What it Means in the End

It's all done. He stopped loving me a long time ago, months ago. Time where we were "working on things" we weren't. Or maybe we were and the other part of us was preparing for the inevitable. I'm shocked. I'm hurt. I'm stupid for not realizing it sooner. And I don't know what to do now. I don't know what to think or even how to process this. It's hurtful and painful.

Here I was being blamed for throwing it away and not working on things when he wasn't either. Does this happen to everyone that goes through a divorce? Is every relationship an illusion until the end? Then you realize that it was a lie for longer than you ever imagined.

He has no guilt. And that is proof that he doesn't love me any more. But it's over and I guess he shouldn't love me any more. So what do I do now? I am swimming in rapids when I thought I was floating in shark-infested waters. Two totally different techniques in surviving.

Survival is what it is in the end, isn't it? I deserve more. I will have more. I just have to keep moving forward. I have to keep swimming. Keep swimming. Just learn the truth. See the truth. This is what it is. There is nothing I can do to change it now. I have no control. The person that I thought I married isn't that person. We have each changed. Or maybe we were always these people. Maybe we always had this relationship. But I will never know. It is what it is and it's really over. And it is so over that 12 years of love can be forgotten in less than 2 months.

Time will tell if yet again the one after is the one for my ex. My history shows that to be the case. But it is more serious than a one night stand. It's more meaningful. Sigh. I'm not jealous. That's not the emotion. I don't even think I'm angry. Or if I'm angry I'm not angry that he has moved on. I am angry that he didn't love me enough to mourn for longer than a few months. 12 years. I mean I wanted this divorce. I pulled the trigger. I pushed the ball over the cliff. And despite all of that I am still mourning the dream of our love. I am mourning the loss of my lover and best friend of 12 years. And now I'm angry that he could discard it so easily.

But that is who we are. When the world is gray to you as it is to my ex I think it taints you. Things don't mean as much. You don't feel as deeply. You don't know the depths of sorrow but you also don't know the ecstasy of love. So connections, changes are easier. You move on. It's quick, simple and relatively easy. But I think those that feel the world need more time. I have felt depression greater than I would wish on my enemy but I have also felt an amazing joy and ecstasy of moments, lovely moments. So when something ends, I mourn for awhile. I question whether love will ever exist again. If indeed life will resume and spring will come.

And there in as simple of terms as I can put it is the difference. The irreconcilable differences that have always existed between us. And it is no surprise that in the end those differences would present themselves again. He said today that I will eventually move on and be able to be friends. I tried to say no that's impossible. I want to be angry forever. I want to hate him for being able to disregard me so easily. But I know that I can't. I can't be angry forever. It's not my way. And right now stupid me wishes that it was. I wish that I could be angry forever. I wish I could hate someone forever. I could hold a grudge and never forget. But I've learned that I'm just not that way. So I will forgive him. I will find love and understanding and peace again. I will figure out how to not be angry. I will realize that just because he can let go and move on so much quicker it doesn't mean that I'm less lovable. It doesn't mean there is something WRONG with ME. And it doesn't mean there is anything wrong with him.

I wonder if I'm the only one in the world one has reacted this way. I doubt it.

First Night

It's weird. I've avoided moving all week but it's time now and there were no more excuses. My son is with his grandma as I have to work tomorrow AM and it's quiet. Nothing is familiar. It doesn't even smell like my house. I had to buy new hand soap today. And make my new queen size bed. Thinking about where I'm going to put the trash can and the cat food. It's all surreal.

I wish I could pinpoint the emotions. I looked at the air conditioning as I watched my first tv show in the new place. I thought, "I'll be here for the summer." That's weird. The summer. That's in the future. Wow. This is real. I filled up my CPAP machine tonight, typically a task the ex would do. It was weird as I decided to store the water in the bedroom here. I didn't have to tell anyone. I realized I didn't have an alarm clock. How was I going to wake up in the morning? Thank God for my iphone. I took a bath because I forgot to by a curtain rod. It was smaller than my tub. I guess this is the new tub now.

