still going on

[VAC]

Pensive, stubborn, resilient, rebellious....

How I ponder the persistent sameness of the place and surroundings I call home...

It is not the fault of those with whom I live. Part of it I suppose it the passage into old age, knowing I will live to get older, God wiling.

I brood. When I do it is like a deep drilling into the core of my being and my thoughts, my own peculiar thoughts.

We have had very happy times recently, good news.

At the same time, I have deep and abiding regrets about things that can't be relived. I have always been a giver. It is what makes me work and I can't explain it really. I have poured out to my loved ones. I have recently had to fight offense and bitterness with my children. It is good that we are separated by some distance and seek one another out at times we truly want to be together.

It is equally strange, that my busy, active, traveling, organizing, creative self has been searching for me. Amazing.

I really see it as possibly a Divine strategy to pull me out of the hole of that to which the last several years and months have reduced me.

My wife and I are singing together again....it is amazing that which began our relationship has now surfaced again. She loves music and fills this house with the beauty of her soul.

I was such an angry and explosive man before I met her.

That same man with his ridiculous outbursts of wicked ranting sometimes whispers to me: I would never be a candidate for dementia, but then who would be? If I spoke all that bubbled in my heart, I would do such damage to those I love the best.

I visit an old school chum in a nursing home nearby me, twelve years of school together....he was kind to me and a true friend. He cries when I go. He has said things to me like "I am disappointed in how I have spent my life".

I suppose such thoughts are common for us all as we enter the time more of our lives are behind us than before us.

The paradox of this is that I am very sad we do not live closer to our children.....give Mr. Mood some slack.

We will see what the future holds.

This may seem like nothing or strange to some of you, but I have been greatly encouraged by being able to have some semblance of our yard to its former condition. Others come and help me, honestly, I sit and talk to them while they work. I have many years of training that still comes in handy. Fair trade.

The family home I grew up in was a statement of my dad's insistence on my mom not having what she wanted.....he was also a hoarder. I suppose one of the things I said to him when he was feeble I should not have was when he kept going on about me having the "home place" for the children. I told him, "Daddy, Mama always hated this house....you kept her here. It means nothing to me"

I have always striven for our house to not look shabby. It is a personal thing from my childhood. a stand against my father. I did all their yardwork until they passed, for my mom's sake.

It depresses the hell out of me when I am not able to do that or to get it done.

Enough evisceration tonight.


God I love my children....don't want to try to control them.

[Harmony]

Dear VAC,

You are one fine man. Your wife is lucky. Your children are lucky. We are lucky to have you too. Living a life of meaning doesn't mean making no mistakes. Living a life of meaning means living with grace and love. Any questions? I know you read the good book. It is in there. Now you do unto others as you... go forward. Ask for forgiveness to those you might have hurt. Have you seen the movie The Shack? As a rebel you will like it because it is controversial. It challenges all our questions and preconceptions. The guy who wrote the book has publicly acknowledged that he is one of us. The story is really about csa. I have that on excellent authority. We shared the same T. Small world eh?

with care,
Harmony

[VAC]

Harmonious Harmony,

My daughter gave me a copy of The Shack when she was in T. I looked at it for 9 months and then read it, all at once. I can do that and used to live like that for days on end of reading.

The book really helped me. I wish the author would have been a bit more conservative in portraying the Trinity, although I thoroughly loved it, having been raised by and calling Black women, "Mama", it was not a great stretch for me.

My sweet daughter and I saw the movie together and cried like crazy things the whole time....she is so beautiful, so strong.

There are two scenarios here which I find amazing in my thoughts, even in my dreams. My family has been here since the late 1700's. Part of me would like to recoup the original location and find the foundation of the house which was burned....

The other scenario is that I leave this place which I love and hate forever, but who would tend and clean the graves (don't freak, I don't and won't, but ever so often I have to go)....that has just been my perusement

And yes, Harmony, I do read and believe The Book. More than ever. I watch the Land Beautiful and know: so do you. Soon.

You are kind. I am so trying not to be an old fart.

Tomorrow morning early we go to visit our daughter.

Thanks.

[VAC]

Hello,

Thoughts from today, the last few days.

Survive
Survivor
I survive
I will survive....

Many conversations with an old friend, brilliant, as close to a hermit as a man can be.....he is a survivor of emotional abuse and terrible words. He does not know about my CSA status.

This has gone on for decades, this same conversation over and over.

He was not loved.

I have always respected his intellect.

I am probably the only friend he has. I talk with his wife. His children know me.

Something about his parents and his "performance" as an adult causes him to live in profound shame and self-loathing. So many of us battle this on this site.

I will continue to encourage him. I have shared my battle scars concerning my family sans the CSA. I decided he would not handle it well, and it would hurt him and shut him up. In our friendship, he needs to be needy, and I don't mean that in a condescending way at all....it is my perception that has been built for nearly 30 years.

He is sad.

That is all, he is sad.

I don't want him to be sad.

He is fighting for his children....he loves them. I am rather proud of him.

I will have been surviving...
I will have survived.

That is all.

VAC.

