Sunday, June 8, 2014

Too Late To Apologize By: Karen Pilarski

Has your throat ever throbbed from the scorching words said? The mere glance at the person turns the stomach. The single last tear drips down the flushed cheek.

 Using salty language, you swear never to speak to the other person ever again.

There are many times when anger tightens within puffed out chests, That is when thorny things are said. More often than not we don't really mean those words.

The heat of the moment soon calms and both parties apologize. Someone is the bigger person eventually.

However, there are people who continue to hurt and create havoc.

My mother has been in and out of my life since my parents divorced. She left my father for another man. Don't feel too sorry for dear old pop. He was emotionally abusive and neglectful. Mom found a man who was worse than my dad. The man was both physically and emotionally abusive.

At the time I was a senior in high school and had several younger siblings. The youngest was my five year old sister *Holly. Our mother wanted the younger ones to be put in foster homes. My dad couldn't take care of them.

Since Holly was a baby, I took care of her. I made sure she was fed and bathed. I even brought her to my cheerleading practices. The thought of losing her was unbearable. I knew how Milwaukee foster care system worked. It didn't work.

I spent 18 years with all these siblings and didn't want us to be split up.

My older sister *Leah and I ended up taking care of the younger ones. I put college on hold and lost a few relationships over it.

Eventually I decided to go to college.

 My oldest sister has serious mental issues. Knowing Holly was under her care was difficult.

*Holly and my stepdaughter Mia on her back.
What hurt so much was Leah used Holly as a pawn. She refused to let anyone see her. She stole from me, she betrayed another sister. Never once did our mother or father attempt to intervene.

As the younger ones grew up the older siblings took turns caring for them.

Eventually my twin brother took custody of Holly until she was an adult.

My twin was getting married and because my mom wasn't the first to know, she refused to go. She never really got to know any of her grandchildren.

Mom has drifted in and out of all our lives. Her boyfriend always alienates her from everyone and stirs the pot. Without warning she falls off the face of the earth for awhile. My dad's mental and physical health has declined in the years that have passed.

She managed to be in my life when I got married. That was around the time my beloved aunt passed away. When my aunt died, she suddenly wanted her children around. She wanted to be a grandma.

It didn't last long.

When my mom is present in my world, I feel happy. She has maternal guidance and support to give. Many of my other siblings can't bypass all the hurt and drama that comes with her. They keep a safe distance.

Over this past Mother's Day weekend I couldn't make it to dinner with her and my younger sister. I tried calling her but she didn't respond.

For a whole month.

She called the other day when I was out and about. Something seemed odd. She didn't apologize for not calling me back. She asked if I heard anything new. I told her I had to go.

Yesterday I found out she had been trying to reach my other siblings. The 'wanting her children around' feeling had come back. She felt she was getting older and wanted to have a good relationship with all her kids before she died.

 Only they wanted no part of it.

 I feel that way about Leah. She is so toxic and disastrous. I just can't deal with her and her jealous and petty ways anymore. I dealt with it enough growing up and my early adulthood.

It is funny how the ones who want to make amends say "Life is too short." Yes it is. Perhaps that is why the wounded hearts want to go away and heal.

Life is too short to deal with the inconsistency and traumatic episodes.   

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Silly Putty By: Karen Pilarski

My mind has been in the clouds lately. All these thoughts, aspirations and wants changing at the speed of a kid's attention span.

I think about the ramifications and swayed by others. I'm like putty in their hands.

At a somber moment I had a flashback of silly putty. You know, the cheap toy moms everywhere used to buy a wailing kid in the supermarket.

Silly putty is similar to the crazy ideas I toss out in the ether. They are as limitless as a child's imagination as they play around with the pink tinted concoction.

In my heart I'm a writer. Ideas often bounce off of a fragmented thought and mold into something completely different.

Silly putty can stretch out in strings and bounce like a ball. However, if a sharp impact occurs it breaks. That is how fragile a writer's observations are.

That is how fragile we are at times. 

Immature ideas are trite and outlandish yet not as permanent like hardened clay.

I wonder if I'm just frustrated over my career or relationships in my life. I want to run around the globe writing about travels. My feet want to feel sore and blistered from the travel, my shoes want to be worn out.

Have you ever become lost in thought about taking a job out of state? Daydreamed about a hot kiss with someone? Yearned for the days when life was carefree?

It would be tragic to indulge. Too many hurt feelings, loss of reputation and stability. As humans we are paranoid and think risk, RISK, RISK.

Perhaps we need to learn a new word. Chance. CHANCE, CHANCE.

I question if the fear of the unknown keeps us from what we want?  The odd thing is putty stains if caked on clothes.

 Trust me, I have washed putty on jeans. It just sticks. Could that be what happens to happiness if we don't follow it? The concept diminishes but fragments appear imprinted on our  denim souls forever.

For some reason, I've been partial to Playdough. There are so many products out there to distort and manipulate it. It is bright and comes in different colors. Playdough molds easier and has a good texture to it.

I love flashy and transforming ideas. With all the bells and whistles it seems more appealing to cave to those type of wants.

Either way when we don't do what we want, our heart's desires dry out and become brittle. The slightest criticism spoken and all is shattered. 

Often my skin is flushed or pale, However, malleable is not a word to describe me. I am not putty in someone's hands.

I am not silly.