Broken Smiles

Closing the clamshell mobile phone with a quick snap of my fingers, I leaned my head back against the seat, feeling the need for a brief respite, needing a moment to gather my wits before exiting the vehicle. The conversation had left me feeling ambivalent, and confused, adding to my weariness. My emotions had been fluctuating between mild highs and lows for days, as was my energy level.

Closing my eyes, and inhaling deeply, I consciously slowed my breathing, silently counting 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 as I breathed in. Counting through the numbers again, as I allowed each breath to be exhaled slowly, evenly. Repeating the process three more times, before easing my eyelids open. Relishing the release of some of the inner tension.

When I was suddenly startled by the sound of a loud angry voice, glancing toward the voice, I saw the blond head of a man in his mid-30's berating someone. Bracketing his voice were the choking sounds of a small child hiccuping back sobs, gagging, crying.

"Don't you dare throw up!"
"Here take a drink!"
"No more crying!'
"I SAID...NO MORE CRYING!"

The man was standing inside the open door of a large pickup truck, looming over the small blond curls of a child, from the size of the child, I surmised her to be about three years old. As I watched the blond crew cut head bend over the smaller blonder one, although I could not see the man's face I imagined glaring blue eyes staring down at the child. All I could see was a cigar clenched between the teeth of the growling man. Expanding my attention from the focus of only the two, I saw a woman of indeterminate age sitting in the passenger seat of the pickup truck, staring straight ahead, drawing deeply on a cigarette, then exhaling the smoke in a forced stream.

"I'm fixing to put you over my knee! Do not throw up!"
"Look at me!"
"I said, don't you dare throw up!"
"Control your temper, don't let your temper control you!"
"I can't believe she threw a fit like that in the store!"
"You will NEVER...EVER...BEHAVE like that in public again! If you do, I will turn you over and spank you in front of EVERYONE!"
"LOOK AT ME!"
"DO NOT THROW UP, STOP YOUR CRYING!"

I could hear the child attempt to speak, attempting to choke out words between her sobbing and choking.

"I told you, do NOT throw up! Here take another drink of Sprite."

The man's voice became quieter, I could no longer hear the words he spoke, the cries of the child too, became quieter, muffled. Every few seconds though, I heard another gulping sob from the child. After a few moments, the man spoke again.

"Do you want to ride with Christy, or Daddy?"

This question seemed to disturb the child, as her sobs renewed.

"STOP, STOP, STOP!"

I watched from the corner of my eye, watched the man speak between gritted teeth, "OK then, you're riding with Christy."

At this point the woman who had been sitting in the passenger seat of the truck, opened the door, slid to the ground, and walked over to a tan car parked beside the truck. The woman slid behind the wheel, started the engine, and again sat there, staring out the windshield.

The cigar still clenched between his teeth, Daddy picked the quietly crying small girl up from the truck seat, and placed her in the back seat of the car, wrapping a seatbelt around her, before shutting the door. Without a word, the woman drove off. Daddy climbed into the truck, turned his head once to glance into the backseat, before starting the truck and pulling forward from the parking space. In the backseat, curled up against the far corner, sat another blond child, he appeared to be around 5 years of age. I watched the boy. The boy continued to stare at the back of the head of the man, as the truck pulled away.

I had not realized I was holding my breath, until I felt the need to breath.

A jumble of thought, "That much anger, over a small child's public outburst? Why so much anger? Was it just because he felt judged? Not in control? Did she behave, did he treat her so in private too? Or only when it embarrassed him in public? Why do so many make such small things, so important? So much rage emanating from him, so much fear emanating from the children. Is it really that important? And the woman, not a word or emotion from her?"

Sighing, I exited my car to do my own shopping.

Breaking the Code

I am going to tell you a few of my secrets.

Secrets so awful, they go against the 'good mother code'.

Secret Number One:
I don't like to bake, oh there are rare instances, when it is something that takes creativity, but baking cakes, cookies, and brownies...nope, don't like it. I much prefer making a HUGE dinner, in fact I am looking forward to Thanksgiving just so I have an excuse to do so.

I baked 12 dozen cookies today. The oatmeal cookies turned out wonderful. The chocolate chip are just plain...awful! Never have I tasted cookies so bad! I used a store brand chip I have never used before, and the recipe on their package...maybe that is it...they are simply terrible...to make matters worse, these cookies are not for my family or friends, but for charity...if I hadn't had pre-orders all would be tossed to the birds...only I don't think they would eat them!

Secret Number Two:
I hated playing house, and Barbie with Miss Daughter when she was small...it bored me...don't get me wrong, I played along...but very reluctantly. In fact...I never liked playing with Barbie dolls, even when I was a child. I much preferred climbing trees, pretending to be a superhero, and playing softball.

Secret Number Three:
I built my children's sandbox for me...I loved playing in it! I miss it.

Secret Number Four:
I am really looking forward to my children being full fledged adults! I want them to grow up! I love their grown up independent minds.

Secret Number Five:
I beat my daughter at checkers the other night, and I loved the idea that she with her oh-so-logical mind lost to me!

Secret Number Six:
I like most of the music my children listen to. Gasp! Yep, I do.

Secret Number Seven:
I talk to my kids about sex, and their sexuality, I talk to my kids about drugs and alcohol, I have told them what I did as a teen! They have told me what they have tried. I have seen them both stoned, and voiced my opinion about it. I knew they were experimenting. They have even told me they have decided marijuana isn't all that great, and they and a whole slew of friends have decided to go drug free from now on (yeah, yeah right...but then again, maybe so). Mothers aren't supposed to be willing to talk about that stuff, are they?

Relationships...Vulnerability...What this Girl Wants...Maybe

As a result of the pondering involved in my last entry, I have once again found myself, pursuing the idea of relationships, I seem to have multiple blog entries on the subject, especially over at confessions, in reading them, I realize how much my thinking has changed in the last few years.