[Fleur]

Hello VAC

I think everyone needs a really good friend and you're giving this man a wonderful thing - your time and attention, truly listening

May he find solace amidst his pain

Wishing you and family very well as you enter hottest months

[VAC]

Been away a long time, hope that all are well.....

Amazing dream for which I have most of the interpretation.

I wonder at my age I am still having these revelations......I know now why I did so much of what I did.

I hope for peace and stability for each of you all......

Peace...

VAC

[Fleur]

Hello VAC


Lovely to read from you

Wishing you a pleasant weekend

[VAC]

Hello,

I have been somewhat of a mess since I had the dream a few days ago. Have never had a dream before like it and pray never to again. I have always had dream interpretation as do a number of my friends.

I would like to share it with someone who does, but I would be ashamed to.

It was an explicit dream about my dad. I think I have the interpretation, but it would mean most of the crazy things I did were to punish him. I know and trust some of you on here, and I would be glad to share this privately, if you have the gift of dream interpretation.
This dream triggered a lot in me. I have been praying for my inner man to be cleansed from the past, and I believe this dream is a part of it.

Don't mean to weird anyone out about this.

I believe more is coming; whenever I remember or see something, I have to fight myself not to just go away for a while. It makes me see images and feel impressions I don't want. If I were a drinking man, I would keep a buzz right now.

Old vignettes of life past play before me.

I know this sounds odd, but in some ways I am a stranger to myself. I also believe I have the power to decide what I will allow and who I will be.
I know that many years ago, there was a dark side to me that triggered through stress, pressure, coupled with alcohol and drugs. Sometimes I did not remember going there, but it made a lasting impression on people who thought they knew me. Have often wondered what more there is to remember?

It makes me angry when something comes up again after so many decades, but the wise part of me is thanking and considers it healing and cleaning.

thanks.

V.

[Fleur]

Hello VAC


I don't have any gifts you mention, but I have the impression that whatever it is, is healing - may you find peace around the oddness, weirdness, of these dreams

Please remember that they are dreams, and might not accurately reflect anything real in your life right now

Dreams can sometimes be a way for our brain to handle the past

I'm sorry that what you've recalled dreaming has disturbed you. Thank you for sharing here. I trust that it helps to write

May you enjoy something special today


Much caring -- hugs offered if acceptable

[VAC]

Hello,

I am doing better. I hate, hate, hate having to look back and have to keep myself from resenting remembering.

Coupled with this dream have been the usual insights that I could do without, but need nonetheless.

I always knew my dad was an emotional cripple and a survivor himself: I felt sorry for him for many years before I remembered.

I also knew/know I did things to throw in his face, both of my parents actually: they were horrified. Mother lived in denial and literally managed some deep personal lobatomization: she simply did not remember what she did not want to and it was real.

My dad was more or less my target, my victim. This was a small town.

I made him suffer watching me play crazy and knew it but did not know why he was so terrified of me.

I am sorry. This dream was so vivid and so real. I took delight in punishing him for what he did, not even remembering. He could not bear for me to stare at him.

I did so constantly.

The aftermath of something new coming to the surface of my consciousness is that I want to trash myself, throw myself away, run. Thank God He does not let me now It makes me ashamed. I have to look back when a memory comes like this and I don't know why because it does me no good.

I am surprised to be alive...don't worry about me. I am a solid chap it seems, and dependable.

I find it pitiful that we lived in such a lie as a family. I feel so sorry for both my parents, and I don't know who was the most pitiable. My only regret is that I did not run. I remember once we were traveling in the Midwest somewhere. It was hot and my parents were arguing, and my younger brother was being impossible.

It was 1967.....we were headed East and stopped at a remote station. I stayed with the car thankful for a few minutes reprieve. A van pulled up from California full of long-hairs....they were headed west. I was 13 or 14. They left the van opened. I saw that I could easily hide in the back. I knew my family would take forever inside, and that the van guys would be in and out and knew I had time.

I processed it all in a few moments. I could do it. They would not find me for hours. I would have a few days of freedom. I would get them in trouble. I would have to go back anyway.

They came and got in their van and headed back to hippieland. My folks came out the same and the joy-filled journey continued.

Run Forest, run.....and I used to.

Enough. Sorry if this post makes anyone sad....don't. I am just sorry I lived in such filth to pay my dirty old dad back. It was my body and I did myself the most harm and injury.

I am sorry I felt compelled to look back and remember the Mephisto Waltz of self-nihilism. It makes me feel very dirty.

I wonder what we will say when we see one another again. How he suffered when he died. He used to have fits when things piled up on him, "G.D. my soul! I wish I had never been born!", and he would howl like an animal that was being tortured.

My poor, deranged dad and my enduring mom.

I do want to see them again in a better world. Me, I think this is building up for me to speak publicly about this again. I still love them so much, I cry when I write this. They both tried so hard to do good, and gave me opportunity for life and education. I know a lot of this was probably guilt, trying to fix their broken son, but they did try.

I never went without anything.

All the wanderings of my life are in a book, and all my tears are kept in a bottle. This is not for nothing.

Thanks for bearing my catharsis. I may share the dream on here, but have to think about it: don't want to do damage.