Picture it & Write, January 06/2013

http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2013/01/06/picture-it-and-write-2/child smoking








I wanted to smack her! I am sorry but I have worked and worked with this child of mine and nothing has worked. I have three children. Holly is the middle one you see in the photo above.

I at first felt great guilt at yelling at her for smoking. I smoked also, so how could I tell her not to? She is a child, this is why. I am an adult. I know the sentence that could lie ahead for me with smoking, she does not.

She was always the one child who feared nothing in life. Holly dared anything she could get by with. Strong personality, aggressive in thoughts. The first child that learned to talk back at such an early age.

She excelled in school. Each teacher she encountered always made the same remarks about Holly. She was very smart and caught on to her school work quickly. Was she too smart? Was she gifted? Should I consider advancing her in grade levels. Does she need to be challenged more?

When it was her and I at home, she was defiant. It was like she had Edward Scissorhands;  daggers for me. Anything I asked she fought. If I talked nice to her, she mocked me. I was beginning to think she was the child from hell.

How could she fool everyone else but me? Teachers adored her. Classmates played well with her. It was only me, a single parent left to raise three kids alone. I had to work, I had to put food on the table and pay the bills.

I felt too much guilt for not being there when ever she needed me. I was so sure that I had done something wrong in my rearing of her, that I bent over backwards to give her all that I could.

Her siblings would tend to cause problems for me as it seemed like I treasured Holly more than them. This was not the case though. I was trying to get through each of my days in peace.

I had Holly tested in many areas with different specialists. Nothing positive ever came out of it. She always tested normal. I asked family, friends and even other children’s parents if they had children like this.

There responses were a laughing no. If they had children like that, they would provide them with a tough love. What was tough love? I had never heard of this? I researched it on the internet.

tough love


The use of strict disciplinary measures and limitations on freedoms or privileges, as by a parent or guardian, as a means of fostering responsibility and expressing care or concern.
Wow, I was doing it back words. I was carrying the guilt for not being there. I was letting her manipulate me. I needed to change and change right now. I decided the next day would start the new me.
I saw her after school smoking. She saw me coming near and the look she gave me was I dare you to do anything. I took her at her idol threat. I could not stand it any longer.
I pulled my car up along the curb and put it in park. I got out and went over to her and said, “Let’s go. Put the cigarette out and please get in the car”. She stood her ground and took a big hit off of her cancer stick. She replied with a catty voice, ” I will go when I am ready. I can walk home. I don’t need a ride”.
I took the cigarette out of her mouth and threw it on the ground. I stomped on it until the red glow was completely out. I took her by the hand and I pulled her to the car with her screaming at me. I didn’t give a shit who was watching me. This child was going home with me!
I got her in the car and buckled her up and went to my side and got in. I locked the doors and started the engine. Off we went for home. We were both silent, which was fine with me. I was thinking, what am I going to do with this child once I get her home. Talk to her? Scold her? Ground her?
When we walked into the front door of our home she began to rant. She was calling me names and stomping her feet. A very big tantrum for a child her age. I stood there quietly as she continued her performance and then I took her by the hand and sat her down at the kitchen table.
I said to her, ” I am your mother. I am tired of letting you control my emotions. You are destroying my days. I don’t know why you act this way with only me, but it is over. I will not tolerate any more actions from you. The smoking is over. If I catch you doing the smoking thing one more time, I will have to send you to boot camp for bad kids”.
She laughed and said, ” You wouldn’t dare. I will report you for child abuse. I will tell the police that you abuse me. I will run a way from  home”. I looked at her with an emotionless face.
The two of us became very quiet, as we digested what the other had said. After a few minutes had gone by she asked, “Why do you hate me so mother? Why do you treat me worse than the other two? What did I do to make you hate me so much”?
I looked at her and my mouth opened to speak. Be careful what you say. I know you want to lash out at her. You want to tell her how miserable she has made you but don’t. You love her, you just don’t like the way she is acting.
I spoke saying, ” I love you very much Holly. You get treated the way you do because mom feels guilty. Guilty for not being here for you. Guilty for the divorce and you growing up with only one parent”.
“But the other two, you must feel guilty about them too right? I mean, they are living with one  parent also, right”?
“Yes, this is true, but you are the one who brings about more challenges for me. You have tested me more than your siblings. I lose my patience with you Holly. You are always testing me”.
” I just want to know that you love me mommy”. Holly said crying.

Little Girl Grown

Yesterday I posted about guilt and God. I don’t know if it was the fact that I cried so much or just life, but I went to bed at 7:30 and woke up at 1:30 and then went back to sleep and slept until 8.


Was I that tired? Or was I running from life? I think I was just that tired.  This morning I have taken glances back over the past few years and looked at what I have done. This really has nothing to do with New Year‘s Ever resolutions. Nor does going to the class and walking today. I believe God knew that I needed saving and so he pushed me in the direction.


Can guilt make you depressed? I don’t know. My friend Viveka told me last evening that I am suffering from not having anyone to take care of right now. I think there is validation in this.

