Thursday, October 26, 2006
The Sense of Smell
I have long known that smell is our strongest sense in relation to memory. It is quite amazing actually, the thoughts and feelings that one particular smell can conjure up. They can be great, awful, and anywhere in between.
Yesterday, I returned home from a busy, stressful day at work to a particular smell that, almost eerily, sent warm chills throughout my body. It felt like electricity running through my body as the fine hairs on my arms stood straight up. My mom had spent the early portion of the day making Italian sauce and meatballs from scratch the way my grandma (her mother) used to. Immediately upon walking in the door from the cold weather outside, I felt warm...at ease...happy...relaxed.
It smelled like Grandma's. It smelled like it used to smell every Sunday when I was a child. This is no ordinary Italian meal smell either. It is one that I can not explain in words but one that I grew to know and love many years ago. And it is extremely particular to Grandma...Even though my mom prepares her wonderful sauce and meatballs quite often, she doesn't always get it juuuuust like Grandma (since Grandma grew up cooking in Italy and never used or wrote down recipes. She just knew. So although momma's cooking always smells great...today it was different...it was Grandma...exactly.
I wanted to grab a pillow and just curl up on the kitchen floor...and surely could have due to the fact that I was indescribably comfortable as I absorbed myself in that smell and its memories. It was a comfort so overwhelming and peaceful that I felt that I could have walked on fiery nails and not even noticed.
The smell flooded my mind with wonderful childhood memories from Grandma's house. I wanted to be blanketed in that smell and just lay by Grandma and watch our shows...Wheel of Fortune, Cash Explosion, and our favorite...Golden Girls :)
I am so thankful for my sense of smell. I miss my childhood and I miss my grandma so very much...that it is fantastically pleasant to, once in a while...and often unexpectedly, be whisked back into those days, memories, and feelings....even if only for a moment.
Yesterday, I returned home from a busy, stressful day at work to a particular smell that, almost eerily, sent warm chills throughout my body. It felt like electricity running through my body as the fine hairs on my arms stood straight up. My mom had spent the early portion of the day making Italian sauce and meatballs from scratch the way my grandma (her mother) used to. Immediately upon walking in the door from the cold weather outside, I felt warm...at ease...happy...relaxed.
It smelled like Grandma's. It smelled like it used to smell every Sunday when I was a child. This is no ordinary Italian meal smell either. It is one that I can not explain in words but one that I grew to know and love many years ago. And it is extremely particular to Grandma...Even though my mom prepares her wonderful sauce and meatballs quite often, she doesn't always get it juuuuust like Grandma (since Grandma grew up cooking in Italy and never used or wrote down recipes. She just knew. So although momma's cooking always smells great...today it was different...it was Grandma...exactly.
I wanted to grab a pillow and just curl up on the kitchen floor...and surely could have due to the fact that I was indescribably comfortable as I absorbed myself in that smell and its memories. It was a comfort so overwhelming and peaceful that I felt that I could have walked on fiery nails and not even noticed.
The smell flooded my mind with wonderful childhood memories from Grandma's house. I wanted to be blanketed in that smell and just lay by Grandma and watch our shows...Wheel of Fortune, Cash Explosion, and our favorite...Golden Girls :)
I am so thankful for my sense of smell. I miss my childhood and I miss my grandma so very much...that it is fantastically pleasant to, once in a while...and often unexpectedly, be whisked back into those days, memories, and feelings....even if only for a moment.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Did You Ever Even Care?
At the thought of you, my heart begins to race. Intense anxiety takes over my entire body. The thought of you fills me with rage…and sadness. The thought of what you did to me sends my mind spinning wildly…with so many thoughts and questions. I find my daydreams overtaken by the wicked, immoral things that I sometimes feel that I want to do to you.
Do you ever think about me? Do you ever even think about what you did? How did you continue to look me in the eye for years? How did you still feel you that you had any right to be a part of my life? You looked at me…you looked at everyone else…knowing what you did. Did you care?
You watched me slowly waste away to a dangerous 80 pounds…my skin hanging off of my bones. You saw how sad I was. You saw what you did to me. Did you even care?
You proceeded to avoid acknowledgement of my presence unless necessary. My stomach turns at the thought. It sickens me…what you did. It sickens me that I think about it every day. It sickens me that you have gone about your ‘happy perfect little life’ without ever acknowledging what you did…without ever being punished or even simply reprimanded for what you did. It sickens me to know the extent of the damage within me that you started. It sickens me…the thought of you…the thought of your face…the thought of your name…the thought of anything you.
Did you ever even care?
