Distraction - Keeping Us From What's Real
None of this that we see or experience means anything without love.
It feels like I have lived, and will die without that being realized as a safe place.
Perhaps my ability to stand up against “the man” is a dopamine drip that gives me purpose in lieu of the real thing, which is love.
The journeys that my family and I have come through are awe-inspiring, and yet, they irritate, like a leaky faucet dripping into a steel sink, compared to the absence of love.
Every day, I get up, wanting connection. Every night, (early morning, actually) I go to fitful sleep, knowing it is not here.
And so today, to distract myself from the fact that I love deeply and want connection with my Sterino, Firecracker, Punkapoo, Turkey-Turkey, and Ninja Turtle, I sit here alone, and although the sun is up, I’m in the dark metaphorically.
I’ve learned to live in the dark, remembering the little boy crying out for his mom, having wet the bed. My mother would come, bring a change of sheets, a change of clothes, and she would change my sheets, and I would change my clothes, and she would go back to bed. No nurture, no comfort, no consolation. She had to go to work the next day, y’unnerstand. (That was her distraction.)
During a past journey into my subconscious, I saw my mom as a little girl, with a dad that had epilepsy, couldn’t hold a job, and was alcoholic. I don’t know all of the horrors she went through, but I know they were there. My dad, similarly, had his dad die when he was 8, and had a very hard life.
My brother told me of her demise into dementia and about her “hollering” for help. Goddamn if it didn’t turn me into a sack of weeping flesh. We all carry generational trauma, and are tasked with generational healing, and yet this system has us:
P.D., JAY V SHORE