tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58741615873504417662023-11-15T10:07:53.321-08:00honeyrumblings30-something. lover of living-out-loud, music, and ice cream. a mom, daughter, and friend. spills things and runs into curbs. frequently.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-32663365268432067632014-11-04T18:44:00.003-08:002014-11-05T14:30:56.305-08:00growing into myselfmy initial thought is to start this post with "what's wrong with me?' and honestly, I know there is nothing wrong with me, it is just the discomfort of <em>feelings</em> that make me vulnerable, that are scary, that aren't perfect and happy and content, that make me uncomfortable. <br />
<br />
the sheer fact that I am inhabiting a body with needs and wants and <em>feelings </em>that I can't control, or even sometimes pinpoint yet, or that is always changing and not perfect - ALL of that, and so much more that I haven't even scratched the surface of yet, it all is just <em>too much</em> to bear sometimes. I can objectively say not ALL the time, but then again, I don't FEEL this way ALL the time, see. so when it comes, when the high begins to face or temper or reality becomes no longer picturesque <em>in my mind</em>, or my thoughts begin to bog me down...<br />
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then. <br />
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then I try to fill the void. <br />
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then, is when I do, and talk, and eat, and run, and keep busy, and fill every waking moment. then is when I avoid being still.<br />
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THEN is when I need the MOST to BE STILL.<br />
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why is it that I am just so afraid to feel things sometimes? I would say it is because I have been hurt immensely before, but I think - I KNOW - it has more to do with a combination of factors.<br />
<br />
my<em> stuff.</em><br />
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my <em>stuff </em>is solely mine. my <em>stuff</em> it is not pretty. it is messy, and dirty, and complicated, and overwhelming, and too much to talk about sometimes, and spans the course of my 34 years, and it is mine.<br />
did you read that correctly? can I say that again?<br />
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<br />
it is solely MINE. <br />
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my <em>stuff</em> is MINE. it is not yours, or my mother's, or my best friend's, or my neighbor's, or my boyfriend's. it is experiences, stories, pain, joy, sorrow, elation, abuse, sensitivity, empathy, LOVE, hate, regrets, wrinkles, broken pieces, and canvases upon canvases of beautiful artwork that was not only painted by me, but it was painted in blood, in a way. only I can sort through the cards coming up, as much as I have a large support network, as much as my friends and family and loved ones want to be there for me, I am the only one who has the key to unlock and walk through the door, who can translate the paragraphs to read and make sense of the story that is happening.'<br />
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it is this same concept that is both empowering and debilitating to those who feel even slightly alone, overwhelmed, like they are slogging through muddy waters.<br />
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it is this concept i challenge that is vital for those who are depressed, unhappy, struggling with guilt and shame and difficulty, with more emotional awareness than they can handle, with a plate full of as-yet unrecognizable food, to understand. to stop and realize.<br />
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because more than anything, YOU ARE NOT ALONE. you have NEVER been alone. <br />
<br />
regardless of how alone you may feel. now. yesterday, now, tomorrow, in twenty years. TWO HUNDRED YEARS from now. <br />
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we will ALL feel some of these feelings. at some point, to varying degrees, because of a multitude of situations, or due to no situation at all that we can identify.<br />
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tragically, the end result of feelings this way, the resolution to this loneliness, the way out of this bottomless pit that is our ability to truly live in the human range of feelings?<br />
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for some, it can result in death.<br />
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you know, I didn't mean to get on this topic when I started. but I keep thinking of robin williams. his suicide, although unexpected, did not surprise me in the sense of the word. they say, those who can't do, teach. well, his life was a perfect example of that. I obviously pontificate on his situation without knowing him at all, but can speculate on the one topic that all too often has remains unnamed: depression. those who are blessed to experience the intense joy and happiness and sheer elation of LIFE - a life lived in TECHNICOLOR it seems at time - those who are fortunate enough to know the way to other's hearts, souls, minds, the ones who make you laugh, cry, <em>feel</em>, in large part because they are able to truly read and connect with all of those things inside of you, and You, and <em>you, </em>and YOU...we are the people who feel burdened by the responsibility of seeing, empathizing, <em>feeling</em> it almost as it if were ours. and then, carrying it with us to a degree. <br />
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I liken it to looking at others' through a feeling kaleidoscope. looking at someone and cutting through the crap, feeling at times like i am seeing something they are not, like they haven't gotten to what i'm seeing yet, but they will.<br />
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it has happened more than once.<br />
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i know i am not alone.<br />
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I've been lucky and gifted enough to meet a few kindred spirits who can identify with how i feel, and it is incredibly tough for them as well.<br />
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and, more so, I've recently been blessed beyond my own belief to love someone, to have them love me, who gives me space to feel this way. who knows he can't solve it, fix it, go through it for me...<br />
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but that somehow i don't have to go through it alone. that sometimes, all it takes is a hug.<br />
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i would say it is incredible, but slowly, one day at a time...<br />
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<br />
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i am starting to believe it is real.<br />
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<br />
for all of us.<br />
bAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-10635183565009715072014-10-27T19:39:00.002-07:002014-10-27T19:39:56.217-07:00standing up for my Self.<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Relentlessly eliminate poison from your life. “We do not have to be nice. We only strive to be kind.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Show up – even before you’re ready.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Spend time in stillness every day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://www.momastery.com/" target="_blank">#momastery<o:p></o:p></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There I am, sitting on glorious green grass facing a glorious lake, in glorious weather, on a glorious day. All in the attempt to do all of the above – to spend time in stillness on a day where I have managed to admit to my coach that I have reached an emotional breakthrough, that my career path is headed in the right, albeit unexpected, direction, and broken down in tears three times in the process.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And what was I doing?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What was I doing as my laptop sat open, ready and willing, on the crisply cut lawn, boozy breeze blowing through my ponytail, plump clouds like bright white thought bubbles waiting to be occupied? What was I so intently focused on while the universe provided me with just the right cocktail of natural ingredients for creativity? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Perusing through Facebook and email. On my MEphone. Blinded by the small screen that so frequently becomes our full view, the “big picture”, and the window facing out. Distracting me not only from the universe, the world, the neighborhood which I chose distinctly for its charm and small town beauty, but also from my thoughts, my feelings, my intuitive checking in – my exercise in stillness. The small screen distracts from the still, unnervingly LOUD volume of my quiet, of the silence which holds the important stuff, filters out the noise, and whispers the truth in the shadows, over and over again, until I decide to listen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That deafening silence, that peace, it is a steady hand in a sea of storms. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is the one honest friend in a world of yes-men. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It calms the fear.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is liquid gold.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I say this not to judge, but so that we – I – pay attention. So that I am deliberate. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">With intentions. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">With actions. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">With Words.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Obviously I am trying this myself, not as an exercise or an experiment, but with the intent of developing a habit. A habit to be Here, to be Now, to not be Trying. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To be open and listening. To be aware.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To honor my gut and give it room to relax.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">---<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Oh. My. Gosh. YOU GUYS.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I just did something AMAZING.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">AMAZING.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Get ready.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I SPOKE UP FOR MYSELF. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I had someone wander into my purposely chosen peaceful, quiet setting (with plenty of space to inhabit), likely enjoying the day as well, and proceed to talk on speakerphone until my purposely chosen, quiet setting, was no longer. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I let it go for about ten minutes until I could no longer focus on anything but the distraction. After pondering ways to overcome this on my own – I’ve already got classical music playing so that one’s out – I finally asked her to please move out of earshot as I was trying to get some work done (in Spanish, this is a paraphrase </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> ). (True to form, politely, natch.) She so kindly obliged immediately and without so much as a hint of disturbance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am going to pat myself on the back for this one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When you’re a people pleaser, as I have been known to be, this is the stuff right here. In a past life I would get up and move, not wanting to rock the boat. Wishing I could drown her out, regretting not bringing headphones. Instead? Instead I exercised my human right to voice my opinion, my discomfort, to defend myself in a kind and courteous manner. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now, most people who know me would not say I am at ALL afraid or hesitant to voice my opinion, which is truer-than-true. I will shout it from the rooftops if the mood strikes me. However, ebb and flow, right? We aren’t always feeling that brave, especially while we are in a vulnerable spot in our hearts. Ok, while <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I</i> am in a vulnerable spot in my heart. So I retreat, or underemphasize importance of, or use language completely not mature enough for the subject matter. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is in my own mind, perceived at some times as endearing and at others as meek, depending on the audience and frankly, on how well they know me, my communication style, and the core of who I am. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Not unheard of, asking for what you want in a polite, adult form of communication. I’m getting better at it on a more consistent basis, as you know your strengths and weaknesses, right? There has been a lot of progress made on that front within the confines of a trusting relationship, and it is spilling over into the other areas of my life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is about time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have heard countless times, today even, and have it posted at work, “feel the fear and do it anyway.” Doing it anyway moves us all <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in the direction of the fear</i>. It is amazing that the very thing we are AFRAID to do, the very thing that scares us to safety, is the thing that promises us the most growth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We build tornado shelters in case we are ever under a tornado watch, to be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">safer</i> if weather gets life-threatening or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">risky. </i>Along those same lines, I say we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">prepare</i> in case where we ARE is exactly where we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">should be</i>. We then know what the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">next right thing </i>is in our current situation. In actuality, though, do we ever LIVE in the tornado shelter? And how much of our lives actually go <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">according to plan</i>?? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">xoxo,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">b<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-62288595774320781602014-10-15T12:38:00.000-07:002014-10-15T12:38:00.567-07:00these i have loved.takin' back to the old school...circa 1997, an installment from ms. leone's creative writing class...<br />
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<br />
these I have loved.<br />
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the feel of cold water on hot skin; the<br />
Worried White of my mother's hair; and the<br />
cleansing tartness of cranberry cocktail;<br />
snuggling up in thick, warm, blankets;<br />
planners that work; unbroken wedding vows;<br />
and the soothing darkness under my<br />
eyelids; the textured language of <br />
Hands Held; the indulgent <br />
tears of self-pity; marshmallow clouds framing a <br />
cement gray picture;<br />
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my father's potbelly; then,<br />
the recollection of Spanish lullabies;<br />
my teddy bear's silent opinion; and the <br />
Familiar, Odorlessness of Home;<br />
I love movie soundtracks; the <br />
tight, helplessness in a lover's embrace;<br />
the story in old,<br />
dirty,<br />
pink slippers;<br />
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and medium, blue, ballpoint people;<br />
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Rain's persistent efforts at wiping our sins clean;<br />
my first doll's unconditional love; <br />
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and<br />
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the reassuring grip from my father's doubtless hands; <br />
letting go when I am sleepy; and kissing my dog's<br />
Ice Cold Nose; and<br />
Rolling all over new pink carpet; <br />
the chlorophyll in grass;<br />
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Postcards <br />
from vacations I only heard about;<br />
finding money in a jeans pocket; and picking up the phone <br />
to Find Someone there; the<br />
Siren Cry of a newborn;<br />
<br />
and the blind warmth<br />
of another person under the covers.<br />
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<br />
All these have been my loves.<br />
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<br />
<br />
barbaraAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-25235614777875392842014-10-14T15:02:00.003-07:002014-10-14T15:02:37.768-07:00emotional fracking.
