Conditioning...rinse, but do not repeat

Divorce, or rather, marriage has a way of conditioning us.

We begin to think that things are a certain way. And weird becomes the norm.

Not always.

But in my experience, when weird does become the norm, divorce eventually follows. Not always right away, but soon enough.

It's when we discover that we've been "fooled" into believing the weird is just how life is, just how life should be, that we throw in the towel.

No one wants to be the fool. Not me.

Looking back, after being divorced for just over a year, I laugh now.

How could I have accepted those strange things as the norm?

It's incredible.

And yet, the conditioning doesn't completely fade away...or maybe a better way to describe it is that the conditioning mutates into another freakish monster.

Let me explain.

I had been taught in marriage to accept that a man will not have eyes for just me, and that expecting a man to love me, and see just me was a wild and ridiculous notion.

What I had been taught was what was really ridiculous.

But in searching for love, post being fooled, the mutant took form.

It seemed impossible that I could find a man who would look at and love just me.

It's true, one gentleman (though I can't hardly call him that) I went out with would comment on the appearance of every woman who walked by, on every date. I felt invisible. He didn't see me.

The mutant belief began to turn into cement.

But.

Then there was him.

The one who taught me, is still teaching me, that he sees only me....that he loves only me.

Last night we were together, and a woman passed by where we sat, and I mentioned something about her appearance.

He hadn't noticed her.

A strange concept.

A beautiful woman could walk by without being seen?

Incredible.

But to him, he had a beautiful woman right in front of him. Why look elsewhere?

Another strange concept.

All those years of being conditioned to believe that men were a certain way, and that it was because I was not enough...all wrong...or rather, weird. That weird concept had become the norm.

And now that weird norm was being shattered.

There are men who actually want one woman. And who love the one they're with. And women can be enough as they are. They can even be beautiful. In fact, a woman will really blossom under such conditions.

Strange concept. Not strange. New.

A new concept I am really taking to. I think this is how it was suppose to be.

Maybe this is part of healing too.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Giving up your heart

"I know it ain't easy, giving up your heart..."

I heard those words in a song the other day. How true that is.

What is it about giving up our heart that is so hard?

Well, for those who have given up their heart before, and had it crushed, usually the thought of giving up their heart again is more terrifying than death.

I guess I can't speak for anyone else, but myself.

Sometimes I feel like I sit on the fence when it comes to love. Straddling, I have one foot on the side of giving up my heart, and one foot on the other side, ready to run away.

Why do we, why do I, do this to myself?

Maybe the better question is, why would anyone hurt someone to the extent that they feel the need to straddle?

Why do we damage each other's hearts?

If we feel we can't properly care for another's heart, why not, instead of causing irreparable damage, simply say what is? "I care for you enough to walk away, I can't care for you, the way you need."

Why are people so cruel?

I hate straddling. I hate being hurt.

Why is this fear of hurt so monumental?

I don't know.

I just know it "ain't easy, giving up your heart..."

It ain't easy for me to give up my heart.

But everyday that I find myself on the fence, I just have to push myself to other side.

The side where I trust.

The side where I open up.

The side where I give up my heart.

It ain't easy.

Giving up my heart.

But I try, every day.

I hope you know that.

Can't shake it

Sometimes you just feel like crap. And you can't shake it.

It's not that you're sick or anything like that.

It's just this thing that seems to be sitting on your shoulders, weighing you down.

And what's worse, is often times you just can't place it.

Where did this feeling come from?

If only you knew, then you could tell it to get the hell out and go back to where it came from.

But you can't put your finger on it.

So it sits, crushing your shoulders, like a mischievous imp, laughing at the fact that it has conquered you. (For now anyway.)

Maybe it's just the time of year? Maybe it's the holidays? Maybe it's missing my mom? Maybe it's dealing with an ex who just won't see reason? Who knows?

But it's there, and for whatever reason, it wants to stay.

I suppose if I can't place it, I can at least let it be. Pretending that I'm not feeling what I am feeling has never really worked.

So I can say, yes, this is how I am feeling, I don't know why, but it's there all the same. So I'll invite it in, let it walk around in my head for a time, rather than fight it. And then because it doesn't have to fight, maybe it will just walk on out.

Path of least resistance.

Hopefully that will work.

Love is a choice

We are flawed.

That's just how it is.

But, minus a few exceptions, I believe we are good, to the core.

When it comes to love, a good match is essential.

And not everyone is a good match. And that's okay.

But when two people find "a good match" in each other, they are then faced with a choice....to love or to not.

Love is a choice.

And without making that choice, even the best paired couples will never make it. The flaws, that we all have, whether great or small will inevitably become too much, insurmountable.

But, when we choose to love, with all we have, that's it. That's all that matters. Flaws, habits, pasts, quirks don't matter, they become tiny hills, even mounds, that we walk over hand in hand.

There will always be a reason not love, if we're looking.

But I believe there will always be a million reasons TO love, if we're looking, if we choose to look and choose to love.

Love is a choice.


-- Post From My iPhone

Enough

Sometimes you're never enough.


-- Post From My iPhone

Things are different than they are

Some days are weird.

I've been divorced officially for a year today.

That's weird.

A year ago my life was different.

But, yesterday my life was different too.

Some days I wonder when my life will be the same. But really, I don't think that will ever be the case.

The power comes in knowing, and accepting that change will be the only constant.

Because if I know that life will always be changing, then I can always be ready to embrace it.

Today, I embrace the change that happened one year ago. No my life isn't any easier than it was then, in many ways it's harder.

But.

The change is good.

I've grown.

And in another year, my life will be very different than it is today.

So I will ride the wave of change, and I will do my darndest to enjoy that ride.

Because this is a ride no one can get off of, not even death will give you a break.

Rubber underwear

Some days just make me feel like I'm wearing rubber underwear, weird, uncomfortable.

I don't like it when that happens.

I just want someone to come along and take it away, every last pair of rubber undies I have.

In all seriousness...today was strange.

I haven't been able to determine exactly why, but I've run through some possibilities:

The weather drastically changed today, out of no where it seemed. And in that changing weather, I seem to have missed my favorite season, fall, and all it's magical wonderment.

Also, could be that Steve Jobs died yesterday. Now, I'm not saying I will be missing having Sunday dinners at his house, we weren't close, but I respect the man for his genius (of which I am using one of his fantastic devices to blog from) and vision. The other thing, is that he died, of pancreatic cancer at the young age of 56. My died if the same cancer at 51. Thinking about that makes me miss my mom. I wish she were here, I have a lot of bones to pick with her, and mostly I want, well, need to bask in her wisdom for a spell.

Missing my mom always makes me homesick, for a home that doesn't exist anymore.

So, I am lying alone, in my cold room, missing my mom, homesick for any kind of feeling of home, and just feeling weird today.

I hope my dream catcher over my bed works over time tonight. Or I just hope to wake up in regular underwear, hopefully the rubber will have melted away.

Hopefully.


-- Post From My iPhone

Opinions change...maybe

So, for a good while I have seen myself as "not the relationship type."

Yeah yeah, I know what you're thinking, she's divorced, she's got baggage, blah blah blah. But it's more than that.