This time though, I have been attempting to determine where my continual feelings of vulnerability are coming from. I find my thoughts tumbling all over the place when I seek to find answers.

* * * * * * *

So much not going and going on in my life.

I am procrastinating on the next stage of the divorce process...the settlement portion...this leaves me feeling impatient with myself, and very vulnerable.

But, I am attempting to get out more, experience more, do the things I used to not do. I have done more purely social things with people in the past few months than I have in years. Compared to this time a year ago, those are some pretty big changes. Compared to two/three years ago, even though I was gone almost every week night involved in one volunteer activity or another, it is still a big deal, because now I am doing things for me, not for some organization, not because of my children, not to...just not be home...but for me, doing things that give me joy.

These friends, and the exchanges we share, each leave me feeling very special, I have the hope I give them the same gift in return.

Yet I feel impatience with myself, especially these occasions when a feeling of vulnerability starts sending tendrils of unease, tinged with sadness through me.

In dealing with this issue of relationships and vulnerability...




























I think I have much to learn/relearn about relationships, all sorts of relationships, from casual acquaintanceships to intimate, loving relationships.

Anyway...

As I contemplated all of this, and my impatience with myself...I also could not help thinking about, just a little bit, some of my somewhen dreams, my someday wishes.

No matter how much I try to not have them, I do have several barely-focused dreams of my future post-divorce.

Some of those dreams involve knowing, very strongly knowing, I must spend time with me, alone, my fantasies have me enjoying that time, exploring, and reveling in it.

My children are practically grown. With luck, by this time next year, both will be out on their own, or at least away at school, studying, exploring, learning, experimenting, diving into life.

(I fear for Mr. Son, he is way too much like me in many ways, and that is limiting the choices he makes.)

I wish for myself too... the discovery of more of...of...everything! I used to think that a selfish wish, now I think of it as part of the continual growing into the me I want to be, whoever she may be.

So, anyway...

These dreams are tempered with the knowledge I have much grieving/healing still to do, I also have a strong feeling that I am not the sort who can hole up alone and hermit-like to heal, I must be out, expanding my horizons, allowing people into my life. All sorts of people. I am trying.

(this also is advice I receive from every woman I know who has gone through a divorce, they each continually encourage me to allow more and more people in)

The other night, an old friend said something to me, that really hit home. I had told him that I have many people in my life I care about, but I also often wonder why I keep involved with some of them, as there are many facets of their personalities I really don't like. There are only a very few people I enjoy spending more than small amounts of time with. His comment back to me was...

"So? People are what bring us happiness, not the trappings so many think are so important like money and things, but people, all kinds of people. So what if you have people in your life that you don't like all of the time? They are in your life because you like them a part of the time.

There is something about them that makes you happy...some of the time.

Enjoy them when you're with them. When you tire of them, then the time has come to leave. See them again when you can take them for a few more hours, knowing that you will enjoy that time, and when you're no longer happy in their presence, it's time to leave again. We don't have to like them all of the time, but we can, and should enjoy the times we do." (sorta paraphrasing, but the heart of it is there)

It does make sense to me. These "sometime people"in my life, have many things about them I don't like, but there is some thing, some aspect about them that I do enjoy in small doses. So, why not enjoy them then? When I can't stand them anymore, I know it is time to leave. There will be a next time. I like that idea.

Maybe though, I like it, because when I have thoughts of those people, I rarely end up feeling vulnerable...they are people I can take or leave, no problem. It is the ones I really care about that I often feel that vulnerability with.

I am often quite comfortable just being with me, plus I don't feel vulnerable then, but, I have also realized I am the sort who enjoys having other people in my life. The years of my marriage, in which it made for easier marital accord to cut myself off from other people, taught me that. I like having a support system, I had too many years without one.

Humans are social creatures, pack animals, most of us thrive when we allow others to be a part of our pack. I wish to remember it is important to have in my life, people who intrigue me, people who give me joy, people who expand my horizons. I want to be be able to give them the same gifts.

To do that though, I have to learn to unfold my heart, to trust again. I am not sure I am fully able to accomplish that yet. 'Tis a rare day when I make overtures of friendship to someone first.

Which brings me to further contemplation of this relationship thing...

Even though I fear it, I also am pretty sure, there will be a someday, when I will want more, when I will desire a special someone in my life full time, a someone who will add another dimension to me, a someone I will enjoy almost all of the time. A someone who will enhance my life, a someone whose life I will enhance by my being a part of it. There will be a desire within me to have a...gulp...committed, intimate loving relationship again.

In knowing I will want this, I have asked myself many questions. (who'da thunkit? me? ask myself questions?)

Do I know what I want in a partner-lover? In even the simplest of ways, do I have any idea, of what I will want/need/desire from my future who?

One thing I do know...my relationship needs have changed, and, I am fairly confident they will continue to change as I move forward with my life.

Anyway....

I tried to make myself think it through...

I think...
I will want a someone who...
I can freely express my love to, and have that love accepted as it is, fears and all.

I think...
I will want a someone who...
will give me the gift of their love, fears and all. A love I will truly feel. (the thing is...I do wonder how long it will take to trust it...that vulnerability again...gotta lotta healing to do in this area)

I think...
I will want a someone who...
will put his arms around me tightly, and hold me close, for as long as I need, just because I ask him too, I want someone who is willing to ask the same of me. There are times when I need to feel protected and cherished, and that does it for me.

I think...
I will want a someone who...
will share and compromise with me, debate with me, argue with me, make me think.

I think...
I will want a someone...
to tease, to tempt, to entice, to laugh with me, flirt with me, be silly with me, to simply enjoy the small things with. (ya'know, like lying on our backs in the grass, watching the clouds float by, or hawks riding the thermals?)

I think...
I will want a someone who...
will see and accept me as I am, fears, flaws, and failings, weaknesses and wrinkles, quirks and eccentricities, but, who will also see what and who I can be, who will encourage me to stretch myself further than I ever have before.
























