Burning words seems like a sacrilege. Words are meant to LIVE and breathe long after the one who penned them turns to dust, they’re meant to be a record, a heritage, proof of ones existence… more than that. Words are tears, and screams, and loneliness and loving.
I went on a journal burning spree today, my eyes skimming hungrily after words quickly disappearing.
I half-thought that maybe the truth would be less true without written evidence, that people re-write history because they never wrote it down as it was happening and can’t remember how it was, really.
No, I never believed that. I *know* that no matter what we say, the truth is burned into our bones and breath. Even if we never write it down, we don’t forget. That means that people willfully misrepresent…
Deep down inside I have always known about that willful misrepresentation. I’ve even found the courage to speak against it a time or two. But people wish to hold fast to their illusions. I lost one side of my family over lies they chose to believe against all evidence to the contrary. Here’s a truth: blood doesn’t make a family.
People are imperfect. People are imperfect. I am imperfect. Take a breathe. Release it. Now, another truth: you are imperfect. Everyone you’ve ever loved is imperfect. Why all the illusions? Why all the PRETENDING that black is white and up is down?
Some of my journals make me SO SAD. I recorded the truth then tried to talk myself into believing lies. A lot of it was centered around my experiences with organized religion. A lot of it was centered around my family of origin. Sometimes the truth is so frightening that you just can’t look at it straight on.
I’m guilty of the same things “they” do. I pretend that the awful stuff was less awful than it was. I joke about it, excuse it, try to convince myself that it was deserved… I paint joy over sorrow. Yet my life is a raw quest for truth… Before I die, I just want to know that somebody saw me.
But it won’t happen like that. I already know. So, I didn’t burn them all, the journals. I just burned a few as a test. Here’s the thing, long after I’m gone, my journals will breath. Someone who never knew me may see me and subsequently feel more real, may feel me looking back at them. That’s happened for me many times in books: John Steinbeck’s East of Eden, Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables, Wally Lamb’s She’s Come Undone: how could they see me with such stark clarity? If you’re a reader you know exactly what I’m talking about.
What the hell kind of blog is this? I don’t have an answer. It’s a fraction of my head turned inside out. Peek-a-boo… Let’s look at each other through our fingers; it’s much less uncomfortable that way.
Let me straighten the dress I’m not wearing, cross my legs, adjust my hair just so, paint on a smile. How are you?
Posted by Kevin on August 15, 2010 at 8:33 pm
Oh. Thank. Goodness. You didn’t burn them all. Did I miss it? Why were you testing yourself?
How am I? Good thanks, and how are you?
Any-who… Peek-a-boo… I was here and read. Just thought I’d let you know.
♥
Posted by UnequivocalKate on August 15, 2010 at 10:03 pm
Hey Kevvy. (I haven’t said that for awhile) :)
I was testing myself because I needed to know that the truth couldn’t be burned away. I was testing my willingness to hold onto truth even when people I care about would love to see me let it go, to pretend that lies are real. More than that… I’m still trying to figure it out.
I’m glad you’re good, as long as you know it’s okay to be a little bad. ;) lol
How am I? I’m not trying to smile. I only smile when I feel it. I’m not trying not to cry. I let myself cry when I feel it. *wry smile* I’m living my life, Kev, and always trying to find the good in it, ’cause there’s a whole lot of good. :0)
Thank you for letting me know you were here. I appreciate it more than you know.
Posted by Jane on August 15, 2010 at 8:39 pm
This post is so full of many parts of living and life!! I did smile when I had read 2 out of the 4 books you had written, I could relate a bit more.
I do feel an imperfect person and working toward some joy but never perfection.
I don’t write in journal as often as I wish too. I am glad you have not burned your journals for they are really a part of you and growth as a person had to have grown by your thoughts written on the tangible paper.
Posted by UnequivocalKate on August 15, 2010 at 9:56 pm
Hi Jane. :0) I did burn some of my journals but not all of them. They are a record of my journey, you’re right, and they help me to see how far I’ve come. I was in a bad place when I did the burning, but I don’t regret it because I learned.
I’m glad you felt living and life in this. I’m struggling with life right now; I want to struggle WELL.
Now, I’m wondering which two of the books you’ve read! (?)
Posted by Jane on August 15, 2010 at 10:27 pm
East of Eden and Les Miserabebles but it has been man years ago, when I was much younger.