I think it came down to the fact that I'm difficult. And in being difficult, men just didn't want to deal with me. I get that.

But then, what happens when I meet a fella who wants to put up with my crap, for longer than a couple dates...well, I don't know, but from what I can tell, so far, it's just all around awesome.

I'll be honest, I feel guilt sometimes, I mean, I am just trouble and he just loves me despite that. It's a strange feeling, you know, to be loved and wanted, when for so long you've been told you weren't worth the effort.

It's strange, sometimes unnerving. But really, it's just great.

So, I may be the relationship type, maybe. But I really just think it comes down to finding a good match, I think that can make a "relationship type" out of most of us...finding a good fit.

And as I see it, I found a good fit.

-- Post From My iPhone

Mountains of laundry, knock-knock jokes, and making memories AKA...being a parent

After working a long night shift in Salt Lake, and traveling home, the thought of crawling into my warm bed was more than thrilling.

I unlocked my door and was immediately bombarded by the smells of my home. After tripping over a few shirts strewn about the room, and a stray toy or two on the stairs, the smells began to intensify.

It smelt like sweat and dirty laundry.

Once at the top of the stairs I was reminded of the many things, including a mountain of laundry, that still needed to be done.

This never ending list only seems to grow with each passing hour.

As the list stretches, so do I. Almost thin.

The responsibilities of caring for three small children, alone, are not easy.

The loneliness and helplessness associated with it, I would not wish on anyone.

But those mornings, when I wake up with a little person by my side, or hear a knock-knock joke told without a punch line, or when I see the excitement of a first ever roller coaster ride, the loneliness, helplessness, ache and stress melt away, if even for a moment.

And all the hard work, the late hours, the tackling of laundry mountains become worth those little moments.

I only wish work and school didn't pull me away, so I could have those moments, all day, everyday.

I often feel like I'm cheating my children.

But I have also (finally) learned that it is more important for me to make those wonderful memories during the time I do get with them, instead of squandering it away pining for more.

No parent single or divorced, short or tall, fat or skinny, parents correctly all the time. It's a daunting task, to parent (with no manual, by the way). You're always second guessing, always regretting, always wishing for a second chance.

But, if at the end of the day, you love your children, and they know it (and this should go without saying...but you don't abuse them in any fashion) and you are constantly trying to be better, then you are a successful parent.

And for many of us, that's all we want.



-- Post From My iPhone

The lone wolf

Do you ever feel like a wild wolf, running through the chaos of a heavily wooded forest?

Branches seem to reach out and tug at your corse fur, anxious to slow your progression.

You glide through the mud, trying to escape.

Rocks seem to jut out and attack, as you pant breathlessly, running, running, running.

Always running.

But never with a pack.

Your path is not the packs, but because it is yours, you run it.

Alone.

You run.

Through the chaos.

Maybe someday your path will connect. Connect with a pack that runs just like you.

If you do, if you don't, you will always be running. Either way, it is who you are. A runner. In the chaos, from the chaos. Running.


-- Post From My iPhone

Firsts and lasts

This time of year has become a time of many firsts and many lasts....

I am teaching high school for the first time in my life, and just recently had my first day.

I finished the last day of my internship with the Deseret News.

And three days later I started my first day of my new internship.

Today was the first day of my last year of college.

Which also means, this past weekend was my last summer vacation of my college years.

I bought my first car all on my own.


And so many more....

Each last, seems to be the opening of a new first. And I can't wait to see where all my lasts take me, what all my first will teach me.




-- Post From My iPhone

I'm not a super model....

....but I am beautiful.

And no, I wouldn't classify my body as perfect....

....but it's mine.

So, I'm heading to the pool, wearing just my swimsuit.

No shorts covering the stretch marks on my legs, or my embarrassing tan line.

No t-shirt or tank to cover my imperfect cleavage.

Nope, nothing but the swimsuit, worn as it was intended.

I'm tired of hiding behind layers.

And don't worry, I'm not about to go streaking or anything.

....but I am becoming comfortable with me.

Comfortable enough to rock a blue and pink polka dotted tankini.

Oh yeah! Sunshine, here I come!






--Post From My iPhone

Unavailable

I don't always make the best choices in the men I choose to date.

Maybe I have been afraid of finding something really great (which comes with the even greater fear of losing it), so I've chosen the ones with impossible odds, it seemed safer.

I would choose the ones who were ultimately unavailable in some sense or another, or worse, I'd choose the ones who would never want me. (Which would, in the end, make them unavailable.)

When things would end, because they always would, I could always say that it was because they just didn't want me. (While completely true, it provided me with a scapegoat, I didn't have to admit my failures and poor choices.)

Now, just because they didn't want me or were unavailable, doesn't mean they weren't good guys. Sure, some were real class A douche bags, but, most were actually decent fellas. But, again, not available.

So, here's the crazy idea, what if I choose to be with someone who is available, someone who wants me, someone who sees me.

The possibilities are so great! We could be so great!

It's a real leap for me.

I'll be honest, the idea scares the hell out of me. (As I mentioned before, the fear of losing something sooo great is very scary.)

But, at the same time, the fear of never experiencing something so great is even scarier.

So, I'm standing at the door of this plane, and I'm jumping. And I'm counting on my chute to open.

And I can't wait to experience the thrill of falling!

-- Post From My iPhone

Sentimental

I think there are times when we all get a little sentimental.

It just happens.

When it does, we can soak it in, embrace it, love it...Or, we can shun it, spurn it, ignore it.

I usually do the latter. I think it freaks me out, because of all the feelings that come with it.

But today...I felt it coming on, and I took it in. I let it sit with me for the day. And you know what, I survived, not only that, but I really enjoyed the day.

And in a way, I feel like I've been able to connect my past with my present.

Which made me realize all the lovely things from my past can easily be woven into my current life, which is filled with the things I love.

Today I introduced dilly bars after swimming to my three loves. And what a smashing hit!





-- Post From My iPhone

Speaking of labels...what's your number?

Now, as I'm not one interested in labeling people, (as I mentioned in my previous post), one thing that has always intrigued me is a person's "number."

You hear people say, "oh she's a seven!" or "Mmm he's a nine, yowza!" or even "ugh, he's like a four, yikes!"

I've always been interested in how this number has been calculated.

For some it's purely based on looks, and scores seem to fall on the extreme ends of the stick. At first glance I think people are either very attractive or not so much.

But if you factor in personality, character, quirkiness, unique qualities, sense of humor and even how long you've known them, scores will often fall more in the middle ground.

And lower scores can even jump a few points.

What I wonder is, how important is this score? This number?

Can a 4 be with a 9?

Would a 9 even give a 4 a second glance?

I also wonder how everyone rates themselves. Do we downplay our strengths and positive traits? Or do we inflate our number, hoping to increase our chances of landing a perfect 10? (By the way, I don't think perfect 10's exist.)

I've always wondered what my number would be....

....what's yours?


-- Post From My iPhone

Labels

I dislike labels.

I don't like how they place limitations on people.

















Somehow they imply that a person is less capable, because of an invisible badge they wear.

