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Lifehouse – From Where You Are
It’s that time again: crisp air, clear blue sunny skies, scents of pumpkin flock the stores next to back-to-school paraphernalia.
Feeling down and lonely with my thoughts all over the goddamn place, I decide to take a jaunt to the nearby Dollar General and treat myself to a seasonally scented candle. Candles are soothing and fill this house with nostalgic smells of impending autumns long past when life made some sort of sense.
Within 3 minutes of browsing the aisles, I realize I’ve overstepped. All the cute Halloween decorations remind me of how thrilled I used to be decorating the house with cute Halloween stuff for my daughters and their friends.
Flashbacks like sporadic scenes from various movies start flipping through my mind…
Brain decides to pretend it’s any year at all prior to 2012: Oh, the girls would really love those sparkly sunflower yard ornaments. Those cute pumpkins would be perfect for the girls’ rooms…
The back-to school stuff reminds me of gathering supplies; browsing the aisles with two absolutely amazing children while discussing all the foreseeable fears, problems, and excitements of heading into 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th grade…. Me, chatting along with them, trying to be totally nonchalant about my fears of having enough money for all the school supplies they need and silently praying I might have enough for at least one thing they each just want.
FUCK! Now, I’m in the goddamn Dollar General crying. Should have stayed home. At least there, no one can see me be pathetic.
I keep my face turned toward and buried in the crowded shelves, away from any customers, mortified with the tears I can’t stop and hiding my face deeply engrossed in whatever the hell’s displayed on that shelf.
Ah…at last! The candles! Hot tears still streaming down my face, I sniff the Pumpkin Pie, The Pecan Muffin, the Apple Currant… Okay, so I smell all the fucking candles, desperately hoping the movie snippets playing in my head will stop so I can pull myself together enough to select one and face the cashier.
I am GOING TO TREAT MYSELF TO A CANDLE, DAMMIT! Today, this time, I am NOT sneaking right back out the door empty handed and desperate to hide my crybaby face.
NO!
I select the Apple Currant candle since it carries the least agony of nostalgia.
I make it through the check out with what I tell myself are just curious odd looks from the cashier at my tear stained red face, probably scrunched in desperate focus to not start crying again.
I step outside the store with my little plastic yellow bag and suddenly out of nowhere, I smell the very distinct and ancient scent of – of all things – my elementary school cafeteria?
Grainy pink soap and doughy pizza burgers, the scent almost seems speckled with tiny flecks of gold sparkles in the cafeteria’s linoleum floor.
For whatever reason, this olfactory nostalgia sets the ridiculous crybaby in me off again. Now, I’m walking to my car sobbing through the Dollar General parking lot.
Christ almighty, what the hell is wrong with me? I’m a goddamn sloppy pathetic mess of obnoxious tears and inescapable agony.
In my car, I keep my head down, fervently hoping no one sees me pathetically bawling like this, like a pitiful, unstable, insane person The pain tearing through my heart is UNBEARABLE!
I can’t. I just can’t.
Maybe I should go back in and grab a bottle of that cheap wine they sell? Maybe I could go home, light my lovely scented candle and treat myself to a glass or two of a mildly mind-numbing beverage?
No. Then I’d just be plagued with guilt and frantic over whether that means I’m a raging alcoholic like the narcissists and my children accused when my dad died. Wine won’t bring any real moments of relief anyway. Forget it.
Nah, I’ll just bite down on the wooden spoon and hold my breath through this soul ripping agony au naturelle, no choice but to suffer through every damn pinch, stab, punch, and pull as usual.
There is no solution to this pain. There is no fix, not temporary or permanent.
Keep a candle burning in the window til they come home. When they finally arrive home again, they’ll love the comforting smell in the house and remember the truth of all our years together, happy… I can almost see the delighted smiles on their face as they say, Momma, it smells so good in here! as they realize I never really stopped waiting for them.
Once home, I immediately put the candle in the window, like I have since my children betrayed, attacked, and abandoned, and shunned me.
I no longer can remember how it feels to not hurt all the time.
I forget what my face feels like to smile. I can’t remember the sound of my own laugh. I don’t remember what I look like without the deep agony-bearing furrow in between my eyes.
But I can remember the smell of my elementary school cafeteria.
And I vaguely remember the delight of getting hugs from my children every day and every night.
I distantly…like looking way down a dark underground tunnel…squinting my eyes to see way to the tiny end… remember the security of hearing my dad’s voice on the other end of a phone call.
