Young Eyes

I spent several hours Friday afternoon, and many, many hours Sunday afternoon and evening, with a ten year old little girl, Miss Niece.

Most of those two days, were spent on the road, but our conversations covered just as much territory as did the vehicle we were in, perhaps, more.

It has been a long while since I have had such a special opportunity, my children are grown, their world view is tinged with the sharp edge of cynicism.

This little girl, too, shows signs of cynicism's arrival, but there is still a freshness in views.

She has experienced much in her short little life. The suicide death of her mother, a father that is more absent than not, (even when home, he is absent mentally), the violence of a mentally ill older sister. She has seen sides of our world that no child should witness, been exposed to too much of the adult world, most especially the seedier side when in the company of her oldest sister. The majority of her days are filled with turmoil and upheaval, and aspects of her personality reflect it. There are times when in her presence I sense a deep sadness, feelings of loss, and a strong need to be listened to.

But, she is a 10 year old too. A bright, beautiful, refreshing, artful, funny, articulate, brave 10.

As I mentioned above, we discussed many topics over the miles we traveled together. About our shared family members mostly. I had to smile when she told me Miss Daughter is her hero. It also filled me with hope, for in this most dysfunctional of families, Miss Daughter is the most real of the teens populating it. She is honest and pure in her dealings with the younger children.

So many times during our hours together, she would ask a question or make a statement that awed, amazed, amused, or bemused me.

As we passed through Gary, Indiana, I told her it was the hometown of Michael Jackson. She looked at me with wide excited eyes, whipped out her camera and started snapping pictures.(of what I am not sure, since there was nothing much to see, but she is 10 after all).
Then she said, "Is that when he was black?"
I laughed, and replied, "Why, yes, it was."
"I think he was cuter when he was black."
I agreed.
"I feel sorry for the children here."
"Why?"
"He is a child molester."
"So it's been said, but I think they're OK, he was a child when he lived here too."
"Well, they need to be careful when he visits. I really like his Thriller song though."
"It was a good one."

As we moved out of Gary, and back up onto the interstate, our conversation turned to her favorite music, again this 10 year old surprised me. She mentioned many names of today's musicians, most I did not recognize, granted my memory for names is not at its best, they ranged from Fergie to Madonna, she even sang me her favorite song, Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne, (she was quite impressive in her imitation), yet she didn't stop there, she also mentioned The Doors, and The Rolling Stones.

The conversation flowed on to other topics, each punctuated by her own unique viewpoint.

Each time we crossed a bridge or overpass, she would comment, "This bridge could collapse." (a current event that affected our children more than many of us realize I think). Each time I would reply..."Nope, not today, you are with me." (OK, dumb, but it satisfied her, after all, I am her Aunt Sunny. ~smile~)

She helped me tremendously as we navigated the streets of Chicago searching for her older sister's condominium. Watching for street signs, delighting in telling me, we had passed the same street corner three times already, expressing pique that the many taxi drivers seem to enjoy honking their horns at this country girl's driving in the big city. Eventually we arrived at her sister's home, and she was ready for her adventures with her older sister to begin.

* * * * * * *

Fast forward to Sunday afternoon. I picked Miss Niece up, and as she was telling me of the many things she and her sister had done and seen, she expressed sadness that she had had no time to purchase a few souvenirs. So, as we were driving along Lake Shore Drive I noticed the sign for Navy Pier, and asked if she would like to stop. Of course she did!

We easily found parking, with only about 6 or 7 blocks to walk. We walked along, my attention caught by the art galleries we were passing by, when I noticed she seemed a bit distant. Walking beside me, but more as if she were trudging along, no more bounce to her step. As I slowed to observe her, I noticed the people her eyes were following, she was watching the families. The mothers and fathers with their children. I remembered on Friday, she had mentioned her mother to me several times, and I had told her some stories of her. I do not know if it was the right thing to do or not, but Miss Niece resembles me in many ways, in fact, when comparing photographs of myself at age two to those of her at the same age, there is little difference. So, I said, "You know, most people probably think I am your mother, we look so much alike." She made no reply, but her hand slipped into mine.

We decided to take a detour through a few of the galleries we were passing. She again amazed me. She was impressed by the work we saw, expressing her likes and dislikes, taking the time to eye them all, to absorb them, not just walking quickly from piece to piece. When suddenly she exclaimed quite delightedly, "It's pointillism! I've done pointillism in school! It's really really hard!" "This one is really good!"

We meandered out of the gallery and set off once again for the Pier. Once there, she then became all little girl, shopping kiosk after kiosk for the perfect souvenirs. Once that was accomplished she was suffering so from exhaustion she was in need to indulge her sweet tooth. Oh, did she indulge!

She was getting tired, and it was well past time for us to be on the road home, but she could not resist playing in the fountain, and getting soaking wet, before we started our walk back to the Jeep.























As we were tiredly making our way back up the street, another little gem flew from her mouth.
"I love Chicago, all the people are so different!"
"I imagine in the downtown portion of your city, they are just as varied."
"Nope, they're all black." Was her matter of fact reply.

