Tonight's insomniac mental movie brought to you by the US Navy, NASA and me. Prepare yourself, I have a jam-packed little mind... Although I've been wrestling with a blog/journal topic for weeks, I didn't imagine it coming together like this, and it still might not. Let's see if I make any sense, shall we?
Dad was a military man- a Naval pilot, briefly. He separated from the Navy before I was born, but he told us a couple of stories. My whole life, he displayed a little orange and white model airplane on a bookshelf or his desk. Somewhere along the way I learned that it was a model of the training plane he had learned to fly in. The fact that his instructor had also crashed in that plane, with Dad on board, seemed like an insignificant fact to my young mind. No need to take note, he's safe now and not flying, so I barely gave that any thought as a kid. Tonight, as soon as I closed my eyes, the image of the field and crashed plane as I had imagined it as a child, was front and center...
Dad was, apparently, unique, as pilots are concerned. He loved to fly. His body did not. He never seemed to go up without, what had gone down, coming back up as well... As a result of his, um... gifts and abilities where airsickness is concerned, he was selected to spend roughly six months being tested and studied at NASA. Delicious, I know, but bear with me. These thoughts tonight tie into the topics already weighing my mind...
I first acknowledged them last fall, just before I started writing this blog. Back then it was subtle, a flirting idea, two alternating flickering questions- barely holding my attention, really.
Recently, I spent some time visiting some friends out of state. I'm not sure I've met a more perfect couple. Maybe I'm intrigued by them more than most other couples I know because both have personalities similar to my own. As a couple they challenge each other, they effortlessly understand each other (for better or worse), they have the same sense of humor, they are both motivated, hard working, passionate, intelligent people. He's type A, a military guy- Special Forces stuff... and she's the PERFECT self sufficient, supportive wife for that kind of man. Individually, they possess incredible strength and depth; as a couple, well in my mind, "Power Couple" applies. Together, they are deeply, intimately known. Okay, so they're not perfect and neither is their marriage, but they are perfect for each other. I would have been suspicious of the validity of that kind of chemistry and connection as an onlooker, had I not briefly stumbled upon something similar once, a million years ago.
As usually happens when we all get together, a few other people showed up at the house, creating somewhat of an adult slumber party, complete with a movie and pizza. Eventually the lights went out, but the other couch surfer and I kept talking. This one was the same caliber of guy as our friend. I am intrigued by, and in some ways can identify with, what makes these people tick: they are never satisfied, never good enough, never finished with the job, their questions are never completely answered.
We talked for awhile and quite honestly, I don't recall exactly how we got around to it, but I do remember the statement he made: "Well, Collene, no one REALLY wants to be known." What?!! That perspective had never occurred to me. Insert one of those alternating, flickering questions I've been wrestling with, increasingly, over the past few months: "Does anyone really know me?" I hear my voice telling this stranger in the dark, out loud and maybe somewhat aggressively, "I want to be known fully, then accepted completely. I crave it. Not by everyone, but by the people that matter."
All I can think about since that conversation is that I'm so sick of having my guard up, constantly presenting the "best of me" to everyone. It's mind numbingly exhausting. I'm eager to murder the facade.
Now, married in my mind with question number one, is the second... Earlier this week, I further confirmed: I'm a girl. A dumb, emotional, ridiculous, embarrassing girl. Sometimes, the unresolved conflicts and destroyed relationships in my life weigh on my heart and nearly succeed in drowning me with grief. In my mind a couple of them are worth redeeming, but I am powerless to resolve the mess on my own. The other flickering question resurfaces: "What makes these people I have loved so deeply, been so open with, walk away so effortlessly... one after the other?" My assumption has been that once they really started to know me, they opted out.
I called my dad. He knows me right? I'm hoping to hear something encouraging. Nope. Just more misunderstandings. Stress, anger, hurt... dumb girl. Oh, and words. I said words to him that I used to never use at all, but now they seem to apply to situations more often than not. He was less than proud. To him it was completely unacceptable. I feel incredibly unknown, not accepted. I care, but I don't have the energy to fight for it anymore. I lack the ability to pretend in any aspect of my life anymore. I know I'm not a complete treasure. I've got all kinds of ugly and nonsense to sort in me... I worry that there will be more loss.
Dad called me the next day to reassure me that he loves me. Unconditionally. I believe him, but I still feel largely misunderstood. Unknown. Alone.
Sooooo, while I'm laying here replaying the grainy childhood mental image of my dad's Navy/NASA days, it occurs to me: I don't know him that well either. Does he want to be known? Our experiences shape us, I imagine those days for him were incredibly shaping. Just maybe, these people that so effortlessly walked away weren't doing so because they were getting to know me, but rather, I was getting to know them.
