This was one of the most painful blogs I ever wrote. As I try to re-energize myself and begin blogging again, I am choosing now to re-share one of the most difficult moments of my entire life. I have yet to feel the same kind of pain that I felt on this night, even though seemingly more difficult events came and went, leaving me unscathed. I still cry when I read this blog. It is as real to me now as it was then. And although I still experience some disappointment on a regular basis, I have the calculation by which all other pseudo-disappointments must be weighed and measured. And blessedly, they are all found wanting.
I, however, still wield the power to disappoint. And although I try to keep my weapon guarded, I do brandish it on occasion. But, I am only human...and disappointment is a part of the race that I run in. So I accept it and I move on. And I continue to try and teach my children that disappointment is just a part of growing, learning, living. So as you read this heart-wrenching missive, know that when your day comes (may it never), your single most disappointing moment may not only be your nemesis, but your friend.
Enjoy.
Disappointment: My Nemesis, My Friend.
Whew. I have reached levels of disappointment that are beyond description. I have spent the last week disappointing myself, disappointing my spouse, and now, finally...disappointing my children. See, tonight is the night that my soon-to-be ex-husband and I decided to tell our beautiful, innocent babies that we were getting divorced. It was, without a doubt, a grand disappointment.
My oldest daughter was overwhelmed. She cried and begged us to stay married forever. She wanted to know if we were leaving her. She wanted to know where she was going to live. She wanted to know if we (my husband and I) would be alone forever or if we would find someone else. She had so many "adult" questions, it overwhelmed me...She is only 6 years old...It was just so disappointing for her. It broke my heart. My husband sat next to her, holding her hand, tears streaming down his face, trying to comfort her...when he needed to be comforted too. When his turn came to talk to her, he did an amazing job. He pulled himself together and explained things just as he needed to...It was more painful for me than anything we have gone through this far. I wanted to stand up on the couch and scream..."WHY! Why couldn't you have cared this much when it still mattered to me! Why couldn't you have been this involved in the emotional well being of your children all along"! Of course, I didn't. I sat on the couch and cried. I haven't stopped since.
My youngest daughter was underwhelmed, to say the least. And that was a blessing. She ran around, with scissors in hand (I am for real people...yeah, judge me. I don't care. Do it now while I am still to exhausted to kick your ass), and tried to eat a candle. She was fully unaffected by the conversation that was going on. But periodically she would come up to her Daddy and say, "Daddy, please don't go"...She too is disappointed. Her disappointment may manifest itself through symptoms of pica, but there is disappointment there just the same. She is only 3...I hope that she doesn't remember this painfully disappointing night 3 years down the line.
So...here I sit. Glass of wine in hand...blogging. Some people may think that's callous or even strange. But it's more obligatory catharsis. The girls are sleeping...exhausted from all of the disappointment that has been heaped upon them over the past few days, and I am just numb. Sometimes blogging allows me to get out all of the emotions that I keep bottled up inside in a way that makes me feel better, and sometimes amuses others. But now, I feel like I am telling a story that doesn't even belong to me. My heart feels empty. I don't really have any great emotional stories to share. I feel like I have been in a bloodletting, and all life in me has poured out onto the earth...absorbed and then gone. But yet, I feel compelled to write this blog and send all of these thoughts into the blogosphere...Because the part of me that takes my raw emotions and turns them into something creative and unique is dying. I am slowly starting to shut down and I am helpless to stop it. I have been trying to keep the people who love me close to me, but my heart is fighting that attempt, and I want to push all these people away. If I can just shut down and feel nothing, I can get through all of the disappointment...I wont have to feel it...and I can put all of my focus on helping those who are going to suffer the most...My girls.
So if I don't smile...Forgive me. If I don't want to talk to you...Forgive me. If I seem to lose some interest in the very things that used to bring me some measure of happiness...Forgive me. I know that I will disappoint you too. I am sure that I already have in some way or another over the years, so it is likely that you are used to it. Soon, I will not be myself anymore. I have already changed...There was once a girl who would do anything for a man that she met, until she had more disappointment than she could stand, and she began to shut down...and she began to change into someone that turned the disappointment table...But heaping disappointment on others doesn't make you feel better. In fact, it is as bad - or worse, than feeling the disappointment yourself. So I choose to feel nothing. In nothingness there wont be any disappointment. None to be delivered or received. So if I can't look you in the eye when we meet...forgive me. I am trying to spare you from disappointment. Because my tired, empty eyes will give it all away...That I have been friends with disappointment for years, and although she has been a hard friend to have hanging around all the time, she has always been there...Even though I have been a faithful companion, she is always looking for new people to be fast friends with. And I don't want it to be you.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Monday, October 12, 2009
But I Want to be a Moustache!
No. You read that correctly. And no. I don't want to be a moustache. But my 4 year old daughter does. For Halloween, I should add, not as a life goal. As she was on her way home from school last week, Randy (my delightfully accommodating and perpetually wonderful "boyfriend") asked both girls what they wanted to be for Halloween. Halloween is one of our very favorite holidays in the Salvatori-Lambert house. Salvatori comes before Lambert because there are more Salvatori named individuals than Lamberts. Just in case you wondered...But I digress. Halloween has always been a favorite holiday for my girls, fueled solely by the promise of an entire years worth of candy, garnered all in one night. But no matter the reason, they look forward to Halloween all year long. So when Randy asked Izzy what she wanted to be for Halloween, she had already set her mind to, yep...A moustache. Just what every Mother dreams their daughter will be. A moustache. So, after nearly careening off the road in a fit of laughter, Randy calls me at work. He says, "do you know what your daughter wants to be for Halloween"? "Uh, I dunno", I say. "A princess"? "NO"! Randy is nearly in tears at this point, and I can hear the squeal of the tires as he is yet again struggling to maintain control of the car under the duress of laughing til it hurts. "She wants to be a MOUSTACHE"!
Silence.
"I'm sorry, do what"? I ask. At this point, Randy is pleading with me not to make him say it again, because it is just too much...And so, more silence from me. Then, I begin to wonder. Does she want to be a handlebar mustache, or something more along the lines of Groucho Marx or Hitler? How does one make a moustache costume? And as if knowing that breaking the silence is just the right thing to do, Randy asks me if he should go as a razor. Really? I'm so sorry. I can only conceptualize one complex costume at a time. And I am still working on moustache! Get in line, Gillette! Suddenly, I am reminded of last year...My oldest daughter wanted to be something complicated too...What was it again? I know she ended up dressing as Hannah Montana, and that was a piece of cake. She already has the blond hair, and the costume came in a plastic bag. I did spend a little more than intended on the fancy Hannah Montana boots, but I did say NO to the cutting of Amelia's bangs (you know, to make the look more "authentic"). So what was it she wanted to be again...Hmmm.
I had momentarily forgotten that I was on the phone, then something pulled me back from daydreaming...It's the sound of more laughter...squeeling...this time not from the tires, but from my oldest and youngest laughing in delight. So I ask Randy, "what is going on in that car"? To which he replies, "do you know what Amelia wants to be for Halloween"? Cautiously, I say "nooooo"...And in between convulsing he manages to say "a coral reef"!
Suddenly, I remember just what it was Amelia wanted to be last year. And I guess it is making an encore. Great. When I visualized my time on this planet as a Mommy, it never once included the vision of me, walking down the street on Halloween night, telling the Moustache and the Coral Reef to hurry the hell up, cause this Mommy needs a cocktail. Well, here's to visualization, and I am having that cocktail now. I need it. I still have a Coral Reef costume and a mustache to build.
Silence.
"I'm sorry, do what"? I ask. At this point, Randy is pleading with me not to make him say it again, because it is just too much...And so, more silence from me. Then, I begin to wonder. Does she want to be a handlebar mustache, or something more along the lines of Groucho Marx or Hitler? How does one make a moustache costume? And as if knowing that breaking the silence is just the right thing to do, Randy asks me if he should go as a razor. Really? I'm so sorry. I can only conceptualize one complex costume at a time. And I am still working on moustache! Get in line, Gillette! Suddenly, I am reminded of last year...My oldest daughter wanted to be something complicated too...What was it again? I know she ended up dressing as Hannah Montana, and that was a piece of cake. She already has the blond hair, and the costume came in a plastic bag. I did spend a little more than intended on the fancy Hannah Montana boots, but I did say NO to the cutting of Amelia's bangs (you know, to make the look more "authentic"). So what was it she wanted to be again...Hmmm.
I had momentarily forgotten that I was on the phone, then something pulled me back from daydreaming...It's the sound of more laughter...squeeling...this time not from the tires, but from my oldest and youngest laughing in delight. So I ask Randy, "what is going on in that car"? To which he replies, "do you know what Amelia wants to be for Halloween"? Cautiously, I say "nooooo"...And in between convulsing he manages to say "a coral reef"!
Suddenly, I remember just what it was Amelia wanted to be last year. And I guess it is making an encore. Great. When I visualized my time on this planet as a Mommy, it never once included the vision of me, walking down the street on Halloween night, telling the Moustache and the Coral Reef to hurry the hell up, cause this Mommy needs a cocktail. Well, here's to visualization, and I am having that cocktail now. I need it. I still have a Coral Reef costume and a mustache to build.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
9/11
Tomorrow is a day that will forever be remembered by all peoples old enough to actually remember what happened 8 years ago, in all countries...everyone, everywhere.
I remember that morning. I remember it like stock footage from a B-rated, film noir, memory montage. I was pregnant with Amelia. I was sleeping in my bed, next to my husband. My neighbor called and told me to get up and turn on the T.V. My Mom was in town. I sat, transfixed, for the next 4 hours - holding my enormous belly - watching all of the streaming news footage in numb disbelief. I remember looking over to my Mom and asking, "should I cancel the reservation"? I remember her saying, "we still need to eat". So we went out to eat. We were only one of two parties in the restaurant that night. Under normal circumstances, we could have passed on the dinner. It wouldn't have mattered. But on that particular day, My Mom had come into town to take my husband and I out to dinner, to our favorite restaurant, for our third wedding anniversary. We all ate, in silence. I don't even remember if there was a gift. After that year, our anniversary lost some of it's allure. Maybe it was because of the absolute horror of the events of that day in 2001. Maybe it's because our marriage lost some of it's allure. Not really sure.
So tomorrow, I will spend a few moments in remembrance. I will remember all of those lives lost on September 11, 2001...I will remember people I didn't even know, but feel as though I did. I will remember that I was pregnant, wondering how to bring a child into a world full of so much hate. I will remember that people are still dying for tomorrow. But I will also remember that ten years ago, on September 11, 1999, before the day would forever be marked as one of the worst days in American history, I got married. So, I will spend just a few moments in remembrance of the death of that marriage.
But do you know what? I still believe in marriage. I still believe that it is a beautiful thing, and can be full of happiness and bliss. Do I think everyday is like that? No. I'm not a fool. I also believe in America. I believe it is a beautiful country, and can be full of happiness and bliss. And no, everyday is not like that. And that's okay, because we are alive to look forward to those kinds of days. And I am alive to look forward to that kind of marriage. So, even though September 11th will always be a bit of a dark day for me, for more than just the historical reason, there is always September 12th.
I remember that morning. I remember it like stock footage from a B-rated, film noir, memory montage. I was pregnant with Amelia. I was sleeping in my bed, next to my husband. My neighbor called and told me to get up and turn on the T.V. My Mom was in town. I sat, transfixed, for the next 4 hours - holding my enormous belly - watching all of the streaming news footage in numb disbelief. I remember looking over to my Mom and asking, "should I cancel the reservation"? I remember her saying, "we still need to eat". So we went out to eat. We were only one of two parties in the restaurant that night. Under normal circumstances, we could have passed on the dinner. It wouldn't have mattered. But on that particular day, My Mom had come into town to take my husband and I out to dinner, to our favorite restaurant, for our third wedding anniversary. We all ate, in silence. I don't even remember if there was a gift. After that year, our anniversary lost some of it's allure. Maybe it was because of the absolute horror of the events of that day in 2001. Maybe it's because our marriage lost some of it's allure. Not really sure.
