Thank you to Fiona McVie! Fiona is a shining star who features authors on her web pages and today is my lucky day! Hope you enjoy the read, you might like to check out other authors while you are there or apply to Fiona for your own author interview:
in his eyes she saw
love neverending but he
was not seeing her
memories old held
him fastly, no room for her
she begrudged his choice
his first wife was his
first life no forgetting her
second life slow death
this is how love goes
sometimes you love and sometimes
someone loves you back
(c) Janni Styles
Oh, don’t worry, you just have to look apast some things, my mother said, it’s the way it is for all of us.
This was my mother’s take on love. You just accept some things that are not so nice in order to enjoy all the nice things you like in a person. She might have done that with Dad but I don’t think so. I think she and Dad were perfect for each other, building a life in the country side together and raising us four kids. For all her country lingo, Mom was a wise woman but she wasn’t marrying George. I was.
George with his already Curly of the Three Stooges hair ring boasting a shiny top suitable, in my opinion, only for smacking when he did his burping and farting routines. How can a man who became a millionaire in business command so much public respect and still be so crass at home in private? I think I forget sometimes that manners are not necessarily synonymous with wealth.
Look, Mom said, you will never want for anything and you’ll always be able to do things none of us could ever afford to do like go to Hawaii.
It was my mother’s dream to go to Hawaii but she never did make it there, her life was snuffed out by that evil cancer that is all too prevalent in a modern world where you can fly to the moon but not cure people of that rotten C word. Of course, her death came much later, decades after we sat in what used to be my bedroom at home where we were preparing me for my wedding. The room was filled with a heady fragrance from the huge bouquet George had sent that morning. It was almost cloying and I considered dumping them out the window but I knew I had to sit still for Mom to finish my hair. I could have gone to a salon but I wanted my wedding day to be filled with fond memories of the people I love and I liked the simplicity of plaits and a few flowers in my hair.
I do love him in some way, I said, but I just don’t know if it’s the kind of love that means I can do “life” with this guy, Mom. He’s grown twice as wide just in the three years we’ve been together and the way he talks sometimes I get so embarrassed I want to crawl under something and hide or run out of wherever we are as if I am not even with him.
Mom’s age freckled hands continued patiently braiding my long hair and plaiting it around my head just the same way she did for me when I was little getting ready for school. It tore at me to be here now in this comforting space sitting on my floral comforter with such a highly publicized wedding in front of me. In just two hours I would be Mrs. George Hanson. No, Mrs. Loretta Hanson. Or would I?
Loretta, Mom said, as she pinned the plaits in place, Nobody gets everything they want in this world. Nobody. You just weigh up the good and as your own Granny said to me when I had the wedding night jitters, some of us just learn to “make do.” That’s how life is. You just learn to make do.
She finished my hair and then looked in the mirror to pat her salon do she’d had done that morning. People always said Mom was Shirley Maclaine’s twin and that might be true but all I could see in the mirror as I looked over her shoulder was my loving Mom trying to do her best to support me and guide me.
I told her I was driving myself to the seaside instead of taking the limousine to the church. Mom accepted what I was doing and gave me a hug as I grabbed my keys and left my childhood home. She even said she admired my pluck and wished she’d had some of it herself sometimes. Even Mom understood there are some things in life you simply cannot make do with or “look apast.”
I phoned the church and told them to go ahead and have the party anyway but to celebrate freedom, not “making do.” George would find a new wife no trouble with all that money I couldn’t sell myself out for. I took my sandals off and walked out into the shimmering ocean under the stars with my wedding gown floating up all around me like a cloud that held up my dreams and my dreams of how I wanted my life to be began drifting back to me one by one.
Short story excerpt by (c) Janni Styles
Dreamer everyone called her
Always passing real life by
She thought herself fitting in fine
Until she saw fit to reply
“I can’t really love anyone
I was born tethered to the sky.”
(c) Janni Styles
leaning into the wind
one lone and life worn tree
leaves fallen all around
shivering cold no warmth to be
spring arrives sudden
some sun on the rise
tears falling as raindrops
cease in some sore eyes
summer leads us all to shore
to river, sea or brook
warmed minds forgetting
all life cruelly took
autumn falls with chilled air
we long for summers past
raking up old memories
in the face of wintry blasts
again and again we relive
the leaves dancing in our heads
one leaf atop another
our books of life longing
demanding to be reread
reminding us of loves eternal
why do we humans so grieve
our people are ever in our hearts
and never do they leave.
(c) Janni Styles
Letting people into our worlds after getting PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) is a fragile situation for most of us. We need to feel “safe” at all times and if there is an “unsafe person” in the mix, they can trigger us just by being present in our world.
Recently I was tested by having someone in the family (not mine but my partner’s family) near me who has committed a lot of crimes and never worked despite being in his mid thirties. This person committed such crimes against the people he loved I do not understand how they can keep giving him chance after chance after chance. My family may not have gotten everything right but one thing they did teach us is that enabling and even rewarding bad behavior is NOT the right thing to do. It is so NOT the right thing to do, it just allows the sickness to continue. This person is a user and taker of people, places and things as his own uncle says, “always looking for a freebie.”
This person “triggers” me but that wouldn’t happen if he weren’t repeatedly given chance after chance after chance. In my opinion the door should have been shut to this person years ago. He thinks it is an honor and something to be proud of that he has done “time” or has court coming up. He cannot even see the stupidity in that type of thought process and will likely always be “prison cultured.” When I worked in Corrections in a jail for a few years I saw up close and personal the reason why the recidivism factor is so high. Many become “prison cultured” and do not even have a grasp of what it is to be a human being who actually contributes to society instead of always taking, taking, taking from anyone and everyone they can.
Three strikes you’re out is my motto for anyone who is living this “pretend thug life” way. He has had well more than three strikes. Yet he is being given chance after chance after chance. How is it that I have never done anything wrong in my life, have always tried to do the good and right thing and nobody is coming to the rescue of me or others like me while people like him get break after break after break. Dr. Phil (yes I mentioned Dr Phil) would have much to say about this, I am sure. He would likely talk about “consequences,” “enabling” and “rewarding bad behavior.” Why can’t those closest to this person “see” what they are doing?
“Molly coddling” as my mother called it is not the way to go with a person like this. This person needs to get out, grow up and stand on their own two feet without any “enabling” or “favoring” from any source. Only then could a person like me even begin to think about trusting him or allowing him near me in my world. Oh, I’ve heard the song and dance about him being “blood” but that’s just another excuse and the longer people continue to “make excuses” for him, the longer he will need a “giant pacifier” without doing a lick of work for himself in the world.
Even talk about this person triggers me because he walks around bilking the bank out of money or high as a kite all the while people are telling me “he’s keeping his nose clean.” I am struggling now with the idea of just disengaging entirely from the family so I no longer have to be triggered by his garbage and that of his girlfriend who is just as toxic and messed up as he is. But what do you do when you love so many people in that family and are feeling ripped off that it is “you” who has to do anything because “you” have done nothing wrong?
So, PTSD triggers can show up anytime and from any source. We don’t always know what the triggers will be but when we do know what the triggers are, we can do our best to avoid them. Even if that means withdrawing from some people and relationships to keep ourselves “safe.” It would be nice if there were a simple answer for this but there isn’t. Withdrawing and Avoiding are all I know to do. On that note, here is my latest PTSD poster, thank you for reading my blog today. And, if you are in my world, thank you for being kind, human and “safe.”
“Those are your pray bones, stupid child,
Can you not see?”
“Kneel and ask God for forgiveness!”
Yet all I really wanted to ask God was
“How did I break my knee?”
(c) Janni Styles