I think...
I will want a someone who understands that...
As a woman who revels in all that is sensual...my selfish feminine nature will lead me to...
Days when I will need to feel that to him, I am the most magnificent creature on earth.
Days when I will passionately need to feel his touch, his lips, him, all of him.
Days when I will need to hear him tell me how much he wants me.
Days when I will want him so desperately I will ache.

I think...
I will want a someone who understands that...
As a woman who is introverted and needs some inward time to recharge...
There will be times when I will want him close, but, that I also need some space to retreat within, hoping he will understand/accept that it is not him I am retreating from, but myself, or the stresses of life itself.
There will be times when I will be unable to tell him exactly what I am feeling, but with his patience it will come.


Funny thing is...I have never had what I just wrote....maybe I never will...



























But, I will never have it, I will not have that choice, if I do not stay open, fully open to love, vulnerabilities and all.

Adding to my confusion...

In asking what I wanted, I also had to think of myself as a future/someday partner-lover, I do wonder about myself. I learned many self-protective, even damaging behaviors over the years of my marriage.

I learned it is easier to not say what I am feeling, than to have those feelings thrown back at me as untrue. I learned to distrust. I learned to fear anger. I learned to fear being controlled. I learned others do not forgive as easily as I do. I learned others are not as accepting as I am. I learned what it feels like to be loved conditionally (if it was love). Mostly I learned to hide deep within.

But during the past few years, I also fought those learned behaviors, and continue to fight them. In the process I have also learned that I can unlearn what I do not believe. Unequivocally, I do not believe any of the things about love and relationships my soon-to-be-ex-husband teaches/believes, they are not healthy, true, or loving

Today, in my relationships, all of them, I try very hard to be communicative...if I feel it, and it confuses me, I try to understand it... if it is important, I say it.

Step one to healing...

Open to giving love, simply loving as freely as I can, leaving the fear behind.

I am trying, and will keep trying...I really hate this vulnerability thing though.

Learning to not Overthink--Can I?

I have what I consider a rather bad habit, I cannot seem to read just one book at at time, I currently have at least 6 to 8 books surrounding my bedside, or lying nearby on my desk, or in the backseat of my car, each with a bookmark, or dogeared page marking my last stopping place. Some nights I may a read a little of one or three, other nights I find myself deeply interested in just one. I am not sure why I do this, but in the process of the reading, if I come across a concept, instead of continuing on deeper into the book, I have to mull over a concept for a bit. I may pick up another, but the ideas from the other are still stewing away somewhere in the recesses of my mind.

* * * * * * *

* * * * * * *

A book I haven't yet delved very deeply into is entitled, Loving What Is. I don't know why I felt the need to purchase it. I rarely buy self-help books, but something within me, a need to heal and trust myself, and in that process learn to trust others, to keep myself open to other people, found me buying something I normally would not.

* * * * * * *

Passages that have me delving further than ever before into the concept of letting go and simply accepting happiness into my life, into me...

"A thought is harmless unless we believe it. It's not our thoughts, but the attachment to our thoughts, that causes suffering. Attaching to a thought means believing that it's true, without inquiring. A belief is a thought that we've been attaching to, often for years."

"Thoughts are like the breeze or the leaves on the trees or the raindrops falling. They appear like that, and through inquiry we can make friends with them. Would you argue with a raindrop? Raindrops aren't personal, and neither are thoughts. Once a painful concept is met with understanding, the next time it appears you may find it interesting. What used to be the nightmare is now just interesting. The next time it appears, you find it funny."

"I have never experienced a stressful feeling that wasn't caused by attaching to an untrue thought. Behind every uncomfortable feeling, there's a thought that isn't true for us...

We have a thought that argues with reality, then we have a stressful feeling, and then we act on that feeling, creating more stress for ourselves. Rather than understand the original cause---a thought---we try to change our stressful feelings by looking inside ourselves. We try to change someone else, or we reach for sex, food, alcohol, drugs, or money in order to find temporary comfort and the illusion of control."

"It is easy to be swept away by some overwhelming feeling, so it's helpful to remember that any stressful feeling is like a compassionate alarm clock that says, "You're caught in the dream." Depression, pain, and fear are the gifts that say, "Sweetheart, take a look at what you're thinking right now. You're living in a story that isn't true for you."

~Byron Katie~

* * * * * * *

Simply put, is this thought true? Have I projected feelings and a story onto this thought that now has me in suffering mode?

* * * * * * *

In this process, I am attempting to learn two things...

To trust myself.

But more importantly at this stage in my life...to trust what others tell me, to believe.

* * * * * * *

I have spent the majority of my adult life, hearing words of love, caring, and supposed respect come from another's mouth, to only learn later...through their actions...the words were untruths.

Or, finding out that I was being tested in one insidious way or another, and it seems I usually failed the test. (I have continually asked myself, why this covert testing, it became an emotional game, that indeed had me suffering most of the time.)

Thus I find it very difficult to trust words of affection, words of love, or, any words that should have a positive emotion attached to them...I distrust.

I always end up wondering what they are not telling me, wondering when I will find out the "real truth".

In some ways I find this baffling, if I have feelings I speak the truth of those feelings. Even if I find them difficult to speak out loud (or write), I try to say them to the one I feel them toward. In the beginning, many times I may find myself holding back, because I do not trust those feelings, until I have examined the thought processes that engendered those feelings.

Perhaps that is one of the reasons I purchased Loving What Is. I want to learn to let those thoughts go, those thoughts, which may cause me to project untruths to. Thoughts that lead to feelings, that I have no factual basis on which to attach feelings to.