So tomorrow, I will spend a few moments in remembrance. I will remember all of those lives lost on September 11, 2001...I will remember people I didn't even know, but feel as though I did. I will remember that I was pregnant, wondering how to bring a child into a world full of so much hate. I will remember that people are still dying for tomorrow. But I will also remember that ten years ago, on September 11, 1999, before the day would forever be marked as one of the worst days in American history, I got married. So, I will spend just a few moments in remembrance of the death of that marriage.
But do you know what? I still believe in marriage. I still believe that it is a beautiful thing, and can be full of happiness and bliss. Do I think everyday is like that? No. I'm not a fool. I also believe in America. I believe it is a beautiful country, and can be full of happiness and bliss. And no, everyday is not like that. And that's okay, because we are alive to look forward to those kinds of days. And I am alive to look forward to that kind of marriage. So, even though September 11th will always be a bit of a dark day for me, for more than just the historical reason, there is always September 12th.
Friday, August 28, 2009
It Matters to Me
I find myself regularly torn between two lovers. The lover that wants to do what I want to do, and the lover that wants me to do what he/she/it wants to do. I often find myself highly motivated to follow the lead of the latter lover, and do what he/she/it wants me to do. Maybe it will be fun, maybe it will be exciting, maybe I will feel free. However, more often than not, I settle for the lover that just wants to do what I want to do...Sit on the couch. NOT work out. Eat ice cream. I think that this lover is good to me...Tonight, I wonder, maybe not so much?
When I was younger (read, college), I used to feel a little - let's just say depressed - when I was alone. I craved the company of another. Could be a friend, a lover, an instantly discovered and just as easily lost soul mate, it could be anyone. I just needed the company. I didn't really care about what I wanted to do. I wanted the lover that could promise me good times, good drinks, good friends, even if followed by hazy memories and less than good digestive results. Somewhere along the way that changed. On the road to adulthood I took a side street to hermit-ville and decided to stay. Once I arrived in this new found place, I lost the desire to take a lover who wanted me to "party like a rock star"...The lover who was proud of us if we came home as the garbage men picked up our trash...The lover who probably didn't really care about me, but cared that I was fun. I just wanted to be alone. I still took the ex-lover's calls, still listened as he/she/it romanced the potential night that awaited us, but would always find a reason to say no. And so I sat alone. Until I met my other lover. This one promised me solace, quiet, unrecognizable depression. And I fell deeply in love. To me, the promise of nothing was better then the promise of it all.
As I grew older (read, now), I began to realize that my new, albeit long term, lover didn't really have my best interests at heart. I wasn't so sure that sitting on the couch, watching SoapNet, playing on the computer, drinking one glass of wine after another, was really what I needed, after all. Maybe I needed a lover who could give me both...Not only what I need, but helps me to see what others around me need from me...And is there really such a lover? I think that there is not. And really, that's okay. Because more than anything, I need to learn that I do not need to take a lover to know who I am. I need to learn that I am the only one who should say, "Get up, girl. Go get your piece of life". Because I want to be that girl. I want to get up and get my piece of life. I want to not only do the things that matter to me, but the things that matter to you. Isn't that what makes me my very best me? When I can and will do both? Cause, honey...It does matter to me. The things that are important to you, can also be important to me. And the things that are important to me can be important to only me. That's okay too.
To all my former lovers...Well, I have finally put you all to bed. I have found the "beds in boat world". I finally realize that it's okay. It's okay that it matters to me.
When I was younger (read, college), I used to feel a little - let's just say depressed - when I was alone. I craved the company of another. Could be a friend, a lover, an instantly discovered and just as easily lost soul mate, it could be anyone. I just needed the company. I didn't really care about what I wanted to do. I wanted the lover that could promise me good times, good drinks, good friends, even if followed by hazy memories and less than good digestive results. Somewhere along the way that changed. On the road to adulthood I took a side street to hermit-ville and decided to stay. Once I arrived in this new found place, I lost the desire to take a lover who wanted me to "party like a rock star"...The lover who was proud of us if we came home as the garbage men picked up our trash...The lover who probably didn't really care about me, but cared that I was fun. I just wanted to be alone. I still took the ex-lover's calls, still listened as he/she/it romanced the potential night that awaited us, but would always find a reason to say no. And so I sat alone. Until I met my other lover. This one promised me solace, quiet, unrecognizable depression. And I fell deeply in love. To me, the promise of nothing was better then the promise of it all.
As I grew older (read, now), I began to realize that my new, albeit long term, lover didn't really have my best interests at heart. I wasn't so sure that sitting on the couch, watching SoapNet, playing on the computer, drinking one glass of wine after another, was really what I needed, after all. Maybe I needed a lover who could give me both...Not only what I need, but helps me to see what others around me need from me...And is there really such a lover? I think that there is not. And really, that's okay. Because more than anything, I need to learn that I do not need to take a lover to know who I am. I need to learn that I am the only one who should say, "Get up, girl. Go get your piece of life". Because I want to be that girl. I want to get up and get my piece of life. I want to not only do the things that matter to me, but the things that matter to you. Isn't that what makes me my very best me? When I can and will do both? Cause, honey...It does matter to me. The things that are important to you, can also be important to me. And the things that are important to me can be important to only me. That's okay too.
To all my former lovers...Well, I have finally put you all to bed. I have found the "beds in boat world". I finally realize that it's okay. It's okay that it matters to me.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Still Missing You...
Sheesh. If you had asked me, say, two years ago (give or take) if I was capable of "missing" someone, I'm not sure how I might have replied. Sure, I missed my children if I travelled away from them, but not really. I seldom left my children behind in my travels, and when I did, it was because I desperately needed the break. A break from the whining, the crying, the exhaustion that comes with being a Mommy...I finally had someone validate this for me...And I must say, I had been waiting--so very long--to exhale. A friend, that I have had since high school, confessed to me that parenting was hard for her. I was floored. She was then, and quite frankly, still is, perfect. Perfect in a real way. A successful career. An amazing spouse. Beautiful children. A great nose. Christian, and proud...Ever trying to lead me away from the "dark side"...Just perfect. But hearing this "perfect" woman talk about her struggles with parenting, infanthood, toddler years, and then some...Made me feel real. It made me feel closer to perfect (and if you really know me, you know that is my ultimate goal). And it made me miss my children. See, I am out of town this week. My beautiful heathen spawn are with their Daddy (my ex-husband, in case you needed a refresher). They aren't entirely thrilled with the arrangement, but they are resilient beings, and are rolling with it just the same. And, oh...How I miss them. I even had a stranger give me a dollar so I could have my picture taken with Elmo tonight(Look for this post later this week when I get a chance to upload). I miss them in a way that I am unfamiliar with. The last time that I left them for more than a day my parents were with them. Prior to that, I was still married, and didn't feel as "off-put" over the whole thing. Odd really. There was a time, pre-Zoloft, that I couldn't get away from my family quickly enough. Now, all I want to do is be a better contributor to my family, even as that dynamic changes...And no, I'm not taking my vitamin Z anymore, thanks for wondering...
But what does this have to do with "still missing you"...Obviously, missing my children isn't new to me. I'm not a monster. I love and cherish my babies, I'm just not that kinda Mommy...You know, the one that can't seperate who she is from who her children are. I have no problem with that. But I miss now in increasingly different ways. Back in "the day", I viewed travel as my escape...Escape from the toxic environment that was developing in my home. Now, travel is taking me away from something I have grown quite dependant on. My spot. I miss my spot. I miss what my spot represents. I miss the way I fit in my spot. My spot is more than just the crook of an arm, the feeling of warm skin, the smell of a man that I love more than I can express...It's my spot. It's all I have ever wanted. It's the family that I am rebuilding. Yeah, so maybe the players have changed somewhat, but the goal never does...And that ultimate goal is Happiness. For my children, for me, for the people in my life that are non-negotiable...And I miss my spot, and all that it represents. And I miss the man that gave this all to me. You may shake your little head all you want, and declare to your empty room that "no man/woman can make or break your happiness, it's all in you". But you, me and your empty space all know that's bullshit. A single person can change your life. Maybe it's a child, maybe it's two (as it was for me), maybe it's the introduction of an outsider who becomes an insider, and shows you just what it means to be a family...And so, I am really missing my family right now. My girls, my man, my dog and the guinea pig and the African frogs and the cat...
I can look at the pictures, I can talk on the phone. I can text, I can Facebook, I can Tweet and I can blog. But I am still missing you. And I am certain that I always will. When I am not in my spot, I am still missing you.
But what does this have to do with "still missing you"...Obviously, missing my children isn't new to me. I'm not a monster. I love and cherish my babies, I'm just not that kinda Mommy...You know, the one that can't seperate who she is from who her children are. I have no problem with that. But I miss now in increasingly different ways. Back in "the day", I viewed travel as my escape...Escape from the toxic environment that was developing in my home. Now, travel is taking me away from something I have grown quite dependant on. My spot. I miss my spot. I miss what my spot represents. I miss the way I fit in my spot. My spot is more than just the crook of an arm, the feeling of warm skin, the smell of a man that I love more than I can express...It's my spot. It's all I have ever wanted. It's the family that I am rebuilding. Yeah, so maybe the players have changed somewhat, but the goal never does...And that ultimate goal is Happiness. For my children, for me, for the people in my life that are non-negotiable...And I miss my spot, and all that it represents. And I miss the man that gave this all to me. You may shake your little head all you want, and declare to your empty room that "no man/woman can make or break your happiness, it's all in you". But you, me and your empty space all know that's bullshit. A single person can change your life. Maybe it's a child, maybe it's two (as it was for me), maybe it's the introduction of an outsider who becomes an insider, and shows you just what it means to be a family...And so, I am really missing my family right now. My girls, my man, my dog and the guinea pig and the African frogs and the cat...
I can look at the pictures, I can talk on the phone. I can text, I can Facebook, I can Tweet and I can blog. But I am still missing you. And I am certain that I always will. When I am not in my spot, I am still missing you.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
When It All Comes Together
So. Here we are. A long time has passed since I have spent any time with you, and for that, I am sorry. I have had many months of trials, many months of stresses, and many months of the very scenarios that would have once sent me running to my computer, burning to turn out the next great literary masterpiece via blogger...And yet, here we are. Nothing for months, and here I am, expecting you to take me back. But as I have dutifully pointed out to you before, disappointment is my shadow, and it follows me everywhere, inflicting it's wrath upon all those who should fall under it's cast...So you should have been prepared for this from the beginning.
While I have been away from you, I have learned a few things. I have also forgotten a few things, and even remembered a few things that I didn't know I knew. That last one is always exciting...But I digress. Primarily, I have learned that sometimes, even in the very face of adversity, things can go well. What the bulk of my random readers don't know, is that through all of the drama, trauma, and overall chaos of last year, I had a great deal of emotional help (well, let's just call it what it is, shall we...it's love). And it was that love that kept everything together, even when I was the one trying to tear it all apart. It was that love that showed me how real love can be when it is done right, that real love doesn't involve angry words or disdainful looks or cold shoulders...In fact, it is all quite the opposite. Things in my life began to change completely...I felt better about myself. I treated those around me with more kindness, more generosity. I played more with my children and spoke to them more lovingly. I involved myself more in the lives of my friends, took the time to let them know that I am still here for them in spite of what is going on with me. I began to become the woman I had always wanted to be...And although it seems so very, very trite...All it took was the right kind of love. And when it all comes together like that, it's amazing.