And, I can remember the sound of giggles and laughter being a part of every single day. Then, I suddenly feel the depth of pain to remember that we didn’t go one full day in 15 years without the sound of carefree laughter floating around our lives.
I remember the sound, but I can’t hear it anymore.
Anywhere.
Keep a candle burning in the window til they come home.
I think it’s now more like, keep a candle burning in the window til I get to go home. Wherever home is, I’m not sure anymore, but it’s GOT to be somewhere — anywhere — that makes this infuriating, unbearable, constant pain stop once and for all.
Now, I’ll keep a candle burning in the window til the day comes when I finally get to go home.
Grace seeks sanctuary 
I sit here alone drinking a glass of red wine. Another night alone trying to feel normal. I am a Mother. Yes, a Mother but NOT a Mother. I carried them, felt the pain of giving them life, cared for their every need with little sleep and then the moment came where I was no longer a Mother. I left my abusive drunk husband praying for a “normal” life but the games and lies tore away from my heart and soul the precious gifts of motherhood. 15 years, yes, 15 years I have been NOT a Mother but a Mother. What do I mean by that? My children were stolen from me by a narcissistic monster that had the means to do what he told me he would do if I ever tried to leave.
I experience, after 15 years, the same things you did at the Dollar General. Sights, sounds, and odors remind everywhere I go that I am NOT a Mother but a Mother. I see from a distance my children moving on with their lives and my heart breaks. There are too many reminders, everywhere I go, that I cry day and night. Like you, I get the looks by the cashier, the stranger walking around the store, from friends and family, wondering why I am crying, but they don’t want to intrude by asking me what is wrong. My heart breaks with every moment of every day. I try to be “normal” but there are just too many memories.
Your words take my breath away. I’m sorry I didn’t respond sooner everything you said just makes me want to give you the hugest hug ever in the history of ever… I am so sorry I wouldn’t wish this on anyone if you would like my phone number or email address to talk to b personally for support I know I sure could use some and please let me know💕
It has been months since I posted this and tonight something made me read it again. Thank you for what you said. I struggle with each day knowing my children are out there and I can’t be there for them. Recently, my oldest who is a Police Officer, was involved in a shooting where another Officer was shot and injured. For several hours I didn’t know if it was him or someone else. I sobbed and paced until my youngest, that I still have contact with, was able to find out for me. This is the pain a Mother has to endure when the most precious gift is torn from her life.
Oh Alison, thank you for reaching out to me! I’m sorry I didn’t see this sooner. I understand your pain so much…. I’m sooooo happy to hear your youngest still connects and was able to find out your son was safe. That’s a huge blessing! If you ever need some support, please let me know and I’ll share my email with you if you ever need a shoulder who understands. ❤
Two months ago I had to observe, from a distance, my oldest be married to the love of his life, while my ex and his new wife attended. It was as if I no longer existed, or mattered. Although my youngest recently told me that all my children do not consider their stepmother anything more than their father’s wife, and they dislike her very much, blaming her for their father’s alcoholism and the fact he smokes. This does not change the fact that I am no longer included in their lives. They told my daughter that they are mad me for what happened but they still love me. They are not ready to forgive me. You would think that will help me feel a little better but it only makes my heart breaking even more. Most days I go from so sad I don’t think I have any reason to go on to so angry I scream wanting to break everything in my sight. I yell at God blaming him for this and they cry to him, begging him to end this nightmare. If only I could fall asleep and wake up back to the time before this nightmare began.
I’m so sorry Alison. I’ll never understand how this is possible nor how any human being could do it to another. The grief doesn’t pass and it doesn’t get better with time either. It’s ginormous grief that sits in your heart, your stomach, your mind, and your shoulders infinitely. I often think like you, if I could only go back to before this happened and realize how flimsy and expendable I was to my children. I had no clue I could be dismissed forever without a single second thought. Or go back and realize that the malignant narcissists in my life would stop at no amount of evil to keep hurting me .
I feel I should’ve understood both of these things early enough to be proactive against it, but I truly did not.
The shoulda, woulda, couldas eat me alive every day too.
I wish I had encouraging or hopeful words to share and try to alleviate your pain somewhat. I know it so well and I’d not wish it on ANYONE.
It has been a year since I posted my response to your last message and my life is in constant turmoil. 2020 has been a difficult year with COVID-19 and knowing no matter I do I cannot see my children, not only because of the rift between us but also because of the restrictions placed on us by government agencies. My oldest is soon to be a father but most likely I will never see the child or hear the child call me grandma, that will be my ex’s new wife’s role. My greatest fear is I will never be forgiven, before I pass from this world, and because of it I will not see my children ever again.