A thought enters the mind, a feeling is immediately attached to that thought, more feelings are engendered, a story develops, grows, becomes more, and more. I used to let the story take on a life of its own. I no longer do that, I give myself a mental "Whoa girl! Think this through very carefully." The result being, many times I am able to let the thoughts, and the feelings go, to move on past those feelings, until I find the feelings that truly do feel true.

* * * * * * *

Again, in purchasing this book, perchance it was a way of validating this new thought process, as many times over the past six months or so, I have simply told myself, "Let it go, just let it go, it isn't important. What's important is that I am happier now. Just be in this now."

I have backslid, (oh so many times!), but, each time, especially when I find myself creating stories to go along with those thoughts and feelings that end up causing me suffering, I examine, and then let the story go. Again, teaching myself to enjoy now.

* * * * * * *

I am learning to live life again. In living life, there will be pain, but why create pain where there is none at the moment?

* * * * * * *

But, still, I gotta say, I trust actions a whole lot more than words...

* * * * * * *

So now I have to learn what to do when the actions are not forthcoming...because I tend to start over thinking that lack...then...stories develop...and then...I gotta let those go too...


Oh! This learning to simply be open, this living, loving, trusting life is circuitous at times.

* * * * * * *

Epiphany of Thought

After I wrote and posted my last entry...I spent some time in deep thought, evaluating some of the pivotal events in my marriage. With the result that I have arrived in a place I have not truly explored before.

It is my TRUTH...

I have entertained the very same thought many times before, but never truly accepted it.

Now I have.

It was not all my fault.

I must repeat that, it feels so damn good to say it!

IT WAS NOT ALL MY FAULT!!!!!

Maybe, maybe, just maybe...it wasn't even half my fault! For me, that is a grand epiphany of thought!

My marriage didn't fail because I wasn't good enough for him. My marriage didn't fail because I didn't meet his expectations. My marriage didn't fail because I couldn't love him enough. My marriage didn't fail because I couldn't change enough. My marriage didn't fail because I didn't work hard enough at it. (I knew it was wrong from the very beginning...but I tried anyway, in fact, because I felt uneasy about it, I probably tried harder for longer than many would have, to make it work, to NOT FAIL)

In a few hours of just letting it all out, by freely allowing all the thoughts to tumble forth, with no allowing myself to beleaguer each point, just allowing one event after another to spew out, it all came together, it made sense, I didn't feel crazy anymore (well not so much). I was able to come to terms with the idea, that grand efforts were made, whether intentional or not, to create within me doubt, severe doubt in my abilities. Seeds of doubt were planted, nurtured, and groomed to incite within me doubt. Doubt in my capacity to love, to honor, to cherish, as well as to doubt my own intelligence, my perceptions, and my natural abilities.

OK, so I have accepted that. I think I truly have.

Now...what do I do with all of that acceptance? With that knowledge?

I think, I need to learn to revel in me. To fine tune my thought processes. To realize I have many unexplored talents, and then...

Why then, I need to find them, examine, explore, and treasure them. Something I have never, ever done...I didn't realize it until recently, I truly have never....treasured me! A part of me wonders if it is truly possible. Can I? Will I? Am I able to learn to treasure me?

Letting out a HUGE, the HUGEST of SIGHS...

I am not exactly sure how to do that...but...the process is beginning already. I have the hope I will allow myself the time, the space, and the courage to plant new seeds of surety within me...to nurture them...and then...the possibilities are virtually endless! (If I let them be)

* * * * * * *

Blogger aside: A friend sent me this link in an email...some truly beautiful photographs of our world. Take a gander...it is well worth your time.

* * * * * * *

An Inhospitable Climate

Inhospitable: Unfavorable to life or growth; hostile, not welcoming guests; not friendly towards strangers, not inclined to, or characterized by, hospitality, as persons or actions; unfriendly.

Climate: the prevailing attitudes, standards, or environmental conditions of a group, period, or place.

*~*~*

Somewhere (don't remember where), I heard the phrase which is the title of this entry. It grabbed me by the psyche. It seems to have grown claws, and is hanging on ever so tightly. Throughout these past few weeks, the phrase growls across my neurons, rests there for a bit, other thoughts, emotions become attached to it, and then it slinks off to a corner, waiting to pounce once again.

It will be there...just there...again...no rhyme nor reason...but with each reoccurrence the words carry more weight...oppressively so.

*~*~*

The words, An Inhospitable Climate, reverberate, seem to exacerbate my emotional instabilities.

*~*~*

Inhospitable, I spent 30 years with someone who somehow became inhospitable...over the past 10 years, so very many times, I have asked myself why. Did I do that to him? Make him so...so...so ugly? If so, what did I do? Not love enough? Not love in the right way?

I changed me, and changed me, and changed me, until I no longer existed...




























The funny thing, I realized while struggling with the burdensome weight of the words, An Inhospitable Climate, it was after all of those changes, he became inhospitable.

Was that it? He fell in love with me...then attempted to change me into someone else...but she wasn't who he loved...the girl/woman he fell in love with...got lost amidst it all. Then when I finally realized I was gone, I became inhospitable? I couldn't love me, thus depleting my ability to love him?

*~*~*

Among the many definitions of Climate were the following words, "Human activity, especially relating to actions relating to the depletion of..."

The depletion of what? The depletion of ourselves? The depletion of our very spirit, our souls?

There are times when I look back upon what I am beginning to view as my 'lost' years, when I can see how the light inside me began to fade.

*~*~*

A young coworker told me today, "I love your laugh, it is so sweet, I smile every time I hear it."

The words, An Inhospitable Climate, made their claws felt then. Why then?

There came a time when I lost my ability to feel joy, to become abandoned with laughter when in my husband's presence. There are days now, and were many in my early years, when laughter seemed to bubble within me.

*~*~*

I am seeking, striving, wishing, dreaming, hoping, praying for the faith to create within me, once again...A Hospitable Climate.
























There are days, in which I think I have. There are days in which I think I have not.