I don't think I feel overwhelming sadness. It's more hmmm, ok. I guess this is the way it is now. I remember feeling this way before when I lived briefly on my own. It was a hmmm, ok this is weird feeling. I feel the need to run out and find a new boyfriend to live with me. A distraction. An unneeded distraction. Maybe I should be able to come home and feel "ah, home." I wonder if I'll ever feel that.

It's interesting to me the concept of home. I've never. ...yup, never, settled into a place that I lived. You know unpack the boxes, hang the pictures, make your space reflect you. Never. I do it half ass. Even in my house that we bought and were going to live in forever, I didn't settle. Looking back I wonder if my subconscious was telling me something even then. But for the first time I want to now. I need to now. I need to have a place that is safe. That I can see a reflection of me.

I panicked in looking at a couch today. I panic a lot. I hyper ventilate. I can't make a decision. I'm afraid of making the wrong decision. I know that's normal, fear of making the wrong decision. But since when did buy a couch involve a wrong decision? I used to have and still do have panic attacks at the grocery store. I'm overwhelmed, incapable of deciding what to eat. Even with a list. I think the list is wrong. And I search my brain thinking I had to have forgotten something from the list. I had to have. And I stand there, paralyzed. That's not normal. Perhaps needless to say I didn't buy a couch. I did see two couches I liked under $300. I could probably swing it. But did I buy it no. What if I bought the wrong couch?

I don't have anything to hide behind any more. I am living away from my house that I bought. The illusion is now shattered. And I can't figure out how to buy a couch. So what will I do? I'll go to my friends and say 'hey, help me buy a couch.' They will be there. They will help me not get stuck for too long.

I wrote awhile back that no one ever wants to come in and take over your life when you can't make a decision to save your life. They don't want to get involved when you are depressed and sinking. It's too messy. But I was wrong. People do help you. People do become your think tank. The right people. I've had some right people take over my to-do list, my long-term goal list, my decorating list, my health routine, my eating routine, my packing committee, my moving team. People have saved me from my self. I am grateful. The universe gives you the people that you need at the time that you need them. And that's what I'm thinking about this first night in my queen size bed.

Because although I'm scared and overwhelmed and excited and cautious and healing, I know that there is a group of people whether visible or not who will ensure that I don't drown. I may fling my arms and swallow some sea water but in the end there will be an arm to grab me from the storm.

What a first night.

So we meet again

I moved today. I packed up my half of the marital assets and moved to a two bedroom "garden" level apartment with a remodeled kitchen and hard wood floors. It took about 90 minutes from first load to last unload. Did I not take enough? I don't know. I mean maybe not. I would think that I would have more but then I remember that we live a rather simple lifestyle to begin with.

I'm not sleeping there yet. I don't have a bed. I don't know part of me is doing this slowly for a reason. I haven't lived alone .... ever. I mean there was a few months in LA but I was too busy dating the ex ex to really ever move in. Or and there were a few months in San Rafael in that attic apartment across the hall from the girl that dated Bill Graham's son. But that's it. So now well, I'm going to be living alone, with a little boy 50% of the time. Wow.

I've avoided writing. I've been avoiding a lot of things. My emotions are all over the place. I spent a day not eating and losing my mind. I deleted my FB account, I pushed people away that didn't deserve to be pushed. I found every crack in my ex's armor and exploited it. He did the same thing. I refused to take my medication. I refused to do anything except lay there and sleep. It was official bottom.

To write about the bottom is close to impossible. it's irrational and crazy. but it was bound to happen. every situation eventually reaches it's pinnacle of worseness or greatness, then you move on.

so now we meet again on the other side of bottom. i'm terrified of actually leaving the house. to make myself feel safe in another new place. what will happen? i don't know. i will rely upon the people that i've desperately tried to push out of my life and learn how to be on my own again. someone said to me that there is beauty in showing your weakness. that it is nothing to be ashamed of. i don't know if i believe them.

but today driving with my mom to and from my new apartment i was reminded of something my grandma said this week as they packed up my possessions. She said, "you will be ok baby and you will build a new life." tears came to my eyes as i thought of that moment today. my family is a family of survivors. women survivors who for one reason or another have had to pick up the pieces a thousand times over and survive. it builds resiliency in your bones. so i will spend 3 days saying good bye to this house, and starting to build another home. boy.

