Week 6 The Beginning: http://jujubejewelry.blogspot.com/2011/03/jumping-off-places.html
Week 7: http://jujubejewelry.blogspot.com/2011/04/friday-fence-post-april-15-2011.html
Week 8: http://jujubejewelry.blogspot.com/2011/04/friday-fence-post-april-15-2011.html
Week 9: http://jujubejewelry.blogspot.com/2011/04/jumping-off-places-meme-week-9-april-22.html
Week 10: Gasping for air, I literally thought my lungs would burst! A peaceful quiet surrounds me as I am embraced in a loving lightttt... none of it matters any longer...
Gasping again. Can't breath. Choking, trying to inhale beyond the water and interuption that has penetrated my world. Mother had gone for a walk on the beach with her girlfriends, Liz rescues me from drowning. We are at Old Silver Beach again, a few miles from our home on Cape Cod. None of us sisters can swim, the drop off was closer to the edge and unexpected.
Breathing in gulps, begging Liz not to tell, for I would surely be punished. Please, please Liz, you don't know her. Please don't tell!
Jujube Jewelry One-Of-A-Kind Beadwoven Heirloom Jewelry
Showing posts with label Jumping Off Places. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jumping Off Places. Show all posts
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Congratulations to Linda, etsyBlogger Team Member of the Month - April
About
Hi, my name is Linda and I'm passionate about using bright colors and gemstone characteristics in my unique beaded jewelry designs. Most of my items are one-of-a-kind. My Judaica line of jewelry and accessories is very popular and I enjoy coming up with new designs for it.
With more than 70 sales a year since opening her shop in 2008, I thought it would be fun to look back down memory lane to her 1st sale ...
Pink Mothers Day and Blue and Purple Bookbeads - YART SALE
Latest Sale
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| Womens Wire Beaded Kippah with White Pearls |
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Jumping Off Places Meme ... Week 9 April 22, 2011
The bee flitted from blossom to blossom in an erratic pattern as my spirit revels in the height of the tall, fragrant, wheat colored grass. When laying within the fold of this huge beautiful field behind our house, looking at the pussy willow tree upside down, and the awesome blue cloudless sky, my thoughts wander.
The momentary escape mingles with reality and I turn it over quickly, out of my mind, thinking only of the pieces of milkweed dancing along in the background to the deep, neverending blue sky. Breaking off a piece of the tall grass and putting it into my mouth, I feel engulfed in peace. When I am here, I believe that I am loved more than anything imaginable.
An unexpected exhale, a relaxing. Taking in the fresh air, breathing in and asorbing the colors that suround me in every direction. I long to be, in this, my favorite place in all of my small world. There is no wrong, no looking over my shoulder, making a snow-like angel within the tall, wheat colored grass ... places like this are known by wild deer, not children. I am blessed to share such a teeny place in all of the universe.
In the distance I see shadows behind the kitchen window. Can I be seen. Am I ever truly alone?
The momentary escape mingles with reality and I turn it over quickly, out of my mind, thinking only of the pieces of milkweed dancing along in the background to the deep, neverending blue sky. Breaking off a piece of the tall grass and putting it into my mouth, I feel engulfed in peace. When I am here, I believe that I am loved more than anything imaginable.
An unexpected exhale, a relaxing. Taking in the fresh air, breathing in and asorbing the colors that suround me in every direction. I long to be, in this, my favorite place in all of my small world. There is no wrong, no looking over my shoulder, making a snow-like angel within the tall, wheat colored grass ... places like this are known by wild deer, not children. I am blessed to share such a teeny place in all of the universe.
In the distance I see shadows behind the kitchen window. Can I be seen. Am I ever truly alone?
Friday, April 15, 2011
Jumping Off Places Meme ... Week 8 April 2011
Younger memories ... click here
The inward journey is a lifelong pilgrimage.
An adult now, the journey has been filled with many good memories, and even more prevalent, the nightmares. It is unfortunate that themonster mother continues the games and actions meant to control and injure, even in her seventies, as the youngest of us continues her healing battle.
Maine and New Hampshire camping vacations, participating in elementary school May Pole Ceremonies, empty refrigerator boxes used to slide down the grassy hill between our house and my grandparents home. Standing at the edge of Nanna & Grampy's backyard filling our mouths with warm, sweet, fresh raspberries and blackberries from the vines. Traveling into the woods on the tailgate of our station wagon eager to pick wild blueberries, and eating hard pears from the school yard tree. Raising tadpoles, ice skating and bonfires on cranberry bogs in winter. Clyde, my fathers black Labrador retriever, yearly month-long vacations visiting maternal relatives here in Florida. Suddenly, I learn that my father is not my real father.