Do you ever think about me? Do you ever even think about what you did? How did you continue to look me in the eye for years? How did you still feel you that you had any right to be a part of my life? You looked at me…you looked at everyone else…knowing what you did. Did you care?
You watched me slowly waste away to a dangerous 80 pounds…my skin hanging off of my bones. You saw how sad I was. You saw what you did to me. Did you even care?
You proceeded to avoid acknowledgement of my presence unless necessary. My stomach turns at the thought. It sickens me…what you did. It sickens me that I think about it every day. It sickens me that you have gone about your ‘happy perfect little life’ without ever acknowledging what you did…without ever being punished or even simply reprimanded for what you did. It sickens me to know the extent of the damage within me that you started. It sickens me…the thought of you…the thought of your face…the thought of your name…the thought of anything you.
Did you ever even care?
Reopened Wounds
I have recently reopened some very painful wounds from my past…excruciating internal wounds. The pain is unbearable at times. I am often overwhelmed, unable to think straight. These wounds inside of me, some having originated many years ago, have never healed. I never allowed them to heal. I simply numbed each one in whatever way that I could…thus, proceeding to further mutilate each one due to the fact that I couldn’t feel.
I am beginning now, an attempt towards properly medicating and healing the destruction within me. It is a harder journey than I could have ever imagined. I am feeling things that I have spent a good portion of my life suppressing. Not only am I feeling each of them, but I am feeling many of them simultaneously. It is painful. It is exhausting. At times, I don’t know how I can possibly proceed down this path. The journey is brutal…so I try to remind myself that my future destination is a glorious and positive place. Is that enough to keep me going?
In the past, I have always found ways to shut myself off…shut off feeling, shut off thinking, shut off caring…always longing for anything that will take away my feelings. Anything that will numb my pain. I have countless scars covering my body on the outside. While ignoring the wounds within me, I have always picked at and continually ripped open any cut, bug bite, gash etc. on the outside of my body. I wanted to bleed. I wanted the pain to be visible. Inside of me, the pain is so intense and yet it can not be seen on the outside. My scars represent my pain. The pain that I can’t otherwise express.
I want to heal. I want that so badly. It is still so difficult, so scary. I want to continue on that path…but will I? Will my extremely obsessive and addictive personality finally allow me to push past and continue forward? Will I turn back to unhealthy coping mechanisms?...Alcohol, sex, drugs…? Will I be able to handle the constant sting..the constant throbbing within without suppressing my reactions and feelings? Will I ever be able to heal? Do I have what it takes?
I am beginning now, an attempt towards properly medicating and healing the destruction within me. It is a harder journey than I could have ever imagined. I am feeling things that I have spent a good portion of my life suppressing. Not only am I feeling each of them, but I am feeling many of them simultaneously. It is painful. It is exhausting. At times, I don’t know how I can possibly proceed down this path. The journey is brutal…so I try to remind myself that my future destination is a glorious and positive place. Is that enough to keep me going?
In the past, I have always found ways to shut myself off…shut off feeling, shut off thinking, shut off caring…always longing for anything that will take away my feelings. Anything that will numb my pain. I have countless scars covering my body on the outside. While ignoring the wounds within me, I have always picked at and continually ripped open any cut, bug bite, gash etc. on the outside of my body. I wanted to bleed. I wanted the pain to be visible. Inside of me, the pain is so intense and yet it can not be seen on the outside. My scars represent my pain. The pain that I can’t otherwise express.
I want to heal. I want that so badly. It is still so difficult, so scary. I want to continue on that path…but will I? Will my extremely obsessive and addictive personality finally allow me to push past and continue forward? Will I turn back to unhealthy coping mechanisms?...Alcohol, sex, drugs…? Will I be able to handle the constant sting..the constant throbbing within without suppressing my reactions and feelings? Will I ever be able to heal? Do I have what it takes?
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Roller Coasters
As a little girl, I vividly remember returning from a family trip to Cedar Point. I went to sleep that night, year after year, thinking about and wishing that one day I would be so rich that I could have the biggest roller coaster in the whole wide world right in my back yard. I envisioned it’s monstrous hills, it’s ups and it's plummeting downs, its twists and vicious turns.
I am now 23 years old, far from rich, and yet I got my roller coaster. I should have been more careful what I wished for...as my life for the past 8ish years seems like it has been just that – the biggest roller coaster in the whole wide world.
I am now 23 years old, far from rich, and yet I got my roller coaster. I should have been more careful what I wished for...as my life for the past 8ish years seems like it has been just that – the biggest roller coaster in the whole wide world.