Seeing change

I'm an only child. As such I'm easily entertained. Typically this is a good thing and keeps me fairly simple. Since I was a little girl I have been fascinated by mirrors. Not  in a vain, let me pick at my skin, look at how fat I am kind of way. I was/am always fascinated as to what my face looks like when I talk, making funny faces, frowning, etc. It's half the reason I enjoy photographing people so much. I don't like pose photographs, just people in their natural element, without the guard. You see so much more and typically people are beautiful in those moments of being themselves.

I was looking at some pictures I took of myself and I notice my eyes, my expression, the change that was happening that I never quite noticed, until now.



This was in the spring. I'm smiling. I think I had been crying and I was trying to cheer myself up, making funny faces. My face is strained, my eyes are dull, painful but the mask is still in place. Cracked however much it may be.



This was the moment that I realized that I had to muster up the courage and make changes. At the time and in that moment those were not the thoughts running through my head, but it was there as I think back. Wanting to hide with my hands, but yet I look straight ahead, determined, resilient. The smile is gone. The mask has slipped. A week later I made a decision. This photo will always be special for capturing the moment of resilience and strength before the storm.



I couldn't hide any more. This photo was taken about 3 weeks ago. It is hard to capture the true imagery of depression, the self without the mask, but despair pours from my face and I'm incapable of holding any semblance of a mask. I see this and every loss that I was feeling at the time. Words can capture the despair but perhaps this image will serve as the memory of this time.



Hope has begun to bloom. Genuine belief that we are going to be ok. That I am going to be okay. My smile is back. My eyes are cautious but optimistic in their hope. I look at this and I see ... me. I see the person that I want to become - happy, genuine with a tinge of strength there in the back of my eyes.

It's different to be on the 50%+ side of optimism. To know that indeed this is the right decision. Not the easy decision but the right decision. And to capture that moment of knowing is a gift. Because as the days go by there are still a lot of moments that I forget. I am still living one day at a time. I am still terrified at each step that I make. I still have no idea how this will all play out in the end. But to capture a moment is a gift indeed.

It's alright

Tonight we listened to Live at Central Park by Simon & Garfunkel.  Paul Simon is a poet. So many lines, so many words from him console me and make me feel like some where, some one has felt what I feel right now and gotten through it. Tonight when I heard American Tune, I felt that way.

Many's the time I've been mistaken
And many times confused
Yes, and I've often felt forsaken
And certainly misused
Oh, but I'm all right, I'm all right
I'm just weary to my bones
Still, you don't expect to be
Bright and bon vivant
So far away from home, so far away from home

I am confused and weary to my bones at the moment. I can't expect to feel buoyant right now because I am so very far from home. I don't think I would recognize home if it hit me in the head. I looked at apartments today. Dingy, yucky apartments that I can afford on a part-time income while going back to school. None of them felt like home and I wondered if any of them ever would. It terrifies me to think of starting over. But I'm alright. I'm alright. I have to be.

And I don't know a soul who's not been battered
I don't have a friend who feels at ease
I don't know a dream that's not been shattered
or driven to its knees
but it's all right, it's all right
for we lived so well so long
Still, when I think of the
road we're traveling on
I wonder what's gone wrong
I can't help it, I wonder what's gone wrong

Each of us has moments of our souls being battered, of questioning our path and our choices. I too don't have a friend that feels at ease. Even those that have a good life have moments and days where they wonder what has gone wrong, what is changing, why can I not catch a break here. I hate platitudes. I'm a big picture person. Big picture is wrong and I'm wrong. It's the way that it is. I don't make small changes. I take things and blow them up. I've done it over and over again. This is no different. I'm just reeling from the after shock of it. I have been driven to my knees and I have no where to go but up. Perhaps that is the best place to be?

And I dreamed I was dying
I dreamed that my soul rose unexpectedly
And looking back down at me
Smiled reassuringly
And I dreamed I was flying
And high up above my eyes could clearly see
The Statue of Liberty
Sailing away to sea
And I dreamed I was crying

My soul, inner parent, big person does smile down upon myself reassuringly. I know it will all be just fine. But I'm crying at the loss of freedom, the loss of the dream. It's ethereal to feel this way. To know in my soul that it is alright, but feel so lost in the moment of my daily life. I want to skip from this moment to a year from now, 10 years from now, when the ripples will have died down and I can see clearly that it is alright. But as I've said before today is not someday. Today I still need to feel the ripples and be ok with the losses. I need to pick up from my knees and continue forward.