And thus, I have become the kind of woman that people want to hit. I am so full of this incredible love that I am on regular bliss-overload. When I talk about the source of my love, I ooze like so much puss from an infected wound. When asked about the source of my love, I can prattle on for hours like an escapee from Pendleton Asylum. It's nauseating, I know. And I love it. I had a conversation with my Mom a while back, and she expressed concern for my overall well being. It is a Mother's job to do this on a regular basis, I understand, but I still find it annoying...I know that one day, I will do it to my children too. During that conversation I revealed something to her that I had not verbalized to anyone (other than my beloved, and I think that was in e-mail form) was this: I have been fortunate enough to experience the kind of love that overwhelms a heart. It's so much for the poor heart muscle, that it expands to the lungs, to the nerves, to the brain...It fills you up. It fills you up in a way that is almost uncomfortable. And not uncomfortable in a painful sense, but uncomfortable in the sense that you are experiencing something you have never experienced before...And it's amazing. But this wasn't what put my Mom at ease...it was what I said next. I explained to her that the love that I have been given, and the love that I have returned, was so remarkable, that if it were taken from me tomorrow, I would be okay. I would be okay because I was able to just have the love at all. Because for me, it was the realization that this was what love was supposed to be, and it was mine...and everything else came together. And now, all the pieces of the puzzle have been laid into place, and some cosmic force came by and sprayed the puzzle with that crazy spray glue shit, and now it's a fixed piece. The same could be said for my heart. It is a fixed piece. It has all come together and I am whole. And although I never, ever want to lose this love, should it disappear, I will never feel like a loser. I won a long time ago, and the glue that holds this heart together is the strongest I have ever known.
So. Here we are. I hope that you still aren't upset with me for having neglected you for so long. I will strive to find new and exciting things to blog about very, very soon. In fact, I have a great topic for me next post! Let me tell you about this man I know...(Oozing begins)
While I have been away from you, I have learned a few things. I have also forgotten a few things, and even remembered a few things that I didn't know I knew. That last one is always exciting...But I digress. Primarily, I have learned that sometimes, even in the very face of adversity, things can go well. What the bulk of my random readers don't know, is that through all of the drama, trauma, and overall chaos of last year, I had a great deal of emotional help (well, let's just call it what it is, shall we...it's love). And it was that love that kept everything together, even when I was the one trying to tear it all apart. It was that love that showed me how real love can be when it is done right, that real love doesn't involve angry words or disdainful looks or cold shoulders...In fact, it is all quite the opposite. Things in my life began to change completely...I felt better about myself. I treated those around me with more kindness, more generosity. I played more with my children and spoke to them more lovingly. I involved myself more in the lives of my friends, took the time to let them know that I am still here for them in spite of what is going on with me. I began to become the woman I had always wanted to be...And although it seems so very, very trite...All it took was the right kind of love. And when it all comes together like that, it's amazing.
And thus, I have become the kind of woman that people want to hit. I am so full of this incredible love that I am on regular bliss-overload. When I talk about the source of my love, I ooze like so much puss from an infected wound. When asked about the source of my love, I can prattle on for hours like an escapee from Pendleton Asylum. It's nauseating, I know. And I love it. I had a conversation with my Mom a while back, and she expressed concern for my overall well being. It is a Mother's job to do this on a regular basis, I understand, but I still find it annoying...I know that one day, I will do it to my children too. During that conversation I revealed something to her that I had not verbalized to anyone (other than my beloved, and I think that was in e-mail form) was this: I have been fortunate enough to experience the kind of love that overwhelms a heart. It's so much for the poor heart muscle, that it expands to the lungs, to the nerves, to the brain...It fills you up. It fills you up in a way that is almost uncomfortable. And not uncomfortable in a painful sense, but uncomfortable in the sense that you are experiencing something you have never experienced before...And it's amazing. But this wasn't what put my Mom at ease...it was what I said next. I explained to her that the love that I have been given, and the love that I have returned, was so remarkable, that if it were taken from me tomorrow, I would be okay. I would be okay because I was able to just have the love at all. Because for me, it was the realization that this was what love was supposed to be, and it was mine...and everything else came together. And now, all the pieces of the puzzle have been laid into place, and some cosmic force came by and sprayed the puzzle with that crazy spray glue shit, and now it's a fixed piece. The same could be said for my heart. It is a fixed piece. It has all come together and I am whole. And although I never, ever want to lose this love, should it disappear, I will never feel like a loser. I won a long time ago, and the glue that holds this heart together is the strongest I have ever known.
So. Here we are. I hope that you still aren't upset with me for having neglected you for so long. I will strive to find new and exciting things to blog about very, very soon. In fact, I have a great topic for me next post! Let me tell you about this man I know...(Oozing begins)
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
I haven't blogged in such a long time. There are so many reasons. Some I can't even really blog about, and I hate that...Blogging, for me, has been about providing me with an outlet for disclosure. Of course, a good 98% of my blog readers don't really know what a good 98% of my blogs are actually about. And that's okay...they don't need to. It would be too much for people to process, I think. But recently, I haven't had the time, or the inclination to blog. However, I had an experience the other day that I feel compelled to share. Something happened to me that has happened to everyone in one way or another. So many people have said to me, when one door closes, a window opens...I used to think this was pretty much total crap, but am feeling it's true, now more strongly than I ever thought possible. You see, this week I walked out of the home I shared with my ex-husband for almost 10 years, for the very last time.
I have known for over a month that I would be moving out. My ex-husband moved out on November 1st. I stayed, wanting to keep the girls in the only home they have ever known. I wasn't happy there and I was ready to move on...But there is so much to moving. So much packing, so much trashing, so much everything. Putting it off seemed easier. Then, the time came. With a LOT of help, I was out of the house in just two days. The girls were happy, the pets were happy and I was happy. Kinda.
I didn't feel alone in the old house. Everything I have ever known as an adult was all around me. Now, well...Now I am surrounded by emptiness. There are no pictures on the walls, so memories made...And yes, of course I know these things will happen, the pictures will appear and the memories will be created. But as I sit here, alone, while my children are spending a few days with their Daddy, I feel cold.
If you know me, you know that I can be impatient. I want things to happen when I want them to happen. I want things done on my time frame, my schedule. I don't need you to tell me that's unrealistic...In my life, it hasn't always been such an unrealistic expectation. Maybe that is why I always find myself in this place, where I am cold and alone. Because I want what I want when I want it. And when I don't get it, I shut down, push away and move on. Am am tetering on the brink of this shut down. I don't like to feel alone, and I don't like to be cold. Yet here I am...Feeling very much by myself and very chilly. But like all of the things that have happened over the course of the past three months, I will make it though this, too. I have to learn that my time frames don't always gel with the cosmos, and there really isn't a damn thing I can do to change that. So, I will grab my blanket, read my blog to my sister (cause she can't work a computer - yeah, she's 34...there is no excuse), and I won't feel so alone. And maybe one day I will open up the Pandora's Box that contains all of the mysteries and secrets that are hidden between the lines of this blog. And I will never have to feel alone again, because the whole world will know me. I think I will like that.
So before I shut down my computer for the night, I want to say "goodbye" to my old house. Goodbye to the life that was created there. Goodbye to the sadness that permeated the drywall and most certainly goodbye to the rancid stench of dog pee that seemed to be lingereing in the air. I definitely wont miss that.
I have known for over a month that I would be moving out. My ex-husband moved out on November 1st. I stayed, wanting to keep the girls in the only home they have ever known. I wasn't happy there and I was ready to move on...But there is so much to moving. So much packing, so much trashing, so much everything. Putting it off seemed easier. Then, the time came. With a LOT of help, I was out of the house in just two days. The girls were happy, the pets were happy and I was happy. Kinda.
I didn't feel alone in the old house. Everything I have ever known as an adult was all around me. Now, well...Now I am surrounded by emptiness. There are no pictures on the walls, so memories made...And yes, of course I know these things will happen, the pictures will appear and the memories will be created. But as I sit here, alone, while my children are spending a few days with their Daddy, I feel cold.
If you know me, you know that I can be impatient. I want things to happen when I want them to happen. I want things done on my time frame, my schedule. I don't need you to tell me that's unrealistic...In my life, it hasn't always been such an unrealistic expectation. Maybe that is why I always find myself in this place, where I am cold and alone. Because I want what I want when I want it. And when I don't get it, I shut down, push away and move on. Am am tetering on the brink of this shut down. I don't like to feel alone, and I don't like to be cold. Yet here I am...Feeling very much by myself and very chilly. But like all of the things that have happened over the course of the past three months, I will make it though this, too. I have to learn that my time frames don't always gel with the cosmos, and there really isn't a damn thing I can do to change that. So, I will grab my blanket, read my blog to my sister (cause she can't work a computer - yeah, she's 34...there is no excuse), and I won't feel so alone. And maybe one day I will open up the Pandora's Box that contains all of the mysteries and secrets that are hidden between the lines of this blog. And I will never have to feel alone again, because the whole world will know me. I think I will like that.
So before I shut down my computer for the night, I want to say "goodbye" to my old house. Goodbye to the life that was created there. Goodbye to the sadness that permeated the drywall and most certainly goodbye to the rancid stench of dog pee that seemed to be lingereing in the air. I definitely wont miss that.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Signed, Sealed, Delivered. I'm Not Yours.
Today I got a phone call at work. I get a lot of phone calls at work. So many, in fact, that if I see on my caller ID window that it is from an outside line, and not coming from somewhere inside the store, I will often let it go to voicemail. Today, however, I answered the phone. It was Sharon, my lovely, if somewhat grammatically inarticulate, paralegal. She had called to tell me that my final "Marital Settlement Agreement" had been signed off on by the Judge. I was officially divorced. I could hear papers rustling in the background, as she informed my that my formal copy was going into the mail at that very moment. I started to cry...And suddenly I stopped. My heart started to speed up its rhythm, and I smiled. It was a fleeting moment, but in that moment, I felt every emotion that I have felt during the 10 years spent with my now ex-husband. I felt nervousness, sadness, anxiety...then joy, elation, and finally, peace.
Several months back, when I knew for certain that this day was coming, I debated whether or not I would blog about this actual day. Whether or not it was in good taste. What would people think...Then it occurred to me, nobody is forced to read this blog. It is my free therapy. Mine and mine alone. Yes, I am pleased that people have enjoyed reading this blog, and I am pleased that people have been able to use my voice to find their own, when they have felt muted. So I have decided, tonight, to write. And for the first time, in a long time, I don't have much to say. But I do know that it is important to chronicle this day. So years from now, when this is all a monochromatic memory, I can be reminded of just how real, and how painful this has all been. Not because I am a masochist, but because I believe the memory of pain can help to make you stronger, to help you heal, and to make you whole. I am on my way to healing, but I have a long way to go. I am happy with the direction my life is taking. More than happy, in fact. But I know that I am not whole yet...I am still broken, and searching for all the missing pieces. Some I will never find. Some pieces of me I gave away 10 years ago and I don't want them back. I know he probably doesn't want them either, but they will always and forever be his. I have taken everything else that has mattered away from him, I don't have to snatch these shards of me, too. And he may try to throw them away, but I know that they will always be embedded in his brain in the form of memories; a song, a smell, a shadow...And I know this because those same slivers of someone else's life will live within me, too. And for me, that's okay.
My new life is beginning. It is rising up like a phoenix from the ashes of my past. There was a time, before I set fire to my life, when I would wake up everyday and felt like I was just waiting for the day to pass so I could go back to bed...And that's just sad. But those days are gone. Now I will wake up, each day, grateful for whatever goodness is in store for me. I may not know what it will be from one day to the next, but I know that it will be there in some form. And that, my friends, is a very good thing. A very good thing indeed. So...As I stated previously, I don't have much to say. So I guess I will just say "good night". Tomorrow is a new day, and the first day of my new life. I should try to get a good nights sleep.