Good memories tempered by the impossible.
It was like a boomerang, coming back only to knock me upside the head. She yelled at me. "How dare I embarrass my "father" like that in front of everyone?" Oh my god, in trouble again. What is happening? My head spins. Who kicked me in the stomach?
Arriving at Aunt Betty and Uncle Al's home, everyone leaves the car making a beeline for the house. I am told to wait. She takes me aside in the driveway, yells at me again for embarrassing my "father", how could I be so rude. "No, he is not your father." "Stay here until you stop crying." NEVER bring the subject up again, questions are unacceptable.
Frightened into believing! Why am I different? Why is this so bad? Head continues to spin, stomach hurts, can't breath. Hold me. Please hold me. Love me, PLEASE! She gives me a piece of gum and tells me not to come into the house until "you can stop crying"! I see her back walking away through my hot, salty, frigthened tears.
God, please take me away, anywhere. Somewhere. Help me find my real father, he will take me to a home of love and peace. "Real" grandparents? Sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles ...
It is a coming to terms, realizations, purging, giving up, and letting go. Looking at the adult, with an adults vision and a child's broken spirit. How do I forgive? Do I want to know how?
The inward journey is a lifelong pilgrimage.
An adult now, the journey has been filled with many good memories, and even more prevalent, the nightmares. It is unfortunate that the
Maine and New Hampshire camping vacations, participating in elementary school May Pole Ceremonies, empty refrigerator boxes used to slide down the grassy hill between our house and my grandparents home. Standing at the edge of Nanna & Grampy's backyard filling our mouths with warm, sweet, fresh raspberries and blackberries from the vines. Traveling into the woods on the tailgate of our station wagon eager to pick wild blueberries, and eating hard pears from the school yard tree. Raising tadpoles, ice skating and bonfires on cranberry bogs in winter. Clyde, my fathers black Labrador retriever, yearly month-long vacations visiting maternal relatives here in Florida. Suddenly, I learn that my father is not my real father. Good memories tempered by the impossible.
It was like a boomerang, coming back only to knock me upside the head. She yelled at me. "How dare I embarrass my "father" like that in front of everyone?" Oh my god, in trouble again. What is happening? My head spins. Who kicked me in the stomach?
Arriving at Aunt Betty and Uncle Al's home, everyone leaves the car making a beeline for the house. I am told to wait. She takes me aside in the driveway, yells at me again for embarrassing my "father", how could I be so rude. "No, he is not your father." "Stay here until you stop crying." NEVER bring the subject up again, questions are unacceptable. Frightened into believing! Why am I different? Why is this so bad? Head continues to spin, stomach hurts, can't breath. Hold me. Please hold me. Love me, PLEASE! She gives me a piece of gum and tells me not to come into the house until "you can stop crying"! I see her back walking away through my hot, salty, frigthened tears.
God, please take me away, anywhere. Somewhere. Help me find my real father, he will take me to a home of love and peace. "Real" grandparents? Sisters, brothers, cousins, aunts, uncles ...
It is a coming to terms, realizations, purging, giving up, and letting go. Looking at the adult, with an adults vision and a child's broken spirit. How do I forgive? Do I want to know how?
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Jumping Off Places Meme ... Week 7 April 8, 2011
Scroll down for current week ...
Week 5: A bead of perspiration rolled from my temple down across my cheek. Or was it a tear? Why won't she love me is my last thought as my head hits the open bottom drawer. Dizziness overwhelmed and scared me, and I knew, this is not normal.
Week 6: Smoke filled the room like a cloudy day. No I realize with head spinning, everything is blurry. I cry out in pain... disbelief is mixed with tears, I hear mothers mocking laughter. Why did this just happen? What could be so evil to deserve such harsh consequences? Everyone in the kitchen is just standing there, no one moves to help, take a stand, comfort and protect a little girl? Condem the mother/wife for what she has just done?
Alone in confusion, hurt to the core, in the gut for the first time that can be remembered, too young to process the combination of all that is happening. It comes to me, move. Escape. It is then she realizes that there is no escape. There will never be. Never.
Slumped back toward the kitchen, alone, heading toward my bedroom and all of the stuffed animal friends who love me.
Week 7: A door slammed and someone ran down the stairs in an obvious hurry! Waking with a jolt, must have fallen asleep. What time ... just after midnight. Another party in the basement and I hate that my bedroom door is just steps from the bar and party downstairs, and the only bathroom in the house.
