Did Someone Leave The Deep-Freeze Open?

Umm…where did Spring go? I thought it was here. Hell, I was even sporting sandaled-feet just the other day. This is not covering my lawn! ((Groan))

Yeah! This was the pretty picture I woke up to. One I could’ve done without, I might add. You can see the second picture is a bit blurry. Know why? You guessed it. It was that freakin nippy this morning and I couldn’t stop shivering! On top of that, you notice how dark and dreary it was? That was a definite, mood-lifter!

A view from the front porch across the field

A view from the front porch down the drive

Now don’t get me wrong; I love winter in the country. There’s something really special about snow falling softly, sticking to the trees, and blanketing the ground. There’s nothing quite like a winter’s morning with a cozy fire blazing in the hearth, and the feeling you get from looking out over cloud-covered landscape through your picture window, while sipping on a mug of steaming coffee. Nothing in the world quite like it on a special day…say for instance Christmas morning. Truly there isn’t. That being said, I might remind all of you and Mother Nature, its now Spring! I’ve had it up to the gills with the snow and cold, and just want to pad around in some flip-flops, already!

I should’ve suspected this would happen. My husband took the plastic off the living room windows the other day. I thought it may have been a bit premature at the time—given that you never know from week to week here in Iowa just what you’re going to get, till well…summer is underway—but I know he thought it would do me some good to get fresh air in the house. Around here it’s all about making Mama happy when she’s moody. Now of course I have to deal with the draft till the cold spell passes, and that doesn’t improve my mood in the least.

I guess I can’t blame my pissy attitude entirely on the weather. I would’ve woken up this way anyhow because I had an awful dream last night. I have all kinds of dreams, bad and good, but they are always the most vivid and I tend to recall them the next morning the most, when I take a sleeping tablet the night before to ward off insomnia. It probably wouldn’t be a big deal if I shrugged them off like most folks do, but I won’t and can’t. I pay attention to my dreams. I feel they are either forewarning me of things to come, or elaborating on a situation that I’m going through that needs tended to. Laugh at me and scoff if you will, but ‘sensitivity’ runs in my family. It was very powerful in my mother. I never mock intuition, dreams, etc…that which I don’t understand.

My dream was ridiculous at best, and in no way do I think it has anything to do with the dream scenario itself. No, I figured out quickly that it has to do with my anger issues and how I’m dealing with them. The just of the dream was that I was being forced to sit through a holiday at the home I grew up in with my parents (in the dream they were still alive), in the presence of people that had hurt me. Their nonchalant attitudes and complete disregard for my feelings and what they had done to me, fueled me with unspeakable anger and pain, but I found myself staying silent and going through the motions to appease my parents. It seemed in the dream that the harder I was attempting to ‘get along’ the more they seemed to be mocking me with insensitive slights aimed in my direction, whispers, and taunting glances. Finally without warning I arose; walked over and grabbed the arm of one of them, yanked them to their feet, and loudly proclaimed, “Get the fuck out of my house!” The room grew silent, my parents looked in my direction, and for the first time I wasn’t ashamed by what they would consider ‘bad behavior’. I just plain didn’t care. I can’t remember which parent it was that asked what was going on with a shocked tone in their voice; I only remember telling them that I’d had enough, and would never again allow myself to be insulted like this in their home, my home, or anyone’s home. What it came down to was that it was they or I, I told them. I watched as they looked at each other, and then turned to this family member and guest, informing them that it was to leave. I just remember feeling this huge wave of relief and almost a sort of pride wash over me knowing for the first time I was being vindicated by my parents.

This dream spoke volumes to me after I sat down with a cup of coffee this morning and began to process it. In essence what it told me was that I tend to deny myself the right to feel things, because of what others may deem inappropriate. Probably also that I picked up this self-sabotaging trait from never feeling I measured up to my parent’s standards: How they thought I should think, feel, and act. Perhaps their validating my feelings at the end and accepting me as an individual who’s separate from them might be my way of giving myself permission to feel what I do. Hell, I don’t know. They’re both dead now, but maybe the grip of ‘Learned Behavior’ is stronger then the grave itself, ya think?

I question the ‘right’ to do everything, constantly. I have no doubt that my upbringing is to blame. Little seeds of doubt planted here and there all through my childhood: God says it’s wrong to feel this way or that…do this or that. God will avenge you in His time; your job is to turn the other cheek and forgive. You have to be better than this, you have to be quieter than that, etc..etc.. Okay, this is what I want to know…if God created me as an individual, perfect just the way I am, then why the heck are so many people trying to justify taking a cookie cutter to me in His name? Didn’t he make me unique? Wasn’t He the one that gave me the heart and backbone of a warrior, the honesty of a critic, the poor discretion at times of a politician, the gift of gab, and the love I have for words, among other things? If He designed me, then didn’t He have a hand in any and all things where I’m concerned? Huh? I’m just asking!

Well, I’m going to venture out into the snow with my dogs; cause ya know puppies have to poo, and the day’s gonna go on regardless of this or ‘that’ shit in my life.

Advertisements