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<b><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 18pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Results<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">ˈfrakiNG/<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">noun</span></i><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">noun:
<b>fracking</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; tab-stops: list 1.0in; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: Arial;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">the process of injecting
liquid at high pressure into subterranean rocks, boreholes, etc., so as to
force open existing fissures and extract oil or gas.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"the
governor has halted gas fracking until July"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Origin<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #222222; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">1950s:
representing an abbreviated form of <i>fracturing</i> .<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">I am digging this. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Literally.</i> Had breakfast with a friend this morning, long overdue,
who is such a kind, giving, benevolent soul. She is one of those people you can
really <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">see</i> when you look at, only she
doesn’t realize it, doesn’t know how much of an asset she is to the world and
those around her. She is a writer. A creator. An artist. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">She helped me think. Reconnect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">We discussed life, families, children,
relationships; the fact that they are all difficult and complicated and
special, and all that you can do is embrace them and respect that they will be
all of these things and that you will at some point love them and hate them and
be uncomfortable and challenged and happy. The irony that all of those things
change and evolve and end up oftentimes completely differently than we
experience them to be, in different places than we thought they would be. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">We all come from such different, such
individual and unique experiences, and, interestingly enough, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">we are all the same.</i> Those individual
and unique experiences, places, circumstances, they are all different TO us,
while being the same THROUGH us. Our feelings, our core instincts, our intuition
and joys and fears, those are all common. Yet, somehow, we overlook the
importance of acknowledging that not only to others, not only in finding common
ground amongst friends, but to ourselves. To honor ourselves as we would honor
others, as we would want others to honor our own feelings, instincts, intuition,
joys, fears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">The social shell that gets a bad rap comes
about it the honest way – by earning it. It is a well-deserved bad-rap. Too
many people are out and about, walking around on a daily basis without actually
being there. With one foot in the present and the other in the past, future,
anywhere but the now, and because of that don’t realize we have all been where
they are. If <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I</i> haven’t, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">we</i> most definitely have. There is no
reinventing the wheel of human experience, of human emotion, of human behavior,
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span><br /></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">And, for that purpose, I think of our
combining these, our finding the common ground, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">emotional fracking</i>. So long we have worked to fill, and cover, and
mend our existing fissures, cracks, flaws, when what I believe we should do is
entirely the opposite. What I want the world to embrace is the concept of fracking
ourselves. Pulling apart our “existing fissures”, our cracks, our flaws,
blowing the roof out of our shelters (see: social persona) and exposing those
very same things that we have been working so hard to hide. Then, and only
then, will we have the ability to extract the value, the richness, the beauty,
than exists in all of it. When we deconstruct, when we dig up the secrets we
have worked so hard to bury, it is those secrets, those bodies, those flaws,
that will set us free. That which we keep hidden is the thing that binds us,
chains us, to unhappiness, to discontent, to settling for less than what we
want. It is that shame that lulls us into thinking we are worth less than what
we are, because inherent in that are our internal voices – the not-so-nice-ones,
to put it mildly – the ones that tell us all of those negative messages we
hear, consciously or not, and that shape how we talk to ourselves, to others,
and ultimately, how we view the world. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">Think about how liberating, how absolutely freeing
it would be, to lift the veil on that? I like to imagine the worst-case
scenario. What is the worst that could happen? That way, I am prepared (or at
least that is what I tell myself), and I can at least imagine how that would
make me feel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">The worst here, the very worst, is that you
will feel alone. That NO ONE – imagine this for a second: NOT ONE SINGLE SOUL
IN THE HISTORY OF TIME – has ever felt the same way that you have. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">Go back and read that sentence again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">If – BIG IF – that were to be true, how would
you feel? Alone? Ashamed? Vulnerable, maybe, naked?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">How many of those are you already feeling?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">Wait, you say, but then everyone would know
that I was feeling that way! Oh, the shame!! And to that I counter, who is
everyone? I think it is important to share things – ask anyone in my life. I am
a TALKER. THAT IS NO SECRET. And a singer, a crier, a loud laugher, a big
smiler, my facial muscles move incredibly easily, making my face a pretty good
gauge of my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">feelings</i>. Botox would do
me a disservice, but would probably lessen the burden on those who come in
contact with me and prefer not to have to witness so much FEELING. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">I get it. Truly, I do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">I am not suggesting you disrobe and expose
your emotional streaker tendencies to everyone you come in contact with. I am,
however, gently prodding all of us to share <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">more</i>.
To, at the very least, begin with yourself. Baby steps. If you cannot
acknowledge to yourself that you are not FINE all the time, then what good will
sharing it with others do? I will begin by admitting I talk to myself. In the
mirror. When, how, and frequency is beside the point. You’re reading my blog,
you should know this about me if you don’t already, and it should come as no
surprise. I am all about doing what is encouraging for your SOUL. I am an avid
proponent of <a href="http://honeyrumblings.blogspot.com/2012/11/lol.html"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Living
Out Loud</span></a>, to the extent you need to, want to, or can handle it. Embracing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ourselves</i> is just, if not more,
important as embracing others. In fact, embracing ourselves more fully allows
us to be kinder, gentler, more compassionate, understanding, to realize that
others are battling their own demons, and that theirs may seem or feel or be
just as tough for them as ours are for us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">And that they deserve to be equally as
gentle, as forgiving, as PROUD of themselves, for the level of emotional
fracking they may be doing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">Pull. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">Pull hard, and passionately, with a fervor
for what you will uncover and an excitement of what fears it will unearth. What
fears you will get to toss out and debunk. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">And then.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">Then we, you, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I</i> (let me speak for myself, here), get the privilege of extracting,
taking from that the gems that life has wrapped like a man responsible for Christmas
gift-wrapping (or like MY gift-wrapping abilities. True story. Ask anyone.),
crumbled paper, mismatched tags, bows that fall apart. A mess on the outside,
but a true gift on the inside. Invaluable. Priceless. The diamond of lessons in
every rock. And, rather than put those away, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">polish them.</i> Display them proudly on a shelf, a mantle, in a spotlighted
glass case where I imagine only very valuable and breakable items and such are
showcased.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(I have none of these such
things in my house physically because, well, I’m a bit accident-prone. Know
your strengths and weaknesses, right?) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">These are trophies. These are badges of
honor. These lessons, these flaws, these fears unearthed…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">they are your beauty.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">Go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">Be Beautiful.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">Love you to bits…especially those bits you blow apart.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">B<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 107%;">“I followed my dream and my dream led me to
service. I have come to believe that this is how it ALWAYS works. We find the
place where our gift and our need intersect. We become bold enough to begin
using our gift to heal ourselves. Then the Universe says: HOT DAMN! SHE’S
READY! and then immediately issues us an invitation to join the world of
giving. The healing become the healers. The dreamers become the servers. Our
gifts are used to help others rise.” - See more at: <a href="http://momastery.com/blog/#sthash.KmkBlZzo.dpuf"><span style="color: #0563c1;">momastery</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-44768053635191562732014-10-13T11:12:00.000-07:002014-10-13T11:12:02.375-07:00on bed bugs.