And sometimes it becomes an excuse to write people off, without even knowing them.






But in the end, we all wear the same label....










--Post From My iPhone

Orchids

I think orchids = true love.

That's all.

Walking the tightrope

Sometimes I feel like my life is a circus, and I'm the one on the tightrope.

My ground below isn't sure, or steady.

And while the crazy music and laughing clowns swirl around me in a dizzying craze, I falter on the rope.

If only this were just a rehearsal, a practice run. If only the blaring lights weren't shedding their blinding and unforgivable shine on me.

But it's showtime, and I'm not ready. I don't really know what I'm doing.

When will the man on the flying trapeze swoop in and save me from certain death?

....he never will. He shouldn't anyway. I have to learn to master this art on my own.

The art of living, loving, overcoming.

Maybe I just need a safety net, in case I fall.

Numb thoughts

The music pounds.

It is my heartbeat.

The crescendo rises,

Just as my ache does.

Numb.

Numb.

Numb.

Stop the music,

Stop the pain.

Without the pain,

You didn't exist.

It's all in my head,

In my heart,

In the music.

It pounds.

My heart beats,

Numb.

Numb.

Numb.

The facts

Here are some cold, hard (and not so hard) facts about me...

I am terribly lonely.

I miss my kids whenever they are not with me.

I like pink, like a lot.

I judge people who don't have an iPhone.

I don't like people screwing with my systems.

I believe in magic.

I think I'm a difficult person to love.

But I also think I'm worth loving.

I hate crawling into my empty bed, alone, each night.

I am afraid of finding great love.

I'm afraid of not finding great love.

A change

Change is good.

Most of the time.

The summer has felt weird, uncomfortable.

I've grown a lot, I think (hence the discomfort), but it's just felt sort of surreal to me.

All summer I kept thinking, I'll wake from this dream state soon...right?

Well it's August and I'm still in this dream sequence.

It hasn't been a bad summer, I've done some really great things.

It has just felt weird.

Maybe this is all part of the adjustment, I don't know. I hope so. I hope I can settle in soon enough.

But I have felt the urge, near need for a change. And while much will be changing in a few weeks as school starts, I needed something now.

Of course I wanted something more grand, you know, like landing the perfect high paying job, falling into a ridiculously romantic relationship, buying a house, getting a cat, things like that.

But in leu of a grandeur, I will settle for a change in my hair.

It will have to hold me over, until I can grasp the great, the grand, the spectacular changes I desire.

Challenges and blessings

You say each day is a challenge and a blessing.

I always pray your blessings are greater than your challenges.

If you ever need a friendly ear, or shoulder to lean on, I'm here.

I miss the way things used to be.

But I always hope for your happiness, above all.

Taking risks

The first title I had for this post was "Being alone." But I decided "Taking risks," was more appropriate.

Being alone isn't easy.

And often, in order to avoid being alone, it involves risks...big risks.

What's worse?

Being alone or taking risks?

I suppose taking risks aren't bad in the general sense, but taking the kinds of risks that keep us from being alone are very scary.

I always think, I don't want to be alone...but then I think, if I am with someone, or wanting to be with someone, I have to open myself up to them. And what if that scares them away? What if they think I'm not enough, or I'm too much?

That's the biggest risk.

And how do you know when to take that risk? When is worth it? How much do you open up? How much do you drop your guard?

For someone who doesn't gamble, love, not being alone, is a huge gamble...a huge risk.

Eating blueberries and wishing for rain

Wishing for rain...it's something I have been doing a lot lately. It could be because I love the rain, and it could also be because it has felt really muggy lately, or maybe just a good combination of the two.

The blueberries, well I just love blueberries. Who doesn't?

And the two together, well, they are both wonderful, but together they're amazing.

It helps me think. There's so much to think about these days. So I find myself eating blueberries and wishing for rain.

I've been thinking about life. What life should be, what it is, what I hope it would be.

...there's so much to think about...

so much.

Picture perfect

Relationships look prettier from the outside...

I heard this the other day.

Do you think it's true?

Pity

Pity is one of the worst feeling someone can feel for another human being.

It's as if they stand on the clouds, in their perfect world, hovering above...and looking down on the poor creatures below.

I hate feeling pitied. I have more pitied in the last year than in my entire life.

I'm the divorced girl, with three kids...yadda, yadda, yadda...all alone.

But do you know what I think, when I feel someone dumping their pity glare on me?

I pity them.

I pity them for not stopping and taking the chance to know me, my situation, my story, my adorable girls.

And in the end, they are the ones who lose out. And though my life doesn't take place in the clouds, it's still a pretty great life. And from my perch, I can look out, and see the good, the real, the stories of others.

And how can you pity that?

Under pressure

"...pressure, pressing down on me..."

I think a lot of us can relate to Queen's famous song, whether it's our job, school, family, friends or even a lover...there's always pressure.

Say this, do that, look this way, wear those clothes, think these thoughts...

It can all become overwhelming. Especially in a valley or culture that thrives on perfection.

But the problem is, who says they are the authority on perfection, on "all the right things"?

So, for me personally, I'm shedding the pressure. I'm going to do decide what's best for me say, do, look like, think...

I'll choose to be my own version of perfection.

Driving in the rain

Sometimes you need to take a drive in the rain.

If only it would rain.

I feel like driving in the rain today.

It helps me think.

Yes, I would think about you while driving in the rain. But wouldn't I think about you while driving without the rain?

Yes.

But at least if it were raining, I would feel like I could think more clearly.

You make my brain cloudy,

...but where's the rain?

Over it

I love it when you hit that point...


...the point you can think about that one person, and not have your insides rip out.

It's always a great feeling.

The marrying kind (part 2)

I had a thought tonight...

I think men are attracted to "wild" women, but marry plain ones.

First, before you start throwing tomatoes...let me explain what I mean by wild.

All I really mean is untamed, imagine a wild horse, running free across the plains. No saddle, no bridle, free spirited, not tied down.

A man sees that, and they come a runnin'! Who doesn't love a flowy mane floating on the breeze?

The freedom of these creatures draws the menfolk in, with as much intoxicating mystery as a siren would allure an unsuspecting sailor.

But once they're there, once they began to share a life with their wild horse, they soon find they can't keep pace, and they can't hold her down.

So they walk...to greener pastures, if you will.

And they settle on the simple mare. The one with a bit in her mouth, the one that can be led with a simple tug on the reigns.

Granted, not every man is this way, but I'm willing to bet that most are. (sorry fellas, it's just what I think)

What a wild girl needs, is someone who will ride across the open plains with her, beside her, a free stallion, wild and untamed as her.

Fairytales

I don't know why, but the words to a famous Cher song are running through my head..."do you believe in life after love?"

Well, what I really want to ask is, "do you believe in a life with love?"

We see it all the time in the movies, the couple that against all odds, comes together in the end, and lives happily ever after.

But do you believe that really happens, in real life?

I know some couples who I think are really in love, like really. But I also don't necessarily believe their lives are these magical whirlwind of events, moments, etc.

What makes a fairytale a reality?

And can the average person make their reality have a fairytale ending?

I hope so.

As crazy as it might be, I hope so.