We then hit the road for our long drive home, or attempted to.
We ended up crawling along the Dan Ryan Express Way for almost three hours. Again, our conversations covered many topics, and at times we were both quite bored. I eventually remembered several books of poetry stuck in the back seat, and pulled one out by Norbert Krapf entitled, Bittersweet Along the Expressway, Poems of Long Island...quite appropo...yes?
After reading a few, she composed her own poem about our little sojourn.

Traffic

sitting here on the expressway

a long way from home

nothing to do
except moan moan moan

traffic is hard
nothing beneath

other cars moving
but we just stay

nothing to do
except cry cry today

as shadows deepen,
darkness comes

sitting here for hours
people chatting lane to lane

cars moving back and forth
people wondering

which way is
south east west or north

sitting her on the express way
a long long long long long

trust me... a long way from home!

nothing to do
except moan moan moan

A Summer to Somewhere

I came across this excerpt from Alice in Wonderland, on allofhersecrets blog, and it resonated so deeply with the direction, of my own life at the moment. I am particularly struck by Alice's line, "I don't much care where...So long as I get somewhere."

"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?
That depends a good deal on where you want to get to, said the Cat.
I don't much care where, said Alice.
Then it doesn't matter which way you go, said the Cat.
So long as I get somewhere, Alice added as an explanation.
Oh, you're sure to do that, said the Cat, if you only walk long enough."

~Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland~

Summer is almost over, at least it feels so to me, when I realized next weekend will be that weekend we here in the States view as the last hurrah of summer, Labor Day Weekend.
As I thought about how quickly summer has passed, Fly Like an Eagle, by The Steve Miller Band, came to mind...

"Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin' into the future..."

Summer...I have so many summers buried away in my memory....the wonder of those endless summers of childhood...the summers of motherhood, that I always tried to fill with new and exciting experiences for my children....so many summers that seemed like they were filled with mountains of green beans and tomatoes.

But there has never been a summer like this one. Even though I feel as if this summer...has slipped away... it has been filled with so many changes...and firsts for me.

A summer in which I did get somewhere...somewhere on the way to wonderful...my future.

A Cloud of Guilt

I do not know the whys or wherefores, but there are times in my life when the oddest of coincidences seem to occur.

A few days ago, I posted a blog entry on self-delusional behavior. I mentioned two old friends, (more like acquaintances), in my life, that are the ultimate "Queens of Self-Delusion".

Yesterday I received, what I thought of as a very cryptic voice mail from a very dear friend. I had not heard from her for several months, and her message, was...was very brief and, well, cryptic.

"Sunny, I need to talk to you, please call me as soon as you can." Her voice seemed rather tense.

I returned the call, after a few shared pleasantries, she quickly got to her reason for calling me.

It seems Queen of Self-Delusion Number One had applied for a job at the school Dear Friend works for. In fact, Dear Friend, would be her boss if hired. Dear Friend wanted too know if Queen of Self-Delusion Number One would be a good employee. "Should I hire her?"

My response was an instinctive, instantaneous, "Fuck NO! No way, you do not want her working for you!"

Queen of Self-Delusion Number One on first meeting seems rather melancholy, but does have an amusing sense of humor, and a very good heart, she adores children, even though she has a very strong tendency to talk down to them. But. She can be a truly awful woman. She possesses a deep, loud, brassy, rather obnoxious voice, add into that, she is one of the most pessimistic, opinionated, individuals I have ever met. In addition, she whines about everything, and nothing, a lot! Don't get me wrong, she really does have her good points, she is very generous, and deep down has a very loving heart. But whenever I had to spend several hours with her, the good points would become very difficult to remember, plus, I always harbored an intense headache after leaving her presence. I am not alone in this...many others feel the same about her. Yet, she believes herself to be well-loved by one and all...one of her more optimistic view points, and delusions.


Dear Friend then replied, "That's what I thought, but I trust your judgment, and I wanted to be sure."

I immediately felt bad about my response, and did tell Dear Friend, that Queen of Self-Delusion Number One has some wonderful characteristics, (after all she adores Miss Daughter...and Miss Daughter likes her, even though she too, can only take so much of Queen of Self-Delusion Number One).

Dear Friend and I spoke of getting together soon, and ended the conversation. I did feel guilty at not recommending Queen of Self-Delusion Number One, but I also knew that I could not lie to Dear Friend...she would have never forgiven me...if she had hired her. Nope, nope, nope, she wouldn't have. I was able to deflate the guilt, and move on with my evening.

Then...this morning I received a phone call from Queen of Self-Delusion Number Two. Upon our first meeting, I thought her charming, gregarious, funny, and creative, she is a wonderful artist. But, eventually she too, becomes too much for me to bear. For, she reigns over two fiefdoms...Self-Delusion, and Gossip World, Not-So-Nice Gossip World. And, if she does not have some truth to gossip about, she will often make it up...again a woman that does have some good points, one of which is, she too, has a very generous heart. She will always be there for those she loves, but, she is verbally abusive to her children, and that is something I find appalling, and tell her so whenever I witness it. She believes herself to be well-loved by one and all, her delusion. Plus, she dislikes Miss Daughter (Miss Daughter returns the dislike in spades!), and thinks I am too liberal in my parenting of her. After a moment or two of general conversation, she arrived at the reason for her call.