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So what to write, Mr. Blank Page. Let me tell you another
story. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Girl.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">...this time much older, skinnier, arguably less of a
weenie, goes on work trip. Let’s preface this work trip by telling you that
girl was burning the candle at both ends – wearing herself extremely thin – and
denying, or justifying, as she would prefer to say, the fact that she was doing
it. Girl was tired, exhausted is more like it, and questioning a lot of what
her life was about. As someone told her recently, she was early to the existential
crisis party – arguably the first time she was early to anything, ANYWHERE (she
is Cuban, after all, there is a certain badge of pride that accompanies this
notion. Plus, at least she’s consistent, right?!). So there she was, early to
this party she didn’t necessarily want to be even invited to – she preferred
the notion that she would somehow stumble into ignorance-is-bliss at some point
in her life, regardless of the fact that she was still waiting for it 34 years
in – and a bit conflicted about what it all meant, what her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">life</i> all means, and what answers she was
supposed to come up with in order to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">make
the most</i> of this existential crisis thing that was happening. Unbeknownst
to her, on the flip side, her body is sending her not only this mental message,
but these not-so-subtle physical messages that she was over-worked, over-tired,
and over-stressing herself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So, girl embarks on this work trip only half-committed and
hoping that it will at least give her the opportunity to get some much-needed rest
once the all-day marathon sessions are done. Girl arrives in the city (The Big
Apple! nonetheless), only to find herself even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">more </i>exhausted, lacking any motivation for exercise, something that
routinely motivates girl to Go! Get ‘em! And discovers herself ridden bed
bug/flea bites 24 hours in. Not wanting to create a fuss, she politely asks
hotel to switch rooms and they launder her clothing to ensure she feels as safe
and comfortable as possible. This is especially good since girl cannot manage
to rile herself up from her bed beginning with the second she enters said room.
So, if the bed is The Place To Be, you best ensure that it is at the very least
free of bed bugs and fleas. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Standards are high.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After a couple of painful, itchy days, she is starting to
worry. Her stomach is a wreck, much more so than usual, but she has attributed
this to “The Traveling” which easily could do a number on her, and the
exhaustion is chalked up, quite appropriately, to not drinking her routine two
POTS of Cuban coffee in the morning. That is, after all, how she manages to
establish her baseline energy level of “HYPERACTIVE”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So girl starts to worry. She tries, albeit it not that well,
to rest. She is in The Big Apple! after all, so who wouldn’t want to take
advantage of that, even if it means pushing through what is arguably the most
exhausted she’s felt in quite a long time?!? So girl manages to crawl into bed
as late as 10:15 pm on a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Saturday in NYC</i>,
and explains to herself that is was the walking she did. She is just tired from
walking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Right.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Fast forward three days, multiple dizzy spells, wicked
headaches, pain she is now jokingly chalking up to kidney failure, and one sick
day later, and she decides the doctor’s office is probably a good idea, given that
the kidney failure could be possibly serious. Obviously. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">She enters her physician’s office, bloated and with awful
stomach pain, with a smirk on her face, after changing into a loose dress,
which is the only item of clothing she can stand after being in constricting
work clothes all day. She jokes with said MD that her flea bites are sending
her into kidney failure, and that the Benadryl, calamine lotion, and ibuprofen
have yet to help too much, other than possibly launching in the direction of an
ulcer. Physician, unfazed by her unparalleled wit and medical prowess, looks at
her and says, “I don’t think those are bites at all. I think they’re shingles.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Whoa. I’m sorry. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Whaa-what?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Did you just say
herpes?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jaw, meet floor. I hope you get along; I hear said floor is
fantastic when you need support. Comes in quite short of a pillar of strength,
but definitely will prevent the bottom from coming out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ha.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now, given that the girl’s baby daddy (see also: ex-husband)
is a medical professional in the skin-oriented field, she is familiar with said
“shingles”, but to the extent that it is incurable and recurring. Given that
she is also surrounded by older family members whose pastimes include worrying,
nagging, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">talking about ailments,”</i>
she is also quite acquainted with the fact that shingles is not commonly associated
with individuals of the younger demographic, not mentally, actually physically.
Given that said young lady’s digestive system and dental records might as well
belong to a tenured AARP member, it is not lost on her that she would manage to
develop an affliction associated with those in a much more advanced state of
stress and worry. That her body, no matter, would not only chastise her for
ignoring and pushing through the oh-so-obvious signs of stress, but physically
slap her in the face with the sticker shock of: “Hey! Slow down there, woman! I
CAN’T KEEP UP!!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Welcome to the last three weeks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I joked, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">oh have I
joked,</i> about needing a pause button, about wanting a vacation, about step
back and really, truly, examining what make my life worth living, and how to
structure my life so that THAT feeling, those <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">things, ideas, people, </i>take precedence. I have endlessly and
tirelessly discussed with numerous women - accomplished, bright, amazing women
- this very same idea. We have waxed poetic about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what to do</i> about that. Some, the ones that I consider mentors of
sorts, have done something about it. They have taken back the reigns. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is my turn.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I NEED TO LEAP.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am scared shitless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Let’s let that statement marinate for ONE second, then run
into the face of it screaming, why don’t we? Because I am not only tired, but I
am more tired of being bound by fear. By hesitation. By what-ifs. I understand
the value of security, the importance of a plan, the desire – the NEED – for
security.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When did any of these things a leader make? When did any of
these inspire others to do anything but retreat to the unbreakable patterns and
path well-trodden from whence they came?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Lord know it has happened to me at least a handful of
iterations at this point. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There has been a lot packed into these 34 years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s time to let it out. In all shapes and sizes. So many of
you have expressed feeling the same way, on various blogs, social media
outlets, to family, friends, in journals. Don’t worry – the biggest message to
take from all of it is that YOU ARE NOT ALONE. WE ARE NOT ALONE. Embrace that
we are not only imperfect, but that the imperfection is our beauty, our lives,
our passion – fulfilled or not. Those nooks and crannies are not only what make
English muffins delicious, but make us, break us, crack us, and mend us
together – BIND us together in this phenomenal human experience. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This is me – proudly flying my freak flag – embracing my
uniqueness and weirdness and individuality. Learning – notice I say learning
because, well, I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">human</i>, after all –
to own and celebrate my idiosyncrasies and be comfortable in the knowledge that
those are endearing to the right people. And I am proudly trying to take it
only <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">one day at a time.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></o:p> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I challenge and encourage you to do the same. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I hope to help you in this journey. I know you have already helped me.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Much love (and no bed bugs).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">B<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-26944334702256135932014-10-02T11:31:00.002-07:002014-10-02T12:03:22.391-07:00i argue these arrows should point in the same direction.<div class="irc_mutc" sb_id="ms__id1823">
<a class="irc_mutl" data-ved="0CAcQjRw" href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&frm=1&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&docid=T1NiCRjmrXqZxM&tbnid=MDx4kfWa-RxFKM:&ved=0CAcQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fmacalicomm.com%2Fnewsletter%2F2009-archive%2Fseptember-2009%2F&ei=ZpotVO--DtDAggTehYLoDQ&bvm=bv.76477589,d.aWw&psig=AFQjCNHtU-05WWjp_3EPMP01yYV_La6-Hg&ust=1412361156711469" sb_id="ms__id1824"><img class="irc_mut" height="360" sb_id="ms__id1825" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQEON3gBFpMgzjHG_IbvncQfwFB1BevGuafl4nb43rtNePbuuLt" style="margin-top: 62px;" width="500" /></a><br />
<br />
GO. move in the direction of the failure. give it 100%. fail, learn, and most importantly, <em>grow. </em>grow higher, and stronger, and more than you have ever let yourself previously. grow so intensely that it becomes you to fail, in order to obtain additional growth. <br />
<br />
with failure, we re-establish our baseline, we redefine expectations, we reevaluate. we start afresh.<br />
<br />
challenge yourself, challenge your idea of failure. use it as a springboard for opportunity. test the notion that you have not failed, but succeeded at walking one step closer in the direction of your dreams, your calling, your personal opportunity.<br />
<br />
<br />
you are <strong>one step closer</strong> to recording the Fingerprint of the Soul. <em>your soul.</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em></em><br />
fail on, my friends.<br />
b</div>
<br />
<br />
