Scars
Without Prejudice
Kyan my 7 year old Grandson has a large scar. It traverses his stomach and will be so sexy when he is a Sufer Dude of 16 or so. For now it traverses his plump little belly, as he stands sway backed as little kids tend to do. The scar slightly raised and silvery white.
It's a reminder, a reminder of a time when we nearly lost him and our thoughts and prayers that went with him into the theatre of Monash Hospital at midnight. He weighed 4 and a half pounds and was no bigger than a loaf of bread. His head I could cup in my palm, five weeks prem and struggling to live. I knew he would be alright. I felt it, sure I had been punished by God enough.
I never forgave him until just recently as I was sure God, or the higher intelligence, Mother Nature, call it what you will, was out to punish me for sins that I didn't know I had comitted. Made in error then or in weakness, softness, not wanting to offend, placing others before myself. I didn't know, all I know was that was how I felt. And it scarred me. Down to my soul.
A friend told me once that a broken bone heals to twice its prior density. So if you break a bone it mends stronger. What about a scar on the heart, I wonder ? Does that too mend to twice its capacity? I'm not sure. I think you can love again without impunity. And it is just as wonderful each time. the falling in love part, the giddy, heady feeling of being in love or lust for the first 3 months.
Then it changes to love. And love is the best feeling ever. I have fallen in love 3 times in my life and each one was different and special. Some left me scarred and some left me relieved. I won't go into details as it's mine for remembering and you have to keep some things to yourself. Some relationships were to teach me something and some were just to enjoy.
But I do find it now, difficult to imagine living with a man again. I am so used to my way. My house, my car, my ring, my money. It's all mine. Mine. And it's neurotic I know but these days everything has to be mine. And can't be taken away from me. It's nutty but there you have it. I adore being single and doing everything I want to do, not told off or criticised or getting into a fight. It won't be forever, as I like men and want one, not need one. There's a difference between a need and a want. I learned that at the assertion of the spinsterly buttoned up Teacher I had in HSC Home EConomics and Human Development.
I don't need a man but I sure as hell would like one sometimes. I want someone to call in on the way home and bring milk. Or I can send them out in the rain and dark streets to get it and he will. He will put rubbish bins out without me having to do it and mow the lawns. A handy man would be nice, painting and banging up pergolas. And being with someone at Christmas and New Year. But un til this paragon of virtue comes along I will bear it.
My scars were visible for years. And then I had to exorcise them, send them out back into the ether of space, time and memory. Leave them unresdolved, unfinished, cutting away at scar tissue that had wanted to fester. I just cut it off and started again. From scratch. the writing helped as did counselling and family support but it was my choice in the end. It always comes down to "Our Choices", doesn't it ?
I decided Christmas this year I was changing, no going back to the past except to write a story or record a warm memory. No more victim type behaviour, no more feeling sorry for other people more than myself. No hard luck stories, no lending money, no, no, no ,no
No more spending time with friends that drained me with their whingeing and moaning. No more trying to "save" people gone wrong. No more putting up with time wasters, addicts, bores and perverts. They were no longer interesting to me even as specimens of what I didn't want in my life. No more Friends With No Benefits and the only one that wins in that scenario is the man as they are much more sex obsessed than women.
They like to think there is a slavering pack of she wolves about to devour them but for the most part true women are not like that and I grow weary of their attitudes. In the old days I might have outfought them verbally and now I don't care. My brothers told me years ago, all men are Bastards as they are totally selfish. And all men are unfaithful. all men, so why would I want one now, when I don't need one to be a "good Daddy" to my girls?
Why would I want one now as I don't need him for finance so I can raise kids, there's only me and my needs are minimal. Why would I want one now as Cymbalta takes care of my sex drive for ever. Dulling it in to a non entity and when feeling the need arise to take care of things myself and better? As can all women and do.
I have a loving supportive family who treat me to great things as I put in a lot. I love them, support them and they do the same for me. I just selfishly want some one to myself. Not to "do" anything for me but just to be beside me sometimes if I need him and then go away when I don't. Thats not asking too much is it? And if it is well I will bear it. Scarred heart or not!