The marrying kind

What do you think the "marrying kind" is?

What are the qualities of this kind?

And what separates them from the eternally single types?

I'm just curious...what are your thoughts?

First dates

First dates are like getting dental work done....

The end goal is well taken care of, beautiful teeth. But the road to that goal...ugh, it's excruciating!

Some visits to the dentist office aren't so bad, I sometimes leave with a prize.

Other stops, well, sometimes they don't even numb me before performing a root canal.

Each time I sit in the chair, I think, "this has got to be the last time, right? I've got be close to being done with this."

And then I find myself setting up another appointment for next week.

Maybe I just like the dentist...maybe I should just go out with him.

Disconnected

...sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service...

This is how I feel somedays.

I can't really call out.

And no one can call in.

It's not for the lack of trying, it's just that the service has been temporarily shut off.

Maybe it's due to lack of payment.

What's the cost of reconnection?

Sometimes it's as little as finishing a project. Other times it's as extensive as talking it through, almost to exhaustion. Today, I think it's going to cost a hike, seeing nature, finding wonderment in it's raw beauty. And dropping by a flea market, handling old objects, with rich stories to tell. And also, enjoying the company of a good friend.

I hate feeling disconnected from my life, from myself.

It looks like I need to be better at making timely payments.

I need a wife

My life is crazy.

I want a wife.

Someone to clean my house to perfection.

Someone to take care of and love my kids while I'm at work.

Someone to pay my bills and organize my schedule for me.

Someone to wash my clothes.

And someone to pull my shoes off and rub my aching feet at the end of the end of a long day.

Ahhh... Yes, I need a wife.

Let's talk about the weather

It's funny how different things can shift our moods. One particular force for me, the weather.

When it too hot, the grouch will often creep out.

When it's too cold, my out going self pops up.

When the sun is shining, I'm happy.

When it's rainy my mood is somber, nostalgic. I get thoughtful.

It's not raining right now, but I can tell it's brewing.

When a storm is brewing, I feel settled, calm.

There's a certain peaceful feeling about watching the weather build, and in a grand show of lightning, thunder and torrential rain, all the force slowly dissipates.

It reminds me that even a giant force like the weather changes its mood. It's furry builds, and always relents.

Overly guided

"But this is what you felt, and this is what you thought too? Right? Right? I thought so."

People, even young people should be to think for themselves. I just think that.

Yes, children and adolescence need guidance, but rather than telling them what they think, they should be teaching them how to think...for themselves.

And if someone thinks differently, it should be celebrated, not condemned.

But that's just me, thinking for myself.

The bubble

Every community has its little bubble, where many within the community choose to stay and live out their lives.

That's great. I guess.

I tend to find myself outside of the bubble.

There was a time, years ago, when I tried to cross the threshold of "the bubble," but like water and oil, it didn't mesh well.

So I exited the bubble.

And I like sitting outside the bubble. I like the space that comes with not being locked into a small, conformed world.

And the other thing is, I'm too curious to be confined to a bubble, I want to explore. Maybe visit other bubbles, but really to just see the world and the people living outside the bubbles.

I always just think how refreshing it would be, if someone went around and popped all the bubbles.

That way we could all share our lives, experiences and wisdom, without worrying about conforming to our particular bubble.

Sadly, I think too many can't live outside their bubble. They miss so much. And standing in their bubble looking on the outsiders, gives them a warped view, and they allow their fears to take over.

But if the barrier of the bubbles were broken, everyone could be seen in the same light. No distortion. No fear.

And I like that idea.

Notes

I like to leave notes for myself, so I can remember things that are important, or so I can remember to do certain things.

On my phone I have a little notepad where I leave such notes. And from time to time I go through them, to see if I have forgotten anything.

And I often get a good laugh, or at least a chuckle from the notes I leave.

For example:














Most are just lists, or thoughts. Most are random, some I don't even know why I left them.

And maybe it's silly of me for getting a kick out reading them....but I do.

Passion

Drive.

Life force.

Energy.

Passion keeps us alive. Keeps our minds breathing.

Our bodies may be carrying out the act of inhaling, exhaling, in, out, day, after day, after day.

But without passion, we are dead.

Lumps of lifeless nothings.

And the point of living, is living, isn't it?

Magic

I talk about magic a lot, I think. I guess it's just one of those things for me.

I love finding magic in every day life, objects moments and people. Because I truly believe it's there. Everywhere.

And even with it being so prevalent in my life I don't feel like it loses meaning, I think it magnifies it.

I love the way time seems to stop when I can watch a bird swoop down from the sky, land in a puddle and splash its wings in the murky water.

When I when was hiking up to see Delicate Arch this past weekend, I loved watching the way the tree shadows danced across the rock faces, or the way a rainbow spread across the sky above the Arch.

But one magical moment on the trail that really touched me was as I neared the top. I was hiking by a group of Asians most of the trail. They would stop and take a few photos, and I would pass them, then I would stop to snap some shots and they would pass. We went back and forth most of the hike. Towards the top, the trail rounded the side of the mountain and the trail was a little precarious. One guy out of the group, who seemed to be in his early 20's, took the hand of a little girl, maybe around 11 and said "I'll take care of you Sara."

My heart melted.

And he did take great care of Sara.

That was magic.

And it's e everywhere, those moments that make us pause. The moments, people, sites that steal our breath.

Words

Meaning. Feeling. Emotion. Weight.

Words carry each.

With words a person can carefully and stealthily tear a person to shreds. Or paint a picture of what sits in their heart.

Words can condemn. But words can also inspire.

I love words. I love their power.

I have a special connection with some words, over others.

Some of my favorites...

Magic.

Breath.

Strength.

Heart.

Written.

Rise.

Fly.

Some that puzzle me...

Languish.

Regret.

Loath.

Sacrifice.

Love.

Some I hate...

Hate.

Quit.

Bored.

Lost.

Impossible.


I associate each word with a particular meaning, feeling or emotion. And the weight of each word will either build a bond between the word and I, or making us the most bitter enemies.

Though, I prefer to be friends.

4th of July

Boom! Boom! Boom!

My heart jumped each time a firework shot in the air.

The glittering lights left me mesmerized.

The cool breeze and scattered rain drops, refreshing.

Magic.

Flirting 2.0

In my previous post I mentioned flirting, which of course got me thinking even more about it.

Now I mentioned my book was pretty old, and even if it were only 10 years old, I would think it would be quickly outdated when it comes to technology and flirting.

So let me ask this...what are the rules of flirting/dating when it comes to technology? Texting, tweeting and facebooking seem to make the lines all fuzzy.


Tell me what you think...

What are the rules of flirting with technology?

Flirting 101

I love reading self help books, they fascinate me and I actually do find them super helpful.

...yes they can be a little cheesy at times, but they are really so great.

I have this one, that looks like it could be from the 70's or 80's, and it's about flirting.

I love it!

The intro to this lovely gem reminds its readers that a true flirt isn't viewed by others as a flirt. This I like! Stealthy flirting, genius!

Basically a truly talented flirt is simply a friendly person. They're not creepy and don't obviously flirt, they're just nice, pleasant people.

