Broken dreams, we all have them. I doubt there is not one person alive who has not felt the sting of having a dream broken in two and otherwise discarded. When this happen, either internally or externally, tears are shed as we grieve the loss of something we could have been or something we could have done. We grieve for our self and the hole that it creates, but we also grieve for the opportunity to learn, to grow, and to affect others, usually in a positive light.
Now there are small broken dreams and big broken dreams. Small broken dreams tend to hurt us for a short span of time. They are shiny little dreams that are often mourned for a day or until something new and shiny takes its place, which in my experience seems to happen quite often. A good example to this is to look at young kids. One day they want something, they are told no, they throw a tantrum and thus, forget about it and want something different the next day.
Then there are the big dreams. These are the ones that sting royally. An example, the dream the guy or gal you want to marry, have dated for what seems like forever, have talked about marriage, they seem to be on the page, but then they decided not only don’t they want to get married, but they don’t want to marry you. You are crushed. You are broken. Not only do you grieve for the loss of the relationship; but you are grieving the loss of the dream, the now badly shattered dream. The dream that encompassed spending the rest of your life with someone, grown old with them, raising little ones and so forth, is now gone. With it, your broken dream takes away a bit of hope and faith, which leaves only the distaste of bitterness in you and your heart.
The bitterness of a broken dream can destroy people. It has a way of stacking this world against a person and oppressing them. In this mentality, one will feel as if the world and the people in it are trying to steal away other dreams and aspirations. A person will become defensive, bitter and untrusting. They will also lose a part of themselves, and essentially become lost.
A broken dream, no matter how big or small, will affect who we are. It is a change of path or direction. The emotions dragged up, such as bitterness, worthlessness, fear, anxiety and ect, affect deeply who we are and how we function. The small broken dreams that a person goes, ‘I wish I could have done that’ or those ‘might have been’ s, really do sting regardless of what a person may say. That sting affects the heart. That sting will temper future efforts to try to achieve that which a person dreams. Thus, there is always, this itch left by a broken dream. The itch caused by a heart slowly healing, but also an itch to know what might have been.
Fallen Angel
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
A Patchwork of Tears
I suppose it can be said that life is a patchwork of tears. We cry at the happiest moments in our lives and we cry through the worst ones. Then, when things are stable in our own little world, we will cry in joy for the fortunes smiling down on a friend or in the bonds of comfort we will cry with our friends in darkest moments. Thus we live in a patchwork of tears.
In a sense tears are the glue that holds our emotions and memories together. They, also, have the greatest ability to relieve stress. We will cry our hearts out and when we stop crying some of the tension that was built in our shoulders has been relieved and our heart don’t feel has heavy despite the grief or even joy remain. In our darkest moments, we will throw ourselves on a bed or the couch, curl up in a chair with a blanket tucked tightly around us, or even hide in a corner and cry. In these bouts of crying, we drain ourselves into a dreamless sleep of exhaustion. Then we wake and suddenly things are not as bad as they were when we were crying. Sometimes our outlook completely changes and at other we have found enough energy to make it through our day or even just part of it.
To me, the ability the cry is one of the greatest blessings we have. As children we cry so easily, however, when we get older, we are somehow taught not to cry so much. We need to cry; otherwise we would not have the ability. It is a blessing to have this glue that holds our good and bad memories together. It is also a blessing to have a way to relieve tension, pain, sorrow, or even great amounts of joy, appreciation and love. As much as it may seem like a curse, it is a blessing. It is a blessing that can strength the bonds between two friends and can weaken a wall between to enemies.
I know what it is like to lock back tears because others view it as a sign of weakness. When my grandfather died, a man I respected and loved dearly, I did not cry despite the tears that flooded all around me. Instead, it was the absence of tears that was required. I needed to be a sturdy rock for my mother and sisters. Somewhere inside, I must have been crying, honoring my grandfather’s memory, but yet not a tear slide down my cheek. In many ways, I regret not being able to have shed those lost tears. Even now, due to my up bringing and events in my life, my tears do not flow in times, which they should. It takes a great deal. So, I see crying a blessing when I feel safe and strong enough to let this powerful emotion or ability out.
Tears remind me of the rain. Rain with the right light will refract a rainbow, a sign of hope, faith and peace. Each tear has the ability to refract light and cast a tiny rainbow. Tears, in a way, are the rain of our hearts. The relief our crying brings is our rainbow.
Fallen Angel
In a sense tears are the glue that holds our emotions and memories together. They, also, have the greatest ability to relieve stress. We will cry our hearts out and when we stop crying some of the tension that was built in our shoulders has been relieved and our heart don’t feel has heavy despite the grief or even joy remain. In our darkest moments, we will throw ourselves on a bed or the couch, curl up in a chair with a blanket tucked tightly around us, or even hide in a corner and cry. In these bouts of crying, we drain ourselves into a dreamless sleep of exhaustion. Then we wake and suddenly things are not as bad as they were when we were crying. Sometimes our outlook completely changes and at other we have found enough energy to make it through our day or even just part of it.
To me, the ability the cry is one of the greatest blessings we have. As children we cry so easily, however, when we get older, we are somehow taught not to cry so much. We need to cry; otherwise we would not have the ability. It is a blessing to have this glue that holds our good and bad memories together. It is also a blessing to have a way to relieve tension, pain, sorrow, or even great amounts of joy, appreciation and love. As much as it may seem like a curse, it is a blessing. It is a blessing that can strength the bonds between two friends and can weaken a wall between to enemies.