I read and felt life and liviing in this post and had me consider living my life with more enthusiam for others can do that easily. I must continue to find my niche and enjoy it.
Posted by UnequivocalKate on August 15, 2010 at 10:51 pm
I love stories of redemption! I’m not sure how much of the stories you remember; just in case your memory of them is excellent, I should clarify that I in NO WAY identify with “Cathy” or “Kate” in East of Eden (lol). It’s the Jacob and Esau parallel that I resonate with so powerfully.
ANYWAY… I’m glad you mentioned searching for your niche. I think we spend our lives trying to find our place, at least most of us do. I’m still not sure about mine, but I enjoy the journey of discovery as much as I can.
Posted by wolfshadesblog on August 15, 2010 at 8:41 pm
Wow. Did this post ever hit me hard.
I spent years – as you did – painting over ugliness with a core-deep attempt at joy. Christians all have it good, right? If it were otherwise, maybe our faith wouldn’t be real, and for sure we couldn’t do a proper sales job to the rest of the world.
Man.
I even fooled my sister with that stance. So much so that she was shocked when my wife and I separated, basically putting a huge spear through her honest (mis)conception of Christian families.
Worse, I fooled myself. I wasn’t lying – none of us who try to put makeup on the pig truly think we’re lying. We sincerely believe our own bulls**t, mostly because we don’t know it’s crap. Contrived joy – however innocently done – covers an enormous garbage pile of sins and evil. We’re not talking about the redeemed stuff either – we mean the stuff that never gets acknowledged, never gets worked on, and for *damned sure* never even approaches spitting distance of an apology.
Which makes me entirely grateful – more than words could ever say – for the existence of a loving Father who is not fooled in the slightest. Without Him, I’m pretty sure I’d have given up long long ago, in the worst possible way.
Despite all of the dark words in this comment, the overwhelming feeling is one of joy, and relief. So glad you posted this, Kate.
Posted by UnequivocalKate on August 15, 2010 at 9:52 pm
I was poised to delete this post when your comment came in and I took a deep breath and felt less naked. As non-linear as this blog is, there’s truth here, my truth, and fear, and hope, too. It’s me undressed, which shouldn’t be a big deal, but it is. What’s worse than standing naked in a crowd? Having no one notice that you’re standing there in your birthday suit. As scary as it is to be seen, to be unseen is worse. Wow, am I ever in stream-of-consciousness mode.
I’m wrestling with some things, trying to find my way to truth, to not let go of people who disappoint me deeply, especially when I know that they’re no different from me and the rest of humanity. Truth is important to me, so much so that I want to slam the door on people who lie to me. When I wrote this, their lying felt very INTENTIONAL, very willful and knowing. You’ve provided the much needed perspective that people – you, me, all of us – often believe the bullshit we’re peddling. We don’t ALWAYS, but much of the time we do, because the truth is too damn scary to contemplate or maybe it just screws with our perception of the world, the way we NEED the world to be. I’ve spent my life surrounded by people who insist I think happy thoughts. They paint rainbows without rain, see stars in the middle of the day…
In “the church,” I know I told lies that I believed to be true. I would have died for the sake of those lies. I NEEDED to believe that I KNEW that I had all of the answers to life’s most important questions. I read some of that in my journals today and winced. The naivete, the gross innocence… I read my words and couldn’t believe I’d written them. I sounded like the people I feel so sorry for, the cliquey, cliche Christians who hide behind false smiles and “Praise the Lord!”
And I tried to sell it. I was a missionary, after all. I sold it as if eternity rested on it, because I HONESTLY thought it did…
I try to own my crap, to say I’m sorry when I need to. I don’t always manage it, but I try to look at myself and be ruthlessly honest. I never stop TRYING to find my way to the apologies I need to make. I don’t know why I’m sorry matters so much to me, but it does. We all hurt people we love. We all screw up. The whole “love means never having to say you’re sorry” thing is romantic bullshit. It’s awful. Right now I’m wrestling with whether or not I owe someone an apology, a former friend. I’m honestly not sure. If I do, it’s important to me that I give it, so I’m praying I’ll be able to see truth, get past the filters I’ve put on it.