<strong><em>"life is not about what adversity we face, but is created in how we face adversity."</em></strong><br />
<br />
-honeyrumblingsAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-36421084243528996982014-10-02T10:28:00.000-07:002014-10-02T10:52:20.510-07:00making out murmuring messages.i feel on the precipice of something...quite frankly of something great. big, huge, much larger than myself, that is for certain. i am living in a space that is whispering to me a message of movement, of motion, of breakthrough and enlightenment into something that is so widespread and simultaneously so alienated and unspoken. it is talked about in the recesses of our minds, the bottoms of our hearts, in conversations held in the undisturbed safe spaces between the sheets, with those most intimately associated with who we <em>are</em>, with our fears and weaknesses, with what our souls not only look like, but inherently <em>feel</em> like. <br />
<br />
<br />
this "traditional" life, "American dream", "career success", work-life "balance"...i am on the verge of chucking these and so many more out the window, to the wayside, in the garbage, and fully embracing the concept of a life worth living. starting from the true meaning of what my life is supposed to <em>feel</em> like and working my way out from there.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
you know, when i wrote that sentence...i started to cry. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
so much of what we define and measure ourselves by in life starts with a picture, an image, a vision in our heads that has, in the majority of cases been placed there by society, our upbringing, our internal dialogue - likely not our own desires - and in most cases having nothing to do with what we really want from ourselves and our life. and while i was going to associate those images with success and how we measure it, i would be remiss if i didn't acknowledge that not all of those images are successful. some people don't have the blessing of even having "socially" positive goals, or even positive images, based upon experience. whether by upbringing or lack of support, whatever the cause, not everyone believes in themselves, and i will go out on a limb and say that everyone has had at least a moment when they DIDN'T believe in themselves. <br />
<br />
but let me step out of these trenches for a second and back into the larger picture i began on. <br />
<br />
<br />
i am on the verge of chucking the notion of conformity, of everything i have been brought up to value as successful (ok, so <em>everything</em> is going a little too far - kate spade and i will never part ways. she is such a good listener). and it scares the living shit out of me because i am flying by the seat of my pants. it is much easier to write this sentence than it is to look out into the vast abyss of possibilities for doing this and grasp at how tangible that may be. have you ever tried to corral the air? how does one capture the wind? <br />
<br />
<br />
some recent health concerns have lit a fire under my bottom. (you'll have to excuse my internal editor here, but is that even english?!)<br />
<br />
<br />
and by recent, you know, i mean in the past week. <em>no pressure.</em><br />
<br />
<br />
regardless, when is enough, <em>enough</em>? how long are we going to run this rat race before we hand it back to the rats? how long do we live this way before realizing we've run ourselves ragged for no one and nothing but our own pride? for bragging rights valuable to someone who doesn't really exist?<br />
<br />
look at the country, the culture, the American population. how many of us are obese, ridden with health problems, on medication for various ailments? how many of us earn money in order to purchase items that we adorn ourselves with in order to convince others we are happy? do we ever really buy into the notion that <em>we </em>are really happy?? how many times is the dog going to chase it's tail?<br />
<br />
<br />
how long are we going to sacrifice our health to earn money that can't buy that health back??<br />
<br />
<br />
i know, i know. i've only covered the basics. cut the small talk!, you say. tell me how you really feel! i am nothing if not good at cutting to the chase quickly...at least in recent months. these questions, these issues, are not simple. there are no answers that are one-size-fits-all. but my point is, if we don't begin to <em>ask</em> these questions, to break down the doors of silence, to open the Pandora's box here, the spiral downward is only going to become steeper, faster, and it's already a fairly slippery slope. <br />
<br />
the answers lie <em>nowhere</em>, if not in discussion, acceptance, <em>acknowledgement</em>. the most resounding theme i have seen among <em>smart, articulate, independent, educated, successful, </em>women, is WHAT ELSE?<br />
<br />
<br />
<em>what else is there beyond this? what is my greater purpose? what else fulfills me?...</em>because the title, the salary, the corporate accolades, the career...those do NOT. those <em>look </em>like fulfillment. those fool OTHERS into believing that <em>i</em> am fulfilled, when i feel EMPTY. i shut down the office, exit the building, enter the parking garage, and drive home to a child who is already asleep, a partner/friends i rarely see, if i have time for them at all, a hobby i don't get to develop.<br />
<br />
<br />
a LIFE i don't get to LIVE.<br />
<br />
<em></em><br />
<em>when did our </em>lives<em> stop being </em>livable<em>? when did LIFE cease to be about LIVING? </em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em></em><br />
because these women, these people, feeling these things, choking these thoughts down with the foie gras appetizer, chasing them with a glass sauterne...they are not just the individuals i described earlier. they are also <em>thoughtful, caring, generous, empathetic, loving, living </em>beings. these characteristics are just as important - if not more so - as the ones i mentioned above. although they are oftentimes classified as <em>weaker, </em>i would argue that they are in compliment to the above<em>. </em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em></em><br />
i challenge the notion that life is about one thing, about all things, about <em>anything</em> other than what we <em>choose</em> for it to be about. and i, for one, am so absolutely livid that i have, for 34 years, let someone ELSE - society, my family, Disney princesses, <em>who or what </em>is beside the point - dictate what MY LIFE was going to be about, where it was headed, and where it is going. the one outlier in that sentence is the future. i am in the process of taking the reigns back. i am pot committed to nothing short of finding what the purpose to all of this is, to my life is, to my existence. you know the beauty of it? that the answer to that is not simple, not two-dimensional, NOT EVEN STATIC. it is ever-changing, evolving, growing, developing. it is as static as i am, as life is, as i want to make it. here we go - finding ourselves back at the place of <a href="http://honeyrumblings.blogspot.com/2014/09/living-in-colourspelled-british-way-to.html">CHANGE</a>, that place of CHOICE. what is glorious is that i can <em>choose</em> a lot of these answers, and the crux of it is - there is no choice at all. the situations, the journey, the obstacles, those are all presented to us. we have each faced a litany of trials and tribulations in our lives, it is how we <em>choose</em> to deal with those, which road we embark upon from there, that is SO crucial in shaking out who we are as people, as mothers, as daughters, friends, and professionals...as SOULS. <br />
<br />
i am all about challenge. i challenge each of you today. TAKE A RISK. risk, you say? but i'm an accountant, an attorney, a stay-at-home mom...i can't go sky diving! and i'll be damned if i get a speeding ticket for sheer thrill!<br />
<br />
nonsense. what i propose is a challenge to <em>your</em> norm, to your way of thinking, to your approach to certain situations. break the mold, go outside the box, FEEL the discomfort. allow yourself to listen to the messages that the universe is presenting you, that life has tried so desperately to gift you with on a daily basis, and give yourself <em>permission to grow. </em>grow, grow like a weed. take a sip of the air, a quick nibble of a passion. swish it around in your mouth, let those flavors marinate, sit on your tongue, in your subconscious, for <em>just a second.</em> <br />
<br />
<br />
see how quickly you want to let them go. <br />
<br />
<br />
in my experience, it has truly been a pandora's box. i took a sip, a nibble, dipped my toes in the water. in my case, i CANNOT get ENOUGH. life is challenging me to drink these messages, ingest them so voraciously that i have to force myself to sit back, <em>put the fork down.</em> (if you knew both my appetite and eating habits, this metaphor comes as no surprise. you KNOW how hard that is, personally. moderation, right? ha.) i want to dive in head first, and the challenge is to be calculated about it so that i focus on the<em> next right thing</em>, as both a friend and glennon of <a href="http://www.momastery.com/">momastery.com</a> so wisely advise. as a type-a, driven woman, who just so happens to be inherently right-brained and impatient (and CUBAN - there go those <a href="http://honeyrumblings.blogspot.com/2014/07/winds-of-change.html">genetics</a>, again), i want to eat the ENTIRE meal, all at once. well, fellow foodies understand that the beauty is in the savoring, the lingering, the<em> experience</em> of the meal. <br />
<br />
<br />
is it just me, or does that sound an awful lot like the <em>journey</em> of life?<br />
<br />
<br />
so here i am. trying my best to enjoy the meal, continue on this journey, feel my own discomfort.<br />
<br />
which, by the way, is pretty darn easy today, this week, as i've developed some painful health concerns that stem, ironically enough, from stress, from a weakened immune system. indicators i am pushing too hard, too far. <br />
<br />
<br />
let me reiterate, for a second, that i write this in no way from any pedestal, but from the floor of the trenches<em>.</em> the best perspective is from experience. i am just unique in that i am a <em>participant</em> and a <em>bystander</em>, simultaneously. know your strengths, right? one of mine is that i am able to interchange those two roles, rather than getting full clarity in hindsight alone, although there is always additional insight on the tail end. it is a gift, in my opinion. i try to find humor in it all. <br />
<br />
<br />
so, from my home office, trying to "balance" my corporate career with my heart-felt purpose, i will sign off for now. for reasons of clarity, rest, reflection, and most importantly, for health. these conversations, these messages, I've heard them all of my life, if i am honest, but what is most important is how and when i actually <em>listen</em> to what they're saying. life, recently for me, has not so much been whispering sweetly or sternly reminding as it has been screaming these messages at me from every rooftop i walk by. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
it is time for action. it is time for reflection. it is time for <em>the next right thing.</em><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
god, i pray for the clearest sign as to what that is, what it looks like, what it feels like. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