Here's the other thing I found interesting, this book says to flirt with everyone. Again, it's really genius. See here's the thing I'm learning about flirting is you don't just flirt for romantic purposes.

Flirting offers a way to connect with people and build a network. And of course, there should be some romantic flirting, but not with everyone.

The cool thing, is that by building this huge network of people, you have a bigger pool of people to choose from, when you're ready to dive in romantically.

Pretty cool idea, and it makes sense.

This is the end of the lesson for today, no worries, I'll have more soon!

Dear Heart

Sweety pie, hunny buns, muffin cakes, lovey dove, pumpkin, love, cherished one, babe....

Pet names.

There are so many. I love hearing them. I love seeing couples call each other by them.

I confess, when a man uses pet names, I get a little week in the knees.

There's something magical about a special name that your love has for you. You and only you.

When that name is spoken the little butterflies in your tummy start fluttering.

I always imagine that couples that use pet names stay together longer, and are happier. Maybe because it's flirtatious, and I think that's an important part of a healthy relationship. I also think it's incredibly tender.

I remember when I was little, my dad would call my mom "Dear Heart" from time to time. Ah, I loved it when he called her that.

I felt like I was witnessing a magical, intimate moment between my parents, I felt like they must be so in love.

I wanted that.

I still want that.

Part 2: Well oiled machine

(Refer to previous post "Well oiled machine" --- if you're not sure what I'm talking about here.)

So what if you find yourself with a broken down machine?

A dead relationship?

Like creatures out of a horror film, dead relations seem to be able to "live" forever!

Like the undead creatures they are, they suck the life out of everything -- everyone.

When someone finds themself in a dead relationship, it's a heartbreaking realization.

Often one will question how this could even happen. A relationship once so alive, now drains life, like an oozing ulcer.

Once this realization occurs, a choice must be made.

-Stay in the lifeless hell hole, accepting it for what it is.

-Repair the broken machine.

-Escape the hell.

Even with inaction, you are making a choice.

But a choice--nonetheless.

And choice gives you power.

So choose wisely.

Well oiled machine

In relationships, we are always making mistakes, well, in life too.

We're humans.

But particularly in relationships, we have to be aware. We have to repair damage as we create it.

And on the other end, we have to be patient, willing to forgive, when we are the recipients of hurt.

It's a constant give and take. And it takes a lot of work.

But just like a machine that goes without oil, if the give and take, repairing and forgiving, doesn't occur, it all breaks down.

Sure, pieces of the machine may function, in a way. But it will never be what it needs to be, what it can be.

Relationships require a delicate balance. There can't be only one person giving, while the other only takes. There can't be only one damaging (or only one acknowledging damage), while only one forgives. Both have to offer the same, take the same, forgive the same.

It has to stay balanced.

Or it breaks.

And dies.

Wait! You forgot to close!

Imagine:

Your heart doesn't work quite like it should.

Perhaps it's stone cold and it takes a lot of muscular effort to get the blood pumping through it. Or maybe it's just too small, and has to work overtime to get the blood pumped to the tips of your toes and ends of your fingers.

Now, imagine that you are offered the chance to have a transplant. This would be great right? Keep in mind, however, you've had this bum heart for quite some time, it's not the ideal heart, but you're used to it. You know how to compensate for it's flaws. But it's flaws have the potential to end your existence early.

What do you do?

Do you keep the old classic, though not perfect/potentially lethal heart? Or do you shoot for the chance of getting a new, young, perfect heart...but a heart you don't know, one you're not familiar with?

Well, for the sake of arguing, let's say you opt in for the chance to have a new heart.

There you are, the day of surgery, so excited you can hardly keep from wetting yourself!

This is your chance, a new lease on life, a possible extension even. What a great day! How can you not be anything but elated?!

Hours later, you find yourself in recovery. You groggily open your eyes, stretching out your fingers and toes, already this new heart feels amazing!

You feel like a new person! No more compensating for that bum heart! Wow, this is just great!

You have to remain in the hospital for a few weeks, and you are told not to fiddle with your bandages. Both are simple requests you willingly oblige, you're so caught up in how good you feel, you could care less.

Well...time has passed, you've never felt so good, you're ready to take on the world, and you are free to go.

As you finish checking out, the nurses tell you it's time to remove your bandages.

Layer by layer, they remove the gauze. With the removal of each layer you feel more and more exposed.

Awkward.

Uncomfortable.

Raw.

You look down. Your chest is still cracked. No stitches in place. You can see your new, young heart, beating quickly, as if it were willing your chest to close in around it.

"Wait! You forgot to close!" You shout at the nurses.

They don't even acknowledge your presence anymore.

You are ushered from the building. There are many more people waiting for their new heart, and you're in the way now.

There you are. Once protected, now fully exposed. You try desperately to pull yourself together. You're frantic.

How did it come to this? It wasn't suppose to be this way.

Sure, you have a new heart, but what good does it do you, if you can't protect it?

Now you find yourself having to compensate again. At times you put up a shield, to cover your heart. And other times, it's just there, completely open.

Each morning and each night you try to stitch the gaping hole back together. It'll get there...but the progress is slow. The closing moves in such tiny increments, you hardly ever notice the change.

Until, one day. You wake up. And you're finally whole again, finally healed, after daily efforts to put yourself back together.

Was it worth it?

That is only for you to decide.

What is better? A bum heart or new heart, exposed?

Nothing tastes the same

People can go a lifetime eating sub par food, in fact, I believe most of us do.

And we're okay with it. We don't know any better.

Occasionally we may taste a slightly better drink or a better cheese, and we love it.

But when we experience a full course meal, of pure wonderful...a meal with handmade sauces, exotic seasonings and rich flavors blended together perfectly, nothing will taste the same again.

When we eat the bland, dull food again, we feel we are betraying our taste buds. They know what great food is now. How can we feed them crap? And get away with it.

Even decent food isn't good enough. Even good food isn't good enough.

We are ruined, we want the best.

But nothing will ever taste the same again.

Be your own hero

The knight rounded the castle steps, sword in hand, the fire breathing dragon nipping at his heals. As he reached the landing he turned on his pursuer, and lunged. The dragon screeched in agony as the sword landed between his eyes going straight through, and pinning the monster to the castle wall. The knight began his accent while the wailing dragon wrestled with the blade penetrating his gruesome face.

Reaching the top, the knight paused momentarily, to locate the maiden. There she lie, a feeble heap in the corner of the room. The knight approached, and gently spoke her name. Awaken from her tearful reverie, the maiden looked up in awe at the gallant knight, come to rescue her. The maiden took his extended hand and he lifted her into his arms.

Quickly, yet carefully, he carried the maiden down the castle stairs, avoiding the reaching claws of the still trapped dragon. His white horse awaited as he they escaped the castle walls. And climbing atop the beautiful creature, the knight and the maiden rode away.

Wouldn't that be nice?

In a way, or rather momentarily it probably would, but let me point a few problems here. The maiden is sitting in the corner, a feeble, crying mess. How the hell can anyone get out of a sticky mess, like a dragon attack, if they are hiding in the corner. Now, don't get me wrong, it's important to take a moment and be sad over things...but not when you're in the thick of it.