I don’t understand people who willfully avoid apologizing or worse still feel no remorse whatsoever. They happily cause harm and as long as they get away with it, they’re good. I would bleed to hear my blood say he’s sorry and mean it. I would bleed for it. Why does it matter so much? I suppose it’s because I desperately want him to be the person he represents himself to be. I would love it if the mask he wears was really his face, but it isn’t. He’s a painted pig and he damn well knows it, is wholly unrepentant about it. I’m not suppose to talk about it because it makes people uncomfortable, you know. The mask is so attractive… he wears it well.
“…I’m pretty sure I’d have given up long long ago, in the worst possible way.” Me too. There’s darkness here in my words because I teeter on the edge of it, but you felt me correctly when you felt joy and relief, too, because I burned some recorded truth and it didn’t change a damn thing. I know what I know what I know. I also kept some recorded truth, a bunch of it, and it’s all good. I would bleed for validation but I don’t need it.
I’m thankful for forgiveness, because I have been forgiven much and will continue to need forgiveness because I’m going to screw up. I’m thankful for forgiveness because I can grant it, feel it, and it’s a freeing thing, too. All that being said, I’m angry in a way I’ve never been angry before and it’s all tied up with lies and truth.
I’m so glad you commented. Thank you, my friend.
Posted by UnequivocalKate on August 15, 2010 at 10:35 pm
P.S. I just re-read your comment because I realized I went off on a tear in response, and I see that (I think) I misread what you said about darkness, joy and relief. I thought you were attributing those feelings to ME because that’s exactly how I felt when I wrote the blog, but I think you were actually talking about YOU and your comment. :) Either way, it works.
Posted by wolfshadesblog on August 16, 2010 at 4:54 am
Yup. I was talking about me. Not very often we get on the same exact wavelength as someone else like this though, is it?
I have to wonder about people like, as you mentioned, your “blood”: I’ve seen a few of these around too. And the only explanation that seems to fit (I suppose it helps me to find a bit of balance) is that they’re just out and out sociopaths. They’re the kind of people for whom right and wrong is entirely relative to “how this benefits me” at the time. Hard – VERY hard – not to hate them. I still struggle with that one.
If they’re strangers, well it’s easy just to blow them off and carry on. Forgetting them is entirely easy. But if they’re blood? Not so much.
Oh and that altruistic bullshit we tried to sell to others? *nods* That’s why I have so much baggage about the past. I understand that people still doing it have great, tremendous and often humble hearts. I do. It just still feels like I’m rolling in crap if I entertain any of what they’re saying. Such a dichotomy.
Eh. Easier to get over that one, than getting over the sociopathic community that stands around, offering crocodile tears.
Posted by UnequivocalKate on August 16, 2010 at 8:34 am
You said, “They’re the kind of people for whom right and wrong is entirely relative to “how this benefits me” at the time. Hard – VERY hard – not to hate them.”
YES, that’s him.
Until recently, I wouldn’t have understood the “hate” part, but I feel it now, I FIGHT it now. Until I hear a sincere apology, public ownership of what he’s done, and some measure of restitution to prove his heart, I will not smile at him or pretend for the sake of others who would have harmony at any cost to me. At any cost to me.
He’s a “Christian,” of course. A leader in his big ‘ol country club of a church. I don’t hate the church but I do recognize that it provides and excellent cloak for sociopathic personalities who by definition are BRILLIANT at pretending to be other than what they are.
Posted by Jesse on August 16, 2010 at 8:43 am
Katy,
I read your post last night and could feel your finger hovering over the delete button. I said a little prayer then, “God, please….someone needs to see this, to know there are other people who have been where they are and been broken inside but have come out the other side as better, stronger, more compassionate people.” Thanks for leaving it up and thanks to Wolfshade for his timely comment.
Posted by UnequivocalKate on August 16, 2010 at 8:57 am
I very nearly deleted it again this morning. If I take this post down, I lose. I need to let it stand. Thank you for letting me see you here, Jesse.
Posted by UnequivocalKate on August 16, 2010 at 8:57 am
And thank you for praying.
Posted by UnequivocalKate on August 16, 2010 at 11:23 am
A friend sent this comment this comment directly to me and I wanted to attach it to the blog, because it’s just perfect. (Thank you, Kym) She said:
“There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm. ~Willa Cather; Most people learn as they live and grow to be better with this knowledge. Others would prefer to pretend and never truly grow.”
