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.

Engrish!! Cause You Asked So Nice!!

Do wha?

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Uh...So, I may be ugly, but can I borrow your ninja? Please?

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Oh, hello Mr. Pizza...Space Flyman who?

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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.

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.

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

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.

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)