That is when you have to fight.

Other problem, why is the knight rescuing the maiden? Why isn't the maiden rescuing herself? The knight can be there, for sure, he can be back up, but if the maiden really wants to get out of this mess, she is going to have to find herself a sword or a bow and quiver of arrows and she's going to have to face that dragon.

She got herself in this mess, she needs to get herself out.

The idea of someone coming in and rescuing us from our problems sounds all too magical. It's hard to be strong. It's hard to fight. But we won't be strong and we won't fight, if we are lying feebly on the floor, waiting for someone to come rescue us.

We have to be our own hero, our own knight in shining armor.

So, let's try this again...

The knight rounded the castle steps, sword in hand, the fire breathing dragon nipping at his heals. The maiden stood on the landing and reached in her quiver, pulling out the razor sharp arrow. With precession and speed, the maiden shot the scaly beast between the eyes. He wailed out in agony and charged towards the two, his anger boiling. Swiftly the maiden shot two more arrows at the ever approaching beast, who screeched as the arrows landed in his heart.

Yet the dragon continued to inch towards the maiden.

There they stood, face to face. The maiden stared into his black eyes, without flinching, she reached for the dagger at her side and lunged towards the fire breathing monster. Plunging the dagger in the dragons head, the maiden swung herself around and slid down the dragon's arm. Reaching for the arrows in the dragons heart, she caught hold and with all the power inside her, she thrust the arrows deeper into his heart, killing the giant beast.

Pulling herself away from the slumped, dead heap, the maiden looked up at the knight. Exhausted from battle, the two reached out, meeting halfway. Bolstering each other up, the two paused a moment. Then, catching their breath, they walked hand in hand through the castle gates. Their stallions stood, waiting for their masters return. Each climbed atop their beautiful beasts, and rode away, into the starry night.

The beautiful thing about rescuing yourself, is you don't lose your love by being your own hero. The maiden still ends up with the knight in the end. And the relationship is more balanced, both are strong, both can hold their own.

And who doesn't love a person who is strong? ....I think the knight does.

Just a child

What do you do when the little bit of luck you thought you had runs out? And everything comes crashing in?

I'm not sure.

But what I'd like to do is curl up in a ball on my mommy's lap, and cling to her neck, just like a little child.

And that would make it all better.

Because when it comes down to it, we're all just little kids, who need an occasional hug and the reassurance that everything is going to be okay.

Unsolicited advice

Whenever anyone is going through anything big in their life, people are always chomping at the bit to throw in their two cents on the situation, whether we want to hear it or not.

They want to tell us what we should do, and what we shouldn't do. They want to tell us how we should feel, and that we're crazy if we don't feel a certain way.

We all do this, we all have this need to chime in. We can't help it.

I remember getting tons of unsolicited advice when I got divorced...a lot of it unwanted, a lot of it bad, a lot of it good, most of which I didn't realize was good until later.

I'm the kind of gal who has to try things out myself. Crazy I know, but it's just how I work.

I had a lot of people tell me I shouldn't date right away, a lot. But I didn't listen, I jumped right in.

I craved the acceptance I hadn't had in a long time. I wanted to see some hope that I was still valuable as a human being.

I did finally learn that I have a lot of value as a human being. But I didn't learn that entirely from dating. It actually came when I learned to accept myself, which lesson has been extremely important in my life.

I found that I wouldn't get acceptance from any guy, until I could accept myself. I'd never feel I had any worth to him, until I felt it for myself.

I probably could have figured all that out sooner had I not been dating. I also could have saved myself a lot of additional stress and heartache.

But.

I learn differently. And I took a different path. And I accept the path I took, as the path for me.

And this path has brought me to a point, where I feel the need to give unsolicited advice... Which is: newly divorced (and certainly not officially divorced) individuals shouldn't date. You've got so much you need to work through, and even if you're stable, you're a wreck.

But.

I never listened to such advice. And I turned out okay.

I guess the real important nugget here is, whether divorced, going through a divorce, single, widowed, or whatever, find your own path, whether it's a heavily traveled one or you're blazing a new trail. And, learn to accept yourself. Learn to value yourself.

Learn to be amazed by yourself. Because you're amazing, I promise.

And have no regrets. There is something you can take from every situation, whether it's a new friend, a new perspective or lesson learned.

Even if your path doesn't end up where you intend, there is something valuable from taking the journey.

....but that's just my two cents.

Time to look at things differently

About two years ago, my daddy remarried. This came four years after my mom passed away, a reasonable amount of time, I suppose.

I didn't want this to happen.

I was pretty upset when it did. And was upset for a good while after, basically until just this week, and I still am a little, but I'm working on it.

It wasn't that she was taking my mom's place, well, maybe a little, I felt like she tried to in a small way.

I think it came down to the fact that I thought her being in my dad's life, would take my dad out of mine. And in some ways, that has been the case.

With a new wife, my dad didn't call as much as he had before. And that was hard for me, especially while going through a divorce. I needed that support from my dad, and I didn't know how to tell him. With my mom, she would have just known, and in a way I placed some of that responsibility on my step-mother, I expected her to encourage my dad to call me, reach out. But it didn't really happen.

I miss the talks my dad and I used to have. And I will always love that crazy old man, always seek his approval, love and respect, probably till the day I die.

Anyway…back to what I was saying. So my dad remarried, and I was not happy about it.

That was my perspective.

Then…

The thing that got me thinking though, was something a friend said to me this week. His parents had divorced when he was very young, and his mother remarried. He said he didn't particularly like the guy at first, but he told me he holds a great amount of respect for the man today.

I may not love my step-mom today, I may never, but I feel I have come to a point where I should give her my respect. She is married to my dad, and oh that dear man has to be a handful, and however I feel about their relationship, they are happy, and my dad isn't alone. And for giving my dad that, I will respect her.

And just a side (somewhat related thought)... families are changing, and having a more open mind is not a bad thing, especially when it comes to accepting people.

Yoga

I just started doing yoga this January. It was something I had been wanting to do for some time and I was excited to start something new, as I always am.

But when I signed up for the class, I didn't realize how much I would fall in love!

And I really did, I fell in love with yoga. I fell in love with the way it made me feel.

I fell in love with the connectivity and clarity it brought into my life.

My very chaotic, disjointed life.

I haven't had as much opportunity to participate in yoga since the semester's end. But a couple of days ago I did, and all that love came rushing back.

I remembered why I loved it so much, and I'm still remembering today, days later...I love the way it makes me feel.

I love the focus I am able to achieve through practicing yoga.

And all I can think about right now is doing yoga when I get home this evening. I can't wait.

Rock it!

I spent my weekend at the beautiful Lake Powell, it was my first time spent on it's lovely shoreline.

I know, silly for an Arizona native to experience such a delight for the first time at 27, but hey, I have experienced it!

While there I slipped into my oversized swimsuit (from last summer) and hit the sandy beach.

My dear friend and travel budding on this little adventure said something that really got the old brain cogs turning.

And this is what they've spun out...
...none of us are perfect. I mean it! No one! Even that one guy or that one girl, that you think is perfect...well, they're not. Sorry to burst your bubble.