Several months back, when I knew for certain that this day was coming, I debated whether or not I would blog about this actual day. Whether or not it was in good taste. What would people think...Then it occurred to me, nobody is forced to read this blog. It is my free therapy. Mine and mine alone. Yes, I am pleased that people have enjoyed reading this blog, and I am pleased that people have been able to use my voice to find their own, when they have felt muted. So I have decided, tonight, to write. And for the first time, in a long time, I don't have much to say. But I do know that it is important to chronicle this day. So years from now, when this is all a monochromatic memory, I can be reminded of just how real, and how painful this has all been. Not because I am a masochist, but because I believe the memory of pain can help to make you stronger, to help you heal, and to make you whole. I am on my way to healing, but I have a long way to go. I am happy with the direction my life is taking. More than happy, in fact. But I know that I am not whole yet...I am still broken, and searching for all the missing pieces. Some I will never find. Some pieces of me I gave away 10 years ago and I don't want them back. I know he probably doesn't want them either, but they will always and forever be his. I have taken everything else that has mattered away from him, I don't have to snatch these shards of me, too. And he may try to throw them away, but I know that they will always be embedded in his brain in the form of memories; a song, a smell, a shadow...And I know this because those same slivers of someone else's life will live within me, too. And for me, that's okay.
My new life is beginning. It is rising up like a phoenix from the ashes of my past. There was a time, before I set fire to my life, when I would wake up everyday and felt like I was just waiting for the day to pass so I could go back to bed...And that's just sad. But those days are gone. Now I will wake up, each day, grateful for whatever goodness is in store for me. I may not know what it will be from one day to the next, but I know that it will be there in some form. And that, my friends, is a very good thing. A very good thing indeed. So...As I stated previously, I don't have much to say. So I guess I will just say "good night". Tomorrow is a new day, and the first day of my new life. I should try to get a good nights sleep.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Engrish!! Cause You Asked So Nice!!
Do wha?
see funny english mistakes
This could be said about my heart...
see funny english mistakes
I know a few people who might really benefit from this service!
see funny english mistakes
Uh...So, I may be ugly, but can I borrow your ninja? Please?
see funny english mistakes
Hello, Space Flyman! My number is...
see funny english mistakes
Oh, hello Mr. Pizza...Space Flyman who?
see funny english mistakes
see funny english mistakes
This could be said about my heart...
see funny english mistakes
I know a few people who might really benefit from this service!
see funny english mistakes
Uh...So, I may be ugly, but can I borrow your ninja? Please?
see funny english mistakes
Hello, Space Flyman! My number is...
see funny english mistakes
Oh, hello Mr. Pizza...Space Flyman who?
see funny english mistakes
Monday, January 5, 2009
Preparing for D-Day
Many years ago, in what seems like another life, I sat on the couch in my soon-to-be husband's "bachelor pad", and watched what has to be one of the most depressing movies of all time. We watched What Dreams May Come with Robin Williams. If you have never seen it, you should consider renting it, downloading it, YouTubing it, or whatever method you prefer, and set aside two hours. An hour and a half to watch the movie, and another half hour to sop up the pool of tears that will collect at your feet after you have watched the movie. The basic premise is, there is a happy couple with two children (and a dog, I think) and through a series of sad and somewhat violent events, they all die. They go to Heaven (except for the wife, who gets stuck in purgatory because she offed herself in a period of deep depression) and have different forms and different struggles than they did on Earth. Through the struggles, they learn about who they really are, and that the undying love of a family can overcome anything...Even the physical limitations of the body. In the movie, the husband and wife refer to an anniversary as "D-Day". It is the anniversary of the day their children died. Yeah, I know that's absurdly morbid, but as I prepare for my own "D-Day" of sorts, I can totally get the need to anniversary the macabre. My divorce is almost final. All of my dreams that I had for this family that I have created, have died, or are dying. Even the last vestiges of hope are all but gone. And even though this is what I have wanted, I cannot help but feel sad. Although I know that nothing can erase the past, make things better or worse, I feel like somehow I have failed at this segment of my life. I have decided that, for me, divorce is a lot like death. It seems akin to the death of someone who has been gravely ill: Even though everybody knows it is better that the ill person passed away...no more pain, no more suffering...it is still sad. Deeply sad. And I have been saddened by the end of my marriage, the death of it, as it were, and I am still mourning it. If you see me on the street, I look perfectly calm and at ease, but in my heart I am still mourning.
The mistakes that I have made over the past decade continue to haunt me like so many lost souls...The spirits of the dreams that I have had a hand in slaying. Their time for exorcism is drawing ever closer, but it is not here quite yet. So I will continue to mourn and give the death of my marriage a proper and respectful burial. But like all things that grieve the heart, this too shall pass. Time will continue to push me forward into a new life. I am older, perhaps wiser (although the Jury is still out on that), and definitively more sure of who I am and who I want to be. One day, I will wake up and the anniversary of my "D-Day" will come and go with out so much as the flicker of a candle on a carrot-cake cupcake. For an anniversary like this is not one to celebrate...Better to allow it to remind you of all the reasons you celebrated in the first place: The first kiss. The first date. The first child. The first time you said goodbye, and then, the last. Because even though I am sad and I am mourning, even in this death I can still celebrate all of the beautiful things that made up this life. And that, my friends, makes me happy.
The mistakes that I have made over the past decade continue to haunt me like so many lost souls...The spirits of the dreams that I have had a hand in slaying. Their time for exorcism is drawing ever closer, but it is not here quite yet. So I will continue to mourn and give the death of my marriage a proper and respectful burial. But like all things that grieve the heart, this too shall pass. Time will continue to push me forward into a new life. I am older, perhaps wiser (although the Jury is still out on that), and definitively more sure of who I am and who I want to be. One day, I will wake up and the anniversary of my "D-Day" will come and go with out so much as the flicker of a candle on a carrot-cake cupcake. For an anniversary like this is not one to celebrate...Better to allow it to remind you of all the reasons you celebrated in the first place: The first kiss. The first date. The first child. The first time you said goodbye, and then, the last. Because even though I am sad and I am mourning, even in this death I can still celebrate all of the beautiful things that made up this life. And that, my friends, makes me happy.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Chasing Happiness
I have some friends...crazy friends...that are preparing to run a marathon in just a few weeks. They have been training for months. I never gave too much thought to why they ran, I just knew that they did, and that they were crazy. Running has given them nothing but grief. One of them has pulled a groin muscle so severely, she will sit on her couch in front of her family, and massage it with her electric "back massager"...While her are kids in the room for Christ's sake! Another has actually run herself into such a state of physical degeneration, that she limps everywhere she goes, hand on hip, moaning "oh, my aching hip". She is only 31. There are twisted ankles and collapsing arches and increasingly large thigh and calf muscles (although a very enviable reduction in body fat is also quite apparent). So, why, then? Of all the fun things you could be doing with your time (like poking out your own eye, shopping for shoes, or eating bacon), why run?
But I get it now. They run because it frees them from their lives. When they run, although they may have pain and suffering and anguish and loss, they are free. They focus on the thing that forced them to get up at an ungodly hour, lace up the Nikes, and run. For 12 freaking miles, no less. Sometimes it is easy to look at the life of someone else and think that everything is easy for them. "Oh, look", we think...Look at how pretty her hair is, look at how clean her house is, look how well behaved her kids are...What we fail to see is that nothing is easy for them. Nothing is easy for anyone. My crazy running friends have all had hardships in their lives. Some will talk about it, some wont. Both are okay. I have subjected them all to sharply contrasting periods of verbal diarrhea followed by stone cold silence...no e-mails, no texts, no calls. It's all pain, just the same, like a great equalizer between myself and my crazy, running friends. It may be death of a loved one, loss of a career, or the end of a marriage. And to run...to run as fast as you can, away from the pain...the things that are hard...even if it's only temporary, sounds like freedom to me. And later on, the physical pain is just another row to hoe in the eventual harvesting of happiness. We all have to run after happiness, it simply does not run to you.
I had dinner the other night with one of my crazy running friends. It was such a wonderful evening, very simple, very needed. And as I sat at the table and looked around at our two families, I thought, "this is easy, this is happiness". To look at my friend, with her pretty hair, her clean house, her well behaved children, you might think that her life is easy. But I know better. I know that she has pain and loss heaped upon her in ways that can be too much for one woman to take...Maybe that's why she runs, but we don't really talk about it. And that's okay, cause when I am with her, we don't have to talk about any of the things that are hard or any of the things that caused us pain. Sometimes we do, and that's okay too. As I scroll through the mental inventory of all the various and sundry things we talked that night, the thing that stands out the most was the moment when she asked me very simply, "how are you doing"? It was dark and I was tipsy, but I could see in her eyes that she really, really wanted to know. And it occurs to me just now that sometimes you don't have to chase after happiness. Sometimes it does run to you. Even if it has a severe groin pull...It still runs to you.
But I get it now. They run because it frees them from their lives. When they run, although they may have pain and suffering and anguish and loss, they are free. They focus on the thing that forced them to get up at an ungodly hour, lace up the Nikes, and run. For 12 freaking miles, no less. Sometimes it is easy to look at the life of someone else and think that everything is easy for them. "Oh, look", we think...Look at how pretty her hair is, look at how clean her house is, look how well behaved her kids are...What we fail to see is that nothing is easy for them. Nothing is easy for anyone. My crazy running friends have all had hardships in their lives. Some will talk about it, some wont. Both are okay. I have subjected them all to sharply contrasting periods of verbal diarrhea followed by stone cold silence...no e-mails, no texts, no calls. It's all pain, just the same, like a great equalizer between myself and my crazy, running friends. It may be death of a loved one, loss of a career, or the end of a marriage. And to run...to run as fast as you can, away from the pain...the things that are hard...even if it's only temporary, sounds like freedom to me. And later on, the physical pain is just another row to hoe in the eventual harvesting of happiness. We all have to run after happiness, it simply does not run to you.
I had dinner the other night with one of my crazy running friends. It was such a wonderful evening, very simple, very needed. And as I sat at the table and looked around at our two families, I thought, "this is easy, this is happiness". To look at my friend, with her pretty hair, her clean house, her well behaved children, you might think that her life is easy. But I know better. I know that she has pain and loss heaped upon her in ways that can be too much for one woman to take...Maybe that's why she runs, but we don't really talk about it. And that's okay, cause when I am with her, we don't have to talk about any of the things that are hard or any of the things that caused us pain. Sometimes we do, and that's okay too. As I scroll through the mental inventory of all the various and sundry things we talked that night, the thing that stands out the most was the moment when she asked me very simply, "how are you doing"? It was dark and I was tipsy, but I could see in her eyes that she really, really wanted to know. And it occurs to me just now that sometimes you don't have to chase after happiness. Sometimes it does run to you. Even if it has a severe groin pull...It still runs to you.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Censorship Smensorship
Why do we not say the things we really want to say? I am actually quite well known for saying whatever the Hell is on my mind, but sometimes I find that I am stifled by some secret internal censor. Where did it come from, and why? I get that it's inappropriate to say certain things, that sometimes it's just plain rude to say others...That's not necessarily always gonna stop me, but I still get it. I remember a time, a long time ago, in what seems now like another life, when I was standing on the porch of a house I had never been to. I was going to a party with my husband, some friends of his, when he stopped me before I could ring the doorbell. He took me by the hand, looked deep into my eyes, and said, "Kate, promise me...Promise me that you will take 10 seconds and think about what it is you are going to say BEFORE you say it. Okay?" At the time, I thought it was funny. Maybe even a little cute. But as the evening progressed, all I could think was, "wait a minute...Am I really that bad?" And sadly, I think the answer (at the time) was yes. Yes, my dear, you are gleaming the event horizon of obnoxious...If you don't stop being you, people will not like you.
