Disconnected
Hey there!
In the interest of trying to keep a minimum of at least one posting per week, I'm putting something up that I wrote a little over 2 years ago and never posted or circulated before. Why? Well, it was something very painful and deeply personal to me, and writing about it was healing/cathartic. Also, in looking back, I'm simply amazed at the incredible changes that have happened over the the past two years--funny how things change, even in the face of a personal or family crisis. Needless to say, I don't feel the way now that I did when I wrote this--which is precisely why I now can post this and reflect the change I've experienced in this relationship. Not easy to do, that--but I'm doing it anyhow. I'm blessed to have the honor of having the fine mother I do; but no mother is perfect, like no daughter or person is perfect....so I offer this very up-close-and-painfully-personal glimpse into something I'm still healing from.
I'd encourage you to read this and then go back to my archives and dig up the "Hairbrushing" Post I put in October 2010. You'll see a stark contrast and definite change in this "connection" if you will.
As always, I'd also welcome your comments/feedback :)
Disconnected (originally written 9/2/08, rev 11/2/09, 1/24/11)
That’s it!
What it’s always been….
Intimidated.
By what, exactly?
By ME?
My heart?
My soul?
My unbridled mind
flowing and driving
through unchartered territory,
connecting dots
not normally
meant to be
connected….
Possibilities.
As endless as
the love in my heart,
unconventional.
I’m sick of checking myself at
the professional door of life….
I’m me—isn’t that ok?
Isn’t that safe enough
for you to love,
to accept,
to approve….
Why am I even having
these conversations?
Mysteriously closed—reserved--
off limits—
to me?
How
can I
be like you
without even knowing
who you are, were, and
want to be?
How
is my curiosity, my
thirst for connection,
perspective, understanding
MY OWN MOTHER—
Wrong?
The pain
(and my maturity)
clarify me to poignancy--
grabbing it, holding it,
gotta dig deep
to truly see
how and why
I feel all this--
While I still can….
While I still feel
(and know that this was
never about me….)
No apologies needed anymore--
how can you apologize for
who you are—
what you do?
That’s not fair.
I understand now.
Finally.
At age 35.
But, I’m not the enemy,
never was or will be--
does it matter?
Let me write
how I feel--
let me vent
while it’s
ripe and fresh
to my crying, filled heart
So much to say--
I NEED to say it all
NOW—
unsure where
the start is, or where
it will lead—
But,
I LOVE YOU,
I admire you,
I forgive, thank, and
BELONG to you.
Always have…
even if my presence
scares, intimidates, or
offends you.
I won’t apologize,
for I have no idea
which part of me
hurts or offends you
the most—
you’ve never confided
in me enough
to let me in….
How can you be
proud
of
ME
when you never share
your heart, soul, and
dreams with me?
Oh, I get it now--
but I have never
wanted to take
anything
from
beautiful, tormented you,
but your love, wisdom,
your lessons.
Your Daughter.
Always.
I’ve never fit in,
even at home
and that
always bothered me--
not now--
Sad, but liberating.
Empowering, yet painful.
Realizing just some of
my potential, my purpose,
my self, my path….
Life doesn’t fit into
neatly organized boxes,
stacked on shelves for display
(mine won't, anyway)--
messy, blended, overflowing,
strewn across time and
twining passions with souls…
forever…
getting fuller, more
colorfully cluttered--
I embrace
and embody that.
Understanding.
Deeper and more intricately
vibrant than any mere words
or labels allow--
Don’t try to define me,
to make me safer
for you….
Don’t You Dare!
Spirit feels,
flutters, impresses,
through the air,
around music,
in tingling of sunlight
and SNAPS
into some sinewy spot
in my being—
ignited by
recollections and awareness
of eternal perspective of
WHO
I
AM.
I inhale my feelings,
catching passionate tastes
piercing the
rich tongue of Me--savoring
exquisite epiphany of
Finally getting it.
Oscillating blades
softly pat my tear-lined face
I exhale now,
slowly…
feeling digested,
newly understood
awareness of
what this is all about….