So if none of us our perfect, why the hell shouldn't we rock, what we got?!!

Well, I say we should.

And I personally am going to!

Plus, for me, it's those little perfections that become so endearing. The little belly that one guy has. Or that one girl's stubby toes. Even the big hands on that other guy, and the hips that one girl has.

We all have flaws, maybe it's time we flaunt them, be proud of the fantastic, working machines, that are our bodies.

It's time to rock it! ...babe! (felt like that needed to be there)

Good friends and good food

All I will say about this weird, weird, long day, is that at the end of it, it was so nice to enjoy a few laughs and some good food, with some great friends.

Sometimes that's all you need.

We are scattered: but one

With each new relationship we give a piece of ourselves, naturally.

And with the ending of each encounter, a portion of our heart remains a part of the person exiting our lives.

Whether it is a friendship or a romantic love affair, we extend that piece.

Even when we meet a stranger, and share a smile, a laugh, a ride on the bus, we extend a tiny portion.

As relationships develop the pieces we share become bigger, or more numerous. Sometimes at the end we may feel we cannot offer any more pieces, that there is nothing left.

But just as removing dead blooms from a rose bush will allow the nutrients to be used elsewhere and spur new growth, shedding the dead pieces of our hearts will allow our hearts to grow, stretch.

And when we encounter someone new, we will find we do have enough to share.

Over our lifetimes we may directly share our hearts with hundreds, possibly thousands of people who will carry a pieces of us to their graves.

As when a piece of our heart is given, it will meld with the receivers heart, who will then share a piece of their newly formed heart, and in essence, share a piece of us with those they meet.

It would be interesting to see how far our hearts have scattered across the globe, as hearts mix and fuse, and spread, and mix and fuse and spread, constantly blending, constantly creating anew.

At the very end, it would seem, we all have one heart.

The wild card

Spontaneous, yet strategic. Eclectic, yet stylish. Funny, smart, ambitious, driven...unsettled.

These are a few of the traits a wild card possesses.

Everyone knows at least a few.

Some have even dared date one. But in the end, most people go with the "safe, predictable" pick.

A wild card is high risk.

Yet, so exciting.

Most people want a taste of life with the wild card, it's exhilarating!

But, most people can't do a lifetime with a wild card. It's hard to settle down with someone, so unsettled.

So they dabble. They try it. Just to say they tried. They begin things, knowing from the beginning it'll never work, it's a wild card, the risks are too great for them to REALLY go all in.

For the few, oh the very very few, that stick, that dive in, head first, and put all their money on the wild card...they end up with a life of magic! Everyday, is bright, a mystery, an adventure! Yeah, they may hit a "safe, yet boring" stride every now and again. But if they let the wild card fly, without having to hold onto the strings, they will have the rare opportunity to experience an ocean deep love.

When it comes to relationships though, wild cards are often hesitant. They fear their freedom will be taken away, their creativity stifled. But once they are assured, once they know that someone is invested in them, for the long haul, they are the most loyal and faithful lovers.

I consider myself a wild card. High risk. With a huge pay out for the one who, not tames me, but chooses to soar beside me.

Are you a wild card? Have you ever dated a wild card? Or better yet, are with a wild card now? I'd love to hear about it!

-- Post From My iPhone

We're not your barbie dolls

I like men.

Who doesn't? They're funny, spontaneous, adventurous, rough and rowdy. They're cool under pressure and can often be quite chivalrous.

But.

Some guys can be real jerks.

I can find something beautiful about [almost] every person I meet, male or female. And sadly, I have encountered a few fellas lately who can't see real beauty when it's looking them right in the face.

It's mostly sad for the one who can't see, they're missing out.

They see a pretty girl and can't find the beauty in her brain. Or they see a girl (who by societies standards isn't that pretty) and they completely fail to see the beauty in her creativity, her wit, her laughter.

I think guys forget that we (women) are more than the shells that surround our personalities.

So here's a reminder, dear boys, look for the beauty that every woman has, and I promise you'll find it. You'll find so much more than big boobs, great legs and a fine ass.

You'll find a beautiful woman!

Because all women are beautiful, despite what our outer shells may look like.

As promised...

Here is my first letter to Teresa, it's from June 25, 2010 at 3:48 pm.

Letter 1
Dear Teresa,

It's been 5 years, 5 months and 17 days.
I wonder where you are, I wonder what it's like where you are. I wonder if the trees there have peacock feathers on them, instead of leaves. I wonder if you can ride your bike on the clouds, and if the birds singing in the trees sometimes turn into drawings as you ride passed them.
Do you get to take naps by the river bank? Do you even need to sleep?
I wonder how time works over there. Time is slow here, and at the same time, it flies, and I often feel like I'm in the middle of the ocean, treading water, trying to keep up with time. Sometimes I think of time as a little elf or imp, that runs away from me, laughing, just so it can enjoy watching me panting as I run after him. Oh, the little devil. Truth be told, I often enjoy the chase, it helps me keep my mind occupied. In my mind I chase Mr. Time through a massive forest, where the leaves are actually peacock feathers. And sometimes I run passed a group of peacocks, and their feathers are actually leaves.
Sometimes I picture time as the little white rabbit from "Alice in Wonderland". And then my mind wanders. I think about how when I was 13, I played Alice in the school play. That was a high point in my life. I felt like I was shining then, sadly after 13 more years, that shine has become dull. Then I get sad, when I think about losing my shine. I should have kept myself polished, oh how can I get that shine back?
I know if you were here, well, I know if you could answer me when I talk to you in my mind, you would know the right thing to say. You would tell me to...
...I am not exactly sure what you'd say, I guess that's why I am so lost. Perhaps I got lost chasing Mr. Time through the forest. Maybe I got distracted looking at the beautiful peacock feathers and the shadows they cast on the ground as they sway gently in the breeze.
Do you think I will find you one day in the forest? Are you chasing after Mr. Time too? I hope we meet there someday. You could prop your bike next to a tree and we could watch the birds turn into drawings and the peacocks with their leaf feathers, as they strut through the forest. Mostly I would like to lay my head in your lap, and fall asleep, by the river bank, and not think about treading water in the ocean and chasing Mr. Time.
... maybe that's what you would say to me, stop treading water, and stop chasing Mr. Time. Would that be your advice?
I miss you.
Love,
Ang

Not like the movies

I have been listing to tons of Katy Perry these days, call me crazy, but I think she's great. You can listen to the particular song I'm referring to, "Not like the Movies," here, if you want to see how great it is.

But after listening to it, it just really got me thinking. (oh like so many things do, I know)

Do we (this generation) just want more than generations from before? Has Hollywood skewed our view of love? Has our desire for more been answered in the movies of today? Which in turn has created this perpetual wheel of more, more, more.

We believe someone out there was made perfectly for us. We desire not just a connection, but a soulmate. We crave someone who will make us whole, our missing half, the perfect fit.

Has love always been this way? Or do we, now, just require more?

I wish I knew.

Even though it wouldn't change how I feel.

I want fireworks.

I think that when you find that person, the one that fits you, there will be fireworks, but not like the movies portray.

