The walls we build….


The other day a friend of mine and I were talking about our current relationships and how our childhood imprinted a blueprint we follow even to this day.

We were not childhood friends and our backgrounds are vastly different, yet we are friends because we click. We recognize the blueprint I guess which is the same. We are the masons ; the wall builders. We became experts at one thing “insulating ourselves from pain.”

It funny, I never have deep conversations about my “walls” with others because only another “mason” could understand. I am safe and numb inside the walls, which thicken with time. Yet, I’m not happy. Sure I have moments of happiness but I always wanted to look back and see my life as more happy than sad, not ambivalent. I never truly connect with others and easily let them pass out of my life. I withdraw behind my walls and disconnect from everyone. I can’t seem to help it.

It’s funny how similar we are, my friend and I. Both of us wondering if we will ever be capable of truly loving anyone with our whole soul. If not, can we be contented with the love and connections we are capable of? It’s a difficult thing to think about. We all assume that everyone can fall in love, but not everyone experiences love the same way. We grow up with the romantic notion of a soul mate and the perfect romantic love that is out there if we are just open to it. Really? What if our soul mate is just as broken? What about the ones who never marry; are they just thwarted in their search? Or is there another reason why some choose not to marry? I always thought I would find my balance and my partner in life, yet that hasn’t happened. My friend is on a second marriage and trying to make it work. Yet, something is missing. Is it our blueprint?

We both had fathers who left. We both dealt with the fall out from that — it’s made us who we are– master craftsmen of wall building.

Yet, I always wonder if it’s possible to bulldoze these walls and unlock what is hidden. Would that be better? I’m not sure. My walls serve a purpose, to protect: protect me from being hurt, and my hurting others.

I’ve learned not to want or desire. To live within the boundaries, yet…

To give my heart to someone, to let them love me totally is a rare dream. I hold it like a bird in my hands, afraid to grasp too tightly, afraid to extinguish the hope, the wildly romantic idea that I am capable of a love beyond anything.

I was watching a show the other day that said people are not capable of true change? Do you think that’s true? Am I like a moth to a flame–doomed to repeat the same patterns, to add another brick in the wall, no matter how I try to do things differently?

Maybe I just think too much. Maybe I should just say screw it and risk everything? But then again….is that me futilely fighting my blueprint?


Restless mind


It’s 7:30 am here in the city. It’s strangely quiet for a Thursday. Or maybe my hearing is less acute from lack of sleep, I’m not sure.

Sugar is softly humming a pleasant sleepy snore; the turtles are lazy not quite sure if they want to wake; and the house is still dark silent. The birds and cars echo from beyond the walls, but no one else inside stirs.

I’ve been up all night arranging and scheduling the details of next week, lining up contacts and particulars on shoots, transportation and tickets. Markus is working on some time to get together and I’ve done all I can on my iPhone.

The next steps are my lists. Lists of what to bring, what to leave behind, info and contacts, as well as projects I know will go undone while I am gone.

And, the whole time I’ve been doing this, there has been a gnawing in my stomach. The feeling of being split. Do I follow what could be a huge opportunity for me and trust that Dee won’t fuck things up? I want to go. I need to go, yet I keep remembering my last trip to Germany and what awaited me on my return.

Can I trust her to have any strength, any resolve at all? Someone told me recently that she is clinging to me like a life preserver, desperate to keep this odd co-dependency in tact. But, what happens to me in the process? What happens to mom. The knots tighten in my stomach at the thought.

It is so strangely sad, this feeling of distrust, that I can’t be comfortable leaving mom alone with her now. I sit and wonder how things have spun so out of control and second guess my decision to go.

I wish I felt better about leaving, I wish the sister I knew so long ago was here. Or that mom was strong enough to deal with her if she melts down. Do wishes ever come true? I don’t know.

This feeling has thrown an ambivalent blanket over my excitement for this trip. Not even being asked to do my first solo album cover seems to give me a rush.

Maybe I will feel different on the plane. Maybe I will breathe if mom FaceTime’s me with an “all’s quiet.” Maybe then I can enjoy this….maybe.
Do wishes come true?