Whatever. It may not matter, but now I believe I'll sleep. I should also mention, I know nothing about planes. This one is sorta like the one in my cobwebbed mind, so sorry Dad, if I got your plane wrong.
Hi, Collene. I just found your blog today for the first time. I've only read a couple of your most recent entries, and find your thoughts and viewpoints intriguing, not just because of their many similarities to my own, but to the fact that I've been where you are, have walked down and ridden down many of the same roads and emotional roller coasters as you are travelling just now. Chin up, girl, you DO NOT have to have all the ANSWERS. You don't even have to know all the QUESTIONS. But...keep looking and asking...it's the JOURNEY that matters as much or more than the destination.
ReplyDeleteHaving co-habited with your father during a few of his most formative years, I have a perspective of him that is uniquely my own. Growing up together, I idolized him (and still do). He was an amazing older brother. He taught me to read and write before I entered first grade by coming home after school each day and sharing with me what he'd learned that day! He introduced me to Bible reading at the ripe old age of seven or eight. He was only about ten when he began reading the Bible cover-to-cover -- not once, but several times! We didn't understand everything, of course, but every time we read through it, we'd learn a little more about many things.
Anything your dad did, I wanted to do. He was only 19 months older than me, but in my eyes he was much wiser, much braver, much smarter, and MUCH older. He would set goals for himself and then when he would meet that goal, he would set a higher goal. He required so many sit-ups or push-ups of himself each morning. And the next day he had to do more than the day before -- or else he was disappointed in hismelf!
Your dad and I never talked much or saw each other much more after he left home at age 18 -- he found a new life thousands of miles away, and in the non-technology age, there was only an occasional letter and an even less-occasional telephone call. But...he never stopped being my hero. I've often wondered what he was like as a husband and a father. Your mother and I were never close enough that I felt I could ask her personal questions, but I'm hoping that someday we can become close enough that we can have the candid conversations I crave, because I would very much like TO KNOW the man your father grew up to me, and also would like to get to know his children. You and I seem to have much in common, so I feel that getting to know each other better would be illuminating for each of us. I feel I can add another dimension to your Sears family heritage that you will most likely never get from anyone else (I know lots of stories and tales and legends -- lots of family geneaology that you and your siblings most likely never knew about, since I doubt that your dad did, either.)
Also, I would like you to get to know ME. I believe you will find a soul-sister in the process!
Aunt Gail
Aunt Gail this reply soothes my little tattered heart. I've thought of you often over the last few years. Even at the age of 12 I was able to recognize that your trip to Yellowstone was more about connecting to your big brother in a really tough time than seeing geysers. So many images from that summer still flicker in my mind, making me wonder... "HOW do I do this with class and grace, with kids, not being consumed with anger, sadness, despair or grief? I bet Gail knows."
ReplyDeleteSimilarly, my own brothers have been incredibly important to me, although most are younger. I'm smiling as I visualize my dad through your eyes. A couple of his sons resemble him in so many ways, and I can completely see Dad at 10, 15, 18 as you describe him.
Yep, it's time to introduce my kids to their southern roots. Louisiana, Florida, Arkansas- all on the list! Warn everyone, we'll start saving...
Collene, your words (once again) made me smile. You have such a gift of expression. I would love to see you and your little "bonus people" -- today would not be too soon! Your father left home early this morning to drive to Arkansas to be with all of us as your Grandpa is on his deathbed. Yesterday the doctor said he would have to put him on a feeding tube in order for him to survive much longer -- has refused to eat or drink for about a week now. Grandma is in her usual state of hand-wringing and when she called a few minutes ago to say that Larry was on his way here, I could hear the relief in her voice. He will bring some calm to her harried world, I'm sure. Grandpa will be 87 on Friday the 20th, and if I remember correctly, your own birthday (35th) follows quickly on the 30th, am I correct? Would be so wonderful if you could be here in person with us ... but I know you will be with us in spirit.
ReplyDeleteMy relationships with my parents have always been difficult, but I too, like you, tend to be "a pleaser" and tend to overlook things that are beyond my control and just try to keep things running as smoothly as possible, regardless of the actions/inactions of those around me. Sometimes it all becomes overwhelming, though, doesn't it? I completely understand. We have a lot to talk about. Over coffee would be fabulous. But ... one thing that I've learned is this: You cannot ever change the past. You can re-think it and learn from it, but you can't escape it and it's easier to just pray the serenity prayer on a daily basis -- the one about accepting what you cannot change. Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. All we have is today and it is our gift, and that's why it is called "the present." Enjoy your gift of today, Collene!
Aunt Gail