Love Janette
Kyan my 7 year old Grandson has a large scar. It traverses his stomach and will be so sexy when he is a Sufer Dude of 16 or so. For now it traverses his plump little belly, as he stands sway backed as little kids tend to do. The scar slightly raised and silvery white.
It's a reminder, a reminder of a time when we nearly lost him and our thoughts and prayers that went with him into the theatre of Monash Hospital at midnight. He weighed 4 and a half pounds and was no bigger than a loaf of bread. His head I could cup in my palm, five weeks prem and struggling to live. I knew he would be alright. I felt it, sure I had been punished by God enough.
I never forgave him until just recently as I was sure God, or the higher intelligence, Mother Nature, call it what you will, was out to punish me for sins that I didn't know I had comitted. Made in error then or in weakness, softness, not wanting to offend, placing others before myself. I didn't know, all I know was that was how I felt. And it scarred me. Down to my soul.
A friend told me once that a broken bone heals to twice its prior density. So if you break a bone it mends stronger. What about a scar on the heart, I wonder ? Does that too mend to twice its capacity? I'm not sure. I think you can love again without impunity. And it is just as wonderful each time. the falling in love part, the giddy, heady feeling of being in love or lust for the first 3 months.
Then it changes to love. And love is the best feeling ever. I have fallen in love 3 times in my life and each one was different and special. Some left me scarred and some left me relieved. I won't go into details as it's mine for remembering and you have to keep some things to yourself. Some relationships were to teach me something and some were just to enjoy.
But I do find it now, difficult to imagine living with a man again. I am so used to my way. My house, my car, my ring, my money. It's all mine. Mine. And it's neurotic I know but these days everything has to be mine. And can't be taken away from me. It's nutty but there you have it. I adore being single and doing everything I want to do, not told off or criticised or getting into a fight. It won't be forever, as I like men and want one, not need one. There's a difference between a need and a want. I learned that at the assertion of the spinsterly buttoned up Teacher I had in HSC Home EConomics and Human Development.
I don't need a man but I sure as hell would like one sometimes. I want someone to call in on the way home and bring milk. Or I can send them out in the rain and dark streets to get it and he will. He will put rubbish bins out without me having to do it and mow the lawns. A handy man would be nice, painting and banging up pergolas. And being with someone at Christmas and New Year. But un til this paragon of virtue comes along I will bear it.
My scars were visible for years. And then I had to exorcise them, send them out back into the ether of space, time and memory. Leave them unresdolved, unfinished, cutting away at scar tissue that had wanted to fester. I just cut it off and started again. From scratch. the writing helped as did counselling and family support but it was my choice in the end. It always comes down to "Our Choices", doesn't it ?
I decided Christmas this year I was changing, no going back to the past except to write a story or record a warm memory. No more victim type behaviour, no more feeling sorry for other people more than myself. No hard luck stories, no lending money, no, no, no ,no
No more spending time with friends that drained me with their whingeing and moaning. No more trying to "save" people gone wrong. No more putting up with time wasters, addicts, bores and perverts. They were no longer interesting to me even as specimens of what I didn't want in my life. No more Friends With No Benefits and the only one that wins in that scenario is the man as they are much more sex obsessed than women.
They like to think there is a slavering pack of she wolves about to devour them but for the most part true women are not like that and I grow weary of their attitudes. In the old days I might have outfought them verbally and now I don't care. My brothers told me years ago, all men are Bastards as they are totally selfish. And all men are unfaithful. all men, so why would I want one now, when I don't need one to be a "good Daddy" to my girls?
Why would I want one now as I don't need him for finance so I can raise kids, there's only me and my needs are minimal. Why would I want one now as Cymbalta takes care of my sex drive for ever. Dulling it in to a non entity and when feeling the need arise to take care of things myself and better? As can all women and do.
I have a loving supportive family who treat me to great things as I put in a lot. I love them, support them and they do the same for me. I just selfishly want some one to myself. Not to "do" anything for me but just to be beside me sometimes if I need him and then go away when I don't. Thats not asking too much is it? And if it is well I will bear it. Scarred heart or not!
Love Janette