We come on the ship they call the Mayflower
We come on the ship that sailed the moon
We come in the age's most uncertain hours
and sing an American tune
Oh, and it's alright, it's all right, it's all right
You can't be forever blessed
Still, tomorrow's going to be another working day
And I'm trying to get some rest
That's all I'm trying to get some rest

By nature my way is to be bold, to sail off into an unknown land or unconquered territory. I know this about myself because it's always been this way. I have been blessed in my life. Truly. Blessed. With the choices I made when I was younger I should not be here now. I should be living a trailer in Kansas missing all of my front teeth and hollerin' for Dale Jr number four. Truly. But tomorrow is another day. It's another working day. And sometimes I just need some rest.

This blog is my rest. The thoughts that spew out of me. I find consolation in them. Working through the things that I think about. It will be alright. All alright. I'm just weary to my bones and need some rest so I can stand up to live another day.

Scarlet O'Hare would be so proud.

New Year

"I don't know where I'm going, but I sure know where I've been."

I can't believe I'm quoting White Snake, worse yet, I'm conjuring images of the chick on the car and you know what I'm talkin' about if you grew up in the 80s like I did. But there it is. It's the thing that popped in my head. And I live with this brain every day. Oh god, I'm rambling. Let's see if we can rescue this train, there is a point.

Every year I grow more and more introspective in the week between Christmas and New Year's. I try to look back on where I've been, what I've done, and where I'm going. But this year, it's different.

In most areas of my life I have done some amazing things. This is the year that I truly started to FEEL like a mom. Last year it was still so new, so different. But now, I am officially a mom. With all the glory and yuckiness that entails. Some where in this last year I realized that my son was going to look at me, look at my life, look at the choices I made, look at the path I've taken and it made me pause. I realized that my life would teach him something and what it needed to teach him better damn well be good.

My timing in life is never very good. I make decisions at the oddest times, when it makes the least sense in the traditional view point. It's been my way. A lot of the time people think I make snap decisions but that is the furthest from the truth. I am a thinker to the point of exhaustion. I hold my cards close to my chest. I don't share. I don't want your opinion. I don't want your insight. I protect my thoughts like Fort Knox, which is so contrary to maintaining a blog. But onward ...

So I go along and I'm thinking and thinking and thinking. Year after year I would feel as if something just wasn't quite right. I was becoming more and more separate from the path that I wanted my life to be. I knew it. I felt it. I dropped very subtle and not so subtle hints. But I didn't change anything. It just wasn't the right time.

Then these little eyes came home to me and I realized, he was watching. The time was right to make a change. To be bold. To make the tough decision. To speak the truth that I was no longer happy in my marriage. my husband is my best friend. but at the core level we are too different. we are the definition of irreconcilable differences. to go into the details in this space, even as open as I am with my life, would be wrong and serve no purpose. trust that this was not an easy decision nor a decision we made light nor are we going to destroy each other in order to separate.

you have read the turmoil that this has caused in me over the last few weeks. i am deeply depressed, sad, overwhelmed with fear yet silently resilient knowing that life will go on and it will be better. better for me, better for my husband, and ultimately better for these little eyes that watch my life.

this year is no longer about making resolutions or goals or promises. i have painted myself into the corner. i have to take action and move forward boldly. i am out of options. i have shown my cards and now i need to play them. so here is to the new year, may it be full of beauty and boldness. god, i'm scared.

A Crack

One of the most ethereal experiences I've had is watching the sunrise over Haleakala crater in Maui. You stand before this crater in pitch darkness. Cold, tired, groggy, hungry because who really wants to wake up even earlier to eat. You wait in anticipation. I think at one point I started to wonder if it was ever going to happen. Then I started thinking that it better well be damn worth it. I mean I'm crazy standing here in the cold, miles above sea level when I could be still sleeping. But no, I got up. I got dressed and I better have one fine ass sun rise. Like one of the best in my life . I start to doubt. I get irritated. And then it happens. The sun pierces through the layer of fog and the world turns into this floating land where you are above the clouds. You watch the world around you come to life, having waited silently for the sun's warmth. It's amazing and beautiful.

