken me longer than SOME but it could and still can be done. I’m not sure this is what defines jealousy?
If you look Jealousy up in the Wikipedia it’s an emotion. The word refers to negative thoughts and feelings of insecurity, anger, anxiety over anticipated loss of something reference to human connection. The word these day’s is also distinct from envy. This is my confession letter.
I want to openly share because I’m hoping to find some clarity in my writing and accept your non friendship request you made all those years ago. I want good tidings for you, instead of the opposed.
We were in our elementary years. My family and yours would get together yearly. We’d run off to the park over the green hill in our dresses into the sunshine laughing and carrying on about who would go higher on the swing. We’d swing for what seemed to be hours, we’d discuss what we were going to be when we grew up, and we were going to do it together. We were both girly, wanting the same girly things joining the dance team, hanging out together without our parents, and even discussing our future together as doctors or lawyers. Many times after our family gatherings we’d go home and call each other the next morning talking and giggling about what we did the day before. We had so much fun that sometimes we’d ask my grandma if she would bring me over the next day. she’d visit with your mom and dad while we played Barbie dolls the whole time up in your room until it was time to leave.
The gatherings lasted four or five years but the friendship slipped away year after year. Yes, we would talk but each year got different. You got different, you still wore dresses, matching little outfits, with matching bows in your beautiful long black shiny hair, you went to gymnastic, dance, and competed in one more activity, you won many ribbons and trophies, you maintained your activities just like your parents maintained their marriage, you became friends with the kids who done the exact things as you, which didn’t include me. I still called you every chance I got hoping we could continue the friendship. One time your mom answered the phone. She said you “weren’t there” but then you yelled “mom who is it”
I caught that Brooks mom!
you let me go ahead and talk to her but the damage was done
You became friends with an acquaintance of mine, I grew jealous of as well. I didn’t understand what she had that I didn’t? One time when asking our acquaintance if I could go with her to your house she informed me her father told her I was only jealous of the relationship and didn’t want to miss out on what you two were doing. Which is true. At that point in my life it wasn’t in a mean or vindictive way. She also shared with me how you were upset that I had asked to come along. I was scared of things you two weren’t scared of and would only hinder your fun. When I heard that and what her father had shared as well, it hurt my feelings. I sobbed like a baby right in front of her! that day all of you confirmed to me everything I thought I was in one day. My feelings after my grief shifted that day to anger which led to hate.
We ran into each other a couple times in our twenties. We both had are own places, you even had that law degree. imagine that! You were still as slender and beautiful as you are now. You had a few people with you, you introduced me as a “distant” friend whatever the hell that means? at thirty when my grandma died you and your mother came up to me to send regards, you told me you would like to have lunch sometime. My response was “you get a hold of me I’m in the book.” You never did which came to know surprise. The straw that broke the camels back was after my twin boys passed away your mom sent a card to me and signed you and your husband’s name. I saved all the other cards. I tossed your moms in file thirteen.
I realize it may have been a bit creepy pressing you to be my friend all those years. In writing this letter just as I assumed I realize it’s not anger as much as it’s hurt and humiliation. I can read maybe a couple of things you supposedly told someone, could possibly be a lie especially now that we’re older I see her in a different light than when we were younger. I will take this into consideration in my stinking way of thinking. These feelings are lousy, yet sit on each shoulder-blade playing tug a war with each other battling over the right and wrong (flesh and spirit.) The wrong has a strong hold on me but my soul is saying these feelings are not right. The anger built up it turned it into a fight.
A fight with myself
My whole life I believed I was trash because of what others had said to me or about my looks. I have chosen to believe them and allow everyone except myself give me an identity. Which is odd because none of you know me? I’m a thirty something year old woman. I’m married to a good man, he’s been my friend, we have a son and he’s a doll face, I have a group of friends who love me and my shaded life, my job is good and brings me joy, we don’t make much but we pay the bills, and have a bit left over to say yes to Gabe more than no. I’m just as happy as you are even if were not picture perfect, Let me save you the suspense no one is. The most beautiful family pictures are photo shopped they don’t define people or there lives, neither does money. Lots of people have looks, lots of people have money but everyone has day’s in the shade!
Today’s Prompt: Write about a loss: something (or someone) that was part of your life and isn’t anymore. Today’s twist: Make today’s post the first in a three-post series.
If you had the power to change one thing about this world what would it be and why? Please feel free to leave your answer in the comments.
In my last post we talked about songs that had important meaning in my life. In which I told you Phil Collins, In The Air tonight: reminded me of my friend Nikki and her mom. She was the first friend in elementary school I ever had. She is my lost someone who isn’t anymore.
The school we both attended at the time was predominately all white. She was the color of a Snickers Bar and I was a bit lighter like the background of a Cheerios box. We both had coarse curly hair, only with hers you could see her curls, since her mom knew how to manage it. My hair was just a thick, short, frizz ball of fuzz that stood straight up.