...something tells me that the latter will be the guiding force.<br />
<br />
<br />
much peace. always love.<br />
bAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-65027607371032608802014-09-29T09:39:00.001-07:002014-09-29T09:39:31.106-07:00personal legendseditorial: i wrote this the other night and thought it too "unfinished" to publish...not too raw, per say, but it just doesn't feel <em>closed</em>. which, when it boils down to it, is my current state of being. <br />
<br />
so with that, read on, my friends...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
"when a person really desires something, all the universe conspires to help that person to realize his dream." <br />
<br />
-Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist<br />
<br />
it is in amazement that i observe the wonders of the universe on a daily basis; how people, situations, nature, all of it comes together to send a message. understanding that language, speaking that dialect, is absolutely dependent upon perspective, upon personal strength, openness, acceptance, peace.<br />
<br />
<br />
peace.<br />
<br />
<br />
peace is a good one. a tricky state to obtain - or maintain - for me personally, since it requires stillness. stillness in the figurative sense rather than the literal, although the two are not mutually exclusive, they do not necessarily come as one. they aren't synonymous with each other. I struggle with stillness at times, as do we all I would imagine, as it requires fully accepting the present moment. at the very least it requires feeling the present moment, and the present moment is often tinged with past experiences, joys, sorrows, and expectations for the future. this is not stillness. this association, this search from the brain for similar or like experiences from our mental rolodex, this automatic habit of the heart to seek out like situations, emotional parallels, is a diversion tactic to avoid living, feeling, reality. many times this may serve as a defense mechanism to avoid suffering through something painful, or a warning indicator to caution fully enjoying what is actually happening, but it also prohibits us from seeing things as they truly are. it morphs people, places, and circumstances, which is neither fair to those affected, nor is it fair to me, to you, to all of us. <br />
<br />
the inability to be still, to listen to our own heart, steers us in the wrong direction. it leads us astray.<br />
<br />
<br />
let me speak solely for myself here and not be presumptuous:<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
it leads <em>me</em> astray.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I know this, thus I try my darndest to keep the communication open. but, see, I shut my heart off for a long time. I suspect many of us have done this, oftentimes without consciously realizing we were doing it. the heart, however, the heart knew, the heart <em>knows</em> that we did it. and so i am working on continuing to show my hear that it can trust me, that i will be there for it in the best of times and the worst of times. that, even in times of sorrow or disappointment, that we will work through ti together and it will never be left behind.<br />
<br />
i spent the last two days re-reading the alchemist. a coworker brought it up just as i had noticed it on my bookshelf. not sure I've mentioned this before, but it was time. as soon as i started, it was as if i had not eaten in a year. my heart, my soul, the universe inside of me, they all wanted more. it was as though the world placed it on my nightstand at just the right moment.<br />
<br />
<br />
interesting how that happens.<br />
<br />
<br />
i have half-joked that i am going through an existential crisis, that i am questioning where my life is going so as to do it the most justice i can while i am still living it. so as to fully satisfy the greater purpose for why i was given the opportunity to embark on this awe-inspiring, incredibly eye-opening, and so often brutal journey called life. it is said with a twinge of sarcasm so as not to freak out those who aren't ready to embark on their own journey. it is meant more as a reminder to myself that, at the end of the day, that is the ultimate goal i have for myself, that God has for me. i am in search of my own personal legend. <br />
<br />
i am closer. i have hunches, feelings. i am actually fairly confident that i am aware of what it is, but i defer not to any sort of confidence within myself, but more so to confidence in that God with align the universe so that it steers me in the direction that is meant for me.<br />
<br />
my first inclination was to say "right for me", but that would imply that there is a right and a wrong, rather than the fact that i <em>choose</em> to go down this path. that i <em>choose</em> to follow the signs. that i am consciously trying to operate from that place of openness i spoke so passionately about earlier. <br />
<br />
call me crazy, but i am broadcasting this to everyone. ok, not EVERYONE, but many. it is a reminder to myself. it is my own accountability group. i am putting it out there in the universe, without judgment, with implicit faith in the fact that i must take risks, but still maintain an air of caution for those not altruistically motivated.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
i know i will encounter difficulty, trials, tribulations. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
i prefer to call them <em>lessons</em>.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
i hope to be rewarded, but i need not count on anything. i know that, by virtue of embarking on the journey, i already reap the benefit. <br />
<br />
<br />
i already grow.<br />
<br />
<br />
that's some pretty existential shit, right there.<br />
<br />
<br />
much peace,<br />
b<br />
<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-53505907063674681302014-09-21T07:26:00.003-07:002014-09-21T07:26:50.807-07:00let me tell you a story...<span style="font-family: inherit;">let's start this story with a chubby, weenie of a girl that gets shoved to the floor by her best friend in the world. said girl sits, deflated, and begins to cry once the shock wears off, which likely equates to 5 seconds or less. her parents witness this situation from the sidelines, quietly observing the interaction and, upon seeing their only child is wounded, albeit emotionally, they advise what most parents in that situation would recommend - "Go on! Push her back! - only half in jest.</span><br />
<br />
the girl, still wailing from what innocently started as play, continues to cry and fight back, responding the way most children would - "No, I can't! I feel bad doing that!"<br />
<br />
no joke. <br />
<br />
now. let me clear up a couple of details regarding this situation: spanish was my first language, as my parents do not speak English, so words have been changed as to be more accurate to you, the non-spanish-speaker (yes. i'm talking to YOU). next, this did actually happen, only the girls in the scenario are approximately a year old. how many children have begun carrying empathy and consciousness by age one? <br />
<br />
<br />
welcome to my life.<br />
<br />
<br />
let me introduce myself. i was conceived the first time my mother had sex. that should set the tone. nine months later, i was subsequently born and adopted by Cuban immigrants at 12 days old. although my mother loved me dearly, she was the ninth of eleven children and was not on board with raising another child. understandable, really. so they tried to ensure i'd go to a spanish family since my father was Cuban as well. i'd love to say that i'd have been better off being raised by my biological family, but the truth is, i couldn't have asked for better parents. although i don't quite recall when i first realized that, i do remember somewhat always being aware of that. perhaps it was the fact that they didn't go anywhere unless i was invited, or that i was constantly reminded of how their life was truly complete when i arrived. regardless, the message was clear: <br />
<br />
i was special (unique?)<br />
<br />
before you start wondering why you purchased an autobiography under the guise it was to motivate you to find your life's purpose, i assure you it was no illusion; we will get there. but you wouldn't take a girl to bed without buying her dinner first, would you? (don't answer that.) <br />
<br />
the point is, in order to know where i was headed, i needed to look back on where i had been. not just where i had been; it was vital to recap to myself what i had experienced = perceived or not - what living my life had looked like over the last 34 years. without doing this, i was a collection of memories, experiences, one-offs that coincidentally fell between the birth and death of one individual.<br />
<br />
nothing in life happens by chance. if you know one thing about me, know that i believe that. <br />
<br />
looking at life this way keeps me digging, keeps me curious, keeps me peeling back layers - which, by the way, get thinner and thinner once you are well-versed at peeling - and turning up new reasons as to why certain things happen. <br />
<br />
so back to where i was, before i was able to fully embrace my current place and endorse where i was going, i needed to comb through my experiences, my life, and find the common threads. <br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-39365374462908910782014-09-17T20:03:00.002-07:002014-09-17T20:11:18.070-07:00living in colour...spelled the british way to seem more interesting!there have been so many signs that have been presented to me recently. signs that point in a direction i have only dreamed about, and dreamed about in the secret crevices of my heart of hearts. the dreams that one dares to dream, that lie somewhere over the rainbow. <br />
<br />
these dreams are what are making me feel i am living in color, and yet, there is still a layer of fear that i continue to battle. let's be honest, there are <em>multiple</em> layers of fear that i continue to peel away. but can i say that the more that i offer up of myself, share my true, <em>authentic</em>, fully-present self to individuals ready to accept the gift of that, the more i am rewarded. the more i feel overwhelmed at the reaction, the connection, the <em>gratitude </em>i feel from others?? it is that openness, that sharing, that is truly the biggest gift i - or anyone - can give to someone else. it is the very act of sharing what you inherently possess - your heart of hearts, your naked, vulnerable, deliberate person - that resonates. it screams from the rooftops and whispers in the darkness. it is the blind caress in the middle of the night that is instinctive, unpretentious.<br />
<br />
it is raw.<br />
<br />
...and it is scary.<br />
<br />
funny, after writing that down, my first thought is that i tend to often put that in there, the fear, the hesitation, and i wonder why i feel the need to interject that when i am not entirely sure i own that fear. sure, it is scary, but SO WHAT? the more i feed that wolf, the stronger it gets...the greater it is able to fight at winning the war, and if there is one thing i am becoming adept at clawing out of, it is the rabbit hole of fear, of negativity, of <em>impossibility</em>.<br />
<br />
I REFUSE TO THINK IMPOSSIBLE.<br />
<br />
