Another two, I mean.
A part II, I mean.
A Part II to this confusing story that is.
It is/will be complicated and hard to follow, yes that I know. If any of you were confused about the last post, don't worry, I'm not offended. Matter of fact, I don't even know if I'm following it correctly and I'm in it.
It's my show, my story, my movie, my book, and believe me this is far from any trendy Twilight series, that's for sure. I'm watching the milk man deliver the milk, I'm actually witnessing it from across the street, and yet, I still have a difficult time trying to make sense of this crazy flick that has flashed past my eyes-suddenly I'm back in Mr. McGee's Geometry class Freshman year of HS- yes, it's that confusing to me.
I will probably go back and forth throughout this Post.
From here to there.
From there to here.
HEY! Funny things are everywhere.
Sadly, I find funny in estrangement because I have such a difficult time understanding it. I get how it feels, I understand the pain and hurt, and yet I'm only part of the audience. I do have an uncanny knack to feel, to empathize, even though I believe to truly empathize means you've dealt with it yourself, I do feel hmm, how can I explain it? The best way is this: it's as if I can actually pick up on the emotions of the person dealing with hurt, facing the walk down a path of separation. No, I don't think I'm some fancy psychic, so you can stop holding your breath. I promise you will not find a $9.99 per minute charge as you read along, so, read along!.. Best wishes as you attempt to follow along with these words..
From here to there.
Do you like to ski? Have you ever tried it? Done it again and again? Have you always wanted to try it but haven't? Why? Just never got around to it, or because of stories from other people that have tainted your image of it with their past negative experiences? Do you love it regardless of how much it hurts when you take a tumble on the slope?
I see estrangement the.exact.same.way.
I've been skiing.
Once in my entire life.
Actually twice, but the second time didn't really count because it wasn't a real "downhill ski experience."
The First time:
I was around 14 years old and this trip was an outing, a few days away with my Church's Teen Youth group. I was terrified. I was away from home and back then before my hormones started to rage worse then an H3 strand, all I ever wanted to be, was at home. Home with my mom and dad and four other siblings and dog and...
Anyway, I skied.
The first day of the slopes, I was as nervous as I would have been had my young school crush, Todd, been seated in the front row of speech class as I -gasp- conducted a public speaking assignment to the class. Yes, I was.that.anxious. so much so that I wanted to pee in my pants, and not because I was cold.
The fear of not knowing scared me to pieces. I didn't have much confidence in myself when I was a 13-20+year old.
So, the day arrives, and I opted to take one of those small instructor classes to learn the ropes. I kept it simple and stuck to the bunny hill, although even the bunny hill had options. I was so scared of not knowing what it would be like, yet I enjoyed sitting there watching everyone else zip down the slopes, the wind blowing through every uncovered part of them, the sounds...it was relaxing to sit back and watch. Why was I so scared? It wasn't skiing down the slope that made me want to pee with glee in my undies, it was the part of getting up there!
I had two options-tow rope or chair lift.
The thought of having my legs dangling out in the air-forget about it. What if I dropped a pole? What if my ski's unclasped themselves from my bootfeet? What if a bird pooped on my head? What if the lift got stuck? What if I tried to get on it and I missed the chair and fell on my bum as it came WHIPPING around to scope me up and lift me like the SNORT!crane lifted the baby bird in the book, ARE YOU MY MOTHER?
So I took the tow rope.
To think it looked so simple.
Like a tug of war only you didn't tug, it tugged you.
I either had bad gloves on or who knows what, but I have to say that tow rope hurt so bad.
Yet I kept going back. Because I'd rather have rope burns then bird poop on my head.
I refused to overcome the fear of my other option.
Until the next day. After going back down the slope and dealing with the whiplash of the tow rope one time too many, I had finally had it. I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to face the fear of the chairlift. I had to use another option to get to the top of the hill. Because if I didn't, I'd never get to feel the rush as my body swooshed down the hill. I wanted to feel the good parts even though I was limited with my options to get up there.
I had Two options.
One I was tired of.
So give up and walk away, or try another way.
I took the chair lift and lets just say everything that I feared would happen did-except for the bird pooping on my head and my ski falling off.
The first time, the second time, and each time after. To this day when I think of those couple of days, I laugh because I never did quite master the grace of the lift. Yet I'd go back and do it all over again, and I'd even take the tow rope up. I still dream of returning to the slopes to feel that wonderful feeling of flying back down the hill, despite what I had to endure to get up there in the first place.
Now what in the name of Crusty does any of that have to do with family drama? I guess it depends on how you look at things.
I look at it as a constant reminder that maybe when we decide not to take the tow rope up anymore, maybe to just give up and sit back, to remember that there are other options. Even if it's not what you want. To not give up and continue to try to get up that hill. To find an alternative way to climb that mountain, to get to the part where you feel good again. Even if the only other option is the scary lift. Not to give up when you're left out. To take the part that's hard and enjoy all of it, because there are parts that will be so worth it as you are smiling and swooshing with people that you care about. So long as they're not drawing blood by sticking you with their poles.
Now, if there is abuse involved, well, that's an entirely different story. Abuse is the one thing I have a very very difficult time dealing with. I am a victim of abuse and whereas I no longer hold any negative feelings toward the douche, although I don't hurt, although I don't hate, although I don't have any emotional feeling when I channel that period of my life, you will not see my trying to befriend this person.
This particular survival has nothing to do with abuse. This particular delivery of estrangement milk has to do with the expectations, ignorant expectations mind you, from one side of my family.
It's confusing and complicating and the series has just started. All over things that, when you look around, are normal in families with many many members, yet it doesn't matter to the one that is 99% sure they're about to cancel with their Milk man that has been around for them since birth. Forget about the fact that life changes, they can't see it. They can't handle that.
To make matters curdle, the customer that wants to cancel, gets you involved!! Keep in mind they are fully aware that the Milk Company is your immediate link, whereas they are an extended link towards your daily life. Yes, they are angry and hurt and although you and the customer have always been close, and have vented about sour milk, although you and the customer are close extended family, they turn on you.
They present you with a letter filled with words so mad that a farmer would have to close their farm in fear of mad cow disease. The customer asks you to give the letter to the delivery man, asks you to cancel their order, and asks you to tell them why they are sick and tired of not getting bread.
You read the letter to yourself. In this letter there are words that cut deep and even go so far as to include you in the words and cut you down too. Words of termination in a very selfish and ungrateful tone. Words that they want you to read. Even though the customer knows too well that you don't handle conflict and you prefer the more Switzerland approach. Real nice, huh?
So, do you deliver the letter?
To be Continued...