"I heard you guys are hiring?"

"We are? Hmm, maybe so, I just saw the HR person outside my office, let me ask her." (inside I am already quaking....no...no...no...I do not want to work with her!)

Back to the phone, "Yes, it seems we do have a few openings here." I had to repeat it, as the first time, I could barely say it aloud.

"Great, I am going to send in my resume! Will you transfer me to your HR person?"

"Ummm....sure...talk to you later." My mind was racing, now what? (Cripes, she can't work here! Aside from my NOT wanting to work with her, we have confidentiality rules here, and she would not be able to resist gossiping to all and sundry. Damn! What do I do now?)

I knew HR Person would ask me about her, and once again, I knew I could not lie. She did. I did not lie, I told the truth, exactly how I felt.

The cloud came back...so huge this time!

To make it worse, Queen of Self-Delusion Number Two, called me back. She asked me to help her rewrite her resume, it seems the local University thought it so awful, they suggested she attend one of their resume writing classes. I was able to tell her, I just did not have the time this week. Perhaps she could have Mutual Friend help her.

Two people I know, needing jobs, I nixed them. I can't tell them, oh, no, no no no! I can't tell them that I gave them bad, downright, awful references!

My head hangs in shame...a huge black cloud of guilt weighing me down.


















But, even though I feel guilty, I also know I was right to speak the truth...neither would make good employees at these two organizations. I know them, I know them as they truly are.

The thing is...in one way... if they switched positions...and, each applied for the opposite job they wanted...it just might have...just maybe...have worked out. Queen of Self-Delusion Number One would not be easy for me to work with, but as to keeping confidentiality, that she could do, I know she would. Queen of Self-Delusion Number Two, would do OK at the other job, not great, but not so bad, she reins in her mouth when in the presence of school children, that she learned from me...I had to tell her to watch how she spoke to other children many years ago, and she does...when they are not her own.

So...I know I was right to speak the truth, but, I still feel so guilty. So damn guilty!

Thoughts to Ponder

Cool, fat drops of rain came splashing down upon me. Shocking me back into an awareness of my surroundings, interrupting my thoughts.

Each individual droplet felt with an intensity that surprised me, as my dusty, sticky, perspiration covered skin soaked them up. When I looked down upon my legs astride the mower, I could see the outline of each individual raindrop as it broke through the layer of dust covering me. I reveled in the feel of each cool splash. Small goosebumps rose as the accumulation of water began to run in rivulets down neck, my chest, my arms, covering my legs in a small brown gleaming rivers. Skin that had felt sticky with the salt of my perspiration, skin that felt gritty with the dust which the mower had filled the air with, now felt cool, refreshed. I turned my face up to the sky, eyes closed, smiling, laughing, suddenly feeling lighter, my spirit effervescent.

* * * * * * *

I had been mowing for several hours, eyes gritty, nose soon clogged, no longer able to smell the scent of fresh cut grass. My ears filled with the sound of the mower blades cutting through grass, body vibrating with the continual roar of the engine. My mind had filtered out the ever present noise though. Instead, I had spent those hours with so many varied thoughts, thoughts that at times seemed to make no sense, as they would filter through to my consciousness.

So many questions. They would land for an instant, then fly away, as another quickly filled the space. For the first few hours, I tried hard to concentrate on the task at hand, but soon, it was just too much of a monotonousness, growling, turning, reversing, vibrating ride.

* * * * * * *

Questions, so many questions flitting across my consciousness.

* * * * * * *

Is this the place I want to spend the next few years? Do I really want to spend so much of my leisure time working here? Building, improving, gardening, planting, pruning, raking, maintaining...mowing?

Where else would I wish to live? In a city? My city? Another larger city? Could I afford it? Would I like it? Love it? (Images of late night city streets filled my mind. Images of museums, restaurants, bars, galleries, unusual boutiques, cafes, and multitudes of people flickered across my mind.)

A subdivision? (That answer came quickly...A resounding NO!)

My dream spot? A small lake front cottage somewhere? But where? I used to dream of Wisconsin. No, I am not that fond of the cold. The Cumberland area of Kentucky? Again no...too many memories of post-retirement plans with my soon-to-be-ex. Maybe a mountainous region of the Carolinas? Hmmm...a future road trip to check it out. Or, along Lake Michigan? Nah, again, I would have to deal with the cold.

* * * * * * *

Am I still a good mother? Not so sure anymore. Too many things happening, that I have not dealt with in a consistent way. Am I wrong to allow them both this much freedom to experiment? Am I encouraging irresponsible behavior? Am I giving enough of myself to them, or too much? Have I let go too quickly? I do look forward to next year...with the hope that I will be living alone. Is that wrong? Too far into the future...just get through this month, this week.