I think when I find my partner, it will be simple, and beautiful and lovely. He'll hold my hand. He'll kiss that spot on my cheek. And those simple things will shoot off fireworks inside me, because I'll be with him.

So maybe love is the same, simple. But maybe it's not, maybe it's grand, like the movies depict. I think when I find my love, it will be grand, because it will be simple and it will be my own.

The Saboteur

The interweb tells me that a saboteur is someone who practices sabotage. (Yeah, obviously.)

I think that many of us humanfolk practice sabotage in our own lives. Now I don't think we necessarily mean to, all of the time. A lot of the sabotage is subconscious. (I think anyway)

I wonder why it is that we do this though? All [most] of us want out of life is to just be happy, right? So why do we sabotage ourselves? Why do we play the villain in our own lives? Surely there are plenty of people who are willing to play that wicked part in our lives, we don't need to.

-----

I think what it comes down to is that we are afraid of something being really great. Now, before you start flinging rocks, stop, think about it for a second.

-----

Here are a few reasons why we fear greatness...

-If we have something really great, or we are really great, that usually means we have had to overcome some incredible odds to get there, and most humans are naturally lazy and want something for nothing, so in that sense, having something great (or being great) may frighten us.

-If we have something great, something blow-your-mind great, and we lose that, that is a big loss, and the heartache attached to that huge loss can cause even the strongest to run for the hills.

-Should we taste greatness, even for a moment, we'll be ruined forever. Nothing but greatness will do after that, and we'll spend the rest of our lives searching for it. We'll have an insatiable desire for it, we won't be satisfied with mediocre, ever again.

There's three reasons, I know there are many more. I have been trying hard to stand aside and let that desire for greatness run free, but I know I get in the way all the time. And when I get that moment to look back, I kick myself for getting in the way again.

Silly me, the saboteur of my own happiness.

But here's the thing, I know I do it, I am aware. So I can watch it creep in, and I'm getting better at stopping fear in its tracks and sending it away with its tail between its legs.

And I'll conquer one day, I know I will. You just watch and see.

1000th page view!

I feel like this is a big achievement or moment in my blog's life, maybe we should all have cake or something. But we've hit 1000 page views!

Hooray!

I'm not sure how many page views were happening before I put the counter up, but I'm pretty excited.

Also a strange discovery... I can't comment on my own blog. (I'll have my web people [me] look into that.) So if you have commented, please know that I am wanting to comment back, but can't at the moment, and I will as soon as I can fix this glitch.

I want to also take this moment to thank you all for reading, for sharing this strange journey with me. It has been a wild ride, but I have appreciated your presence in my life. Though it is a virtual presence for some, and a virtual and physical presence from others, just knowing that you are there has lifted me up.

So thank you for visiting this strange place that is my everyday life, haha. And please keep coming back.

A good goodbye

Today was my last session of therapy. My therapist is leaving, and on top of that, I am in a place where I am okay. It was a sad, and yet very exciting session. It was wonderful to find myself in a place where I can care for myself, and work through hardships that come my way.

I consider this man, my therapist, a friend and wish him all the best in his life. He played a critical role in the process of my healing. He created a safe place for me to express myself, and as we discussed today, a place where he could witness my healing. One powerful thing he said was, "being connected to another person is what helps you find strength; it is being connected to yourself that helps keep strength."

In a previous session, we decided that this session should mean something, and take on a somewhat ceremonious feel to it, this was done for my sake. I have a hard time with goodbyes. For me, without a goodbye, the meaning of the interaction loses some of its meaning. And I didn't want this experience to lose any meaning. So as part of our goodbyes we both wrote letters about this experience, and today we shared them.

Here is mine:

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One year ago I was broken. Like a large window pane, I felt as if everyone could see right through me. And yet, that task must have been difficult, as that glass was shattered, from top to bottom.

Walking into therapy was my last hope. But a hope I didn't believe in at the time. I'd done this so many times before, why would it work this time? But I went, exerting my last ounce of hope I carried.

For the short time I attended before the summer, my hope was boosted. It was lifted enough to carry me through the summer. It could have been, because I finally was able to speak. The silence of my sorrow was broken, even if just slightly. I spoke the truth that I had promised never to speak.

I continued to speak, through the letters to Teresa over the summer, which kept my hope bolstered some. And then came fall, and therapy began again. And then I was fully rescued. Or rather, I was given the power to rescue myself.

Being completely honest with myself, about my situation saved me. I was no longer hiding behind the excuses I had been making for years. I spoke the truth. I told it like it was. And just speaking the truth gave me power. It left me even more exposed, however, than ever before.

As much as the pain of the situation ate at me, a new hunger filled me. The hunger to be free from the pain, and even more, the hunger to stop hiding. I wanted to be the great person that I knew I could be, no longer using my pain as a crutch for failure.

And I began to achieve. I dreamt, I spoke and I achieved. No more hiding. I took responsibility for my life.

And in that process, I found myself. The hard shell of self-pity, anguish and self-loathing began to shed itself away from me. Each time I spoke, released, it shed away more.

I began to emerge. The me that had always been there, but was buried so deep, through years of hiding and lying to myself. And it was all my doing. I covered myself, I buried myself alive. Because I wouldn't be honest, I wasn't true to myself. I had abandoned myself, and become a cruel, estranged friend.

But that is no more. Each week I opened up, each week I was honest with myself, the friendship repaired, the trust regained. I learned again, or perhaps for the first time, to trust myself. And, I learned to care for myself.

Therapy taught me how to heal myself. And I have come to realize my healing and growing will be a journey I embark on for the rest of my life, but I now have the confidence necessary to trust myself, to make decisions, to fall and to get back up, to heal, to live, to fly!

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Maybe therapy isn't for you, but it was for me. Because for me, healing was necessary, as I think it is for all of us. Whatever your path to healing takes, I hope that you can find your way. And I hope that you have someone who can witness your struggle, and ultimately, your growth.

Cutting out the cancer

I am no physician, that's for sure. But I have personally watched someone being eaten away at, and die from cancer.

It's scary.

A person with cancer can become a completely different person in such a short amount of time.

The cancer eats them alive, if they don't catch it soon enough.

With modern technology, there are many tests in place that can detect cancer before it gets too bad. And when it is caught early enough, a skilled surgeon can cut it out, giving that person the best chance for survival.

Through some serious introspection, I have discovered some cancers in myself. (Not real cancer, emotional/spiritual cancers, whatever you want to call it.) And I need to cut them out of my life.

Just like any surgical procedure, it takes planning, preparation and the area needs to be cleaned before the cancer can be cut out.

Once the surgeon and the patient are prepared, the cutting begins.

Even if a cancer is caught early, it still has attached itself to the person, and takes some effort to cut it away from the patient's body.

After it has been removed, the patient will need time to heal. And the healing won't be instant. But the healing will come.

And then, without the cancer eating at them, the person will have a renewed sense of health, strength, vitality.

Without the cancer, they are are now whole.

I need to be whole again.




PS: About the Letters to Teresa, I have decided I will post a few, rather than open them all up to the public. So look forward to those in the next couple of days.