So. Where does that leave me now, 8 years later? I think I am still a little bit on the bright, gleaming edge of obnoxious, but I have learned a thing or two about how far I can go, and just how much people are willing to tolerate. Sage bit of advice here: No matter how close you are with your Boss, do not tell him to go fuck himself. Even if it's said with love. I am finding, however, that my internal censor has recently realized it's calling, and has begun the arduous task of preventing me from saying even the most seemingly innocuous of things. Things that aren't offensive, crass or just completely needless. This censor is taking his job far to seriously, and preventing me from saying the things that I need to say in order to remain me. I would like to tell the censor to go fuck himself, but I am finding that to be difficult! So here is a Top Ten List of the things I would say, if I could. But remember, I can't...So these don't really count.
10. Drop Dead
9. Go Fuck Yourself
8. I am so glad that I can make you feel better about yourself. Maybe I should go fuck myself, then!
7. Hey, I have a great idea! Get off your ass and help me!
6. I really think it's wonderful that I can make your life easier. That really is my purpose for existing, after all.
5. Is it possible that you could shut-up?
4. You are a selfish asshole, and I really think you should know.
3. I am so sorry that my life is in conflict with your needs. Please let me know how I can change to accomdate you.
2. Choose now.
1. I'm sorry, but I can't do this anymore.
I think that If I practiced in the mirror long enough, some of these might actually make their way off of my lips, and fall into the public arena...I doubt it though. There was a time when I actually got a little bit of a rise from saying things that I knew would offend or hurt someone. Those days are long since past. I no longer think it's cute to be cruel or completely hard-core snotty. I can still be plenty snotty, it's part of my genetic make-up, but it's no longer intended to be hurtful. And for that, I am grateful. I don't want to be the girl that says mean things. I would like to be the girls that speaks her mind, yes, but not at the expense of others. Tempering that with censoring myself to the point of my own expense seems to be the real challenge. But to that, I say the following: I really think it's wonderful that I can make your life easier. That really is my purpose for existing, after all, and I am so sorry that my life is in conflict with your needs. Please let me know how I can change to accommodate you. I am so glad that I can make you feel better about yourself, and I think maybe I should go fuck myself. But I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore...You are a selfish asshole, and I really think you should know. Is it possible that you could shut-up, or hey! I have a great idea, you can get off your ass and help me. So choose now: Drop dead or go fuck yourself.
God, I feel better. Censorship Smensorship
So. Where does that leave me now, 8 years later? I think I am still a little bit on the bright, gleaming edge of obnoxious, but I have learned a thing or two about how far I can go, and just how much people are willing to tolerate. Sage bit of advice here: No matter how close you are with your Boss, do not tell him to go fuck himself. Even if it's said with love. I am finding, however, that my internal censor has recently realized it's calling, and has begun the arduous task of preventing me from saying even the most seemingly innocuous of things. Things that aren't offensive, crass or just completely needless. This censor is taking his job far to seriously, and preventing me from saying the things that I need to say in order to remain me. I would like to tell the censor to go fuck himself, but I am finding that to be difficult! So here is a Top Ten List of the things I would say, if I could. But remember, I can't...So these don't really count.
10. Drop Dead
9. Go Fuck Yourself
8. I am so glad that I can make you feel better about yourself. Maybe I should go fuck myself, then!
7. Hey, I have a great idea! Get off your ass and help me!
6. I really think it's wonderful that I can make your life easier. That really is my purpose for existing, after all.
5. Is it possible that you could shut-up?
4. You are a selfish asshole, and I really think you should know.
3. I am so sorry that my life is in conflict with your needs. Please let me know how I can change to accomdate you.
2. Choose now.
1. I'm sorry, but I can't do this anymore.
I think that If I practiced in the mirror long enough, some of these might actually make their way off of my lips, and fall into the public arena...I doubt it though. There was a time when I actually got a little bit of a rise from saying things that I knew would offend or hurt someone. Those days are long since past. I no longer think it's cute to be cruel or completely hard-core snotty. I can still be plenty snotty, it's part of my genetic make-up, but it's no longer intended to be hurtful. And for that, I am grateful. I don't want to be the girl that says mean things. I would like to be the girls that speaks her mind, yes, but not at the expense of others. Tempering that with censoring myself to the point of my own expense seems to be the real challenge. But to that, I say the following: I really think it's wonderful that I can make your life easier. That really is my purpose for existing, after all, and I am so sorry that my life is in conflict with your needs. Please let me know how I can change to accommodate you. I am so glad that I can make you feel better about yourself, and I think maybe I should go fuck myself. But I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore...You are a selfish asshole, and I really think you should know. Is it possible that you could shut-up, or hey! I have a great idea, you can get off your ass and help me. So choose now: Drop dead or go fuck yourself.
God, I feel better. Censorship Smensorship
Thursday, December 18, 2008
I Am What I Am
I became a Buddhist a long time ago. Or, as I like to endear it to my friends, a Buddheo-Christian. It's easier for them...I get that. For those of you who don't really know me, or for those of you who are rediscovering me from times long past, I am a typical, Southern white girl from Alabama. We are typically Baptists or Methodists, or something in between. Generally speaking, not Buddhists. But I have always been different. Different in how I dress, different in how I speak, and different in my structure of beliefs. And I have always needed this difference. I have always needed to have something that put me outside of the norm. Did I need it to be popular? Well, no. I was never popular. Did I need it to get attention? Again, no. I always got a little freaked out by attention. I know now, that the difference I was creating between myself and my peers was in a desperate attempt to fill a chasm inside of me. If people were always wondering, "what's up with Kate", then I was always relevant. Being relevant is important when you have been marginalized by the very people you were taught to trust. And that is just sad.
So. What has this got to do with being Buddhist? A lot, actually. I found Buddhism because God was lost to me. I found Him once, when I was much younger. I was awake one night, late, as I usually was, because I have always had trouble sleeping. It was always the same fear that kept me awake. I became an insomniac, because the Hell that was being exhausted was much preferable to the Hell that was sleeping...and subsequently, dreaming. So, one night, in my attempt to exhaust myself into a dreamless sleep, I saw some shitty, low-budget movie about teenagers and sex. Not quite what you might be imagining...But potentially interesting for a 15 year old, nonetheless. In this particular flick, the two teenagers in question were very different. The girl was older, less cautious, wanted sex from her much younger, devout boyfriend. After lots of cat & mouse bullshit, the boy took the girl to his church so she could be saved (cause that's what all horny girls want on a second date). She felt the call, but refused to stagger to the pulpit for her salvation. On the way home from the church, the boy and the girl died in a horrible car crash...I think they might have even driven off a cliff...Anyway, after the dramatic death sequence, the boy ascends to the feet of the Father, and the girl...well, she goes straight to Hell. Probably not even in a hand basket. Although the movie and it's message were over dramatic and grandiose, I found myself on the floor of my bedroom praying. I prayed that God would find his way into my heart and that he could help me to please, please forget about the things that kept me awake at night. I cried and cried until I found stillness. In that stillness, I thought I could feel God calming me. I went to church for a while after that, and continued to search for the source of that stillness for quite sometime. Although I did not find what I thought I was looking for, I continued to feel the stillness. I know now that it was God. Telling my mind that being still is okay.
As the years passed, I forgot about God. I never forgot about the movie and I never forgot about the stillness, but the dreams came back and the plague on my brain spread, and my search for the stillness I thought God had given me ceased. But my mind works in overtime. It never stops...It constantly churns out thoughts, both good and bad. I continued the struggle to calm it. One day, I discovered meditation. Through the course of my meditative practice, I rediscovered yoga, and subsequently, Buddhism. Meditation freed my mind. It allowed me to control the thoughts, so that they became little more than errant drops from an ever so slightly leaky faucet. I had learned how to create the stillness in my mind that I had once viewed as nothing more than a reneged promise. And I still cherish the stillness. I need the stillness. The chaos of my mind and all of its dark crevasses and secret places is just too much for me. And so, I chant "Ohm, Mani Padme Hum" every chance that I get, and my mind receives the peace. For I am the Jewel of the Lotus. And should I ever forget that, I risk losing the stillness of mind that I have struggled so long, and so hard, to achieve.
We all have our dark crevasses and secret places within our minds. Sometimes, they are so deeply trenched, we feel like once we have fallen into them, we may never get out. But in my searching for my own peace, I learned something really quite spectacular...You can get out of the trenches. Your mind doesn't control you. It resides within you, and feeds upon you, but like all parasites, needs YOU in order to continue it's function. You, and only you, can silence the loud voices within your mind. And those voices may have horrible, no good, very bad things to say to you...Fuck those voices, and repeat after me..."Ohm, Mani Padme Hum"...For I am the Jewel of the Lotus, and my flower forever blossoms on the surface of this pool of muck, and I can guide you to the stillness...
And for those of you who don't really know me, or for those of you who are rediscovering me from times long past...I did find God again. And he told me that it's okay for me to be broken, and it's okay for me to not be like you. But most of all he told me that it's okay for my mind to be still. In the stillness I can find Him, and for me, that is a turbulent journey indeed. But in spite of all the dips and jumps, I know that it is a journey worth contnuing...For the alternative is to allow the chaos of my mind to overtake me, and I will be lost to everyone...Even to God. And as little as I know about Him, I know I don't want to lose Him. So I continue to chant. I continue to heal. I continue to seek the stillness that will ultimately save me from myself.
So. What has this got to do with being Buddhist? A lot, actually. I found Buddhism because God was lost to me. I found Him once, when I was much younger. I was awake one night, late, as I usually was, because I have always had trouble sleeping. It was always the same fear that kept me awake. I became an insomniac, because the Hell that was being exhausted was much preferable to the Hell that was sleeping...and subsequently, dreaming. So, one night, in my attempt to exhaust myself into a dreamless sleep, I saw some shitty, low-budget movie about teenagers and sex. Not quite what you might be imagining...But potentially interesting for a 15 year old, nonetheless. In this particular flick, the two teenagers in question were very different. The girl was older, less cautious, wanted sex from her much younger, devout boyfriend. After lots of cat & mouse bullshit, the boy took the girl to his church so she could be saved (cause that's what all horny girls want on a second date). She felt the call, but refused to stagger to the pulpit for her salvation. On the way home from the church, the boy and the girl died in a horrible car crash...I think they might have even driven off a cliff...Anyway, after the dramatic death sequence, the boy ascends to the feet of the Father, and the girl...well, she goes straight to Hell. Probably not even in a hand basket. Although the movie and it's message were over dramatic and grandiose, I found myself on the floor of my bedroom praying. I prayed that God would find his way into my heart and that he could help me to please, please forget about the things that kept me awake at night. I cried and cried until I found stillness. In that stillness, I thought I could feel God calming me. I went to church for a while after that, and continued to search for the source of that stillness for quite sometime. Although I did not find what I thought I was looking for, I continued to feel the stillness. I know now that it was God. Telling my mind that being still is okay.
As the years passed, I forgot about God. I never forgot about the movie and I never forgot about the stillness, but the dreams came back and the plague on my brain spread, and my search for the stillness I thought God had given me ceased. But my mind works in overtime. It never stops...It constantly churns out thoughts, both good and bad. I continued the struggle to calm it. One day, I discovered meditation. Through the course of my meditative practice, I rediscovered yoga, and subsequently, Buddhism. Meditation freed my mind. It allowed me to control the thoughts, so that they became little more than errant drops from an ever so slightly leaky faucet. I had learned how to create the stillness in my mind that I had once viewed as nothing more than a reneged promise. And I still cherish the stillness. I need the stillness. The chaos of my mind and all of its dark crevasses and secret places is just too much for me. And so, I chant "Ohm, Mani Padme Hum" every chance that I get, and my mind receives the peace. For I am the Jewel of the Lotus. And should I ever forget that, I risk losing the stillness of mind that I have struggled so long, and so hard, to achieve.