* * * * * * *

Will my soon-to-be-ex be a problem as time moves on? Why aren't I saving more money? It should be easier now, I need to create a livable budget now that that a temporary settlement has been reached.

* * * * * * *

I wish I could hear my MP3 Player, music would be really good right now, too many thoughts, too many questions.

* * * * * * *

What is love, can it truly be defined? I can define the love I have for family and friends. But, romantic love? I seem to have a very difficult time defining that one.

So much is involved when I attempt to define that one.

At its most basic, it is a giving of my love-filled heart to another. I know I love unconditionally, at least I think I do. What is love? Do I love in the best way? How do I know? Will I know? Will I ever find a concrete definition? How do I love? Freely? Is it freely? How I have loved in the past? Did I wish only for their happiness? Was there any selfishness in that love? Yes, I know I have always wished for their happiness. I have always had a wish for the people I love to find those things in this life that bring them passion, peace, joy, a contentment within themselves. Is that enough?

But there is more. I know there is. Am I somewhat selfish in my love? Am I truly capable of giving love without some selfishness involved? Maybe not, because, when I love, I also want to feel loved in return...is that selfish?

Perhaps I am selfish in my love. For, I do want that love returned.

These thoughts on love, romantic love? What do I want?

Oh...back up, not ready for that question yet.

Slow down, think this one through...no...don't want to...I'm too unsure yet.

Am I at a point in which I can give my heart completely? No, I don't think I am quite capable of fully giving my heart into the hands of another, I lack complete trust, complete faith that it will be cherished. I'm not ready to take a full risk of my heart being crushed just yet.

What about the idea I once had, that a friend would make the best lover? Would I be satisfied with that? Do I really want to think about all of this now?

* * * * * * *

God, I'm horny, it's got to be the vibrations I'm feeling from the mower. (Images of making love then filled my mind. Images of lips, fingers, skin, bodies bared to each other, touching, so much touching.) Oh, I want to be touched, caressed, the need continues to grow each day, each hour. I miss touching, being touched. I miss sensing him walking up behind me, feeling his hands as he runs them up under my shirt. I miss feeling his body pressing against my back as he hugs me from behind. I miss feeling his fingers slide into my blouse, floating over my breasts, as he lightly flicks his fingers across my nipples. I miss his fingers lazily stroking across my skin. Do I miss him, or touch itself? What is it that I miss? Really? I miss...I miss being desired...I miss being wanted...I miss being thought beautiful...I miss being craved, and craving...I miss that all encompassing feeling of complete intimacy. I miss him sucking on my lower lip, I miss the erotic feel of my lips slowly, gently, gliding across his.

* * * * * * *

Then the rain began, my skin came alive, as thunder trembled off in the distance.

Many thoughts, to ponder, to wonder about, but not tonight.

I need a shower.

Self-Delusion

"I would lie alone in the dark, feeling that I was a character in a story that had lost its plot. "
~ Pete Hamill, A Drinking Life~

* * * * * * *

I am currently a very confused woman, undergoing what I would define as an emotional life crisis. (truthfully, I do realize that I have been confused most of my adult life, and perhaps am only just now finding my own voice, able to define who I am/will be in future years.)

Am I any different than many in our society, near my own age?

I think...not so much.

* * * * * * *

Even though I am introspective by nature, I can go along quite nicely for many months, (or used to be able to), and not question my own self-perception. But, I also have my own narcissistic bent at times, thus, as each stage of my life has passed, and I approached a new one. I have looked at my own definition of self. Who I am, my basic character, my morals, my values, my reactions and intuitions regarding life itself, the one I am living, and the world I observe. I reexamine my own self...who I think I am...who I wish to be...what do I want to change about myself? To achieve this, one has to have a true "eyes open wide" perception of self...it is my hope, that I do.

We each define ourselves. We create a definition of who we are. I consider it a sign of emotional health if these definitions of self-hood change as we age, and assimilate new experiences.

But...what if this definition of self...does not seem to agree with the perceptions others have of us?

I have met several people, who in a self-description, describe themselves one way, yet, as I come to know them better, the personality I perceive does not match their own description. In every instance, the person's self description is a much more positive view, than the one I perceive. Nor, in the eyes of others who know them are they perceived as they see themselves. I know this, because I have asked. I become very curious about this side of the human psyche. I wonder, am I the only one? Is it just me seeing the flawed self-view? In every occurrence, those I ask, answer in the affirmative. Yep, they see the other as deluding themselves. They too perceive the other as I do. Hence, from time to time over the years, I have called to question these perceptions of self, either my own, or those of another.


How can this be? How can a person go through life, with such a skewed self-perception?

I then ask myself, do they know? Do they know they are not the person they describe? Are they just unable to reconcile the two? Or, is this person they see themselves to be, really who they want themselves to be, wish to be?

When I have come across one of my fellow human beings who are not perceived by me, to be who they describes themselves to be...I end up asking of myself...

Am I too, deluding myself?

Am I truly who I think myself to be?