Posted by Chickee on August 16, 2010 at 4:13 pm
Just love Katy, just pure love from me to you. ♥
Apart form the place you were in when you burned your journals, your first paragraph is exactly how I see the written word.
At first I thought you burned your journals to erase what had been but now I see it was a way to remind yourself and own those words. Remember they are the past and you are the present. ♥
Posted by UnequivocalKate on August 17, 2010 at 8:23 am
Yes, I burned them because I needed to know if I would die without them. That sounds so melodramatic but it’s very much how I felt. I needed to breathe deeply, to let go, to let it be enough that *I* know… And it is enough. I kept most of my journals, the records of my life, and I will keep them safe. Some day, my story will be told. I know that now with absolute certainty. I had to know that I could trust myself. It’s not easy to speak the truth in the midst of a chorus of denial. It takes strength. I didn’t know if I had it.
Now, I am certain that I do.
I avoid people from the past – or have for most of my adult life – because I have only wanted to be the present. Now, I know that it’s all rolled together. I’m on a journey. I have to look back to remember how far I’ve come, to see how much the landscape has changed, to remember so that I can offer compassion and empathy to those who are traveling in the same general direction.
I hope that makes sense to someone other than me. ;0)
As for the people I am connected to by blood… I made my own family via adoption because I don’t trust blood. Blood isn’t a guarantee of anything. Ask my husband who was utterly abandoned by half his blood family when he was a toddler. In that light, I know EXACTLY what you mean. They are the past. HE is the present. I think I can own some of that for me too. Thank you, Chickee.
Posted by Paige on August 16, 2010 at 7:20 pm
Even if we never write it down, we don’t forget. That means that people willfully misrepresent…
Oh gosh, I’m tryin to feel ya here and hoping I don’t go exposing myself unnecessarily, which I sometimes do ;) I lived undeniably in misrepresentation for a long time having it away at my soul all along. Then, when I felt I could no longer live and breathe, I called out for help which meant exposing my life. I did so through many tears and much wretchedness, but it was like crawling from beneath a huge mound of dirt. Once exposed, I could breathe again. Oh, I remember those years of self discovery and awareness of what misrepresenting and hiding was doing to me internally. I literally felt lighter and then I began to feel the need to tell everyone who dared have a friendship with me, “look, this is where I’ve been and what I’ve done.” of course, they listened and stared in awe and most thought myself off my rocker, but I did not care. I did this for me. Well, I have finally come to a place where I no longer feel the need to “confess” the past. But now, I feel the need for others to be real. Not everyone is, nor has any awareness of the healing that comes from it. I spot it glaringly in others now. And I am saddened.
I do not mean to say that it is not easy to fall back into a place of misrepresentation. But you can bet your sweet patootie (hehe) that I know when I have and I’m not comfortable with it. As for others, I suppose it leads me to compassion for man in general. Man will disappoint and to lead myself to believe otherwise is setting myself up for anger. However, it doesn’t keep me from wishing others to find realness. The greatest step I’ve taken was to go back and examine things, to find out if my perspective and feelings were real or right. Sometimes, I found I held false beliefs and other times, I found some very serious real things I needed to confirm to myself and remove the doubts or gray that surrounded it.
This is good, Katy, and one more step toward your truth ♥
Posted by UnequivocalKate on August 17, 2010 at 8:08 am
I keep reading your comment and typing long responses that I erase.
You didn’t expose yourself unnecessarily. You simply shared the fact that you went through a process of self-discovery and growth. I needed to know that it’s possible for someone to change that much and I thank you for your willingness to share a piece of your story.
Since I was a little girl, I have been the one who speaks truth that others in my family would do anything to not hear. The denial of truth by my family, the redefining of it, very nearly crushed my spirit, and left me for a long time unable to trust my own perceptions. If it was sunny outside I would wonder if the sun was real. If someone told me it was cloudy, despite the warmth of sun on my skin, I would believe them.
I’ve been waiting all my life for someone – my blood – to finally admit the truth of what was, any piece of the truth. I’ve been holding onto the evidence, holding SO TIGHT, because I needed to know what I experienced was REAL. But I don’t need that evidence anymore; the truth is in my marrow. I know what I know. And I’m strong enough to hold onto it alone.
