Perhaps it's because I had her later in life, but I feel an undying need to protect her from those that may hurt her; intentionally or unwittingly, physically or emotionally. As romantic as it may sound, I want her to wake up every day for the rest of her life feeling happy, secure and confident. I want her to know who she is and be okay with that person, despite what those around her may say or do. I want her to be kind and thoughtful, honest and real, but mostly... I just want her to be free from all the negative energy that can suck a person into that deep, dark hole; most commonly referred to as reality.
They say you should write what you know, but it's clear to me now that "they" have never met my family. Anyone who's been following my blog will tell you that my writing can often be quite cryptic, but it's no secret that there is an underlying, deeper story within the walls of my mind. I write this way to protect those around me, even those who weren't there to (or didn't) protect me. I'm not writing to hurt anyone; and if you knew me, you'd know that's not who I am. Like an artist with a brush, words are my preferred mode of self-expression, whatever the mood, whenever it strikes and as raw as I need it to be. For once in my life, I'm following my heart (and my gut), and I'm okay with who "I" am, even if the family doesn't appreciate or support my artistry. In my family’s eyes, I've crossed the hushed line of forbidden secrets they've worked so hard to keep and I'm no longer allowing the bullies to keep the pillow over my head. Alas... I can finally breathe!
Sometimes in life, you have to look in the mirror and ask yourself, "What's it all for?" For me, this happened back in March. After many years of disinfecting my psyche with all the wrong sprays, I finally exposed the source of all that dust. As I anxiously blew off the top layer; I watched, as four decades of confused and lost particles gracefully danced and hovered in front of me. I glanced down to observe a thick sheet of broken and crumbled memories, just waiting to be lifted and released. I packed up my laptop, hopped in the car and headed to Starbucks to weed through some of the mess. Sorry family... this ain't about you anymore.
I wonder if one of the reasons you are so devoted to your daughter is in the hopes that she will avoid the heartaches you experienced. Your blog sounds very cathartic. Good for you!
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