i am spiritual. i believe in god, a higher power greater than myself, than this life. faith is a huge part of who i am, who i have become, and who i will grow into...and if there is one thing i know and truly have blind faith in, it is "<em>through him, all things are possible.</em>" i know - with more certainty than i would care to admit anything - that whatever it is that i am capable of, that is meant for me, that i can DREAM, and BE and DO, i know that it is ALL POSSIBLE, no double negatives here, just possibility. HUGE POSSIBLITY.<br />
<br />
<br />
and you know what?!?<br />
<br />
here's the best part:<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
that possibility...that HUGE POSSIBILITY...it is there. it is here.<br />
<br />
it is present, and living, and <em>thriving</em>, in ALL of us. <br />
<br />
Every. Single. One.<br />
<br />
<br />
how 'bout dem apples?!? what better news can you receive, can you fully embrace, what better gift can you get than the certainty that whatever you can DREAM, you can DO?!?<br />
<br />
now i am not saying it is meant to happen, or that it is the right thing for me, or you, or any of us. i, for example, dream of lying on a beach, after having won the lottery, obviously, and sipping on daiquiris all day while my perfect little blonde children frolic in the sun Coppertone-style. and i eat dessert for every meal without hesitation because it will provide me the nutrients i need to survive and dessert is WONDERFUL. AMAZING. like manna from Heaven itself. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
especially ice cream.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
in reality, i have not (yet!) won the lottery, live an hour from the beach, and have an alcohol tolerance that would probably prohibit me from imbibing in no more than 3 daiquiris - max (ok, maybe 4). my daughter - the only child i have - is a gloriously dark-haired hurricane of excitable brown curls, flailing limbs, and emotions so prominently displayed on her face that it would be impossible to guess her volume dial is turned to anything but FULL THROTTLE except for just after she wakes and is still slightly sleepy. and that dessert concept? well let's just call that hypothesis something i'm diligently working on with mixed results...except that you can rest assured that dessert not being anything shy of AMAZING? well, i can confirm that with a high statistical degree of accuracy. <br />
<br />
<br />
especially ice cream.<br />
<br />
<br />
but i digress.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
it is not in the literal sense that we hold endless possibilities, but in regards to our inherent potential to become our true selves. to fully embrace our strengths, our faults, our wins, our losses. the possibilities that are inherent in there being a greater purpose to our existence in this universe, in this world, on this continent. in this state, city, building, moment.<br />
<br />
everything happens for a reason. or season. not just people, but places, situations, joys, sorrows. ALL of it is for a purpose, meant to contribute to how we view the world, treat others, treat ourselves. we raise our children to be respectful and kind and brave and caring. and then turn around and cuss someone out for cutting us off. <br />
<br />
<br />
or so i hear. <br />
<br />
just to clear things up, that cussing in traffic story is about a <em>friend..</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<br />
but that, folks, is what makes this rad, gnarly, phenomenal, heartbreaking journey The Greatest Ride We'll Ever Be On. that is what will keep us sitting in the seat, despite almost getting sick while it is in motion. actually, it keeps us on after we have <em>already</em> gotten sick. the potential of that unknown. the fact that each day provides us an opportunity to start anew, to wash away our past and create our future. <br />
<br />
now, the risk-lovers out there are going - sweet, man! while those more risk-averse, the at-least-partially nurtured trait that i am trying to steer clear of, are shaking their heads and tsk-tsking away at the thought that someone would venture out to do anything that is not SAFE, or MANAGEABLE, or PLANNED WELL. i challenge you to fully embrace yourself - your true, inner, secret self - and ask yourself about dreams deferred. dust them off, dig them up, rehydrate those raisins in the sun where potential once lived, and brainstorm, dream, foster a way for them to be incorporated in your life, in a realistic way. <br />
<br />
remove the tourniquet and let the blood flow back into that limb you've tried to ignore exists. look for a way, MULTIPLE WAYS, to add that color back into life that has so slowly faded over time.<br />
<br />
there is a reason the clichés, the stereotypes, call working women and men, "suits", "drones"...that jobs and companies "suck the life out of you".<br />
<br />
it isn't because they are awful. it is because they are not the right fit.<br />
<br />
it is because you, me, all of us, have a purpose greater, higher - different, even - than we let ourselves reach for. even see, at times.<br />
<br />
i challenge all of you, myself, everyone i come in contact with. i challenge those who choose to be a part of my life, even if in the periphery, to search for that, dig deeper, ask the difficult questions.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
or, you know, <em>i</em> will ask you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
lord knows i am still not only searching, but on this crazy ride called life, self-discovery, self-fulfillment. <br />
<br />
i am chucking out the window the notion that "social success" and "personal fulfillment" are equal to each other. what that does is equates all of us with things that may not be in line with our heart of hearts, our passions, and our purpose. <br />
<br />
<br />
and i refuse to choose one or the other, personally. your choice may be different, but that is the beauty of the journey towards self-actualization: it is yours, and yours alone. it looks different to everyone, and no two are exactly alike. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
it is the Fingerprint Of The Soul.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
as i try to find a match for mine, to figure what exact combo of loops, whorls and arches it possesses, i discover something new. about myself, about my life, about others. i give of myself and am honored with the gift bestowed upon me by others: the sharing of their own dreams - whether buried deep, actively seeking oxygen, or in the land of the living thriving as a reality.<br />
<br />
<br />
those gifts, those sacred spaces, those moments where i see others step into the light - oftentimes to their own surprise - that is when their brilliance shines so brightly it feels like staring into the sun. it is the moment we all come alive, even if for a second. <br />
<br />
<br />
those moments, one after another, are selfishly the gifts i am most grateful for.<br />
<br />
<br />
those are the foundation, the impetus. they are the building blocks that lift me, support me, propel me towards being fully present - or at least working at it - each and every day.<br />
<br />
<br />
it is time to live in color.<br />
<br />
please join me.<br />
<br />
<br />
it is insanely worth it.<br />
<br />
<br />
with love,<br />
bAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-90841662128620092262014-07-08T20:09:00.001-07:002014-07-08T20:09:14.590-07:00winds of change<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">it is amazing to me the saying, "it takes a village..."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">all this time, I've tried to do it myself. without help, while outwardly appearing to accept support, but too proud to even take assistance from myself at times.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">i feel a change is coming.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">it feels as though i am turning a corner. not to jump ahead of myself, i am feeling pretty good. not PERFECT, but pretty good. and i'll take it. i'll actually take it any day of the week, any week, month, season of the year. but regardless, i'll take it. i don't doubt that it has something to do with my accepting help from myself, my baby step in acknowledging that maybe, just maybe, there is something bigger at work here that i can't get a grasp on for a lifetime without outside counsel coming in and doing something to shift a situation that may always be just a tad bit off, a tad bit lacking. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">i'm talking about depression. i'm talking about a chemical imbalance.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">as anti-medication as i am...as anti-assistance as i am...as much as i ask for help, i am not good at taking it. i'm not always great at admitting that i suffer from the human condition. from fallibility. i am GREAT at admitting it when i am - low and behold - feeling pretty good. but when i have been in the thick of things, my instinct is to hide under the covers, to withdraw, to live in the rain alone until the storm has cleared - because it, too, shall pass. it is just my plight in life to have to sit through it, right? then, once things have yet again become manageable, i am free to shout from the rooftops how WE ARE NOT ALONE, and that WE SHOULD ALL SUPPORT EACH OTHER, and profess to those who seek solace to BE EASY ON THEMSELVES. PRACTICE FORGIVENESS.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">well...ain't that the kettle.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">i believe it, though. there is the kicker. it is only recently that i am beginning to truly connect the dots between the fact that <em>if i don't support myself, if i am not easy on myself, if i don't forgive myself</em>...how can i expect to treat others the same way? or if i am able to do that for others, what is it about my own psyche that prevents me from believing that i am worth the same level of love, of support, of self-esteem, that i try to foster in those around me?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">enter genetics, stage left.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">i have at times refused to acknowledge that i am like my biological family, that i have inherited some of their not-so-appealing traits. genetically, i have a grandfather who was at least at one point a functioning alcoholic, a grandmother who was depressed (god bless her, SHE HAD 11 CHILDREN, who wouldn't be?), and a mother, aunts, uncles, cousins, whom have suffered at least some form of it, even from an outside perspective. bi-polar disorder, etc...the truth is, it's there. and after such a long road for my own survival, after digging myself out my marriage, out of the whole in which i was for almost 7 years, i found myself sliding into another one, a different one, but oddly familiar. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">now, though, now i know better. now i know and recognize the signs. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">and i choose to change directions. i choose to crawl and fight and claw out rather than keep sliding because gravity dictates that is the way i should go, because dna determines that i am to suffer from this, even in small doses. that means work, that means emotional growth and development, that means awareness and accountability, and intention. that means believing that life doesn't happen to me, but that i play a hand in what happens as well. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">knowing that, reading that, seeing on paper that i allow myself to change my path simply because i dictate the quality and integrity and type of person i would like to be and life i want to live...it is incredible how freeing that is. something so simple and unspoken for most...it is as though I've not ever given myself permission to do that, and it is fucking empowering to own that. with god's grace, natch.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">i challenge all of you to do it, to <em>love yourselves FIRST</em>. before anyone else. it is so difficult for me to practice, but thankfully, i am in a good place. <em>today. </em>tomorrow, it maybe different, but i won't stop trying.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">a friend this morning told me a story about a Jesuit professor she had. he said that "every day, bring your reasonable best". she found it hard to relate, being the go-getting, type-a personality that she is, that we are, and realized later how true that is. some days, our reasonable best is 100%. other days, our reasonable best is only 70%, or 40%. whatever that percentage may be on any given day, bring it. OWN IT. and then, at the end of the day, rejoice in having brought your best. don't chastise yourself for not having brought 100% when you only had 40% to give that day. you brought that 40% with all of your might, and in that you can be proud of yourself and rest easy. it is futile to try for 100% when it is not there to give, and realizing that is the first step. kindness, empathy, compassion, they are worth the most when we can gift ourselves with those things and then, only then, pass them on to others wholeheartedly. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">gracias, papa dios.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">b</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-4015311915059603452014-07-06T19:11:00.004-07:002014-07-06T19:11:58.341-07:00on parenting. on parents.<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">parenting is arguably the most difficult journey I have ever embarked on. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">the most rewarding, by far without a doubt. but, the most difficult, emotionally charged, with twists and challenges and obstacles that were not only unforeseen but also unimaginable. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">i never imagined coming up against such resistance with my parents - with my mother. i knew we would have different parenting styles, as we also have different realities <em>in which we happen to be parenting. </em>however, i somehow imagined her to be more understanding, more respectful, more loving. and not that she isn't the most loving person to her grandchild, but she is also the person who is antithetical to everything i am trying to instill. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">i get it. <em>los padres crian, los abuelos malcrian.</em> "parents raise, grandparents spoil." it is a well-known spanish saying that grandparents look forward to long before the moment when they know if their child even <em>wants</em> to have children. it is that guilt you will have to deal with for the rest of your life if you choose to not to have children. the passive-aggressive, not-so-subtle ribbing about not providing them with their entitlement to spoil - by virtue of having had a child of their own. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">i know, i know. most parents do it, you say. parents have hang-ups about a lot of things, and they are not specific to the cuban/hispanic culture, so quit complaining and just ignore it. let it roll off your back. problem is, i am a good child. i grew up the star child. i not only did not misbehave for the most part, but also went to great lengths to cover up any misbehavin' that was happening in order to not disappoint. the image. it's all about the image, right?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">ha. that image, and keeping it up, is what has gotten me into a lot of things in life. good, bad, ugly...and you know what? for better or worse, all of those things make me who i am: well-rounded, empathetic, caring, honest, funny, sarcastic, and fully aware of a lot of things that i am fairly adept at feigning ignorance for. i live life less fully than i would like, and it is due to that keeping up appearances. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">wait. that is not entirely true. i DO live life fully, for the most part, but i am getting better at that and have worked on it for the last decade. that is the crux of the issue. when i began exerting my independence, when i began separating from the parental nest that had so lovingly raised and dedicated its life to me, i began experiencing some backlash. undeserved backlash. yes, some of it was parenting, and necessary parenting, but so much of it is disagreement with how i choose to live my life. so much of it is blatant expression of that fact that the choices i make are not <em>unique to me - my own choices - </em>but just. plain. WRONG. by virtue of the fact that they are not the same choices that my parents would have made. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">i understand not everyone chooses this path. this is the road less traveled. it is not only much easier, but a smoother ride, to simply sit back and do things as they have always been done, just because. to let my parents give my daughter everything she wants, to let her be spoiled completely by them, to - in turn - take the easy route and give in to her whims at every tear that may fall. then, lo and behold, i have raised an entitled child. one that believes life is to be handed to her, one that knows nothing of the value of hard work, is unaware that her choices often come with consequences, however unintended. a child that thinks life is easy, and doesn't have skills to cope when it isn't.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">i could argue that i would raise another me, since that is who my parents raised, right? except i wouldn't. they were a family, a nuclear - albeit different since i was adopted - and tight-knit family that did not come without a downside, either. that is another story for another day. but my situation, one in which i have, and probably will never have, no clue about what is happening at her father's house. one in which i fully know she will be spoiled and coddled by her paternal grandparents to the point of it being unhealthy. one in which they are parenting alone, when they are parenting. a life where there are moments, days, weeks, where i will not see my child, hug her, smell her, hold her hand. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">...my parents wished for me. they never did anything if i could not come, if i was not included. no date nights, vacations, etc. they openly admit this. it was a wonderful message of belonging, of inclusion, except that it probably contributed to some unhealthy codependence issues. time alone, time apart, time to yourself...it is all a healthy part of growing, nurturing yourself, and developing what will eventually be your own perspective, your own opinions, your individual person. and it wasn't that i wasn't allowed to do that, there were just really specific parameters and messages sent that - although done with the best intentions - i am consciously trying to avoid. and i have a right to do so. i have a right to raise my child in the best way that i see fit, obviously while still respecting her and guiding her and loving her and protecting her. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">and this is where we inherently differ. this consistent clashing of heads, where i cannot physically express a boundary for my child without it being challenged, called wrong, pushed so that i eventually give in. or yell i yell a LOT. it is frustrating, it is maddening, and it is exhausting. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">i love my parents. i love my mother. but i don't love the guilt, the outright nastiness at times, and the condescension. and what scares me the most is that it has only exacerbated as she gets older. she was never this bad before. she was never outright nasty, name calling, cussing. and the underlying issue is not that i can't deal with trying to ignore this and making my voice heard to her...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">...it is that i realize she is changing. aging. mortal. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">and, when you've been raised to know that you are your parents' whole life, exerting your independence is a scary thing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">when you've been raised in a codependent family, trying to break away and change those patterns is hard enough, but what happens when you realize they won't always be there? what happens when the relationship that is causing you the most anguish is also the relationship you feel compelled to spend the most time with before it is no longer? and what will you do when that person, that family, is not there?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">i know i will get through it. i know i will go on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">but damned if it isn't the scariest thing to think about. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">b</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-82700110894406891182013-10-21T13:56:00.001-07:002013-10-21T13:57:49.271-07:00enough is enough...and i've had it<a href="http://momastery.com/blog/2013/10/21/why/#sthash.BOaelVEd.cmfs">Why?</a><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To this, I offer up: <a href="http://www.ted.com/talks/amy_cuddy_your_body_language_shapes_who_you_are.html">http://www.ted.com/talks/amy_cuddy_your_body_language_shapes_who_you_are.html</a> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don’t know if I embedded this correctly, because I don’t know how to embed things. But what I do know, what I am familiar with, is missing the Capstone requirements because I spent the entire hour debating about whether or not I could eat another slice of pizza, whether I was worthy of another slice of pizza…whether I was lovable, if I were to eat another slice of pizza. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Enough of this. For our gender, for our girls, and most importantly, for ourselves. It is the moment we look at our bodies in the mirror and tell ourselves that WE LOVE YOU, every inch of you, that not ONE part of you needs to be fixed, or smaller, or smoother, to be worthy of our own love – it is the moment that WE ACTUALLY BELIEVE THAT, that we start on the road to recovery. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I love myself. I told myself that in the bathroom mirror last night. No joke. Out loud, naked, looking myself right in the eyes, and I started to cry. I cried for my years of struggle, my recovery, my daughter, the women I know, and I cried for my parents, who tried so hard to let me know they loved me unconditionally, but still managed to have a hand in this. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To your Anger, Glennon, I say this: Anger is not “okay” because it is justified in this scenario. Feelings ARE what they ARE. Anger IS Anger. And if you are Angry, and rightfully so, the feeling is already there. It exists. It cannot be made “okay” or justified, nor does it need to be justified in the slightest bit. You do not have to explain to me, to your readers, to yourself, why you are angry. But you DO have to FEEL it, RELISH in it, let it FUEL you towards a better solution, as a motivator to heal yourself, to make a difference, to continue your God-given work on this Earth of LOVING and ACCEPTING and MAKING A DIFFERENCE for all of those who are open to the signs. Because that, my love, is what you have done for me and countless others. You have brought us in touch with ourselves, and the parts of ourselves that are not only broken, but beautiful and sometimes mended, sometimes not, as a means to really connect and TOUCH other human beings in their struggle. You inspire those of us aware enough to pick up these pieces and use them, offer them up to someone in need as a token of understanding, empathy and compassion. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thank you in spades for that. I continue to learn and grow each and everyday thanks to you and others like you. I hope that is of value to someone, but I already know it has been invaluable to me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">b.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-23962000977913954452013-08-08T17:10:00.001-07:002013-08-08T17:55:24.115-07:00what you need<div style="text-align: center;">