In a lot of ways I have been standing waiting for the sun rise to come. I've had so many days of darkness that I was starting to expect to never see the sun again. In the darkness you freeze, even with sweaters and blankets, you are never able to get warm enough. You wonder what the hell am I doing this for. It is worth this. Is welcoming the new day worth freezing? In my analogy, I don't know if it is or not. Not yet at least. But I will say that the band of people who have gathered around me to warm me in these days is telling me that it is.

The new day will be worth the pain and desolation of the last few weeks (or months, who am I kidding?). But even though the dawn has broke and the first rays of warmth has pierced my eyes there is still time to go before the sky is full of sunlight and joy.

Sometimes I get lost in my analogy. It makes sense to me. Right now that's all that matters. If no one understands or shakes their head while rolling their eyes at my constant need to find analogies .. fuck 'em there isn't much I can do with those people anyway.

So the day after winter solstice, where the night is the longest that it will be in the year, I welcome the coming of spring and the dawning of a new day. At least a little bit.

....... you know, comments are welcome. :-)

Today is not Someday

It's hard when you're knee deep in crap to not think of someday. Someday is this nebulous undefined space that may happen or it may not happen. It's somewhere else. It is not today.

I've been thinking of someday. I wonder how helpful it is. I mean if I say, "someday I will not cry every few hours." aren't I really saying to myself, "well yeah someday but right now you are so pathetic that you are."  If you say, "someday I will drive a nice car and live in a nice house." aren't you really saying "because right now I'm plumb broke driving a broken down car with a ghetto apartment."

Maybe that automatic response is my own negative internal thoughts. Probably. But then by constantly thinking of someday aren't I avoiding today. Yes we all need to dream but really "someday" may never come. "someday" may be exactly the same as today.

Right now I am thinking of the "someday" and it gives me hope. Maybe that's the point. Recognize what is here today and wish upon "someday". I do ignore the today too much though. If I were to think of what my today is I don't think I would like it very much. But what exactly am I going to do today in order to change someday. Because if I don't do something different how could I expect a different result. I don't know and that is what I need someone to help me with, being ok with what is right now.

What I am facing.

• living on my own for the first time in a long time.


• balancing the need to be a mom and an individual


• believing in myself and my dream


• continuing to move forward regardless of what the jury says.


• find a way to make the dream come true.

What is the immediate need that I need to take care?

• Figure out a budget


• Go to a counselor so I can get it the fuck back together


• Remember to love. Love is all that remains.


• Be true.

What rock do I need to push in order to start the avalanche that will lead me to someday?

• I think I may have already pushed it.

Someday:

• I will know how to balance my needs with the needs of others.


• Have a posse/entourage/cru of people who are supportive of the artist


• Be accepting of where I have come from and where I want to go.

Life is a big leap of faith isn't it. Because do we really have control. I don't know if it's God. Or it's the way. Or if it's random. But all I know is that I need to ensure that I remain in the now. I need to breathe that in and experience it. Otherwise I will never move forward.

Truth

"The truth will set you free, but first it will make you miserable."

For the first time in a long time I told the complete and utter truth. It has made me miserable. Indeed. The evidence is every where. Not just on this pathetic little blog but in my daily life. In my breaking down every hour or so. In my confusion and uncertainly that I will forever be miserable, all because I told the truth.

Yet Grace falls like rain around me when I speak the truth. Oxygen pumps into my lungs and I remember to be alive.

When I was 25ish, my boyfriend and I were on a "break" - kinda, not really, I thought. One day, I went to his apartment to surprise him. He opened the door naked, typically a good thing. But that day it wasn't. There was another girl naked with him. Clearly we were on a real break. I remember I swore at him, telling him to fuck off. I went back to my car, gas tank was on empty, and I drove to Sherwin-Williams (a paint store). I bought a can of black spray paint. Calmly went back to his apartment, spray painted on his door then proceeded to go down to the sub terrain parking lot and destroyed his precious car with spray paint. When I was done I threw the can across the parking lot and walked out. My lungs filled with oxygen. I was alive and I knew I had done the right thing. That the truth, my truth was in that moment.