*~*~*

Two months ago, or so, Miss Daughter said to me, "Mom, lighten up, you are more tense now than you've ever been. Where are YOU?" (not her exact words, but close)

She was playing the song, I Will Survive by Aretha Franklin, attempting to get me to sing along, (even though I cannot carry, or even find a tune, I still sing with her on most occasions...it feels good, and my complete lack of talent makes her laugh, and our children's laughter is beautiful). I was buried in a quagmire of despair.

Two nights later, she tried again, I sang that night, but not fully, not as I have in the past. Again, I couldn't find my inner lightness, my inner joy.

It is there now, on most days, for awhile, but at some point during the day, the habit of thinking I am not good enough reappears, and my ability to find the simple joys in each small moment disappears for a bit. My spirit becomes An Inhospitable Climate to me.

*~*~*

It is a poison in my inner atmosphere.

Only when I am able to completely leach out that poison, will I truly have a hospitable climate of the spirit.

*~*~*





I miss me.

*~*~*

I Started Out Ready for a Rant

I spent my day in an emergency room with one of my clients and her family.

I returned to today, mentally exhausted and full of anger.

I have rewritten this particular entry several times, and upon rereading/editing, ended up deleting all.

It all reads to me as BLAH BLAH BLAH.

My mind is full of questions tonight, with no answers forthcoming.

We each draw lines, regarding many different aspects of life, it is a verity of life, we do it. Times in which we say, " I draw the line, that I will not allow!"

How many times throughout our lives, do we redraw the lines?

Why do so many in our world seem to think they can use their specialized knowledge and expertise in such a way that it becomes arrogantly abusive?

Why do I not speak my mind when it is the most opportune of time to do so!?!?

As I wrote above...BLAH BLAH BLAH!

Could be? Anything or All?

Drinking wine on an empty stomach, is that a good thing, or a bad thing?

I don't know, nor, at this point in time do I care...but...I do feel really good.

It could be because I feel really healthy for the first time in over a month. I am now a HUGE fan of Z-Packs!

Or, it could be because my "yard naturalization project" is working (in other words, mowing a lot less area!), when I arrived home tonight, there were three does grazing within yards of my backdoor....I thought this very cool!

It could be because I took a look backward...to a year ago...and I feel really good about where I am now, compared to where I was then.

It could be that be that I have been invited to attend a Bruce Springsteen concert next month, and I am really excited about that!

It could be that I am drinking wine on an empty stomach!

Or, it could be ALL of the above!


Or, it could be...even though it is blondist, I thought this really funny tonight!

Playful Sunbits

Time to Strain the Brain (it's really easy!)

Six people are standing: Oliver and Olivia (the "Olives"), Alexander and Alexandra (the "Alexes"), and Christian and Christine (the "Chrises"). Read the clues below and put the six people in order from tallest to shortest.

* One "Chris" is the shortest of the group, while the other "Chris" is the second tallest.
* Both "Alexes" are taller than both "Olives."
* Alexandra is shorter than Christian and Alexander.
* Olivia is taller than Christine and Oliver.

* * * * * * *

3D Sidewalk Art by Julian Beever

(I would love to see his stuff in person)

* * * * * * *

Sunny Word Association: I write and you think...

• Ahchoo!::

• Blither::

• Calliope::

• Disaster::

• Endure::

• Faulkner::

• Graceful::

• Hamster::

• Indicted::

• Jeeves::

Stunned

Saturday morning, even though it was overcast, and rain seemed imminent, I decided to do something I have not done in weeks, I poured my second cup of coffee, and meandered my way down to the river, to enjoy the flow of the water, to look for changes in the flora.

I rarely walk the same path to get there, I suppose it depends on my mood at the time, or whether I am wearing shoes or not.

I spent a peaceful hour or so, and then felt it was time to get my day started.

As I was walking back up, I noticed the dog's kennel had been blown by the storm winds of the night before, and was lying in the middle of the western side yard. I started in that direction, but thought, no, I will check the mail, and put away my cup first, then move the kennel. I took another path.

Because of the near drought conditions that had besieged my county during the month of August, the grass under the older trees is already covered with leaves, in addition, due to the storm, I also noticed lots of small sticks and twigs littering the area, sort of doing a mental count, was it enough to gather up, and use for tender for campfires, enough to muck up the mowing? As I got nearer to the house, one of those brown leaves began to move.

At second glance, I realized it wasn't a leaf, but a small brownish and white bird, lying on it's back. It's tiny yellow feet curled up tight against its breast.

It's movements became more frantic as I moved closer, and then it lie very still.

I knelt down beside him, and gently turned him over. He had a pointy little beak, and a light brown, downy soft head. One wing spread wide in an attempt to fly away, but the other stayed close to its body. It hopped once, twice, tumbled over, and ended up on its back again. Once again, I very slowly, and gently cupped my hand over the tiny body, and turned him, with his legs still clutched tightly to his breast, he sat there unmoving, I had expected a frightened cheep, but no sound was emitted.

I couldn't discern an injury, but thought perhaps the wing was bruised, maybe he had been blown from the tree during the storm.

I went into the house, to look for a box, to place him in, the thought running through my mind, I doubt I can save him, but at least he won't become a neighboring cat's meal. I lined the box with leaves, even adding one that had a small amount of rain water cupped inside its curled edges, thinking, it would be a natural way for little bird to drink, if he was able.

I returned to the area where the bird had been, but I couldn't find it. I knelt down, my eyes sweeping the area. Had he just been stunned, and had flown away? Had a cat found him already? I hadn't been gone that long, all the while my eyes kept scanning the ground. Finally, I found him again, lying camouflaged amongst the fallen leaves. Not moving, but at least still upright.