We all have our dark crevasses and secret places within our minds. Sometimes, they are so deeply trenched, we feel like once we have fallen into them, we may never get out. But in my searching for my own peace, I learned something really quite spectacular...You can get out of the trenches. Your mind doesn't control you. It resides within you, and feeds upon you, but like all parasites, needs YOU in order to continue it's function. You, and only you, can silence the loud voices within your mind. And those voices may have horrible, no good, very bad things to say to you...Fuck those voices, and repeat after me..."Ohm, Mani Padme Hum"...For I am the Jewel of the Lotus, and my flower forever blossoms on the surface of this pool of muck, and I can guide you to the stillness...
And for those of you who don't really know me, or for those of you who are rediscovering me from times long past...I did find God again. And he told me that it's okay for me to be broken, and it's okay for me to not be like you. But most of all he told me that it's okay for my mind to be still. In the stillness I can find Him, and for me, that is a turbulent journey indeed. But in spite of all the dips and jumps, I know that it is a journey worth contnuing...For the alternative is to allow the chaos of my mind to overtake me, and I will be lost to everyone...Even to God. And as little as I know about Him, I know I don't want to lose Him. So I continue to chant. I continue to heal. I continue to seek the stillness that will ultimately save me from myself.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Is It Okay if I Quit?
I think that it might be time for me to quit. I can't pick a specific event that has brought me to this conclusion, it's more a culmination of things. But I think that I am here, now...Here in the place where weary people just turn in their notice & quit. I am not being an alarmist, nor am I attempting to frighten anyone. Quitting is not so much literal as it is metaphorical. Metaphorically speaking, I have been working at this job for quite some time, and the position that I have been put in is starting to make me long for some permanent vacation time.
I'm just not that hard of a worker, I never have been and I never will be. It's always easier for me to just quit. I am feeling resolved...Now, where is that resignation form letter I saw once on the Microsoft Word templates...Hmmm....
Jack's Mannequin - The Resolution
Lyrics:
There's a lot that I don't know
There's a lot that I'm still learning
When I think I'm letting go
I find my body it's still burning
And you hold me down
And you got me living in the past
Come on and pick me up
Somebody clear the wreckage from the blast
Yeah I'm alive
But I don't need a witness
To know that I've survived
I'm not looking for forgiveness
Yeah I just need life
I'll be lying in the dark
As I search for the resolution
And the bars are finally closed
So I try living in the moment
For the moment it just froze
And I felt sick and so alone
I could hear the sound
Of your voice still ringing in my ear
I'm going underground
But you'll find me anywhere I fear
Yeah I'm alive
But I don't need a witness
To know that I've survived
I'm not looking for forgiveness
Yeah I just need life
I'll be lying in the dark
As I search for the resolution
I'll be lying in the dark
As I search for the resolution
The resolution
The resolution
And you hold me down
Yeah you hold me down
Yeah I'm alive
But I don't need a witness
To know that I've survived
I'm not looking for forgiveness
Yeah I'm alive
But I don't a witness
To know that I've survived
I'm not looking for forgiveness
Yeah I just need life
I'll be lying in the dark
As I search for the resolution
I'll be lying in the dark
As I search for the resolution
I need life
I need life
(Lying in the dark as I search for the resolution)
Resolution
(Lying in the dark as I search for the resolution)
Resolution
(Lying in the dark as I search for the resolution)
I'm just not that hard of a worker, I never have been and I never will be. It's always easier for me to just quit. I am feeling resolved...Now, where is that resignation form letter I saw once on the Microsoft Word templates...Hmmm....
Jack's Mannequin - The Resolution
Lyrics:
There's a lot that I don't know
There's a lot that I'm still learning
When I think I'm letting go
I find my body it's still burning
And you hold me down
And you got me living in the past
Come on and pick me up
Somebody clear the wreckage from the blast
Yeah I'm alive
But I don't need a witness
To know that I've survived
I'm not looking for forgiveness
Yeah I just need life
I'll be lying in the dark
As I search for the resolution
And the bars are finally closed
So I try living in the moment
For the moment it just froze
And I felt sick and so alone
I could hear the sound
Of your voice still ringing in my ear
I'm going underground
But you'll find me anywhere I fear
Yeah I'm alive
But I don't need a witness
To know that I've survived
I'm not looking for forgiveness
Yeah I just need life
I'll be lying in the dark
As I search for the resolution
I'll be lying in the dark
As I search for the resolution
The resolution
The resolution
And you hold me down
Yeah you hold me down
Yeah I'm alive
But I don't need a witness
To know that I've survived
I'm not looking for forgiveness
Yeah I'm alive
But I don't a witness
To know that I've survived
I'm not looking for forgiveness
Yeah I just need life
I'll be lying in the dark
As I search for the resolution
I'll be lying in the dark
As I search for the resolution
I need life
I need life
(Lying in the dark as I search for the resolution)
Resolution
(Lying in the dark as I search for the resolution)
Resolution
(Lying in the dark as I search for the resolution)
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Learn From My Mistakes? No, I Will Not.
One day, I will get it.
One day, when someone tells me a story about their life, a story from a time they were able to learn some very valuable lesson, I will know full well that they are attempting - however feebly - to impart their wisdom to me, and I will get it. Not only will I get it, I will actually follow their sage advice. Sadly, that day is not here yet. It's not here for me, and it's probably not here for you.
It is ironic, then, that I recently gave advice, advice that wasn't heeded, and I had to witness the fall-out from the plugging of the ears and the chanting of "I can't hear you, I can't hear you", and the advice simply falling away. I don't think that I give poor advice...I actually think that I give pretty decent advice. Were it not for my age and relative inexperience, people might take me more seriously when I dole out such nuggets of wisdom...But I think that most people (who really know me) see me repeat the same mistakes over and over and over again, and simply assume that I have no fucking clue what I am talking about. This time, however, I knew exactly what I was talking about.
It's hard to see people you love struggle. It's infuriating to see people you love struggle with things that could have been easier, or even prevented, if they had just listened to your advice. I may sound an awful lot like my Momma right now, but my Momma is a very, very wise woman and she don't fool around. She tells you just what she thinks you should do. And when you don't heed her advice, (which I almost never do) she will never really say "I told you so", but you can see it in her eyes. It's a little twinkle. So, in an effort to atone for all of the lost opportunities to take her advice, I will follow her lead and NOT say "I told you so." You may see the little twinkle in my eye, but it's not the reflection of my self-satisfaction. Because in this case, there is none. Instead, the twinkle is a direct result of a small shard of glass that was embedded in my eye 20 years ago, and has never made it's way to the surface of my cornea. That's what the optometrist
said, you know...that the shard would just make it's way out of my eye one day. Shouldn't ever cause me any problems or any pain. So I ignore it. I follow the advice of my optometrist, and I just let it be. Some things will not be ignored, however, and you can't just wait for them to find their way out on their own, organically. It just never happens without any problems or any pain. And I am sorry for your problems and for your pain. I am sorry things didn't go "as planned", but they never, ever do...And I promise I won't say "I told you so"...Because in this case, I wish I hadn't been able to tell you so in the first place. I wish I didn't have the horrible experience, that you are now going through, to draw advice from. But I did. Now it's over. And it has become just another story from my life that I can use in a feeble attempt to impart some wisdom on another.
I don't learn from my mistakes...So perhaps it is grossly unfair to think that anyone else could or even should. None of us listen. None of us take the advice that is given. We pooh-pooh it like so much leftover Thanksgiving turkey. That is just the way we are. And that is okay. Because when it (whatever it is for you) happens to you, and it's real and it's difficult and it's not just someone else's vignette...Then you get it. And it sucks. Learn from my mistakes? No, I will not...But maybe you can. Maybe not.
One day, when someone tells me a story about their life, a story from a time they were able to learn some very valuable lesson, I will know full well that they are attempting - however feebly - to impart their wisdom to me, and I will get it. Not only will I get it, I will actually follow their sage advice. Sadly, that day is not here yet. It's not here for me, and it's probably not here for you.
It is ironic, then, that I recently gave advice, advice that wasn't heeded, and I had to witness the fall-out from the plugging of the ears and the chanting of "I can't hear you, I can't hear you", and the advice simply falling away. I don't think that I give poor advice...I actually think that I give pretty decent advice. Were it not for my age and relative inexperience, people might take me more seriously when I dole out such nuggets of wisdom...But I think that most people (who really know me) see me repeat the same mistakes over and over and over again, and simply assume that I have no fucking clue what I am talking about. This time, however, I knew exactly what I was talking about.
It's hard to see people you love struggle. It's infuriating to see people you love struggle with things that could have been easier, or even prevented, if they had just listened to your advice. I may sound an awful lot like my Momma right now, but my Momma is a very, very wise woman and she don't fool around. She tells you just what she thinks you should do. And when you don't heed her advice, (which I almost never do) she will never really say "I told you so", but you can see it in her eyes. It's a little twinkle. So, in an effort to atone for all of the lost opportunities to take her advice, I will follow her lead and NOT say "I told you so." You may see the little twinkle in my eye, but it's not the reflection of my self-satisfaction. Because in this case, there is none. Instead, the twinkle is a direct result of a small shard of glass that was embedded in my eye 20 years ago, and has never made it's way to the surface of my cornea. That's what the optometrist
said, you know...that the shard would just make it's way out of my eye one day. Shouldn't ever cause me any problems or any pain. So I ignore it. I follow the advice of my optometrist, and I just let it be. Some things will not be ignored, however, and you can't just wait for them to find their way out on their own, organically. It just never happens without any problems or any pain. And I am sorry for your problems and for your pain. I am sorry things didn't go "as planned", but they never, ever do...And I promise I won't say "I told you so"...Because in this case, I wish I hadn't been able to tell you so in the first place. I wish I didn't have the horrible experience, that you are now going through, to draw advice from. But I did. Now it's over. And it has become just another story from my life that I can use in a feeble attempt to impart some wisdom on another.
I don't learn from my mistakes...So perhaps it is grossly unfair to think that anyone else could or even should. None of us listen. None of us take the advice that is given. We pooh-pooh it like so much leftover Thanksgiving turkey. That is just the way we are. And that is okay. Because when it (whatever it is for you) happens to you, and it's real and it's difficult and it's not just someone else's vignette...Then you get it. And it sucks. Learn from my mistakes? No, I will not...But maybe you can. Maybe not.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Saying Goodbye to My Dreams
I have started saying goodbye to my dreams. I think that I might have subconsciously started this process some time ago, but it has officially started, front and center of my consciouness, tonight. Through the process of realizing that I am not who I had made myself up to be, and that my life is not what I thought it was, it has occurred to me that the dreams that I have had were perhaps not the dreams that I wanted to have. And that, my friends, is much more like a nightmare. Sitting in my comfy, although really quite dirty, chair-and-a-half, night after night..alone...has given me ample time to think. Although my instinct is always to block out the bad things, ignore them until they go away, the matter of my divorce and the circumstances that surround it, is not one that will be ignored. So, the nightmares come and the dreams fade away...
One dream that I am letting go of tonight is the dream of wealth equalling happiness. I know...I know that is trite, and you are likely thinking, "duh, woman. Of course wealth doesn't equal happiness". But let's be realistic. With money comes the comfort of knowing you can take that trip to Paris, or you can afford to send your children to that private school, fill your call up with gas, or even just pay the power bill. When the dreams all revolve around that day, that day when money is a non-issue, you are just setting the stage for the nightmare. I have learned that it doesn't really matter your socio-economic status. Money impacts every relationship in a negative way at some point. Even the most wealthy among us have turbulent times when it comes to financial stability. It is the rare Bill Gates kind of money that can stay about the financial fray that the rest of us are constantly trying to prevent further unravelling of...And so, I am letting go of this dream tonight. The dream that having a sufficient amount of funds in my account will help me maintain a healthy and happy relationship. I get that it's a silly dream and one that's based on no merit whatsoever. I get that.
