Author: Belinda O

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Forgive, Forget, Phooey, Finally

I really want to forgive you. Maybe. Frankly, that’s a gift you don’t deserve. You turned a blind eye to even the possibility of the truth, and instead chose to believe weak stories given to you by others, people who had a clear motive to convince you of falsehoods. You used unprofessional conduct and gross abuse of power in an effort to raise your profile before others. You preyed on my weaknesses, and I’ve paid a high price for it.

Who are you to do this to me?

Justice is blind ( ... or maybe not )

The problem is, all that my anger is doing is making me unhappy. Yes, I revel in the thought of your undoing, but that’s not likely to happen. Is there karma at work in this world? Is it true “what goes around, come around”? As comforting as those thoughts are, I’m not sure the world is that equitable.

And if it is, what did I do to deserve what happened to me?

ForgivenessYou’re not worth my thoughts, my passion anymore. Forgiveness isn’t a matter of grace from me, it’s a matter of moving forward. Of course I have constant, in-your-face reminders of what you did. It continues to jolt my life today.

It minimizes my life, and my future. It puts me at risk. That frightens me, and now I’m angry again at your arrogance in thinking you had the right to do this to me. Then I remember the people I respect think the same thing of you I do. They know who I am, and they know who you are.

I hope I’m truly able to forgive you soon, for it’s the best thing for me. It gives me back my power, and I plan to claim it. Soon. But by the same token, I hope you’re held accountable by the ones deemed proper to do so.

Since originally posting this I’ve come a long way. Yes, there’s still some anger, but it’s a tiny pest now, not a hulking monster. Time and a desire to move forward help. I won’t say forgiveness is easy, especially when the unwarranted damage has such serious and long-term consequences. And I stand by my last sentence above.

 

Image Credits: (lady justice) © Kanvag – Fotolia; (key to forgiveness) © Ksishchenko – Fotolia

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In Memoriam: Patty Duke

Where Cathy adores a minuet,
The Ballet Russes, and crepe suzette,
Our Patty loves to rock and roll,
A hot dog makes her lose control –
What a wild duet!

Patty Duke, aka Anna Pearce, died earlier this week at the age of 69. Many of you know of her early struggles in life, her three failed marriages, and her battles with mental illness. What you may not realize (I certainly didn’t) was she lived the last thirty years happily married, her bipolar disorder under control, and her relationships with her sons, actors Sean and MacKenzie Astin, intact despite their admittedly tumultuous upbringing.

That’s a lot more than a lot of celebrities with even some parallels to her life can claim.

Patty_Duke_in_The_Patty_Duke_Show_-_ABC_Television,_September_18,_1963_(The_French_Teacher)I loved her show as a child. I thought Patty and Cathy were incredibly fun, her parents were wonderful (near-perfect, but of course they were fictional) and her brother, while pesky, was tolerable. And of course there was that goofy, good-natured boyfriend.

A friend of mine in college told me he thought all families, except his, were like Patty and Cathy Lane’s. How many of us believed that same myth? Certainly Patty Duke’s family life wasn’t anything like what she portrayed on TV. Oh well.

In the last 20 years she valiantly worked to lower the stigma associated with bipolar disorder, and I believe she was successful. Thank you, Anna.

My sympathies to her husband, children, grandchildren and many friends as they grieve their loss.

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A Grown-Up Fairy Tale or Two, Please

No one had greater belief he could slay dragons than my late cat Montero when he was a mere six weeks old.

Mighty Montero
No one was braver than Mighty Montero — he was pretty mighty, and mighty pretty.

So brave was he I gave him the nickname “Mighty Montero.” It stuck, even when he mellowed with age and stopped facing obstacles seemingly too big to overcome. At some point, his greatest concern was getting prime position on the sofa. No dragons there.

Anyone who’s spent much time with kittens will tell you they’re fearless. Their little tails fly high, until they think all humans are out of sight, when they relax and let down their guard. But they never doubt they’re in charge. And thus they are.