Are my actions that different from my words?

Are the reactions I receive/perceive from others of me, true, or self-delusions?

There have been several times in my life, when a friend, or acquaintance has described me to me. Almost always in a much more positive light than I see myself. I am, most often, quite taken aback...the person they often describe is who I wish to be...not who I view myself to be...I am that complete blithering idiot standing in the corner... yet, a someone will describe me as a self-assured, extroverted, warm, loving woman...at those times I am often tempted to look over my shoulder, surely, they are not talking to me!

In recent years especially, I have tried very hard to be the woman I want to be, and the woman I am, flaws and all, (oh! a multitude of flaws!), or at least who I perceive myself to be. No misconceptions...me...just me.

There are days when I feel in top form...we all have those days of brilliance...on those days...I know I am burning brightly. There are many more days, when I am not doing so great...my flame is sputtering...on those days...I hide away...in an attempt to find my center of balance once again...few people in my offline life see me then.

So, who am I? The woman in my minds eye hiding confused in the corner? Or, a woman who has her occasional moments of brilliance, while just trying to live each day? Maybe I am both.

Who are we all?

Do we ever know? I feel I am changing daily into a better me...I truly hope that is not a self-delusion.

* * * * * * *

This idea of not knowing one is deluding oneself has intrigued me for a long while.

Soooo....

I googled the idea of self-deluding behavior. There is much written regarding the subject, one of the more simpilied theories is cited here-- Psychology Today article.

"As part of a decades-long study that has tracked 130 individuals since nursery school, Colvin and his colleagues assessed subjects' personalities at ages 18 and 23, monitoring such traits as dependability and how subjects handle life's frustrations. The volunteers provided self-descriptions, and their friends contributed evaluations as well.

When the researchers looked at subjects who were "self-enhancers" -- those whose glowing self-image bore little resemblance to their true personality -- a disturbing portrait emerged.

"Self-enhancers tend to be hostile, lack social skills, and appear anxious and moody," says Colvin. "They are sensitive to criticism and keep people at a distance -- perhaps so that they don't get negative feedback that might alter their overly positive view. They are trying to hide their flaws from themselves." (I have two old friends that are very good at self-delusion, yet, they also have very good social skills, but, if looked at more closely, those very social skills that bring them many friends, also keep them at a distance, there are very very few who know them well...hmmm)

"Positive self-esteem is good," says Colvin. "But the context has to be based on reality. Knowing that imperfections exist is the first step to improving yourself."

* * * * * * *

Is that it? Are the self-enhancers unable or unwilling to see themselves as they truly are, because it is too painful to "know thyself" and make the changes necessary, in which actions and words match? This is where I become most confused...so many use the words...but the actions do not correspond with the words. The twain do not meet...as I perceive them.

Thus leaving me with yet another question.

Are those of us, that tend to have low-self images, more apt to see ourselves as we truly are?

I have never had an extremely positive self-image, in fact there have been years of my life, when I felt as low a life form as "the bacteria that feeds on pond scum." But, I have over come that, I know my worth....most days...I know there are many facets to me that are wonderful...but...I also am fully capable of recognizing the not so wonderful.

To fully get my questions answered, I would have to ask one of these people that I see as true self-deluder's...but...I fear to burst their bubbles...so I don't.

* * * * * * *

It seems many have pondered this issue, or one similar. There are many quotations examining that fine line between striving to be better, and self-delusion.


"To thine own-self be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day.
Thou can'st not then be false to any man."
~Shakespeare's Hamlet~

"If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours."
~ Henry David Thoreau~

"Each person's only hope for improving his lot rests on recognizing the true nature of his or her basic personality, surrendering to it, and becoming who he or she really is."
~Sheldon Kopp~

"To be pleased with one's limits is a wretched state."
~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe~

"What I am is good enough if I would only be it openly."
~ Carl Rogers~

"Seek out that particular mental attribute which makes you feel most deeply and vitally alive, along with which comes the inner voice which says, 'This is the real me,' and when you have found that attitude, follow it."
~ William James~

"Let the world know you as you are, not as you think you should be."
~ Fannie Brice~

"Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves."
~Carl Jung~

"People travel to wonder at the height of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars; and they pass by themselves without wondering."
~ St. Augustine~

"Intimacy is being seen and known as the person you truly are."
~ Amy Bloom~

* * * * * * *

Blogger afterthought: Deluding others about who we truly are, is not always a protection of self-esteem, in some people it is often done by design. We listen to the emotionally charged words of another and respond viscerally. Yet, if we can get past the words, and observe their actions, we become confused, we question, we tell ourselves, "he is deluding himself".

If we decide to delve deeper, we find the words, the rhetoric, to have been a manipulation of our emotions to achieve a desired end that does not meet within our own values. George W. Bush is a prime example.

* * * * * * *

The old adage,

"Actions speak louder than words".

Is indeed...a truth.

Old Habits

One step.

I knew, all I would have to do, was take a step toward him, allow my eyes to meet his, and we would have kissed...it was as if time had reversed...