I may chronicle future jettisoning of vapid dreams in subsequent blogs...it makes for nice filler when I am struggling for a topic. But for now, I will think of the dreams I have yet to create. The ones that might impart some bit of comfort in an otherwise nightmarish time. I do have this one dream...One I am scared to share, for fear that it is only that...A dream. Never to come to fruition, only to replay itself in my mind to remind me of the things that I have cast asunder. However, this blog has become my open forum for such fears, and often by putting them into cyber-space, I can move past them as fears and learn to embrace them as reality. So here we go...
In this dream, I am whole. I am strong, happy, healthy, and successful. Not successful in a wealth accumulating way, but just an overall sense of success in living. I have a life that gives me purpose. My children are growing up to be strong, happy, healthy young women. In this dream, I live by the sea and I illustrate children's books. My life is simple, but with purpose. When I wake up in the morning, the sun shines into my bedroom. But the warmth I feel is not from the sun. It is from the person next to me that I have chosen to spend my days with. And there he sleeps, mouth open, softly snoring, until he realizes that I am gazing at him. He wakes. He tells me that I am the most beautiful woman he has even known, and that he is the happiest, luckiest man in the world. And I believe him. Although he has given me reasons to doubt him in the past, he always makes up for those transgressions, and then some. And so I believe.
We should all have dreams that fill us with warmth. We should all have dreams that fill us with hope. We should all have dreams that make us believe. For when we stop believing, the dreams have nowhere to go...And you have to say goodbye to your dreams. And really, my friends, that's just sad.
One dream that I am letting go of tonight is the dream of wealth equalling happiness. I know...I know that is trite, and you are likely thinking, "duh, woman. Of course wealth doesn't equal happiness". But let's be realistic. With money comes the comfort of knowing you can take that trip to Paris, or you can afford to send your children to that private school, fill your call up with gas, or even just pay the power bill. When the dreams all revolve around that day, that day when money is a non-issue, you are just setting the stage for the nightmare. I have learned that it doesn't really matter your socio-economic status. Money impacts every relationship in a negative way at some point. Even the most wealthy among us have turbulent times when it comes to financial stability. It is the rare Bill Gates kind of money that can stay about the financial fray that the rest of us are constantly trying to prevent further unravelling of...And so, I am letting go of this dream tonight. The dream that having a sufficient amount of funds in my account will help me maintain a healthy and happy relationship. I get that it's a silly dream and one that's based on no merit whatsoever. I get that.
I may chronicle future jettisoning of vapid dreams in subsequent blogs...it makes for nice filler when I am struggling for a topic. But for now, I will think of the dreams I have yet to create. The ones that might impart some bit of comfort in an otherwise nightmarish time. I do have this one dream...One I am scared to share, for fear that it is only that...A dream. Never to come to fruition, only to replay itself in my mind to remind me of the things that I have cast asunder. However, this blog has become my open forum for such fears, and often by putting them into cyber-space, I can move past them as fears and learn to embrace them as reality. So here we go...
In this dream, I am whole. I am strong, happy, healthy, and successful. Not successful in a wealth accumulating way, but just an overall sense of success in living. I have a life that gives me purpose. My children are growing up to be strong, happy, healthy young women. In this dream, I live by the sea and I illustrate children's books. My life is simple, but with purpose. When I wake up in the morning, the sun shines into my bedroom. But the warmth I feel is not from the sun. It is from the person next to me that I have chosen to spend my days with. And there he sleeps, mouth open, softly snoring, until he realizes that I am gazing at him. He wakes. He tells me that I am the most beautiful woman he has even known, and that he is the happiest, luckiest man in the world. And I believe him. Although he has given me reasons to doubt him in the past, he always makes up for those transgressions, and then some. And so I believe.
We should all have dreams that fill us with warmth. We should all have dreams that fill us with hope. We should all have dreams that make us believe. For when we stop believing, the dreams have nowhere to go...And you have to say goodbye to your dreams. And really, my friends, that's just sad.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Due Time Can Kiss My Ass.
I have been told that it all gets better. I have heard that in "due time" things will change for me and I will be happy. I struggle with the vagueness of that. Point to a date on a calendar and tell me, "here, Kate...On this date you will be okay", then at least I have something concrete to focus on. And yeah, I know that you can't do that...But "due time"? Really? Can't we come up with something more reassuring than that? Maybe that is the biggest part of my problem...Maybe I am still hanging my happiness on some time frame that never had anything to do with me in the first place. I am overdue for my time.
Right?
Maybe "due time" is not an abstraction. Maybe it's not said to make me feel like I have no control over what is happening in my life. Maybe it's said to help me understand that, at some point, things will get better. Things will go my way. Things will change for me, and I will be happy. Perhaps it is meant to give me some semblance of control in an otherwise wildly careening existance. I'm just not so sure about that....
I worry that by putting things in terms of "due time", no real time ever has to be established. Somethings need to have parameters. Or, do they? I was told recently by a very, very kind and generous friend, that no one will ever be able to set timeframes for my life but ME. It will take whatever time it takes for me to pick up my mess, pack it away, and move on & out. Is it too soon for me to be ready to see that happen? Is it okay for me to say that the time is now? It seems like such a long time since I have had that kind of control...And I am not prepared to relenquish the newfound control that I wield. So, I say to those people that offer me "due time"...Due time can kiss my ass. Come up with something better. I think I deserve something better. Unless there is a 2009 calendar out there with "Due Time" day boldy circled in red, I just don't want to hear about it anymore.
But let me add a caveat: Just because I don't want to hear you tell me that in "due time" all my dreams will come true, doesn't mean that I don't appreciate the effort. I know that you care. And I am feeling reasonibly certain that, yes, in due time all of my dreams will come true. The thing I don't like is feeling that I am, once again, not in control. That I have to sit and wait...sit and wait...sit and wait for my due time to come. And I find myself reminded of my very, very kind and generous friend and her nuggets of wisdom. She told me that "people come into your life for a reason, and maybe we were brought together for a reason, that I might be an example of someone who went through a painful time and came out stronger because of it. And if you need me, I will always have time for you". Not due time. Just time. And I think that's all I have ever wanted...
Right?
Maybe "due time" is not an abstraction. Maybe it's not said to make me feel like I have no control over what is happening in my life. Maybe it's said to help me understand that, at some point, things will get better. Things will go my way. Things will change for me, and I will be happy. Perhaps it is meant to give me some semblance of control in an otherwise wildly careening existance. I'm just not so sure about that....
I worry that by putting things in terms of "due time", no real time ever has to be established. Somethings need to have parameters. Or, do they? I was told recently by a very, very kind and generous friend, that no one will ever be able to set timeframes for my life but ME. It will take whatever time it takes for me to pick up my mess, pack it away, and move on & out. Is it too soon for me to be ready to see that happen? Is it okay for me to say that the time is now? It seems like such a long time since I have had that kind of control...And I am not prepared to relenquish the newfound control that I wield. So, I say to those people that offer me "due time"...Due time can kiss my ass. Come up with something better. I think I deserve something better. Unless there is a 2009 calendar out there with "Due Time" day boldy circled in red, I just don't want to hear about it anymore.
But let me add a caveat: Just because I don't want to hear you tell me that in "due time" all my dreams will come true, doesn't mean that I don't appreciate the effort. I know that you care. And I am feeling reasonibly certain that, yes, in due time all of my dreams will come true. The thing I don't like is feeling that I am, once again, not in control. That I have to sit and wait...sit and wait...sit and wait for my due time to come. And I find myself reminded of my very, very kind and generous friend and her nuggets of wisdom. She told me that "people come into your life for a reason, and maybe we were brought together for a reason, that I might be an example of someone who went through a painful time and came out stronger because of it. And if you need me, I will always have time for you". Not due time. Just time. And I think that's all I have ever wanted...
Warning: This Post is Depressing. Read with Caution & a Side of Zoloft.
I just cannot come up with enough lucid thought to fill a blog these days. I must say, this only seems to add to my mounting depression. I used to look forward to blogging as much as I looked forward to sitting in my overstuffed, oversized, Restoration Hardware "chair-and-a-half" at the end of a busy day, with a glass of wine and my thin crisp Triscuits & Kaukauna port wine cheese. Now, the wine has turned, the cheese is gone & the crackers are stale. Even the guinea pig (yes, we have a guinea pig) recently peed on my chair. Everything I love is turning to crap all around me, and I feel like I am helpless to stop this slide down the slippery slope on the giant crap mountain that I formed.
So, I am learning how to fake it. Everyday, I am faking it more and more. I'm not even sure if people notice it...I mean, I am sure that the fact that I have all but dropped of the face of the Earth gives it away somewhat, but I'm trying to fake even that. I am working hard to "be there" for others. Working hard to get up in the morning and get dressed, get the kids dressed, go to work, smile and chat when I don't want to...And in spite of all the effort, I almost never see people anymore. I stood next to someone I have known for years, in line at a store, and never even noticed them until they asked me the dreaded, "are you okay"? And I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry and say, "no, I am not okay. I am sad and I am alone and I feel loss so deeply that it has cleaved my soul in two"...But I didn't. Instead I faked it. I faked like I was so lost in my own little trite world of nonsense that I just simply didn't recognize her "with that hat on". But in faking it, I spared her. I spared her the burden of knowing the real reason why she hasn't seen me in a while. The real reason I have lost so much weight. The real reason I am faking my life. It's my burden, after all...Not hers. I did this to myself and now I will pay the price. The currency is guilt, and I am a wealthy woman, indeed.
I know I should feel comfortable talking to my friends. I know I should be able to talk to my family. And they have all reached out to me...I can feel them reaching all the time. Yet when the phone rings, or the e-mails come, I just can't bring myself to open up and "burden" them. I am tired of crying and I am tired of explaining, and I am tired of feeling the burden of the weight on my heart. I have always had a very, very bad habit of ignoring things until they go away, and I am falling into those bad habits like a ton of bricks...But I don't want to ignore you, and I don't want you to go away...Please keep trying and please keep reaching. I promise, at some point I will reach back. I just hope that when I do, you aren't too far away...
So, I am learning how to fake it. Everyday, I am faking it more and more. I'm not even sure if people notice it...I mean, I am sure that the fact that I have all but dropped of the face of the Earth gives it away somewhat, but I'm trying to fake even that. I am working hard to "be there" for others. Working hard to get up in the morning and get dressed, get the kids dressed, go to work, smile and chat when I don't want to...And in spite of all the effort, I almost never see people anymore. I stood next to someone I have known for years, in line at a store, and never even noticed them until they asked me the dreaded, "are you okay"? And I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry and say, "no, I am not okay. I am sad and I am alone and I feel loss so deeply that it has cleaved my soul in two"...But I didn't. Instead I faked it. I faked like I was so lost in my own little trite world of nonsense that I just simply didn't recognize her "with that hat on". But in faking it, I spared her. I spared her the burden of knowing the real reason why she hasn't seen me in a while. The real reason I have lost so much weight. The real reason I am faking my life. It's my burden, after all...Not hers. I did this to myself and now I will pay the price. The currency is guilt, and I am a wealthy woman, indeed.
I know I should feel comfortable talking to my friends. I know I should be able to talk to my family. And they have all reached out to me...I can feel them reaching all the time. Yet when the phone rings, or the e-mails come, I just can't bring myself to open up and "burden" them. I am tired of crying and I am tired of explaining, and I am tired of feeling the burden of the weight on my heart. I have always had a very, very bad habit of ignoring things until they go away, and I am falling into those bad habits like a ton of bricks...But I don't want to ignore you, and I don't want you to go away...Please keep trying and please keep reaching. I promise, at some point I will reach back. I just hope that when I do, you aren't too far away...
Friday, November 7, 2008
Disappointment: My Nemesis, My Friend.