Again, trying to be as gentle as possible, hoping to cause no further injury, nor to frighten more than necessary, I picked him and placed him amongst the leaves in the box. Oh, this time, he chirruped, cheeped, and chirruped again, as my hand lifted him from the ground. But once placed inside the box, he sat there peacefully enough. I placed the very tip of my index finger under his right wing, he spread it wide for me, I moved to the other, gently tickling the left wing, it too spread. "Hmmm, what is wrong with you little guy? Why aren't you flying away, you seem healthy enough?"

At that moment, both wings spread wide, he hobbled, he bobbled, and flew out of the box, barely skimming the tips of the grass before gaining a few feet of altitude, and landing on the branch of a nearby tree.

I wondered at this piece of happenstance. Was he stunned from a fall, and hadn't regained his equilibrium yet, when I came across him?

I don't know, nor will I ever know. But, I have decided, maybe, just maybe I was supposed to find him, I was supposed to take that tiny moment out of my day to see him, to feel his tiny fragile body cupped within my hand, I was supposed to give him the added boost he needed to get him going again.

Were we each a small gift to the other? It may seem silly, but I took a message away with me, of this unusual encounter.

I have spent the past few months, feeling lost, stunned by the changes that have occurred in my life, floundering, moving in slow motion, when moving at all.

Perhaps, little bird was there to give me a message?

--- It is time once again, to test my wings, to fly to the next stage of my journey to a new life---

(eh...probably not, but in my whimsical way...I have decided it will be so, at this particular point in my life, I need all the help I can get!)



**The oddest thing, I thought he was just a common house wren, but no photographs I have found show them with yellow feet, which is what I noticed the most about him, those very yellow tiny curled up little feet.**

Critical Moments

Igor Prysyazhnyi

In each of our lives, there come critical moments. Moments when we have a choice. No matter what we choose at that moment, our lives will be forever changed.

* * * * * * *

Looking back into my past...I have found some of those moments, the ones that I have reviewed of late, occurred in my mid to late teens. By the time I had reached those teen years, I had already learned that I had no power over my own life, no control over what happened to me. There came a critical moment though, in which I could change that.

* * * * * * *

As most teens do, I had two selves, my inner self hidden deep, and the outer one, the one all thought was me, but wasn't. My inner world was one in which I thought I was all alone, that only I suffered in the land of the lost. Everyone else seemed to live brighter lives, not lives full of shadows and monsters. I grew up in a time in which one did not speak of the bad things that went on behind closed doors. We hid those away, my friends and I.

Now, I know, they had monsters too, many of my friends, but we didn't speak of them. We could sit for hours late into the night, stoned, drunk, or both, philosophizing on life and the future, but we never spoke of what drove us to do the things we did.

* * * * * * *

Memories of a moment that led to other moments....


It was a cold gray winter morning, I could see the steamy wisps as each breath was exhaled, feel the cold tracks left behind by the tears that streamed down my cheeks. I had been awake most of the night, balancing on the razor sharp edges of fear and rage. I had had enough. Early dawn found me on the wide wraparound porch of my home, teetering on the top step, a small bag lay at my feet. I stood on that step for an eternity of moments. My mind racing, sifting through the possibilities that awaited my decision. I stood poised there, one foot on the next step to what I thought of as freedom from pain. Misery my only company, as I wavered, thinking, and over thinking, should I, should I not? Where would I go, how would I live? I examined my alternatives, listing my friends who already had places of their own, but no, I knew they were not viable options. I only had one safe destination, my maternal grandmother, but, would I be allowed to stay? Wouldn't I have to answer questions as to why I ran? There was no way I could do that, no way I could destroy my entire family. With. My. Truth.

In the wee hours of the morning, I had been awakened out of a sound sleep by an all too familiar terror. Only this time, I didn't lie there waiting for it to end. This time, I ran from it, I hid, cowering behind a locked bathroom door, until the monster was no more.

Hours later, there I stood on the steps of my family home, with a packed bag, knowing that no matter what I did, I was putting an end to one portion of my life. I didn't leave, I gave up in despair, no where to go. I turned, eyes wide, taking in the heavy wooden doors that were supposed to give protection to those that lay sleeping so soundly behind them. I loved that house, those beautifully aged doors, I had lived within those walls longer than any other house, its 14 rooms had filled my imagination with the lives of those who had lived there before me. I knew every nook and cranny, but is was not a house of safety, not for me. I walked over to the white porch swing, and lay across it lengthwise, slumped over, lost. I watched the light change, felt the warmth of the sun as it rose, and sent its rays across my outstretched legs. Finally at some point, resolve filled me, I had stopped the monster in the night, I could do so again, and again if need be. One evil in my world, would no longer have power over me.

* * * * * * *

Looking back, that decision had several different effects. In many ways, I found my voice, I was no longer afraid to speak my thoughts, to debate my opinions, I felt secure in my intelligence, in the way I viewed the world, I was full of ideas, and ideology. That time in the mid-seventies was a time before cynicism had taken such a firm root in our society.

But there was still a part of me that felt powerless, in my family, roles could often get reversed, and if I was not careful, I was not viewed as me, but as a replacement, a carbon copy of another.

To be continued...maybe...

* * * * * * *

Rage

You are the dark song
of the morning;
serious and slow,
you shave, you dress,
you descend the stairs
in your public clothes
and drive away, you become
the wise and powerful one
who makes all the days
possible in the world.
But you were also the red song
in the night,
stumbling through the house
to the child's bed,
to the damp rose of her body,
leaving your bitter taste.
And forever those nights snarl
the delicate machinery of the days.
When the child's mother smiles
you see on her cheekbones
a truth you will never confess;
and you see how the child grows--
timidly, crouching in corners.
Sometimes in the wide night
you hear the most mournful cry,
a ravished and terrible moment.
In your dreams she's a tree
that will never come to leaf--
in your dreams she's a watch
you dropped on the dark stones
till no one could gather the fragments--
in your dreams you have sullied and murdered,
and dreams do not lie.