I know what it is like to lock back tears because others view it as a sign of weakness. When my grandfather died, a man I respected and loved dearly, I did not cry despite the tears that flooded all around me. Instead, it was the absence of tears that was required. I needed to be a sturdy rock for my mother and sisters. Somewhere inside, I must have been crying, honoring my grandfather’s memory, but yet not a tear slide down my cheek. In many ways, I regret not being able to have shed those lost tears. Even now, due to my up bringing and events in my life, my tears do not flow in times, which they should. It takes a great deal. So, I see crying a blessing when I feel safe and strong enough to let this powerful emotion or ability out.
Tears remind me of the rain. Rain with the right light will refract a rainbow, a sign of hope, faith and peace. Each tear has the ability to refract light and cast a tiny rainbow. Tears, in a way, are the rain of our hearts. The relief our crying brings is our rainbow.
Fallen Angel
Monday, May 12, 2008
Mother's Day
Mother’s Day
For many Mother’s Day is about celebrating the joys of motherhood. Families go out to dinner to keep Mom from having to cook. She is showered with cards and well-meaning gifts. In general, it is usually always a happy occasion.
However, for some Mother’s Day is the most heart-wrenching day of the year. Instead of celebration of life that makes a woman a mother and the love and dedication that marks a mother, for some it is a moment of reflection and pain. Just over a year old, a friend of mine’s son committed suicide. It was her only child. The sting of losing her only child essentially for a time ripped away her whole sense of motherhood. I remember sitting on the floor talking with her just after her 22 year old shot and killed himself. There was a great deal of sorrow for her, which she battles everyday. She viewed herself first as mother and dedicated her life to helping her son grow and succeed in this world. Tearfully, she told me that she was no longer a mother. I told her that regardless that she would always be a mother. Once a person is a mother, they do not stop being a mother even when their child dies. They continue that motherly love in carrying the flame of memory that was their child’s life in this world. When a mother or father loses a child, it leaves a void, a void that aches louder on family holidays, such as Mother’s Day.
Since I am on such a bleak topic, I wish to remain her for a moment more. May G-d grant strength to a mother of my friend’s friend, who ended his short life tragically this past week. May G-d give her and her family as well those who knew him peace of mind and peace of heart. HaShem is the eternal Judge. My condolences and my heart goes out to all.
For me mother’s day is bitter sweet. I have so many adopted moms that I have no idea what to do with them all. I know I would not be the person I am today without all of them present. Each has shared their home, their table, their wisdom, support and most of all love. I thank G-d for all this (these) blessing(s) in my life.
Yet, mother’s day is not the happy occasion for me. My own mother is distant at best, though I do my best to make her happy like the prescribed holiday states I should. However, my grandmother died on May 11th. In the year she died, I believe she was buried on mother’s day. Since then, Mother’s days haven’t been the happy joyous times. Today, the 18 anniversary of my grandmother’s death fell out on mother’s day. I made it a point to visit the gravesite, leave flowers and say a few words on behalf of my family. From there, I had to go be happy and wonderful for my mother, despite the reflective mood I was in.
In my book, Mother’s Day is a day of remembrance and commemoration to Mothers or Mother like influences.
Fallen Angel
For many Mother’s Day is about celebrating the joys of motherhood. Families go out to dinner to keep Mom from having to cook. She is showered with cards and well-meaning gifts. In general, it is usually always a happy occasion.
However, for some Mother’s Day is the most heart-wrenching day of the year. Instead of celebration of life that makes a woman a mother and the love and dedication that marks a mother, for some it is a moment of reflection and pain. Just over a year old, a friend of mine’s son committed suicide. It was her only child. The sting of losing her only child essentially for a time ripped away her whole sense of motherhood. I remember sitting on the floor talking with her just after her 22 year old shot and killed himself. There was a great deal of sorrow for her, which she battles everyday. She viewed herself first as mother and dedicated her life to helping her son grow and succeed in this world. Tearfully, she told me that she was no longer a mother. I told her that regardless that she would always be a mother. Once a person is a mother, they do not stop being a mother even when their child dies. They continue that motherly love in carrying the flame of memory that was their child’s life in this world. When a mother or father loses a child, it leaves a void, a void that aches louder on family holidays, such as Mother’s Day.
Since I am on such a bleak topic, I wish to remain her for a moment more. May G-d grant strength to a mother of my friend’s friend, who ended his short life tragically this past week. May G-d give her and her family as well those who knew him peace of mind and peace of heart. HaShem is the eternal Judge. My condolences and my heart goes out to all.
For me mother’s day is bitter sweet. I have so many adopted moms that I have no idea what to do with them all. I know I would not be the person I am today without all of them present. Each has shared their home, their table, their wisdom, support and most of all love. I thank G-d for all this (these) blessing(s) in my life.
Yet, mother’s day is not the happy occasion for me. My own mother is distant at best, though I do my best to make her happy like the prescribed holiday states I should. However, my grandmother died on May 11th. In the year she died, I believe she was buried on mother’s day. Since then, Mother’s days haven’t been the happy joyous times. Today, the 18 anniversary of my grandmother’s death fell out on mother’s day. I made it a point to visit the gravesite, leave flowers and say a few words on behalf of my family. From there, I had to go be happy and wonderful for my mother, despite the reflective mood I was in.
In my book, Mother’s Day is a day of remembrance and commemoration to Mothers or Mother like influences.
Fallen Angel
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