Fearless in the Face of a Dragon
Now, if you think the dragon is going to win this showdown, you don’t know kitties.

Of course harm can come to kittens, and so we protect them. Harm can come to children as well, and we do the same there. In centuries past part of protecting your child included telling stories of danger in the woods such as Little Red Riding Hood or Hansel & Gretel. It doesn’t take too much imagination to figure out what those tales were really about.

I still take that kind of danger to heart, but now I’m responsible for protecting myself. I’m cautious, perhaps overly cautious, in some areas. Unfortunately, in other areas, I don’t always know when it’s safe to take risks, when the dragons can be slain without chance of them rising again and quenching me with their fire.

I weary, at times, of getting hurt, of making the same damn mistakes over and over again. I tire of gathering the courage to do what I need to do, only to have it whip me back into solitude. I need an old-fashioned grown-up fairy tale, one that tells me dragons can be vanquished, to believe in happy endings again.

dragon fire extinguisher sm
Well, why didn’t I think of this before?

I need to know I have the power to do it and make it work.

Tomorrow, I know, I’ll be back on my feet again. I’ll get past the pain and I’ll start to see the good.

Damn dragons.

Image Credit: (lady and dragon) © wickerwood — Fotolia (cat and dragon) © ya_mayka – Fotolia

Fearless

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Simple Song of Freedom

 

Thank you, Bobby Darin.

Knowing your time on this earth might be short, you decided early on to give it all you’ve got, and share what God had given you with multitudes you would never meet.

That included this wonderful Simple Song of Freedom, your voice against the war waging in Vietnam.

You were right, by the way. Those boys sent over there 50 years ago, the ones still with us, are fighting that war even today. It rages in the dark of night, hides behind every corner of their lives, and waits to overtake them.

I pray for peace, and I pray for leaders who know the price our young men and women in combat pay. A friend of mine, a Marine who served in Vietnam, told me he believed the first President Bush wouldn’t have sent troops into battle unless he had to, because he’d fought in World War II, and he knew the cost. I don’t think presidents have to have served in combat to gain a sufficient amount of that understanding, but they need to see that war isn’t a game.

Our world is always on the verge of another battle, the soldiers are, in essence, simply seeking a new battlefield. Let the fight for measured decisions be the strongest.

And sing for me a Simple Song of Freedom.

Photo Credit: (hand & butterflies) © digitalista — Bigstock

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Drive Me Batty and Keep Me Sane

So often when I’m writing I’m joined by one of two 11-pound lumps of fur and purr, sitting on my lap, shifting, kneading and finally settling in while I lean over him or her to the keyboard.

They’re a sister and brother team who came into my life sometime back, when they were just kittens and in need of safety and shelter. Mimi is my princess, or perhaps pharaohess would be the better term given her sleek appearance. She’s not the best at staying put, in fact, she’s more likely to wander around the apartment, crying and annoying the heck out of me while I write. But when I turn to yap at her, she looks at me and comes running, and I stop before the words come out. She just wants some loving.

uh-oh slrWalter, on the other hand, is adept at snuggling in, melting in, really. He’s the scene-stealer and has been from the beginning. Cute, charming and a little shy, Walter, too, just wants to be loved.

On occasion I read aloud what I’ve written and take into consideration their most likely unrelated reactions: burrowing further in, leaping from my lap, a tiny “mew?” I take as a request for clarification. Sometimes Walter will hold a paw out as if to say, “that’s enough, you don’t need to share anymore, I’m here to nap.”

They drive me batty and keep me sane, wake me in the middle of the night just to play and sit in the window waiting for me to come home. If I’m sick or weary they’re there beside me, and if I’m agitated they keep their distance…for awhile.

I need them and they need me, so we’re together for the long haul. I hope it’s a long haul.

Walter and Mimi in the fresh laundry
Walter and Mimi, settled onto my fresh laundry, moments after I’ve taken it out of the dryer.