Ink of Tears

I haven't written in a long time. It never is easy to start back up again. I'm not even sure where to start or what to write about. Besides, what could be so interesting about me or my life that it warrants being published.

Work was annoyingly busy today. More than it has been...ever. I have at least a 30 minute drive home every day. Gives me more than an adequate amount of time to ponder life's issues and woes.

So today, after an exhausting day, I realize sadly that it is more hassle to go home than it is to be at work. Coming home means no peace, no tranquility, no saneness until the wee hours of the morning when at last my mind settles and everyone is quietly tucked away in their beds.

Home should be a place of refuge, of solace, and comfort from all that we encounter in our lives. For me it is just another place of chaos and turmoil. There is no feeling of warmth or love here. I heard once that it is up to each of us to create that feeling of warmth and love in our homes. But how can you do that when you're up against a family torn by deceit and lack of trust and tenderness. I'm at a loss. Have been for years.

I moved here about 2 years ago after my divorce. I couldn't bear to remain in our house, so I moved into an apartment with my two children. They were 2 and 4 years old at the time. I decided about a year after my divorce that I wanted to return to school full time and finally finish my education. Having two children and no income, I did all I thought I could and moved back in with mom and dad. I'd been on my own (though married) for about 4 years. It was definitely a difficult decision. One that's haunted me on and off for the last couple of years since moving back. It isn't my home anymore. It's a place to sleep and have the occasional breakfast and dinner. When I lived in the apartment, I was happy and content. My children didn't get yelled at. We lived in harmony. Something we hadn't had in years. After moving back here that all changed. The confidence I'd gained in myself began to dwindle and dissolve. Again I was living with turmoil, arguments, mistrust...all the things I wanted to get away from when I was married. And again...I long to distance myself from the chaos that is my domicile. I stuck it out through school and am working full time again. Hope to move this summer. Away. Hopefully to regain a sense of peace, tranquility, and self worth.

It's hard to understand how some families operate. I see some people with wonderful relationships among family members and I can't help but wonder what that's like...what it's like to get a hug everyday from a loved one...to be told you are loved everyday...to be shown that you are loved. It hurts that I don't have that and I fear that I will pass the coldness on to my children. That's why I have to leave. So that I can love again and remember what its like. I feel so isolated here. And while I know I create my own isolation, it seems to be for my protection too. Its like a fear of poison. A need to steer clear of the vemom of my family.

How harsh that sounds. Hurts to talk like that about family.

I read a love story today. Words of the purest love. Not of lust or sex or attraction. Love. Pure and simple. People have forgotten what that is. In our quest for "greatness" and money and power, we forget that hugs feel good, that ping pings need kissies when they have ouchies, and that lil pigs get cold and need hands to rub em and make em warm. We forget that sometimes, we all have bad days and that sometimes a smile can make a world of difference or a sharp word can mean a world of pain.

I don't write. Because the times I allow myself to write are the times the hurt is the worst. It's a bit silly but I'm almost always in tears when I write anything of significance. But here it is. Written in teary ink. And that's ok. Cuz as Sunny says, "Tears make the best ink ;)." Thanks for encouraging me to do this and being the inspiration for tonight.