How does a child learn guilt? When I look back through my life I can see some points that may have helped mold me to who I am today. I can remember when my baby sister was born. I was ten years old. I didn’t realize at the youthful age that one person could get more attention than another. I do remember fighting for my highlight in my stepmother’s life.

It was the following summer that I was expected to be a mature young lady at 11 and start babysitting the little sister. I would care for her on school breaks. I was taught how to cook a complete meal, clean the house, and doing laundry and even ironing. But, does this bring guilt about?

At 13 I learned for the first time that I had a real mother out in the world. I don’t remember going into any mass depression, but I do remember thinking I was going to find her. I don’t think it was because I was so aloof from my step-mom, as much as it was curiosity, or was it?

From that point on, I was in the middle class of popularity in school. I worked part-time, sang in the choir and yet I do remember that I clung more to my dad. I thought of him as my hero. I was where he was. I learned that it was an ugly divorce between him and my real mom and that with the help of him, his parents, and the law, he had rescued Al and me from the big bad wolf.

I put my dad on a pedestal. I can remember mentally comparing him against mom. I had divided the two. She was the one who liked my baby sister more  than me. He was the hero of my life. Did this change me from an innocent person to one full of guilt? I still don’t know.

I can remember getting married and having children. The children almost became more significant than the marriage. Why? I have thought of this throughout my years. I believe it was because they were mine. No one could divide them or take them from me. I loved and cared for them like a mama bird cares for her young.

Divorce hurt more as far as my kids were concerned. The split, pain of words spoken and changes from a routine were very difficult. This is when I remember guilt beginning to start with a capital G. I felt guilt for the pain of what the kids suffered through it all. I felt guilt, that I was struggling in my own mind. I had found my real mom after all these years, and it wasn’t what I had dreamed of. There was only a surface connection between my mom and me.

It wasn’t strong like the yarn of a spider web that couldn’t be broken.The web was never formed. She loved the little girl she remembered, and not the grown woman. The depression that I was hurled into helped cause the divorce. No one understood what I was going through mentally, not even me.

I slid through the next few years by the seat of my pants. I did things that normally I would have put a way on the top shelf of my bedroom closet when I turned 18. It was like something had a hold of me. I needed to know that someone cared. I needed to feel loved. I didn’t cross the line of disaster, but I did make a lot of mistakes. I know that I still carry the guilt of this today, when I think about my own kids.

When my step- mom died years later, I was devastated. Yet there was a small part of me that I remember thinking, the guilt is now over. I don’t have to be ashamed of not being her real child. I am not sure today, that I ever let that guilt go totally. I don’t sit around and think about it. I do think of mom a lot, but not that part.

It was soon after that when I started caring for others. I began the career by working in nursing homes. I traveled pretty much throughout Indiana filling in for shortages for other nursing staff. After the price of gas started to skyrocket I looked for alternative ways to be a caregiver.

I didn’t plan on it, but I ended up beginning private care. I took care of elderly in their home. I became a part of the family. I went on outings with my patient and the family. I felt needed and cared about. I felt loved.

A husband and wife was one duo that I took care of for a few years. It so happened that I knew one of the grown children and had even visited in their home in my youth. I loved the entire family. They had a daughter named Anita, that I thought was the most awesome woman. We clicked right a way and I still keep in touch with her today.

The wife passed away first and then I came back and helped take care of the husband. At the latter stages of his life, I had become involved with the care of my own father. He had bone cancer. I was his primary caregiver for the next year.

Both dad and the husband died very close together, and then I went straight in to caring for my brother Al.al at millers Now he is in a nursing home and I have drifted off into some world I have never really experienced. It wasn’t like my divorce. It was deeper. The divorce ended. Al is still here but living else where. Is guilt what I am living? I do know that I hate myself for not being able to keep him home longer than I did. I always ask myself, could I have done it just a bit longer so he would not be in there so long?

I don’t know. Reading back on this blog posting, I can see that I have a deep desire to be needed and loved. Maybe being a caregiver is the way I was able to obtain that feeling. Now I am alone. I really think there is guilt mixed in with the loneliness. I think Viveka is right though. I am without someone to care about right now.

So does this stem from my childhood? I think so, very much. I don’t know how to change who I am, but I am going to at least get involved with something else besides being a caregiver for others. I am going to give it a good shot at caring about me too.

Flying skyrocket


Big Bad Wolf


Tuning It Out

Christmas is over. The specials are gone. A sadness is present as we tear down our


English: Madonna barbie, crafted after the bri...

English: Madonna Barbie, crafted after the bridal look of The Virgin Tour and the 1984 MTV Video Music Award performance. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


pretties for the holidays and place a way until another time nears. Now we are bombarded with New Year’s resolutions.


It tends to make me question myself as I hear and see these ads. We are not the weight we should be. We can stand to lose another thirty pounds. We do not look like Jessica Simpson.


We don’t eat healthy. We do not buy our foods and have them delivered to our front door. We don’t stuff enough raw veggies down our guts. We don’t exercise enough. Some of us don’t exercise at all.


It doesn’t matter what time of day it is, the voices speak to our conscience. It is on the news of becoming the new you. Billions of dollars are spent on campaigns. It is almost as bad as the campaigns for President. Companies hoping they can hit you beneath the belt, making you feel bad about yourself. You will end up thinking so little of your looks and bodies, that you will pour out hundreds of dollars to improve the old you.


