Day 10 – One Person You Can Trust

Day 10 - One Person You Can Trust 1-29-13

One Person You Can Trust

My Daddy!!!  I love and adore him…and to be honest, I’ve never trusted anyone this implicitly, or deservedly, before.  Gone are the foolish days of trusting because I want someone to be a certain way; or worse, simply because I love someone and hope they’re a certain way.  I trust my Daddy because he has earned it, and he continues earning it all the time.  (I even did a whole Writing on it: Ways your Daddy has earned, validated, and re-gained your TRUST.)  I can trust my Daddy with my emotions, knowing he won’t belittle me, or use them to manipulate me with later.  I can trust him with my insecurities, knowing he will do his best to see me as I really am, while still loving and nurturing me.  I can trust him with my secrets, knowing he won’t judge me (and oh, he’s had cause and opportunity!).  I can trust him with my personality, as bizarre as it may sound…with so many people, I feel I only show them certain sides of me, but with my Daddy, he gets to see the whole gamut, from serious to scared, playful to paranoid, affectionate to aimless, dreamy to depressed.  He’s seen it all and then some, participating in, if not outright causing, new parts of me to develop and grow.  You get the idea.  I love and trust my wonderful Daddy!  Mwahhh!

Here’s my Daddy’s!  Love2

One Person I Can Trust

Do you really expect me to say anyone else other than my Baby? If so, you are a fool and an idiot who has not been paying attention to my answers to the past days of this Challenge. I trust my Baby more than I’ve trusted most of the people in my life. There are some people I have trusted pretty deeply, and she is on par if not beyond them. I trust her with my deepest, darkest secrets. Secrets such as the things I’ve done and the places I’ve been that I haven’t even told the best of my friends. I’ve opened myself to her in ways I never realized I could, and been vulnerable with her in ways that gave her the power to utterly destroy me… and she took it seriously and was supportive and loving. So I trust my Baby with all my heart, which works out, cuz she’s got it pretty much beating in her hand.


“Are you close to your brother?”

I was asked this question a number of times during my late teens and then after my brother moved out.  My knee-jerk response was, “Yes”, and then I’d sometimes murmur, “I mean, I guess…”  The truth was, I didn’t know.  It FELT like we were close.  I mean, we spent every day of my first sixteen years together, being homeschooled kindergarten through graduation.  The thought that we weren’t close sounded ludicrous.  But each time I was asked, a niggling little voice said, “Are you?”

I know now that we are not, and have never been, close.  It seems so clear now, looking back.  Close would be sharing thoughts and feelings.  Close would be telling secrets you don’t tell your parents.  Close would be talking to him like I talk to my guy friends.  Close would be anything but a shallow, “Hi, how are you?  Good.” relationship.  But I’ve finally come to realize that is, indeed, just what we have.  All that we have.  All my life I had a false sense of closeness because I love my brother, and I was in close proximity to him constantly.

But we were not close, we never shared or opened up.  He knows less about me than even new acquaintances do, and while he sometimes drunkenly opens up to me, I know that it is not me he wants to open up to – just someone.  Because if I don’t answer, he calls our sperm donor, or anyone else, and will tell them whatever it was he was going to tell me.

One of the books I have on grieving a child says that siblings are a very important witness to our lives…a validation of our childhood and growing experiences.  But it seems I have no witness, and I have no validation.  I am alone.

Memories of Grandma

Kundo Clock Edit

There are so many wonderful memories I have and things I loved about my Grandma…

The day she re-married Grandpa.  She looked so beautiful with her beaded shawl and her blue bouquet!  Grandpa couldn’t keep the mist out of his eyes.

Playing Shanghai Rummy with her and my aunts and uncles.

The way she’d always find ice skating on TV no matter what time of year.

When she used to come pick me up and drive me to work with her.

Her grabbing a red rose out of a vase and holding it between her teeth and dancing around.

Her John Wayne fandom and how she’d always let us take home two or three of his movies she’d taped off the Western channel.

The smell of her and her house.

Finding out she used to be great at the jitterbug.

Going to Chicago with her and Grandpa.

Playing Speed Scrabble with her at the ritzy hotel.

Designing Christmas and birthday cards for her and Grandpa to send to their friends.

The time she took us to see Into The West.

Her voice.

Playing the old Nintendo with her – and getting beat!

How football games were always white noise at her house.

The sparkle in her mischievous blue eyes.

I love you, Grandma, and I’ll miss you forever!  Kiss