* * * * * * *

I turned onto the street, in front of my office, as I watched the road ahead, I thought I saw his truck in front of me. It was him. It was his truck. Why was he driving down this street? It is not the way he drives home.

As I followed behind. I watched as he turned onto the street that is parallel to the parking lot by the agency I work at. I watched, I waited. Would he? He did. He turned left, and drove through the parking area. I saw his head turning left and right, looking for my Jeep. But it wasn't there, I was behind him. He did not see me.

I pulled into my usual parking spot, and watched his truck disappear around the corner.
My mind racing. Is this a habit? Does he drive by daily? To see if I am at work? Could that be it?
In an instant I was filled with trepidation. Would he really go to such lengths? No, he couldn't, he wouldn't. But why? Why?

I grabbed my cell phone, and called him. When he answered, I asked, "Did you want something?"

"Where are you?"

"In the parking lot, I was right behind you. I had a training out of town, I just arrived back in town. Did you want something?"

"I have your birthday card. I was going to stick it on the windshield of the Jeep. Wait there, I'll drive back around."

I waited. Wondering. Why? Is there a meaning behind this? I left three months ago, why is he giving me a card?

He pulled up behind my Jeep. I walked over to his truck as he was climbing down.
I could not meet his eyes, I had the hardest time looking at him at all.

I noticed the darkened skin on his arms.

"Did you enjoy your vacation?", I asked.

"Yes. Here's your card. Happy Birthday."

"Thank you."

"I heard you had some problems along the way. On your vacation."

"Yes, I have a lot of repairs to make, before I store the RV away again.'

"It sounded like it."

Silence. I was unable to meet his eyes. I do not know where he was looking.

Finally.

"Well...I have an air conditioner to repair."

"Which one?"

He mentioned the renter's name to me. I nodded.

I had not held out my hand yet, to take the card from him. I had not yet...met his eyes. I had looked everywhere but directly at him. I disliked myself for that.

I watched as his hand reached toward mine. Time slowed...I read my name written, in his so very familiar handwriting, across the front of the envelope. As my fingers closed around the envelope, I glanced up, and met his eyes. I observed how handsome he looked with his summer tan. I noticed how blue his eyes looked. But that is all I saw. I saw no emotion. The only emotion I felt was unease. And, a questioning. What is his intention? Why is he really here?

But then, as I our eyes locked, for just an instant. I knew. I knew all I would have to do...was take one step forward...lift my face up...his would bend to mine...our lips would have met...in a habit of old.

Instead, I quickly glanced away, and wished him luck on his repairs.

He climbed back into his truck, and drove away.

I have no idea if he watched me through his rear view mirror. I have no idea what thoughts were flowing through his mind.

It was then, I realized I was shaking.

Four of my coworkers were standing on the back dock. Two women, two men.
One of the men, had jumped down off the dock, as we were talking. As if to be ready.

The two women, watched me walk toward them. D said to me, "Are you OK?"

I nodded.

"Was that him? Your husband?"

"Yes."

"What did he want?"

"He...he, gave me a birthday card."

"Don't, don't back down. You have been through so much. Remember that."

I wondered. Did the confusion I felt show on my face? The fear? The not understanding?

I replied, "No, that won't happen. This is for the best."

I entered the building. I held the card gingerly in my hand. I could feel something hard within.
After I entered the sanctuary of my office, I opened it.

The card held a friendly, generic birthday wish. But, the envelope also contained a gift card to the local theater, and two tickets for the concession stand. I double checked them. Should there not be three? There should be three tickets. After all, we have two children. Was I supposed to invite him to attend a film with me? Why? I asked myself why. What was the meaning behind this gesture? Was there one?

I still wonder. Everything he has done over the past few years, has had a meaning, an intention, an expectation of my reaction. What did he expect this time?

I still do not know.

But, I cannot forget that moment. That moment, when habit could have taken over. That moment when all it would have taken, was one step. One more glance. And, we would have moved naturally, gracefully into a dance of old.

We would have kissed. A kiss of thank you. A kiss of goodbye.

It would have meant more then, than it had for years. There have been years of such things.
Those long time habits established due to long years of marriage.

I was more shaken by that instinctual, almost kiss, than I was by the gift.

It would be so easy, so very easy to go back. The worries would disappear.

But something much worse would appear.

Melancholy, depression, self-loathing, mistrust, control would once again rule my life.

A habit, a habit formed over more than half a life time...has been broken.

But, one step, one small step, would have negated all of that.

On the Verge

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though the melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.

~Mary Oliver~





























My decision was for the best, is for the best.
So why do I feel so damn lost?

Rambling Clouds of Thought

Words, so many words have been typed out upon my keyboard over the past few years. So many, that the letters n and m have been worn away, I find them by touch alone.

In thinking about all of these words written, and self-published here, I do wonder...

Have I grown? Have I changed? If so, has it been for the better? Has this public catharsis been good for me? Will I eventually reach a point when I no longer feel the need to post my thoughts here? Are the answers to these questions I ask and answer today, the same answers I will find tomorrow?