My friend and I would have sleep overs. We would always play with each others hair especially when our hair was wet. We would have competitions about who’s hair was longest. She would always win. This did not bother me. I was just glad to have a friend who was like me. She didnt stare at me, she didn’t ask me questions about my dad, Why he had red hair and was white and I was dark with hair that didn’t necessarily add up! She loved me the way people should love regardless of color, gender. size, age and anything else that will fit into this category. She was the only black girl this “black girl” had and I’m not black, but it was the way kids and adults seen us, from the “outside.”
I lost understanding and equality when she vanished from my life.
I never knew what she meant to me until the day before yesterday. My thoughts have come back to her all my life. Recently my dad sent me a message it was a link to her dad’s obituary, When we were asked to write about the songs that had significant meaning “In The Air Tonight” was the first song that came to the shore, now here I am writing this post about loss and yet she shows up again…
This is why I been writing. To get down to the nitty-gritty of all the things that have been laying dormant in my life for years. I won’t lie somethings have lingered especially the bullies but I’m pressing forward in hopes to forgive those who know not what they do. I have been held hostage long enough and I,m to old to be looking over my shoulder wondering why these kids treated me the way they did.
Steve and I have been looking for houses. This has been an ongoing battle in more ways than one. The more time it takes, I realize “What I am looking for is not out there its inside me” Helen Keller
Tell us a story- Fiction or non-fiction-with a twist coming.
Prompt: I work for a SLF (Supported Living Facility). My residents for the most part take care of themselves. We assist them with help they may need here and they’re. I have worked with the Home for about fifteen years now. They’re more than a few reasons why I just can’t walk away. Someday I will go into details of other great story’s.
My residents age range from thirty to ninety. In the past it has been younger, most of them have Visual impairment and are totally without sight. We do weights on a monthly basis and the nurse manager we were under at this time wanted us to praise and encourage all of the residents who were loosing weight.
When I arrived at work this day and got report, she informed me Emmet Brown (I changed her name for her protection) had lost five pounds. So I headed down to her apartment right away! I knocked on her door and entered when told. I flipped on her light and greeted her with a Hiya! She shot up like a bullet from her easy chair into sitiing up and yelled “HI how ya doing Sheli”? I said good Thank You for asking. “What do you need”? I wanted to congratulate you on losing five pounds Emmet, give me five! holding my hand up and out as close as I could to her, she quickly shoots up out of her chair stands at attention like a solider.
Weaving The Threads: draft a post with three parts, each unrelated to the other, but create a common thread between them by including the same item-object, a symbol,- in each part.
Prompt: The summer of 1990 I was twelve or thirteen and had just had my open heart surgery. My parents one night during my recovery process decided to go out and have some dinner. My “grams told them to take a break and she would stay with me.
During their meal, they got acquainted with the waitress. She had asked them if they were from “around the area”? My parents told her no. We are staying at the Ronald McDonald House our daughter is recovering in the hospital from heart surgery. The waitress started crying at their table. She told them before she walked away she would be “right back” they thought she might have had to go and get a hold of herself? When she came back she had a chocolate cake and told them the meal was on the house!
This Christmas my husband and I decided not to use any credit cards. So When buying for our kids we made a budget for each one. Mind you his kids do not live here with us they stay with their mother in another state. So after getting a bit carried away. We started adding everything up. I had went over about twenty dollars on Gabe, so I had to quit. Gabe tells me two weeks before Christmas he wants a new bike, there was nothing I could do the gifts that we had bought were online and things he and needed as well.
I did not mention to anyone about this situation because I did not want to make others feel we were asking them for help.
A couple of days later my friend Audra text me. She works at a homeless shelter for woman. Every year they have a huge give away, a meal, clothes, and toys (new ones) for family’s who can’t afford presents for their kids. In her text she said they had one bike left, it had been given anonymously and even had “Training Wheels” if I wanted the bike it was mine to come pick it! The bike was red my son’s favorite color.
I have been blogging for over a year now and I want to publicly thank another blogger
Thank you for befriended me just a few days after I started this journey and telling me I could ask for help anytime. Then following through with your words. I would email her asking how to do the daily prompt,she sent me word for word instructions more than once, I messed up my blog by changing my username and ended up changing my url, it was a mess, I tried to fix it on my own by texting the site itself but did not get anywhere with that route,she even took up for me when the question that I had asked on this site was not clearly answered, she basically went out on her own and got my site all squared away, it took her lots of her own time. The other day I wrote a story on my facebook page and she had asked me in the comments “why didn’t you write this on your blog”
Sitting here at the kitchen table this A.m it’s cold, quiet and peaceful in the “Tin Can” an owl is outside hooting and I am at the table writing my thoughts down over a warm cup of coffee.