Whew. I have reached levels of disappointment that are beyond description. I have spent the last week disappointing myself, disappointing my spouse, and now, finally...disappointing my children. See, tonight is the night that my soon-to-be ex-husband and I decided to tell our beautiful, innocent babies that we were getting divorced. It was, without a doubt, a grand disappointment.
My oldest daughter was overwhelmed. She cried and begged us to stay married forever. She wanted to know if we were leaving her. She wanted to know where she was going to live. She wanted to know if we (my husband and I) would be alone forever or if we would find someone else. She had so many "adult" questions, it overwhelmed me...She is only 6 years old...It was just so disappointing for her. It broke my heart. My husband sat next to her, holding her hand, tears streaming down his face, trying to comfort her...when he needed to be comforted too. When his turn came to talk to her, he did an amazing job. He pulled himself together and explained things just as he needed to...It was more painful for me than anything we have gone through this far. I wanted to stand up on the couch and scream..."WHY! Why couldn't you have cared this much when it still mattered to me! Why couldn't you have been this involved in the emotional well being of your children all along"! Of course, I didn't. I sat on the couch and cried. I haven't stopped since.
My youngest daughter was underwhelmed, to say the least. And that was a blessing. She ran around, with scissors in hand (I am for real people...yeah, judge me. I don't care. Do it now while I am still to exhausted to kick your ass), and tried to eat a candle. She was fully unaffected by the conversation that was going on. But periodically she would come up to her Daddy and say, "Daddy, please don't go"...She too is disappointed. Her disappointment may manifest itself through symptoms of pica, but there is disappointment there just the same. She is only 3...I hope that she doesn't remember this painfully disappointing night 3 years down the line.
So...here I sit. Glass of wine in hand...blogging. Some people may think that's callous or even strange. But it's more obligatory catharsis. The girls are sleeping...exhausted from all of the disappointment that has been heaped upon them over the past few days, and I am just numb. Sometimes blogging allows me to get out all of the emotions that I keep bottled up inside in a way that makes me feel better, and sometimes amuses others. But now, I feel like I am telling a story that doesn't even belong to me. My heart feels empty. I don't really have any great emotional stories to share. I feel like I have been in a bloodletting, and all life in me has poured out onto the earth...absorbed and then gone. But yet, I feel compelled to write this blog and send all of these thoughts into the blogosphere...Because the part of me that takes my raw emotions and turns them into something creative and unique is dying. I am slowly starting to shut down and I am helpless to stop it. I have been trying to keep the people who love me close to me, but my heart is fighting that attempt, and I want to push all these people away. If I can just shut down and feel nothing, I can get through all of the disappointment...I wont have to feel it...and I can put all of my focus on helping those who are going to suffer the most...My girls.
So if I don't smile...Forgive me. If I don't want to talk to you...Forgive me. If I seem to lose some interest in the very things that used to bring me some measure of happiness...Forgive me. I know that I will disappoint you too. I am sure that I already have in some way or another over the years, so it is likely that you are used to it. Soon, I will not be myself anymore. I have already changed...There was once a girl who would do anything for a man that she met, until she had more disappointment than she could stand, and she began to shut down...and she began to change into someone that turned the disappointment table...But heaping disappointment on others doesn't make you feel better. In fact, it is as bad - or worse, than feeling the disappointment yourself. So I choose to feel nothing. In nothingness there wont be any disappointment. None to be delivered or received. So if I can't look you in the eye when we meet...forgive me. I am trying to spare you from disappointment. Because my tired, empty eyes will give it all away...That I have been friends with disappointment for years, and although she has been a hard friend to have hanging around all the time, she has always been there...Even though I have been a faithful companion, she is always looking for new people to be fast friends with. And I don't want it to be you.
My oldest daughter was overwhelmed. She cried and begged us to stay married forever. She wanted to know if we were leaving her. She wanted to know where she was going to live. She wanted to know if we (my husband and I) would be alone forever or if we would find someone else. She had so many "adult" questions, it overwhelmed me...She is only 6 years old...It was just so disappointing for her. It broke my heart. My husband sat next to her, holding her hand, tears streaming down his face, trying to comfort her...when he needed to be comforted too. When his turn came to talk to her, he did an amazing job. He pulled himself together and explained things just as he needed to...It was more painful for me than anything we have gone through this far. I wanted to stand up on the couch and scream..."WHY! Why couldn't you have cared this much when it still mattered to me! Why couldn't you have been this involved in the emotional well being of your children all along"! Of course, I didn't. I sat on the couch and cried. I haven't stopped since.
My youngest daughter was underwhelmed, to say the least. And that was a blessing. She ran around, with scissors in hand (I am for real people...yeah, judge me. I don't care. Do it now while I am still to exhausted to kick your ass), and tried to eat a candle. She was fully unaffected by the conversation that was going on. But periodically she would come up to her Daddy and say, "Daddy, please don't go"...She too is disappointed. Her disappointment may manifest itself through symptoms of pica, but there is disappointment there just the same. She is only 3...I hope that she doesn't remember this painfully disappointing night 3 years down the line.
So...here I sit. Glass of wine in hand...blogging. Some people may think that's callous or even strange. But it's more obligatory catharsis. The girls are sleeping...exhausted from all of the disappointment that has been heaped upon them over the past few days, and I am just numb. Sometimes blogging allows me to get out all of the emotions that I keep bottled up inside in a way that makes me feel better, and sometimes amuses others. But now, I feel like I am telling a story that doesn't even belong to me. My heart feels empty. I don't really have any great emotional stories to share. I feel like I have been in a bloodletting, and all life in me has poured out onto the earth...absorbed and then gone. But yet, I feel compelled to write this blog and send all of these thoughts into the blogosphere...Because the part of me that takes my raw emotions and turns them into something creative and unique is dying. I am slowly starting to shut down and I am helpless to stop it. I have been trying to keep the people who love me close to me, but my heart is fighting that attempt, and I want to push all these people away. If I can just shut down and feel nothing, I can get through all of the disappointment...I wont have to feel it...and I can put all of my focus on helping those who are going to suffer the most...My girls.
So if I don't smile...Forgive me. If I don't want to talk to you...Forgive me. If I seem to lose some interest in the very things that used to bring me some measure of happiness...Forgive me. I know that I will disappoint you too. I am sure that I already have in some way or another over the years, so it is likely that you are used to it. Soon, I will not be myself anymore. I have already changed...There was once a girl who would do anything for a man that she met, until she had more disappointment than she could stand, and she began to shut down...and she began to change into someone that turned the disappointment table...But heaping disappointment on others doesn't make you feel better. In fact, it is as bad - or worse, than feeling the disappointment yourself. So I choose to feel nothing. In nothingness there wont be any disappointment. None to be delivered or received. So if I can't look you in the eye when we meet...forgive me. I am trying to spare you from disappointment. Because my tired, empty eyes will give it all away...That I have been friends with disappointment for years, and although she has been a hard friend to have hanging around all the time, she has always been there...Even though I have been a faithful companion, she is always looking for new people to be fast friends with. And I don't want it to be you.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Why Again? Well, Because...
I have this bad habit of recycling old blogs when I am either too tired to come up with a new one, or I have too much racing through my mind that i just can't articulate into the blogosphere. Well, tonight's excuse is soooo the former. Today has been draining and I just don't have what it takes to be witty. I chose this particular repeat blog, because sometimes, for me, it's so amazing to go back and look at what was going on in my mind three months ago. Three months? That's not that long ago! You are likely thinking...but yes, a lot can change in three months. My methods for conveying my emotions through my blog have changed, my writing style has evolved (somewhat), and yet somehow...the subject matter hasn't changed at all. A solid majority of my blogs are about the same thing. Even three months later. I am so grateful to have this muse, that inspires me to write things that speak to other people in a voice that they don't always have for themselves. So, I hope that the muse isn't too terribly disappointed when it sees that I am repeating a blog from times past. But at least I have chosen one that is muse-inspired, and I would like to point out the following lesson to take from this recycled blog: Life happens to all of us. Sometimes what happens is good, sometimes what happens is bad, and sometimes it is a combination of the two. But when life throws something inexplicably good our way, know how to recognize it, know how to cherish it, and figure out a way to take the something good and turn it into the best damn thing that has ever happened to you. Just a bit of advice...
Here's the oldie but goodie:
Why? Well, Because...
I have given up who I am to be someone I am not for someone else.
Why?
Well, because...I guess...
That's about the best answer I have for anything anymore. Amelia asks me why she can't jump on the couch, "because", I say. Isabella wants to know why she isn't allowed to swallow the toothpaste, "because", I tell her. There was a time I used to give them these absurdly complex answers...You can't jump on the couch, there is a chance you could fall and land on your head and have a spinal cord injury, then end up without the use of your legs. Or, you can't swallow the toothpaste, it has ingredients in it that although do a fine job cleaning your teeth, but they aren't made for consumption and can give you oily stools, potentially leading to hemorrhoids...I think you catch my drift. At some point, recently, I have just given up on the detailed answers. It's possible I might be too tired. It's possible I just don't know the answers. It's more likely that I have forgotten who I am, and thus, cannot come up with the witty responses quickly enough.
I feel dull. Like a Ginsu knife bought off an infomercial 20 years ago, used, then never really sharpened (it was a piece of shit knife, anyway). I feel nonabrasive. Quite frankly, I like being a little abrasive. I liked my serrated edge! WHAT HAS HAPPENED!
Life has happened.
But you know, my life is good. There are people in my life that make me feel very good. My children, for example. YOU, for example (yes, you...stop looking around, I am talking about you. What, are you surprised?) But something about my life has worn me down. Maybe it all goes back to not getting what I want, when I want it. But I learned a very valuable lesson this week...I think Mick Jagger put it best when he sang;
"You can't always get what you want.
No, you can't always get what you want.
You can't always get what you want.
But if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need..."
So, thank you. Thank you for not necessarily giving me exactly what I wanted, but for giving me just what I needed. Maybe if I can get a little bit more of that, I just might get my edge back, too.
And just as quickly as life happened, life has also changed. And it is good.
Here's the oldie but goodie:
Why? Well, Because...
I have given up who I am to be someone I am not for someone else.
Why?
Well, because...I guess...
That's about the best answer I have for anything anymore. Amelia asks me why she can't jump on the couch, "because", I say. Isabella wants to know why she isn't allowed to swallow the toothpaste, "because", I tell her. There was a time I used to give them these absurdly complex answers...You can't jump on the couch, there is a chance you could fall and land on your head and have a spinal cord injury, then end up without the use of your legs. Or, you can't swallow the toothpaste, it has ingredients in it that although do a fine job cleaning your teeth, but they aren't made for consumption and can give you oily stools, potentially leading to hemorrhoids...I think you catch my drift. At some point, recently, I have just given up on the detailed answers. It's possible I might be too tired. It's possible I just don't know the answers. It's more likely that I have forgotten who I am, and thus, cannot come up with the witty responses quickly enough.
I feel dull. Like a Ginsu knife bought off an infomercial 20 years ago, used, then never really sharpened (it was a piece of shit knife, anyway). I feel nonabrasive. Quite frankly, I like being a little abrasive. I liked my serrated edge! WHAT HAS HAPPENED!
Life has happened.
But you know, my life is good. There are people in my life that make me feel very good. My children, for example. YOU, for example (yes, you...stop looking around, I am talking about you. What, are you surprised?) But something about my life has worn me down. Maybe it all goes back to not getting what I want, when I want it. But I learned a very valuable lesson this week...I think Mick Jagger put it best when he sang;
"You can't always get what you want.
No, you can't always get what you want.
You can't always get what you want.
But if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need..."
So, thank you. Thank you for not necessarily giving me exactly what I wanted, but for giving me just what I needed. Maybe if I can get a little bit more of that, I just might get my edge back, too.
And just as quickly as life happened, life has also changed. And it is good.
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