The following months were .... dark. I went to therapy 3 times a week. I contemplated suicide. I slept and ate. All in my family's home. I was a heap of nothing with no future, no one to love me, and I was alone with the exception of my family. Slowly dawn began to break and I had a constant rolling dialogue with me and God. And it was basic. Lord, help me walk this step. I can't do it. I can't open my eyes today. Please give me strength to move forward. Eventually it became greater - climb the stair case, interview for this job, accept this job, wake up every morning and go to work. In those moments when I asked for someone to carry me, I was carried. The oxygen filled my lungs and I could breathe.

My history of depression is long and sordid. I fall and regroup to a point of function. But the mask goes on again and I stop speaking truth. I revert to being the "good" girl. Until I am suffocating and I can't breathe, then it goes again.

I wrote that last blog. I write a lot of things. But lately what I write is truer and truer to the truth. And I can breathe when I'm done. Jason read it. It is easier to understand me when you read my writing. I can't communicate very well verbally. But give me a paper and pen, and I can help you understand me a little more. He was sad. He was worried. He was concerned about my ability to pull out of it this time. But again I spoke my truth to him about the depth of my despair, about my ability to hold on, about my daily struggle. And I sobbed. Deep sobs because I knew that I was telling someone that cares for me a great deal the truth. And that truth hurts.

My history of co-dependency and protecting those that I love will not serve me well. I had a moment of truth 2 weeks ago and am I still reeling from speaking it. Oh yes, my despair is great. But in the end, if I stay in the truth of my emotions, my lungs fill and I see again the breaking of the dawn.

I have an interesting view of God. I believe in grace and I believe in a path. When you speak and feel the truth then you are following the path of grace. The path that was meant for your steps. The path gets fuzzy when you ignore the truth as I have for so long. But the beauty of it all. When you show one moment of courage and speak the truth, the path comes visible again.

Indeed this journey has just begun.

Dear World...

Note: This is an exercise. The emotions are true and real. But I'm not stupid, just depressed.

To the world you may be one person,
but to one person you may be the world.

I'm ready to leave now. I am ready to stop struggling. I am ready to not have to do or say anything. I've flirted with the darkness of my despair many many times. this isn't my first time at the rodeo so to speak.

but now there is my son. my son. my son. my son is stopping me from losing myself completely. only my son stops me from running away. from turning into a drug addict. from living underneath an overpass turning tricks so i can get my next fix. it's only him. otherwise fuck it. what is the point. and the honest answer is there is none. i have no higher calling. i have no purpose in life except to serve as a "what not to do." that's my role.

every day i am struggling to take the next breathe. i am struggling to find my balance. every day i am hurting more and more. every friend has their own life. their own set of worries. their own joy to experience. who would drop everything and help me learn to walk again. no one. i have spent the last 2 weeks in a state of shock, devastation pulsing through my veins. the finality of my decision reaching it's full impact. But yet who notices, I am a superb actress.

Then people ask me "are you ok?" ... no no not at all. I'M NOT FUCKING OK. Do I look like I'm ok? No. No, I don't. the puffy eyes, the shoting pains done my sides. my inability to breathe. the pounding of my head. I'm FUCKED UP. CAN YOU DEAL WITH THAT? ... of course that isn't what I say. Sometimes I say, "yeah". But sometimes I get enough courage to say "no." And with that the conversation is done. or I'm asked "what's wrong?" And there I'm stuck. how do you say .... my world is crumbling and I caused it. I am barely functioning. I can't handle this. I NEED you. .... you don't say that. I merely shrug and ask about them. The moment is forgot and off we go.

I get older and see myself becoming more and more of a shell. empty. alone. my demons so strong that I have indeed made my worse fears come true. There are no Knights of the Roundtable to rescue me. There is no Justice League.

When you are destroying yourself people let you because it's healthy to not overstep someone else's boundary, tell them that I am not going to let you destroy yourself and hate me all you want but I don't care. I love you and need you in my life so you hate me as long as you want, just do exactly as I tell you to do. It will be better. You will win. I promise. Then add to that that few people are strong enough to withstand the daggers of glass that spew out of me when someone tries to rescue me. And we have an almost impossible situation.