~Mary Oliver~

* * * * * * *

Blogger Note: I can write of these memories, that moment, because many years ago, I achieved healing and peace with them, they are no longer allowed to fill me with the fear and rage they once did. In all their bleakness, they helped shape me, helped create who I am, how I deal with the world, and how I view the world. For most of my young adult life, many decisions I made were a direct result of those earlier years.

In the process of achieving my healing, I began to use my own voice, it became my career, and my vocation, I was an educator on the subject of abuse. I taught what abuse is, and is not, an educator who taught how important each voice is, no matter the age of that voice. I am proud of those years.

Each of us has a story to tell, we each tell it in our own way...in recent weeks, I have been reading poetry written by various women authors, and in each tome I picked up, I found a story similar to my own. This set me to pondering many things, mostly though, the thought, that so many of us have been touched by the evils of abuse, each person who tells their own story in the only way they can, imparts a message of healing. We can heal, it takes some longer than others, some choose another form of abuse before they are finally free, but we can move on, we can be strong and powerful, we don't have to forgive our abusers, but we do have to forgive ourselves.

I want. . .

I have a list...a long list of wants. (Don't worry, I am not going to list them all here!)

Some seem so simple, others so very silly...but still...

I want...

A nice big comfy bed to sleep in, sheathed in soft cool cotton sheets. How wonderful it would feel, to lie on a bed of grand size again, to lie on my tummy, spreadeagled, and not have my legs and arms hanging over the sides. How delightful it would feel to find an airy firmness beneath me. How amazing to be able to turn over and not fear falling off of the mattress.


I want...

An allover body massage, I want to feel oil spread over my body, and to feel each muscle starting from the base of my skull and ever downward loosened, relaxed, turned into liquid putty.

I want...

To soak in a huge jacuzzi, filled with bubbling hot water, the air filled with the rising steam, a cool glass of wine sitting near by, reveling in the luxury of it all as my body and mind soak it all in.

I want...

A cup of hot Chicken with Rice soup, 6 saltine crackers, and a cup of tea laced with honey that will soothe my aching throat.

I want...

A cool hand placed just so across my brow, I want to feel those same fingers smoothing back my hair. Over and over again, until I fall into a soft, contented gentle sleep.

I want...

To be taken care of...

Sigh...

I hate colds!

Running

Blogger note: If you haven't read any of the personal stories from the Common Ties Blog, you might enjoy giving it a quick or long perusal.


“Sometimes,” Joe said as he gulped down the last of his coffee, “you’ve got to run away from one thing so you can run toward something else.”

I spent last night with my sister, an unusual evening, as they usually are when I am with her. We spent several hours talking, being family, I suppose it is normal that we eventually speak of the childhood we shared. My childhood was spent moving, spent saying goodbye to people, places, and things. My sister put it quite aptly when she stated, "We spent our childhoods running, always running." She was right, we did, or more aptly, our mother did. My father was an alcoholic, when the small towns we lived in became too small for her, (when too many people knew the truth), we then moved. Sometimes if the town wasn't too small, we would only move across town, if a smaller town, then we moved to another. Sometimes my father moved with us, sometimes not. But it all boils down to running away.

The lasting legacy of that continual running, is that the four us, my siblings and I, as adults, stay...sometimes we stay too long, even when it is the worst choice to make...we stay.

Why do we stay? I have my theories. We stay too long, because we each think that staying in one place will fill us, and our children, with a sense of stability and security. It doesn't, only we as their parents can do that.

We may also stay longer than we should, because, we have held within ourselves the misplaced notion that we must stick it out no matter what, that by leaving we are giving up.

I haven't moved far, but I did move, and I am even dreaming of moving farther away in the not so distant future (a year or two at the most), I don't view that future move as running away from my life. But running toward something.

One of my greatest fears regarding myself, has always been...I won't make the goals I set for myself, I fear I will alway feel as if I failed me. One fear, that I can't seem to let go of. A fear that can bring me spiraling into the fog of depression and inactivity faster than any other. A fear that has my muscles coiled with tension, a fear that has paralyzed me at times. It is the fear...the one fear...that keeps me from fully embracing my dreams.

Today, I am tired of that fear, I am tired of holding myself back because I fear I will not live up to my dreams. That fear, at times keeps me from enjoying today as fully as I wish to.

Many people in my day to day life, tell me I appear so calm when I speak of the future...maybe...just maybe that is because I do not fully believe in it yet.

Once again, I feel I must learn to run, only this time it won't be running away, but to.

Sigh...I hope.

Another line of someone else's that set me to pondering this night.

I spent this evening with Miss Daughter, and her 17 year old Boyfriend. We did not spend our time examining any deep meaning to life, it was an evening of joking, and lighthearted banter, but towards the end of our evening, Boyfriend turned to face me, and said,

"Sunny, you know...It isn't that we have to go through life trying to find ourselves, we have to get through life learning to accept ourselves."

"Hold onto that thought Boyfriend, it is a very wise thought, very wise."

My first thought was again about running. I know who I want to be, but on those days I spend untoward amounts of thought attempting to define myself, to find me, perhaps, I am not letting the past be the past, I still hang onto it, sometimes too long. Or maybe I am running, but I am running away from my future, along with running away from 'who' I am now. Me accept me, just accept me as I am? Wow, what a concept.

What brought on this little gem of wisdom from Boyfriend? His fortune cookie was empty...there was no little slip of paper contained within. Thus, he decided he was meant to create his own.

I marvel at the wisdom of teenagers, I consider myself very lucky that they wish to share their thoughts with me.

Another Mowing Day---With Random Bits Fluttering About In My Head

We had enough rain this past week, that mowing once again became a necessity. So, reluctantly, I did it.

It was a beautiful day, a perfect day to go hiking, or to have a picnic, but not for me, not this day. The sky was a clear deep blue, the sun shone brightly, warmly, the grass a brilliant green, instead of dry and brown tipped. I paused the mower several times to gaze wonderingly at the red-tailed hawks riding the thermals above the forested areas, they looked so free, gliding so effortlessly high above.