I sit here thinking about dropping Gabe off at school this morning, it’s becoming a daily thought. Every morning when dropping him off at school before he goes in, he turns around and blows me a kiss. Lately it’s been something I sit and wait for, even though the cars behind me are most likely in a rush? It’s our time, shortly it will be but another artifact that we tuck away in the chambers of our hearts.
The thing about the heart is it never gets full of all the places and moments we have been in. The more you open it up and stuff it with the Good things, when the bad things happen you always have a place to go.
Recently,I had to take a trip to the hospital. Lets not go into why, because it’s not my focus for the few people reading. However it does not down play that I was afraid. I laid their scared, cold, and worried that they wouldn’t get the problem under control or maybe they’re was more going on… After making a few phone calls and being to upset about the situation, I had to get a handle on myself and by doing so I go back to the phantoms of my yester years.
I closed my eyes
This particular memory reminds me of a warm blanket and it covers me and my fears.
The day was dark, foggy and rainy not the hard rain though more like a mist! I was not feeling well at all. A few days after my open heart surgery as a child, being a kid you don’t express your sickness the way you do when you’re an adult. This is why we have parents or what the definition is as a parent to me. My “step mom” Lin came up by herself for some reason and asked me how I was feeling? I didn’t say much but looking back from now to then, I didn’t have too. She pulled up a chair next to me and just sat there not saying a word. To be honest I couldn’t tell you how long she sat there either. When I did wake up she had put this giant red heart balloon with legs and a smiley face in place of where she sat.
though the day outside remained dark, wet, and ugly it lit everything up including myself. So I took that day and shoved it inside one of my chambers and you will forever be sitting there with your umbrella catching all the rain and reminding me in every dark place there is a little bit of light.
Once upon a time, “Grams” took my older brother and I too our first movie. The movie title has always been the title of how I get through life and where you will usually find me in the raising of my own son and it’s “Places In The Heart”
As a young girl my grandma helped my dad out a lot on the weekends. When my dad had to work. On Friday’s she would come to get me and my brother.
My grandma was a bit more laid back then my father with getting our way. We’d go shopping for clothes, toys, and out to eat. You know the things most grandmas do?
She always enjoyed having us stay over.
The second you walked into her house it was like walking into a different world. She would greet us with a smile and hug. My childhood troubles would be lifted like a book-bag loaded with seven or eight books at her door. She would ask questions about our lives. What our you working on in school? Do you like your teacher? hows your dad been? I would answer her questions but tell her more about the bullies in my life. She’d quietly waited til I was done talking and tell me she was sorry to hear those things and that she loved me and to her I was special.
All the way up into my late twenties we continued to have a healthy relationship. I would still go over and stay all night. We continued shopping, going out to eat, and taking long drives, especially in the fall to see all the leaves changing colors.
In Illinois we have lots of trees one on top of the other so our falls here are stunning it’s worth the while. Sometimes we would just stay in. Those times were my favorites because we would talk for hours about her past with my grandpa, my future, shed tell me stories about her siblings, and all the places she traveled with her friends George and Dorothy.
During those times around her house my “Grams a Million” would always wear her night-gown. She dressed up to the nines when she went out. The clothes she wore she liked but some of them not so comfortable so if she was home she always had her night-gown on.
The gown was slick and light. They were not attractive at all. She had a million of them in a million different colors. They had a peasant low-cut neck, if you didn’t tie it with the dull drab strings, you could see some of her pale chest. The sleeves were short and airy, they had bolts of red, blue, and purple all over that looked liked streaks of lighting.
The backdrop of the gowns were black which made her blue eyes, pale skin, and short dark hair standout. The gown stopped below her knees. she was short and you could see her skinny white legs. She was always barefoot when she was home. Which I loved. To me it said she wasn’t in a hurry. You could take off your shoes and stay awhile.
Many late evenings when we were lounging around watching the Golden Girls in her night gowns. I sat and watched her rocking in her orange chair. knowing that one day this time would no longer be… Maybe that was odd but its the truth. We have to embrace that our loved ones will not be with us on earth forever.
I am so thankful and blessed for the twenty-eight years we had together.
Shortly after her passing I was able to go over to her house by myself. I walked through the house slowly touching and going over everything she had worked hard for all her. Like I was in a museum of old artifacts listening to her explain all the details of each piece. I thought it would bother me seeing it all packed and piled high.
At the end of my journey picking through things wondering if I should take this or that… With a deep sigh, I walked into her room, opened her drawer full of night-gowns, Anyone would do. She wore them all. I grabbed her old photo albums, laid across her bed, admiring her younger years, and pretending she was there with me.
When I left that day I took her one night-gown with me because it was my Million Dollar Treasure.