Separate Lives

This song started playing on the inner jukebox yesterday while I was working in the kitchen:

You called me from the room in your hotel
All full of romance for someone that you met
And telling me how sorry you were, leaving so soon
And that you miss me sometimes when you're alone in your room
Do I feel lonely too?

Specifically, the lyrics that came to me, which I then sang loudly and cried, were these:

You have no right to ask me how I feel
You have no right to speak to me so kind
We can't go on just holding on to time
Now that we're living separate lives

It feels a little ironic that although I lived a life separate from the love of my life for 2 1/2-3 1/2 years -- depending on how you count it -- I never used this song during that time to mark a single one of those days. Especially since I used to belt this number out about romantic relationships on a pretty routine basis in high school and college.

When it came to me yesterday, though, it was all about my parents:

Well I held on to let you go
And if you lost your love for me, well you never let it show
There was no way to compromise
So now we're living (living)
Separate lives

Ooh, it's so typical, love leads to isolation
So you build that wall (build that wall)
Yes, you build that wall (build that wall)
And you make it stronger

Well you have no right to ask me how I feel
You have no right to speak to me so kind
Some day I might (I might) find myself looking in your eyes
But for now, we'll go on living separate lives
Yes for now, we'll go on living separate lives
Separate lives

Yes for now, we will go on living separate lives, because it feels true in my heart that unless/until they  are willing to be real about what transpired and REALLY know how I feel, they have no right to ask...

It's Only

Today was the day my extended family celebrated Thanksgiving. My daughter went, but my son and I stayed home. We spent part of the day hanging out together, and then when his friends came over, I retired to my room for a nap. I'm still sick, so I'm trying to get as much rest as I can.

But at about 6:15pm, when I realized my son was going to be going out, I realized I needed to get myself in motion too. So I went to a yoga class at a nearby studio, where the instructor played this song:

I heard the news today;
That you’re not mine to keep.
Don’t struggle too much now
While I kill you in your sleep.

What is lust if it’s not being by yourself?
I won’t be gentle to the body on the shelf

It’s only water
It’s only fire
It’s only love

It’s only slaughter
We’re only liars
It’s only blood

They’re only thoughts that I’m having;
Thoughts safe within my head.
You’re only crying
You’re only dying
You’re only red.

I heard the news today,
That you weren’t mine to save
I hope that you’re comfortable
In the quiet lasting grave

What is lust if it’s not being by yourself?
I won’t be gentle to the body on the shelf.

It’s only water
It’s only fire
It’s only love

It’s only slaughter
We’re only liars
It’s only blood

They’re only thoughts that I’m having;
Thoughts safe within my head.
You’re only crying
You’re only dying
You’re only dead

It’s only water
It’s only fire
It’s only love

It’s only slaughter
We’re only liars
It’s only blood

They’re only thoughts that I’m having;
Thoughts safe within my head.
You’re only crying
You’re only dying
You’re only dead

And it just fit how I was feeling, in a sad, morbid kind of way. The old me is dead -- the one that was willing to pretend and put on a show to make people think everything's alright in my family of origin...

Who's Gonna Save My Soul Now

Today was a pretty great day in a lot of respects: My daughter's soccer team won first place overall in their division for the Fall season. I had lunch and went for a walk with a dear friend and her adorable 2-year old daughter. And then I went to yoga with one of my favorite teachers (and favorite yoga buddies).

This song was one of the ones that played during yoga, and happened to come at an emotional point for me in class:

I got some bad news this morning
Which in turn made my day
When this someone spoke I listened
All of a sudden, has less and less to say
Ohhhhhh how could this be?
All this time, I've lived vicariously
Who's gonna save my soul now?
Who's gonna save my soul now?
How will my story ever be tollllld now?
How will my story be tollllld now?

Made me feel like somebody
Hmmm, like somebody else
Although he was imitated often
It felt like I was bein myself
Is it a shame that someone else's song
Was totally and completely dependant on
Who's gonna save my soul now?
Who's gonna save my soul now?
I wonder if I'll live to grow old now
Gettin high cause I feel so lowwwww down

And maybe it's a little selfish
All I have is the memory
Yet I never stopped to wonder-ahhhhh
Was it possible you were hurtin worse than me
Still my hunger turns to greeeeed
Cause what about what I neeeeeed?!
And OHHHH~! Who's gonna save my soul now?
Who's gonna save my soul now?
Ohhhh I know I'm out of control now
Oooh-oooh, tired enough to lay my own soul down

Yes I am. And that's how I was feeling in class closer to the end. So instead of doing what the rest of the class was doing at that point, I just laid there in savasana, the occasional tear rolling down my face.

And then the teacher came over with the tuning forks to do some work on me. And I'm sure it helped. But it feels like I've got a long way to go to tuned.

I'm reading a book called The Body Never Lies: The Lingering Effects of Cruel Parenting. It isn't an easy book to read. I've had it for several years, and I've picked it up several times, but in the past I've always put it back down again after a couple of pages.

Its premise is a hard one to swallow: No one is obligated, in fact, to love (or honor) thy mother and thy father. Especially not when they have done you harm.

No one is obligated to continue the charade with them. I remember when I was a little girl on my mother's birthday. I always had this huge internal struggle about what to write. I knew that I didn't feel love for her, or anything good, but I felt like I should muster up whatever I had to fake it.

I've done that for so long. And yes, I think some part of me thought that if I kept doing that, I might someday get what I always wanted from them. But I won't. And I'm ready to stop pretending.

I'm so tired of being on the other end of the phone when my Mother says she misses me or wants to hear about my life, or wants to talk more. I just sit there in silence. I don't want to say to her what I don't feel, which is those things about her. And I don't want to explain why I don't say anything, or don't call her. So I sit there. And then I hang up the phone, and I feel conflicted.

I'm done with that now. I don't miss you, Mom. I'm not going to call you. I'm not going to say I love you when I don't feel it, and when I know that what you feel for me is less than the love I have for my children and less than the love I want for myself. I don't wish you pain or harm. Quite the opposite. I wish you peace. And truth. And authenticity. I want those same things for myself. And I'm never going to have them, or give them to you, by pretending something I don't feel.

I'm out.

It's the truth for me from now on. My truth. If it hurts you, go deal with your pain. God knows I have been dealing with it long enough...