Written by Eliza Jane Farley Gomez
In the interest of trying to keep a minimum of at least one posting per week, I'm putting something up that I wrote a little over 2 years ago and never posted or circulated before. Why? Well, it was something very painful and deeply personal to me, and writing about it was healing/cathartic. Also, in looking back, I'm simply amazed at the incredible changes that have happened over the the past two years--funny how things change, even in the face of a personal or family crisis. Needless to say, I don't feel the way now that I did when I wrote this--which is precisely why I now can post this and reflect the change I've experienced in this relationship. Not easy to do, that--but I'm doing it anyhow. I'm blessed to have the honor of having the fine mother I do; but no mother is perfect, like no daughter or person is perfect....so I offer this very up-close-and-painfully-personal glimpse into something I'm still healing from.
I'd encourage you to read this and then go back to my archives and dig up the "Hairbrushing" Post I put in October 2010. You'll see a stark contrast and definite change in this "connection" if you will.
As always, I'd also welcome your comments/feedback :)
Disconnected (originally written 9/2/08, rev 11/2/09, 1/24/11)
That’s it!
What it’s always been….
Intimidated.
By what, exactly?
By ME?
My heart?
My soul?
My unbridled mind
flowing and driving
through unchartered territory,
connecting dots
not normally
meant to be
connected….
Possibilities.
As endless as
the love in my heart,
unconventional.
I’m sick of checking myself at
the professional door of life….
I’m me—isn’t that ok?
Isn’t that safe enough
for you to love,
to accept,
to approve….
Why am I even having
these conversations?
Mysteriously closed—reserved--
off limits—
to me?
How
can I
be like you
without even knowing
who you are, were, and
want to be?
How
is my curiosity, my
thirst for connection,
perspective, understanding
MY OWN MOTHER—
Wrong?
The pain
(and my maturity)
clarify me to poignancy--
grabbing it, holding it,
gotta dig deep
to truly see
how and why
I feel all this--
While I still can….
While I still feel
(and know that this was
never about me….)
No apologies needed anymore--
how can you apologize for
who you are—
what you do?
That’s not fair.
I understand now.
Finally.
At age 35.
But, I’m not the enemy,
never was or will be--
does it matter?
Let me write
how I feel--
let me vent
while it’s
ripe and fresh
to my crying, filled heart
So much to say--
I NEED to say it all
NOW—
unsure where
the start is, or where
it will lead—
But,
I LOVE YOU,
I admire you,
I forgive, thank, and
BELONG to you.
Always have…
even if my presence
scares, intimidates, or
offends you.
I won’t apologize,
for I have no idea
which part of me
hurts or offends you
the most—
you’ve never confided
in me enough
to let me in….
How can you be
proud
of
ME
when you never share
your heart, soul, and
dreams with me?
Oh, I get it now--
but I have never
wanted to take
anything
from
beautiful, tormented you,
but your love, wisdom,
your lessons.
Your Daughter.
Always.
I’ve never fit in,
even at home
and that
always bothered me--
not now--
Sad, but liberating.
Empowering, yet painful.
Realizing just some of
my potential, my purpose,
my self, my path….
Life doesn’t fit into
neatly organized boxes,
stacked on shelves for display
(mine won't, anyway)--
messy, blended, overflowing,
strewn across time and
twining passions with souls…
forever…
getting fuller, more
colorfully cluttered--
I embrace
and embody that.
Understanding.
Deeper and more intricately
vibrant than any mere words
or labels allow--
Don’t try to define me,
to make me safer
for you….
Don’t You Dare!
Spirit feels,
flutters, impresses,
through the air,
around music,
in tingling of sunlight
and SNAPS
into some sinewy spot
in my being—
ignited by
recollections and awareness
of eternal perspective of
WHO
I
AM.
I inhale my feelings,
catching passionate tastes
piercing the
rich tongue of Me--savoring
exquisite epiphany of
Finally getting it.
Oscillating blades
softly pat my tear-lined face
I exhale now,
slowly…
feeling digested,
newly understood
awareness of
what this is all about….
Written by Eliza Jane Farley Gomez
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OK, y'all have been kind enough to "hear me out"& n stuff, so let me know whatcha think, if I've rattled yer cage, voiced a shared thought or concern, or if you're gonna attain Enlightenment upon reading these DEEP THOUGHTS, or if ya think I'm just plumb WACKO--but please be decent in your expression of your sentiments, there's no need to sling mud, unless we're in POTTERY CLASS or at the BEACH! Thanks for reading n stuff...Laters!