When my husband and I met, we didn’t even like each other. *grins* But we ended up being thrown together in a tight, uncomfortable quarters with a small group of other people and that’s when I really SAW him. His honesty about himself was simple and beautiful. There were a lot of flare ups between people b/c we were too much together in too little space and I grew to count on his stability. When confronted with hostility or nastiness, he remained calm. And if there was any grain of truth in what was said to him, no matter how it was said, he admitted it and changed. I was blown away. He’s the SAFEST person I’ve ever met to this day. He doesn’t exaggerate. He doesn’t pretend. And he’s so very honest. I thank God for him.
I will always be someone who examines things, myself included, and, thankfully, I am paired with a truth teller. :0) I want to grow, to become more loving, compassionate, empathetic… and I want to be strong, too, strong enough to hold onto the truth even when others would rewrite history. But here’s where I have to smile. You see, I’m the WRITER. I’m the one who will tell the story in the end, not them.
You’re right, Paige. I am walking toward my truth, owning it, and it *is* good. <3
Posted by Paige on August 19, 2010 at 5:27 am
Well, I actually started out to explain myself much deeper but somehow it came out differently. Perhaps that is because I know I no longer have to explain. I covered , hid, and misrepresented the situation within my family. I painted a pretty picture of my marriage and family life. I wish I could post a picture here just to show you how pretty I painted it. And then, I learned about denial and honesty and freed myself from all the false pretenses. I did a good job for twenty years . No, it was not a “good” job , it was a life of lies. Boy, were some ever surprised. Again….it was the greatest step I ever took. It was then I truly began to live, as did my children :)
Posted by Carmen Lezeth on September 25, 2010 at 1:14 pm
So here I am shocked! Your post is amazing…but the comments are just as…painful? Brilliant? I have to say, this is the line that choked me up: “blood doesn’t make a family.” I’ve been saying this all my life and everyone gets so upset with me about it… But then I say to them: what if you found out tomorrow that your sister, your brother, wasn’t your sibling? That they mixed the infants up in the nursery when you were born — would you still love your brother? Of course the answer is always YES, which makes the point quite clear: blood has nothing to do with family. History does, love does, LOVE does. Real LOVE does.
Wow, I don’t know what got into me today to read and connect with both you and Chickee today — I’m a sobbing mess, but grateful to hear your words.
Carmen
Posted by UnequivocalKate on September 28, 2010 at 5:04 am
I write to provoke thought and discussion. It it weren’t for the comment exchanges, I wouldn’t blog at all, so I’m glad to hear that you read through some of the threads! I think we may be like-spirits.
My husband and I have four adopted children, one biological. We both grew up knowing that blood doesn’t make a family even though we were raised at least in part by our biological families ourselves. I have a blood brother, a brother by law, but he is NOT my brother; as much as I have loved him, he has been cruel and selfish all our lives and GROSSLY dishonest, when it comes to me, willfully harming me. He’s a completely different person with other people; I’m the one who experiences the worst of him. Anyway, he taught me that blood doesn’t make a family. Our families are comprised of the people who love us. I’m always surprised that so many people think that blood=love, that parents automatically love their biological children, when that is not reality.
I have made my own family and it’s foundation is love. :)
The biological mothers of our children both say that they love them. They’re very teary, emotional, and adamant about it, from everything we’ve heard of them. Yet they neglected and abused them, before they were even born, and continued to do so afterward. THAT is not love. Love is a verb; it’s a DOING word and it has nothing to do with blood.
Thank you for reading and commenting, Carmen. You’ve made my day. xo
Posted by Carmen Lezeth on September 28, 2010 at 5:20 am
If we sat down and had a cup of coffee together, I’d have a very similiar “blood” relative story to share. Suffice it to say: “like spirits” for sure!
Hugs,
Carmen
Posted by Drew on October 9, 2010 at 12:09 pm
Awww…. I so hope I see you. I really do. If I do, I hope you see that I see you. Often I think I do see you, and love pours from my heart.
I think the truth, whether it be pain, unjust, unkind, hateful, disparaging, tormenting or whatever it may be, is still always freeing. To see truth, to me, sets us free from the binds of delusion. It offers us something that is very important and that is acceptance.
We can’t MAKE truth, we can’t force truth, we can’t create truth, we can only learn and accept truth.
There are many aspects of my life that have sucked, but were the truth, and I was grateful for ever seeing the truth. I hope to always be able to.
Love you. ;-)