I found my diary a couple of days ago. My actual physical diary. I’d been talking to my son about writing down some of the things he’d been struggling with, his feelings of betrayal, loss of trust, and abandonment. We’d talked about ways we coped with what has happened and I’d been sharing about my diary and about this blog and he had stated that he didn’t know what to write about in his, if he started one. So I shared with him the very first entry of my diary, from March 29th, 1991:
today was a bummer of a day. we just left Bizmart and a totally awsome turbo graphic 16 for $125.00!! & my dad wouldn’t buy it.
p.s. the day wasn’t a total bummer because I hit the jackpot, found money, and get to go to C.P. [Children’s Palace – btw] if dad doesn’t stay too long (he he ha he won’t!!)
p.p.s. He did!!
After sharing this with him he had less trepidation about writing something down. If I can just get him started writing something, to get in the habit of putting his emotions down on paper…it may not be a perfect solution but it would be a start to perhaps allow him some healing as well. So since I hadn’t read my diary since I last put an entry in it I’ve been reading it off and on, skipping parts and going back to others. The last entry in the thing however still strikes me. Not the whole thing, but here is the last part of the last entry in my first diary, dated Jan. 6th, 1999:
Have you ever seen a man so consumed w/appearances that he even orders his own thoughts as to make them more poetic? The thoughts that one utters when one is alone…? I have, I see him every day in the bathroom mirror and we cross paths as we get ready for bed. But I don’t really know him. Or understand him. His loss, his hurt, his anger. Maybe one day I will. Either that or maybe I’ll become the man on the other side of the mirror. Never can say…
It’s interesting how things come full circle. I may have come back to a similar place, a single father,nervous and unsure of what the future holds, but I have gotten to know the man in the mirror. I have become the man in the mirror, and the man looking in. It has not been easy blending the two, but I am who I am. I am loved for who I am, I am forgiven, and I know my boundaries. My need to be needed and to control others has made my life unmanageable. I can let go, usually. I am at peace with being alone – most of the time. I am not perfect. And those in my life don’t have to be. There is a new day dawning and God walks with my son and I. We don’t always realize it. We don’t always want it. But God is there. And God will not leave us.
It has been hammered home how much my life means to the people involved in it. People I am ashamed to say I have not taken the time to get to know as well as I should have, have reached out to me, via emails, Facebook, in person, to share their love and support with me. And I am so grateful and so thankful. I love you all. And for those who have ridden this journey with me from the beginning… well, there really isn’t anything else that needs to be said is there?
And with that, I wanted to share the first poem I ever copied down in my journal. It was from a book of Favorite American Poetry, a book my mother owned and for all I know, still does. And a friend recently sent me a power point with the first verse of it, something else that was a blast from my past, but I think is very appropriate here:
I love you, Not only for what you are, But for what I am, When I am with you
I love you, Not only for what you have made of yourself, But for what, You are making of me
I love you, For the part of me that you bring out
I love you, For putting your hand, Into my heaped-up heart, And passing over all the foolish, weak things, That you can’t help dimly seeing there
And for drawing out, Into the light, All the beautiful belongings That no one else had looked Quite hard enough to find.
I love you, because you Are helping me to make Of the lumber of my life, Not a tavern, But a temple, Out of the works of my every day, Not a reproach, But a song
I love you, because you have done, More than any creed could have done, To make me good, And more than any fate could have done, To make me happy
You have done it Without a touch, Without a word, Without a sign You have done it by being yourself Perhaps that is what Being a friend means after all.