So what choice do I have ..... what choice ..... kill myself and destroy my son, my family. That's not an option. It's not a viable option. It's a selfish option. The biggest fuck you to the world is to believe that you mean absolutely nothing to the entire world. So much so that your presence, your life is no longer needed or wanted by anyone. And I can't do that. Because I know to my son I am the world.

But what do I? I can't hear that it will be ok. That in the end I will be better. I don't believe that right now. So much so that I can't put one foot forward because I see it as an exercise in futility. And I can't afford counseling. Plus I have done so much counseling in the past that I know the psycho babble crap that will be said to me. The drugs aren't working because I'm too stubborn to take them with regularity. God is sitting in the corner asking me what my choice is? So .... my only answer is. I don't know what to do. I don't know.

Would you ....

[caption id="attachment_709" align="aligncenter" width="199" caption="You're not as awkward as you think you are. We'd be your friend if you let us."][/caption]

I think people struggle to put me on their friend card. People shake their head at me all the time, wondering what the hell I could possibly be thinking or embarrassed at my lack of filter. People struggle in their understanding of me. So it's no wonder that my card has constant openings.

I wish right now it was full of people who understand me. I wish more than anything that I could make logical, well-thought out, pro/con list decisions. I wish that my wishes could be more easily understood. I wish that I didn't have to make a decision that changes everything. I wish that I knew people would support my decision whether they understood it or not.

I'm in pain. horrible gut-wrenching tear my heart out pain. I've been staring at my friend card for awhile now, wondering who I should call up, wondering who would understand, wondering who would help me figure out where to go next.

But here's the thing ....  I don't know how to let people take care of me. I don't know how to call someone up and say, "my world is falling apart." How to let someone feel my weakness is the hardest thing in the entire world for me to do. It makes no sense. I mean I could write my heart out in this public forum yet to personally tell someone the the agony that I'm in at the moment, to hear their reaction, to feel is .... damn near impossible.

Returning

[caption id="attachment_706" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Woman releasing butterflies."][/caption]

Butterflies are the great symbol of metamorphosis. We don't become butterflies. Butterflies are what the world asks us to create. As children we are our truest self. It's the reason we love children so much. Their effervescence and willingness to take risk, to step off a cliff with no fear. Their capacity to love freely. They don't hide what they feel or think. They are. And then looking at us with bold eyes they ask us to try to break their will. Sadly, I think sometimes we do.

When I think of myself and my childhood, I was a dreamer. My family will tell stories of me - when I was about 8 or 9 and I woke up crying on Christmas Eve because I was afraid that my uncle didn't have enough gifts. or when I was 4 or 5 and we were at Bob's and the waitress gave me a glass of milk and then put a straw in it. I looked at the waitress with my big blue eyes and calmly took the straw out and drank from the cup. Not spilling a drop.

These stories highlight for me that characteristics of who I am at my most basic of level - loving, kind, giving, determined, stubborn and defiant. If I were to make a list these adjectives would be the ones at the top of the list. always.

I talk a lot about changing. About being different. But when I think about changing I wonder if I really mean returning.

In therapy you learn that a lot of the anger you have comes from the dichotomy between your true self and the self you present to the world. I've been angry a very long time and that's because the gap, the Grand Canyon size gap, that I have created.

As we age we develop the mechanisms to protect ourselves and sometimes those mechanisms take us away from who we always were. Some would argue that we all have to let go of being a child with all the silly dreams, loving heart and determination. And for them, maybe that's true. But for me. I've stepped too far away from the core.

So I want to stand up and release the butterflies I've created. Instead I'll stand there and simply be. Maybe that is enough.

Maybe I was wrong ....

Maybe I do need more acknowledgment of my contributions than I imagined.

Maybe I am an attention seeking monster.

Maybe it really, in the end, is all about me.

Maybe I am telling myself that I'm altruistic.

Maybe I'm lying that I don't need external validation.

Maybe I'm just trying to tell myself that so I feel better.

Maybe I really do want the spotlight.

Maybe I do want to be the center of the known universe.

Maybe it is all about me because it rarely is.

Sigh.

Maybe I don't know what to do.

But maybe, just maybe, I do.