I think, I hope, I have grown during these past few years. Most days, I answer in the affirmative. Yes, yes, I have. Other days, I do still wonder.

I know I feel stronger emotionally. Somehow even though the two are connected, I do not feel I have become stronger from the writing alone. I am also stronger because of the few wonderful friends I have made through this online medium of thought and self-expression.

When I review the life I was living just a few short years ago, to the life I am living now, I have often wondered, would the changes I have made occurred, if I had not been slogging my way through the public blogging world?

My first few blogs were totally private, for no eyes but my own. Then I "met" someone online, we established a connection of sorts...he shared his public blog with me, and I created another private blog to share with him, and a few others. Soon, out of a fit of pique and uncertainty, I then created another...one that evolved rather quickly from a tongue-in-cheek poke at the world of online chat, and the relationships established, to one that became a true attempt by me to examine this online world we are all a part of. I eventually began expressing portions of myself that had been hidden away in the deep dark recesses of my heart and soul. In a rather ambiguous way, I was reaching out, in an attempt to find me.

Soon, it seemed, a time arrived when I realized there were subjects I wished to write of that did not fit in the Confessions blog. Thus, I created this one. It too evolved over time, it became a public airing of my past, my now, my future. So much so, that I cannot remember the last time I wrote an entry in my private blog. Of this I too wonder. Why do I post here? Is it because I need to read the thoughts of others in regard to what I am feeling? I believe this to be so.

But, I have come to notice in recent weeks, I have less I want to write about and post. Or, if I do post, I may soon delete. So many thoughts, so many emotions are gnawing away within me...but there are times when I just cannot find the words to express the depth of emotion in a way that makes sense. The random thoughts, the flashes of insight, are in an ever constant state of transformation, and I know not what to do with them. Or, I end up expressing them more personally in email form.

I am connected to myself and others by what I view as tenuous, often ambivalent threads of thought, of emotion. I am often unable to truly define them. I am unable to find any consistency of emotion. There is very little clarity abiding within me at the moment. Thus, I soon feel lost, uncentered. I begin to understand, in my inner seeking, but I have no idea of how to share these convoluted mixes of thought and emotion. I am a rambler through this emotionally charged cornucopia of questions and answers.

(as an aside...my ramblings today, were described to me as creative...how cool is that?)

Even in the midst of my most anguished filled moments, I used to be able to write them out, the writing process itself aiding me in achieving clarity.

But, now, today, I feel...hmmm...I cannot even seem to find the proper words to describe these feelings.

Turmoil, angst, worry, and fear war within me. They war with moments of calm, moments of an almost ethereal grace, moments in which I feel joy, moments in which I feel mindful, moments in which I feel an abiding love for myself, and those that people my world.

I wonder, I ponder, I analyze, I over think, I under think, I retreat, I move forward, I find balance, and then...I reach...a moment...in which there is serenity...but that moment is so short-lived, that when it passes, I again wonder...will I ever achieve it?

Funny, my mind is filled with thoughts, yet, I am unable to write them all out...I think, no, I know, I need to sleep an entire night without waking every few hours. 'Tis amazing what a few hours of uninterrupted sleep can achieve.

*Blogger ramble...Why is it, that if I buy a cheap lighter, it takes at least 6 flicks before the damn thing produces a flame? Two of them now, in one week...this engenders within me small fits of frustration. An easier frustration to deal with? Than the fact that my bottle of wine is empty?

Just Ride

Ride the wind, the burning searing wind.
Ride, ride, ride, until the heat is no more. Ride until there is a tidal wave of air enveloping every pore. Ride, ride faster, increase the speed, ride until your hair streams out in a line behind you, ride until the skin of your face is flattened, ride until you are flying. Ride until the wind tears your eyes, ride until you cannot differentiate your breath from the wind. Ride until the exposed skin no longer tingles, ride until it is tight, taut, ride until it feels washed clean by the very abrasiveness of speed itself. Ride, ride, ride. Ride until there is no thought, ride until fear becomes exhilaration, ride until you think you can take no more, and ride some more. Ride until muscles tremble from the ever constant small shifts and leanings. Ride until your body knows no other way to be.

Many years ago, I was often the passenger on the back of a speeding motorcycle, today, the memory of those hot summer day long rides filled me, reminding me of how it feels to push aside fear, and just ride.

Vulnerability filled me today. Some of the whys I know, some I do not wish to examine too closely. A vulnerability engendered perhaps by the many emotion filled moments experienced these past few months of ups, downs, and all arounds..

I examined this vulnerability of mine today, in a remembering of sorts.

I am vulnerable now, today, in a way I have not been for many years.
I am open, my mind is open to the words of others, my heart is open to the emotions of others. I am capable of being wounded once again, wounded deeply. The possibility of sustaining damage, is what allowing myself to become vulnerable means to me.