Are we so miserable in our own skins that we fall prey to these ads? Do we really think we are not good enough or glamorous enough to walk this earth. Do you like being told you need constant improvement?


It is no wonder that I do not get excited over New Year’s Eve. I don’t think I have ever been invited to a party. Don’t feel bad, I can’t miss what I have not experienced. I do tend to realize though that each year as it comes to an end, I tend to get a little tiny down and depressed.


I am not a Barbie doll type. I have a gut, no Botox tucked in hidden areas. I walk with no tattoos. I have not had surgery to make me instantly small. I hardly wear make-up. I don’t wear false eye lashes.


I don’t always buy healthy. It isn’t that I would not love to, but, when veggies are out of season, it does get a little pricey. I tend to buy more foods that are on the sale list. I want to eat for the next seven days. I choose not to starve for two of the days because I felt ashamed that I was not keeping up with the health trends.


I wear comfy clothes. I don’t have to have brand name labels. After all, how many people in the mall are going to come up to you and ask to see your label? As I get older, I want to be comfortable in my own skin. I don’t have to impress people here on earth.


Anyways, ads play on our guilt. When we fall for it, the companies gain billions of dollars from us. I will be so glad when New Year’s Day is here and gone. Television ads will back off a little bit more. After a six or seven week span has gone by and many of us have failed our resolutions, the companies seep into the woodwork.


It makes me so tired when I think about all the things that are wrong with me. Talk shows and doctor shows constantly trying to convince me of this way or that way will help me live longer. Get a test done now to see what you may die of later. No thanks, I pass.


God made me who I am. If he wanted me to look like a Barbie doll, he would have done that in planting me. If he wanted me to have a different shape, he would have made sure I had it.


I am getting old and I can tell. The things that used to be so important to me just don’t matter anymore. Now I tend to think about where I am going once I leave this world. Hopefully I have several years before I leave, but I want to make darn sure that now I am headed on the right track.


These are just my thoughts and not all of you are going to agree with me. But for me, I am going to shut out the ads that bring me down and make me feel guilt. I am going to work harder on listening to uplifting music and writing more blogs.


Happy New Year’s to all of you. May you stay safe, sober and still smiling on New Year’s Day.



The Left Overs

A newborn child crying.

A newborn child crying. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I was born. Others thought I was so cute and adorable. Brother was born, and their world came crashing down around them. An extra butt to wipe, a mouth to feed. More money needed for care. It was an innocent child born into a negative world. During the days crying could be heard, cries of help, hunger and restlessness. During the nights, glass beer bottles could be heard. Loud screaming, fighting reaching into the wee hours of the morning. She was young, 16, two babies to care for now. He was 18, a mamma’s boy. He worked at the bowling alley, and stayed mostly at his mom and dad’s. She was left alone to attend to two crying babies. His mom would come over weekly to check on the babies, and to voice her opinions of what she thought of the young mother. She would bring over with her a new dress for the baby girl, and sometimes a toy for the baby boy. Arguing could be heard through each of these visits, one trying to place blame on another. One day with the mom’s help, divorce proceedings started. The young mother became scared and thought the only way to fight this was to take the babies and flee. Life was a  mess. The law was involved. The law after several weeks did track them down in another state far away. They had been stopped for speeding, which was a blessing. The law returned them all to their home state, and the babies were taken to the father’s mom and dad’s home for permanent living arrangements. The divorce went through, the grandparents raised the children, while the babies father worked. One day a few years later, he met a nice lady. Eventually, they married, and the new step mom raised the children. Life was much better, but the guilt, and the left overs from the first marriage were carried on in the mind of the children’s dad. He took that to his grave. The guilt, and all of the left over memories were then transferred from the deceased father and passed on to the baby boy, who now a man, still carries the wounds.

Finding The Right Fit For Me

I went through an excruciating hour just now. I am feeling many things. Guilt, sadness, despair. I saw young people in mini skirts, pink high heels with big pink bows. I saw a mixture of young and very old. I noticed women holding their purses as if someone were about to take it from them. I heard no words spoken. During meet and greet, three hands shook mine and said good morning, and then went to the next. Never a word was spoken from then on. I heard subjects on money, healing, but don’t tell,new business and old. I found myself drifting in and out between the words. Remembering my parents. For some reason sadness over whelms me with certain types of music. I thought about the guilt I felt inside for not wanting to be there, knowing I should be there. More guilt crept over me as I became more aware that he knows my every thought. There was no way of hiding it, no place to run. I am home now and my comfort is back. Maybe I am afraid of people, maybe trust, hurt? I don’t know. I know I need to change, but what is it I need to change? I know he loves me, and I love him with all my heart. We have great conversations together, and I can’t imagine spending a day without chatting with him. So, why am I feeling the way I am. I remember as I walked out the door, I ran into someone from my past. Chit chat was shared. As I voiced my thoughts briefly on sadness due to changes in my life, I was told to get over it. Move on. Be happy. I felt cold run through me as I walked to my car.