I'm a believer in the coin toss. I tell people all the time (and I tell myself) that we all know what the decision is, the path is, the choice is. We know it as surely as we know that the sun will rise tomorrow. The difficulty is stopping long enough to listen to the voice that speaks in the split second that it takes you to toss a coin.

I'm not listening right now. White noise plays in my head. Static and opinions flood me. I've grown confused because the static grows louder.

Maybe I can turn it down just long enough to figure it out.

True Beauty

I grow tired of women's insecurities about their bodies. Their never ending quest for beauty. Their never ending dialogue that tells them that they are not beautiful because they are not thin, have wrinkles and gray hair, or they have given birth to multiple children so they have stretch marks or scars.

We all do it. I do it. I kid constantly, "oh it's tough to be this beautiful. I don't know how I do it." Of course I swagger and smile. It always gets a chuckle and I move on. Part of me stops to wonder, are they laughing because they think, "she's delusional. don't you see how fat you are?" Then I wonder, are they laughing because they think, "wow. I wish I could think that." I never have the nerve to ask.

I talk about this a lot. Maybe because I struggle with this a lot. I rebel against people making me fit within a box of their expectations but then I'm lost without those expectations. It truly makes no sense. I think all women are like this. We all struggle with the expectations to be beautiful. Even the most beautiful women I have known - thin, gorgeous, shiny hair, pearly white teeth, perky boobs and all - think they are ugly. They push away people wanting to take photos of them. They cringe when someone says they look beautiful. And I sit there and wonder why. But the other part of me understands.

I'm lucky to have spent my life as the fat best friend. I've seen the cracks in the beautiful people and seen the beauty of ugly people. But sadly I lack the ability to convince anyone that they are beautiful. Just this morning I repeated this song to a friend of mine. And I sat there listening to Justin singing about sexy I couldn't help but think ... damn straight I'm bring sexyback. I mean how could I not. With a face like this ....

[caption id="attachment_672" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="Who doesn't love an Andy Warhol version of themselves?"][/caption]

See it's saying shit like that that gets me in trouble. No one, NO ONE, is all that and a bag of chips. Maybe if we stop thinking that I'd have this if I was thinner or I'd have that if I had the tummy tuck or if I was blond my life would be perfect, we could actually start enjoying the true beauty of people. The flawed gaps in our teeth, the imperfection of our skin, the gray that pops out of our head, the wrinkles that form as we grow older. It all goes back to the flaws. We all have them. Maybe if we showed them we could unlock the handcuffs that perfection has placed on us?

So I'll take the first step. Here I am - hair barely brushed, no make up, unplucked eye brows, skin tags, slight double chin, and flawed skin. Hardly the picture of perfection. But I guarantee, I'm singing SexyBack.

[caption id="attachment_673" align="aligncenter" width="225" caption="Here I am"][/caption]

Perhaps

Ready to step into a whole new story.

Tonight on the Biggest Loser Julian said this to one of the contestants and it hit home for me. Change requires commitment and commitment has always been my issue. Do I want a new story? Yes. Desperately. I am tired and wore out from repeating the same story after all these years. Over and over again. I have had enough. I'm at the end of my rope and frankly my hands are bloody from holding on.

I see no light at the end of the tunnel, unless it's that giant train that is approaching. I see no silver lining in the gray clouds. And I see no rainbows forming from all this rain. No I just see the same page I've seen for as long as I can remember.

Courage and commitment. I lack both. Courage to make changes. Courage to be a new person to dream that maybe there is another story that I can create. I don't believe in myself at all.

Then the contestant said, it's hard to count on yourself when you've never done it before. No such truer words have ever been spoken. One could argue that I count on myself every day. But I don't. I let the world happen to me and then get pissed that the story is the same. I expose myself, this morsel of innocence with a tinge of evil, and wonder why I get crushed all the time. I think it comes back to expecting everyone to take care of me. Which makes no sense on any planet that I've ever lived on because I should be taking care of myself by now. But no, not me. I float around, thinking someone will take the reigns.

So I ask myself. Do I have the courage and strength to make a new story? My answer has to be no. No I don't. Then my response is .... where do I find some? Is Dorothy going to come down the yellow brick road and take me to see the wizard? I think not.

I'm pathetic.