still thinking

i think there should be a page for the strangest sentences uttered in households.  yesterday, mine would have been,  "fred, don't poop on the keyboard."

you are a healer.  i don't think you changed paths as much as moved to another lane.  in a way it is much more intimate - you have to know people's stories, know their emotions rather than test physiological responses.  our stories repeat the same themes, the same pain, yet each is individual.  at the same time, this work offers a larger chance to identify the commonalities and change the world.

i'm still in awe of your determination and intelligence.  and i'm still proud of you.

i usually don't pay a lot of attention to the news.  i read enough to have an idea of what is happening.  but the story of the three women held captive for ten years won't let me go.  this is the ultimate objectification of women.  they are simply possessions.  the abductor looks weak and mild.  i saw him standing, looking at the floor, chewing his own collar.  the parts of the story i expected to hear are emerging:
- he was sexually abused.  as i have repeatedly said, only the raped can rape.
- he blamed the girls.  what happened was their fault.  typical of a person who identifies and defines himself by the abuse inflicted on him.  he, and his own pain, are central, the rest of us are pawns, unreal, unfeeling characters to be used to play out the drama, to reenact the torture.
- he had a prior history of controlling and confining his wife, his initial possession.

it seems we could begin to see the warning signs.  will we?  i wonder about all of the children who disappear daily...

i got my omega catalog a few weeks ago, and looked at it for awhile last night.  someone is doing a workshop on branding.  we announce who we are by the choices we make in clothes, shoes, hair, make up.  i think my preferred look is invisible, and i am (finally) struggling with that.  the story of out of cleveland screams - be invisible.  women are safer that way.  but i am tired of being this clare.  i want to be another clare.  still struggling with age, maybe.  yay birthdays!

i remember when i was a high school senior, maybe, one of your friends said i would be very pretty if i were just normal.  there's a clue to the real clare - not normal!!

i'll continue this self examination as i continue cleaning my house with one hand.

love and joy to you on your graduation weekend!

clare

note - fred pooped on my keyboard...