During the eons of being sliced up by the words and actions of another, I learned to close myself off in a pose of self-protection. I soon possessed the talent of seeming indifferent to the small spurs flung at my heart. When I felt too exposed, when I felt my heart might get pierced once again by the weapons of another, by those words and actions that wound, I found my heart had become enclosed in a shield of frozen tears.

Today, the tears are no longer frozen, there are times when the salt from the melting tears still burn, still sting, as they flow over those small wounds still residing in my heart, and in my psyche. But I think...maybe...I even know...my heart will remain open to whatever comes my way from now on. I will allow the tears, as well as the joys, to freely touch me, touch me completely.

In these past few months I have experienced something I have not since my teens. I have opened myself to those beings that people my life on a daily basis. I absorb them, they in turn absorb me, and what I have found most amazing of all...they like me...and some even love me. Me! The real me...not just the Sunny I have often projected...just me.

I am vulnerable, susceptible to being wounded, but, I am also susceptible to being loved, and loving in return. A very heady feeling, a feeling that needs to be ridden full out.

A Scattered Brained Day

In the past 72 hours, I would surmise, I have experienced the widest range of emotions I have have felt in quite some time. Thankfully most were pleasant, very pleasant, but of course being my life, there must always be a little angst thrown in to keep me on my toes.

I spent a weekend away from home, a weekend reveling in an emotion I have not allowed myself to really feel for months, maybe even years. I was happy. Yep, me. I felt happy. A smile was on my face more often than not.

If I had to place only one label on those days, they would be labeled JOY.

Of course, I had to return home yesterday. Back to "the real world", but, I was OK with that, I felt refreshed, able to face the challenges of my life as it is today.

Or, so I thought.

Life does have its way of slapping me awake. Pouring a cold glass of reality over my head when I least expect it.

The pounding on the back door rattled the entire house at 7:15. I had just finished my morning shower, when I heard a knocking, that became more and more rapid, soon it was louder, faster, frantic. Just as I wrapped a towel back around myself, I heard Mr. Son answer the door, (I knew, somehow, I knew exactly what I would hear next...sigh...sadly... I was right.) I heard an anxious voice gasp out, "I just ran over your dog!"

Mr. Son was standing frozen in the doorway as I entered the hall. Still dressed only in the towel, I told him to go to her to find out how badly she was hurt. All the while, hoping, praying she was still alive, praying she would only be badly shaken, and bruised. Not battered, nor mutilated, and, oh please...not dead!

As I was rapidly throwing on some clothing, Mr. Son came back to grab the kennel, and to tell me she was alive, but badly injured.

For one so young, or perhaps because she is young, she was so docile, just quietly lying there with her head on our neighbors lap. As I bent down to gently run my hands over her body, her small pink tongue came out and began licking my knee, her long fluffy tail beginning to wag. This little babe, with her rear leg split open to the bone, lay there quietly enduring my attempts to gauge how much damage would be done in moving her.

We were lucky in that she only sustained the damage she did. She has a broken knee (or whatever that would be on a dog), she has approximately a dozen widely spaced sutures running up her leg from paw to thigh. Her other leg, and tail are spotted with minor abrasions. She reacted well to the trauma inflicted upon her small body. My hope is in our staying with her, assisting the veterinarian, that we gave her some moments of calm, and made the trauma somewhat less.

She has a month of torture ahead of her, her leg is encased in a creation known as the Thomas Splint. A most amazing device, that the veterinarian assured us would accommodate her well as the healing process begins. I have my fears with such a wound, so even though he told us she would be fine with no bandage changes (though somewhat smelly), I am going to return with her several times, and request they be changed out over the coming weeks.

She has rested comfortably through the day and evening. She seems in little pain so far. Drinking a little water, taking her medication (wrapped in a cheese slice), and has done quite well each time she was carried outside to urinate. We will be closely observing her as the days go by...I have a feeling this black furry friend of ours... will teach us many things in regard to suffering, and living. I know her frustration level will increase in direct proportion to the hours of inactivity she must endure to heal.




Thus as I passed the day away, my mind was already split in two very different directions.

Then there was...Work. After dropping the puppy off home, I also had to return to work today. More than just work, I had to play catch up, I had to attempt to do both my jobs at the same time, and I don't know if it is the extreme heat and humidity blanketing the Midwest, or the time of year, but the crazies are out in full force, and they all seem to know my phone extension!

A day in which much concentration was in order...a day in which that didn't happen.

A day in which my thoughts were skittering hither and yon...dandelion puffs on the wind.

CD on replay this night~ Eye to the Telescope~ KT Tunstall

Talking to Me

Yesterday...I told myself...

"One day, you will find yourself."

"One day, you will open yourself up and allow yourself to just be you."

"One day, you will be ready for the many adventures living, just living each day, each moment has to offer."





Today...I tell myself...

"Each and every day, you will remind yourself, you will no longer allow your fears to rule you."

"To breathe, one slow inhale, one slow exhale, take the time to breathe in life."

"It is past time, well past time, to freely laugh, twirl, whirl, dance, sing (OK, not sing...bad...very bad at that), giggle, and play, because...what will be, will be...enjoy it. "