Too afraid to ever sleep with my door closed, these get-togethers are always a restless night for me. It is unnerving when a drunkard enters my bedroom, wobbling, stinking of smoke, trying to adjust their eyes to the darkness.
Laying quietly, eyes open only a slit in case I need to somehow protect myself, surrounded by fourteen stuffed animals, frozen waiting for them to realize they missed the room to the toilet. Why doesn't my mother and step-father realize how awful their parties are to me, a scar on the spirit of my childhood.
Orange light? Not really flashing, but I am too young to think of another word. The flikering leads me into the kitchen, something on the stove is on fire! The last thing I remember is a gutteral sound ... did it come from me?
Week 5: A bead of perspiration rolled from my temple down across my cheek. Or was it a tear? Why won't she love me is my last thought as my head hits the open bottom drawer. Dizziness overwhelmed and scared me, and I knew, this is not normal.
Week 6: Smoke filled the room like a cloudy day. No I realize with head spinning, everything is blurry. I cry out in pain... disbelief is mixed with tears, I hear mothers mocking laughter. Why did this just happen? What could be so evil to deserve such harsh consequences? Everyone in the kitchen is just standing there, no one moves to help, take a stand, comfort and protect a little girl? Condem the mother/wife for what she has just done?
Alone in confusion, hurt to the core, in the gut for the first time that can be remembered, too young to process the combination of all that is happening. It comes to me, move. Escape. It is then she realizes that there is no escape. There will never be. Never.
Slumped back toward the kitchen, alone, heading toward my bedroom and all of the stuffed animal friends who love me.
Week 7: A door slammed and someone ran down the stairs in an obvious hurry! Waking with a jolt, must have fallen asleep. What time ... just after midnight. Another party in the basement and I hate that my bedroom door is just steps from the bar and party downstairs, and the only bathroom in the house.
Too afraid to ever sleep with my door closed, these get-togethers are always a restless night for me. It is unnerving when a drunkard enters my bedroom, wobbling, stinking of smoke, trying to adjust their eyes to the darkness.
Laying quietly, eyes open only a slit in case I need to somehow protect myself, surrounded by fourteen stuffed animals, frozen waiting for them to realize they missed the room to the toilet. Why doesn't my mother and step-father realize how awful their parties are to me, a scar on the spirit of my childhood.
Orange light? Not really flashing, but I am too young to think of another word. The flikering leads me into the kitchen, something on the stove is on fire! The last thing I remember is a gutteral sound ... did it come from me?
Monday, March 28, 2011
Jumping Off Places ... Week 5 or 6? April 1, 2011
Week 4: A bead of perspiration rolled from my temple down across my cheek. Or was it a tear? Why won't she love me is my last thought as my head hits the open bottom drawer. Dizziness overwhelmed and scared me, and I knew, this is not normal.
Week 5: Smoke filled the room like a cloudy day. No I realize with head spinning, everything is blurry. I cry out in pain... disbelief is mixed with tears, I hear mothers mocking laughter. Why did this just happen? What could be so evil to deserve such harsh consequences? Everyone in the kitchen is just standing there, no one moves to help, take a stand, comfort and protect a little girl? Condem the mother/wife for what she has just done?
Alone in confusion, hurt to the core, in the gut for the first time that can be remembered, too young to process the combination of all that is happening. It comes to me, move. Escape. It is then she realizes that there is no escape. There will never be. Never.
Slumped back toward the kitchen, alone, heading toward my bedroom and all of the stuffed animal friends who love me.
Week 5: Smoke filled the room like a cloudy day. No I realize with head spinning, everything is blurry. I cry out in pain... disbelief is mixed with tears, I hear mothers mocking laughter. Why did this just happen? What could be so evil to deserve such harsh consequences? Everyone in the kitchen is just standing there, no one moves to help, take a stand, comfort and protect a little girl? Condem the mother/wife for what she has just done?
Alone in confusion, hurt to the core, in the gut for the first time that can be remembered, too young to process the combination of all that is happening. It comes to me, move. Escape. It is then she realizes that there is no escape. There will never be. Never.
Slumped back toward the kitchen, alone, heading toward my bedroom and all of the stuffed animal friends who love me.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Jumping Off Places ...
A bead of perspiration rolled from my temple down across my cheek. Or was it a tear? Why won't she love me is my last thought as my head hits the open bottom drawer. Dizziness overwhelmed and scared me, and I knew, this is not normal.
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