This time in the hopes of staving off a myriad of jumbled thoughts, I had donned my MP3 player and headphones, with the hope I would have music filling my mind instead of the usual flotsam and jetsam. It worked...kinda.


Several songs were deciphered by me over the noise of the engine. One song that I have not thought about in years is loaded on it...funny thing is...I don't remember downloading it...but I must've...for it is there. The song? Suicide is Painless, (written by Johnny Mandel). You know, the MASH theme song. Why do I have it? I don't know. But of course my mind drifted toward suicide, and questions...

* * * * * * *

What would bring me to that point now, as compared to the past when I did seriously consider it? I can't think of anything, not now, there is too much pain involved for those left behind. K and B, both gone, both leaving a legacy of pain behind. No, suicide isn't painless, not for the one doing, not for those left behind. They left no notes, no knowing for us, we are all always wishing things could have somehow been different, always missing them. Nope, I couldn't, no matter my inner anguish, the depth of depression, I couldn't do that to Mr. Son, or Miss Daughter, or to any of the other children in my life who already live with loss due to suicide. No suicide isn't painless.

But, what about mercy suicide, euthanasia (assisted suicide)? Health related suicide is different... we've talked about this kind, it is a choice that all involved (in my life anyway) would understand.

But, leaving Mr. Son, and Miss daughter, and all the other children I love, with that legacy, that pain, just because I was in mental anguish? I hope I would seek professional counseling, and medications before believing that suicide is the answer....I think I would disappear before I would take my life, write them letters and call them occasionally ...in that way they would at least know I was alive somewhere, hopefully working on whatever I need to deal with. No, no, no, suicide is not painless.

* * * * * * *

Wow, so many love songs on here, songs of lost love, needing love, songs that make tears rise, songs of longing. Why do I have so many songs about love on here? Oh, yes, a friend sent me some, but the others? Some are so...so dysfunctional. Unhealthy needing, loving so much that you can't let them out of your sight? No, don't even want to go there with those thoughts. I am not in the mood for songs of lost love, not where my mind wants to go today. Grow Old With Along With Me (Mary Chapin-Carpenter)....this song is too too painful at this point in my life. I really need to clear this thing out, and load different songs.

* * * * * * *

People are always asking me, "How are you doing?" Why do they keep asking? I always answer the same, "I'm doing OK, some days are better than others, but all in all, I am doing OK."

Yesterday, when asked, "How are you doing?", I answered with my standard answer.

But she wasn't satisfied...why? Then she ask again, really ask this time. "Are you really doing OK?"

I answered pretty much the same...but am I? Doing OK?

The real answer. Nope, I'm not. Some days I think I am. Most days, I know I am not.
I am not OK.

I don't know how to be anymore.

For years I defined a large part of myself as someone's wife, as two someone's mother. Those two roles played a large part in how I dealt with my world, my reality.

But, these past five years or so, even as I was defined as someone's wife, I also defined, and lived the role of a very unhappy wife. I was unhappy. No...I was miserable. That very miserableness defined me. The fears that went along with that deep misery also defined me.

I am not miserable any longer, I am no longer (at least in spirit) someones' wife. I have lost some of my fears. Or, if not completely lost them, I am now able to place them in their proper context.

But, what am I? Who am I? There are days, in which I just...don't know...I do not know all of who I am. I wonder...is that important? Do I have to know? Many times over the past few months, I have realized that, no, I don't have to know, I do not have to define me.

But, I haven't quite adjusted to the loss of so many roles in such a short time. Many of the roles I have played over the years, have slipped away in small increments, I was comfortable with their passing. Ready to slip on new ones. Ready to allow new facets of my personality to come to the forefront of my definition of me. But...

Something is missing though, it hasn't left an ache, nor an empty space, it is a space that might best be described as....as...blank? Am I OK with that? Nope, not really...but it is gonna have to do for now...at least today.

* * * * * * *

I took a short break, to give my back a rest, and to stretch my legs...read some online news...and got a much needed chuckle...The Guardian published a portion of the police interview done when Senator Larry Craig was arrested, I learned several new things about soliciting sex in a men's room, am I that naive, or has anyone else ever heard of the foot tapping under the stall, or reaching a hand under, (now if that had happened to me, I would assume they were in need of paper)? Anyway, one line of the Senators, just set me to giggling...I'm not sure why, except I remember thinking, "at least he is regular!"

The interview

Excerpts from the interview by Sergeant Dave Karsnia (DK) of Larry Craig (LC):

DK: Did you do anything with your feet?

LC: Positioned them. I don't know. I know at the time. I'm a fairly wide guy.

...

DK: I understand

LC: I had to spread my legs

...

LC: Did we bump? Ah you said so. I don't recall that.

DK: Yeah, well your foot did touch mine, on my side of the stall

LC: All right

...

DK: And then with the hand. How many times did you put your hand under the stall?

LC: I don't recall. I remember reaching down once. There was a piece of toilet paper back behind me and picking it up.

...

DK: I guess I'm gonna say I'm just disappointed in you, sir. I'm just really am. I expect this from the guy we get out of the hood, I mean people vote for you.

LC: Yes they do.

...

DK: Unbelievable, unbelievable.

LC: I'm a respectable sort of person and I don't do those kinds of....

...

DK: Have you been successful in these bathrooms here before?

LC: I go to that bathroom regularly

...

DK: I mean for any type of other activities.

LC: No. Absolutely not. I don't seek activity in bathrooms.

* * * * * * *

I then returned to my mowing, and left the MP3 player behind...it didn't seem to stop all the thinking...but at least my mind was on other things aside from myself. Politicians and their lies, lost coal miners and their families. Then travel to far away places filled my mind...until, once again my eyes began to follow the soaring of the hawks.