Father's Day

This father's day, as I contemplate my relationships with my father and my dad, my husband, and the myriad of other relationships I have at present, I realize that what I want most from my relationships is the ability for me to stay present and be me, regardless of what I feel the other person expects of me. I love my husband, but there are still ways, after 12 years together, that he expects me to be something I am not comfortable being, and ways that we pull away from eachother, when the intimacy of daily life together is too much. I still have a private self, and I don't think that's a bad thing. I like that I still maintain my own identity, and that I don't feel lost in the 'us'.
Not too long ago, I had a discussion with a friend about our relationship, and about how people are whole without someone else. I can agree with that, but I also believe that there are souls in our journey who mean a tremendous amount to us, and who really give our human existence meaning. I know that I would continue to live without these people who are so dear to me, but what would life be like? I can barely contemplate life without my kids, without my best friends, without my beloved. In many ways, my happiness depends on them.
It doesn't make me less whole; on the contrary I think it makes me more real, and more whole, this feeling of dependence on other people. It is a risk, reaching out to other human beings. It's risky to stake our claim on love, happiness and friendship. At any moment, the ones we love and value the most can leave us, and our heartache would be very great. The safest route, then, lies in not loving, not reaching out, not being vulnerable. Unfortunately, it is a trap where many timid souls spend their existence, for therein lies also isolation and loneliness.
I think about my father, and our lack of relationship over the years, and how I imagined him to be as a child. I think of the feelings I had meeting him at 32 years old, married, and a parent myself. I was awed by our physical similarities. I was humbled by my children's good fortune, feeling certain that their father would never leave them. I felt indignant at his presumption that I would take his advice, after a lifetime of absence. I felt relief after years of wondering who and where he was, and how it related to me.
I think about my dad, the man who adopted me in his absence, who raised me, who kept me fed and clothed, kept a roof over my head and taught me about work ethic. I remember all the times he took me fishing, camping, and out to play baseball in the yard. I remember him working on the cars, and sitting across from me at the dinner table. Lying stretched out on the sofa, watching tv, and how hard it was to get his attention when he was engrossed in it. I remember years where there was nothing but discord between us. The years afterward, when we became amiable again. The years where I was actually grateful for him. Times when he stuck up for me and the choices I made. When he helped me buy my first car, and told the dealership they had to give me a 3 month warranty, which didn't sound that great until the head cracked after I had only had it a month or so. Or the times he helped me fix it and all the other beaters I had in my 20's. Our relationship has been turbulent at times, but ultimately, has proven to be a thing of stability over the long run.
My husband. The man I've given myself to in complete trust. The man with whom I've created a new life, far removed from the life of my childhood. John, who has seen me through natural childbirth three times. Who has given me back parts of myself I had lost touch with, or forgotten. He has shown me parts of myself I had never seen before. He has partnered with me in showing our children love, discipline, faith and family. We've taken roadtrips, we've moved cross-country, we've filed bankruptcy and been through the aftermath of it. We've seen our oldest daughter through the onset of puberty, multi-colored hair and the beginning of her finding whatever relationships will see her through her own journey.
I've been very lucky in that aspect of my life. My relationships, whether short, long or lifelong have been very satisfying, and have taught me much. I will go to the end of my life knowing that I have loved to the limits of my capacity, I've been loved and accepted for myself. What more can we ask for?

This Moment

While driving along Route 15 in the rain, taking the family to the mall, 'This Moment' by Matthew Sweet began to play, and I was struck anew with how precious every day is. The kids are growing up so fast, and are really extraordinary people. I feel lucky to know them, let alone have the privilege of being their mom.
As I sit in my living room hours later, writing and watching the series 'Dogtown', I see the moon through the window, looking robust and bright. I feel so blessed and lucky to be experiencing life this way, to feel so moved by mundane things, to not take it for granted, at least some of the time.
I think it's so easy to lose sight of what's real and good, to focus so much on the future or to be so mired down in the past, that we lose the ability to fully enjoy life in the now. I've got this amazing family, and the good fortune to be able to accept them for who and where they are right now. I am getting better at accepting myself, which makes a huge difference in the level of satisfaction I feel with my life. I love that I don't have to live my life according to what other people think I should be doing or what they think of me. I can live it for me. It gives me so much to be grateful for.
Additionally, I've been really struggling with the idea that I need to find work, at least on a temporary basis until I find something more permanent. As it turns out, a few more days a week came available at one of my jobs, and a friend and colleague was offered them. She thanked them for the offer, but suggested that I might be a better candidate, knowing that I need the work. I felt so blessed when she presented the idea to me, and it seemed very right.
I am finding that the less I struggle with things, the more faith I have that everything is working out according to divine order, the better I'm able to manifest the things I need in life. I am learning to be comfortable with open spaces in my life. They are filled, in the absence of worry, with the thing that seems a most natural fit. It's a comfortable way of life for me.
I am enjoying living so much these days, and I think as a result, my family is, too. There is some credence to the saying, 'If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.' I feel like in many ways I am the rudder in my family, steering us into calmer waters for a rest when we need it, and other times into the churning white water of life. I am not the whole ship, nor am I the navigator.

Blogging Once More...

While reading an email I get almost daily called 'A Journey' I came across this passage. It was in reference to a conversation the author had on a recovery-focused blog. It read:
We both experienced the deeply ingrained sense of hopelessness that drove our depressions, addictions and other learned coping skills that had served us well in our dysfunctional upbringings. And we both experienced what some would call a near miraculous turnaround in that we both no longer suffer from these "diagnosis" or live only to manage the symptoms that kept us in chronic distress.
I'm not sure I'd say hopelessness was a coping skill as much as a life lesson. I learned young to fight it off, and to have faith that something better was just around the corner. Eventually I learned that if you expected good things to be waiting around that corner, they were. Sometimes.
I had a conversation with my soon-to-be 12 year old daughter on the way to her friend's house today. I listened to her give me her take on why it's important to think things through, because sometimes the consequences of our actions are more than we are prepared to owe. And that if she doesn't try, it's a guarantee she'll not reach her goal. It's such a blessing to me that I have been able to live, not mired down by the past or by my 'diagnosis' but free and peaceful and happy in a way that feels like I'm using my whole soul, not just a portion.
I'm weird and annoying at times. I have a hard time not getting loud. But now I see that I also am powerful and loving, responsible and willing to make personal sacrifices for the betterment of the whole Randazzo clan, and beyond that, mankind. I'm not perfect yet, but I'll let you know if I need any assistance. Ha ha.

I feel like blogging...

It's a miracle. I last posted here almost a year ago, and all of a sudden today, I feel like blogging again.
Last night, driving home from Beacon, NY (about a 65 mile jaunt) in the dark, words were bumping into each other in my brain in that old, familiar way that told me I'd start writing again. It's like the feeling I got each time I was pregnant. I knew. Maybe on a subconscious level, at first, but I knew with certainty. It's a similar feeling of inevitability and creative spark. Writing has come back into my life, and with it a flood of emotions.
Writing has kept me sane for most of my life. I have been writing since I was a very young girl. I don't know if I can fully be myself without it. And yet, sometimes, it goes inward to a deeper place in me than I have access to. Maybe to transform. Maybe to rest. Maybe because I'm not ready to deal with the feelings and the revelations it will bring me. Maybe because I neglect it, and without nurturing, it withers down to just the roots.
Whatever the case, when the writing returns to me, it feels like springtime in my soul. It's as if the essence of my being just sent up a tendril, and on it bloomed a tiny, perfect flower.
I feel like writing again.