You can't always get what you want.<br />
But if you try sometimes well you just might find<br />
You get what you need</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I asked. I asked for God's will...and here I am. Overwhelmed by all of the positive changes in my life, without proper time for the mourning of all that I have traded for this position, for these gifts, for this life. Positive, fruitful, promising changes I have longed for so, so many times, throughout the past year and a half. Positive, fruitful, promising changes that come with an entirely different mindset, an entirely different set of priorities than what I have accustomed myself to over the last three years. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It is bittersweet. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I am loving it.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
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I am sad.</div>
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</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
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I don't know if I asked for all of this, but I think I, God thinks I, need it. I need to keep on top of my game. My Game. The Game of Life where I Take Care of Myself, in all areas of my life. I need this to remind me just why I will be happy, just <em>why </em>it is that I want to be the master of the my own destiny (other than God, obviously). I need this to remind me to prioritize myself, my goals, my dreams, in just the right order, and to be responsible and accountable for each of these. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I want a break. I want to do the "fun stuff"...where I go out and meet people, where I go and discuss with others why I am the right fit for them, but in order to do that, as with all things worthwhile in life, there is a barrier to entry that I must meet, cross and accomplish, before I gain access to the party.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Ha. Hahahahaha.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The party that won't truly be a party until I have made it through the next 3-5 years.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But, on the bright side, I CAN DO THIS. I most definitely can do this after I make it past this first hurdle. Therefore, I WILL MAKE IT PAST THIS FIRST HURDLE.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I don't want to dwell on what I am missing out on by doing this, but I do believe it important to note this, because it otherwise grows stagnant within me instead of being free to fly out into the universe, to find it's own way.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I miss my baby. I miss snuggling her, playing with her, being annoyed at her insistence on things, being delighted and awed at her sense of humor, her observations, her musings about the world. I miss planning my day around what my plans with her will include. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I miss being a lady who lunches. A smart, articulate woman who doesn't work in an office because she is doing life's most important job - raising and shaping the future for the person she has loved most in her entire life.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I can't believe she's three. I can't believe it's over. I can't believe it has been a year and a half since I left my relationship - my abusive, demeaning and dysfunctional relationship.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I can't believe I was there for almost 7 years.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
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This....depression, this sadness, albeit passing (at least I am aware it is fleeting), it feels so cumbersome to have to deal with <em>again.</em> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I know, I know, these feelings all come to the surface, and will continue to come to the surface, during life transitions. Funny, I spend so much of my day talking about how my career is to specialize in "people in transition", all the while being a "person in transition" myself. If I am good at dealing with "them", how do I deal with me? </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I sympathize, I empathize...I try to be caring and easy on those I meet and teach them, reiterate to them, how important it is to be easy on <em>themselves; </em>how vital it is that they learn to nurture themselves in ways that they wish someone had nurtured them, love themselves in ways they wished someone had loved them. Learn - <em>hone, really</em> - true self-sufficiency. True self-esteem. That they are already equipped with all the tools they need.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Life is all about lessons learned along the journey and not so much about where we finally end up, because we all end up, well, dead. Who wants to make life about death?</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The problem occurs when the ride is not as smooth, or as fast or slow, or as exciting, or as easy, or going in the same direction - you name it - as we thought. It takes us for a spin in order to catch us off guard, throw our equilibrium off, because that is when the growing happens. That is when the wall is knocked down, to reveal a brighter today, and more potential for tomorrow, than we ever thought possible.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But all of this happens when we are least expecting, when we are not looking, and when we are busy doing the dirty work. If we do it right, if we learn the lessons that serve as a hammer in knocking down the wall standing between ourselves and the stairs to the next chapter, the possibilities for growth, for upward movement, are endless. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The sky's the limit.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
But it all starts with a push. A push from friends, a push from loved ones, a gift from God - a belief in yourself that transcends all transitions. The ability to see through the emotions that present themselves in order to slow you down...but also the ability to acknowledge them with the tenderness, the sensitivity, and the kindness that we so strive to demonstrate to others. It all starts with being easy on yourself, then pushing through that barrier to entry.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Because I know I can make it. I know you can make it. And it's worth it.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
WE ARE ALL WORTH IT.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
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Nothing in this life happens by chance.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
B.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-62983395715929412762013-04-30T12:45:00.000-07:002013-04-30T12:45:55.866-07:00easy there.As much as I am all for bettering yourself, I am also realizing that accepting too much responsibility, for wrongdoings, for things, for LIFE, really, is not necessarily the best approach at living. You know the type, or in my case, you are the type, that apologizes for everything. Someone bumps into me or drops something, I instantly apologize. <br />
<br />
I've gotten better at catching myself. It comes with the territory of being me, of coming out of what I have, but I'm a little tired of associating myself with "what I've come out of". Known (at least in my opinion) for needlessly being too hard on myself for most of my life, I am what I am.<br />
<br />
And I am working on becoming a better Me. A wholer Me. A Me who paints in vivid color.<br />
<br />
It is time to be easy. It is time to be honest. It is time to be imperfect and sad and elated and spastic, all simultaneously. While holding daily dance parties with my little one. In yoga pants, or our underwear. It all is part of who I am. And if someone doesn't like that, or agree with it, then perhaps they don't have to purchase the cow, or even drive by the field. <br />
<br />
God...God is an amazing individual, an amazing omnipotent force. He manages to be the most ever-present parent without punishment. Life takes care of that for you. He loves me - He loves you! - just as I am. Just as we are. When we drop the ball, he is right there ready to forgive us. For skipping the line, for thinking we hate someone, for leaving church before mass even starts, for cheating. For being human. That is the beauty of being loved unconditionally by someone so powerful, so present, so Full of Grace: He is ever-willing to forgive us, AND forget. All we are required to do is show up, humility and repentance in hand. Where there is repentance, desire to be forgiven, there is Forgiveness. Who can argue with that? Who can ask for anything better?<br />
<br />
The biggest miracle of all is that He made us Perfect. In all of our faults, with all the cracks we have developed where things fall through, where The Ball is Dropped, He is there, loving us. Like a Thomas' English Muffin, He is not only familiar with all of our nooks and crannies, he believes they are all part of what make us delicious, unimaginably beautiful, perfect, irreplaceable. Our uniqueness is what makes us identifiable to Him. What ensures He Loves Each and Every One of Us, differently and individually and completely and The Same. <br />
<br />
Why is it, then, that we tend to be so hard on ourselves, so hard on our friends? How is it that, at some point, we forget their human-ness to the point where we feel it appropriate to criticize someone instead of loving them - lifting them up? Ah, the crux of that is also due to our human-ness. We are fallible, imperfect, NOT God. So therein lies our daily burden. To be more like Him. To love others as God loves Us: unconditionally, with mercy, full of Grace. But Mr. God, He is Forgiving, remember? He is easy on Us, understands when we need a break, does not seek to make us pay for our sins, is not spiteful. So, in turn, we must try to be. Easy on others. They are trying their best. And in cases where they are not, we are not the omnipotent being we oftentimes believe ourselves to be, which means we never have the full story. In those cases where we aren't as easy on others as we'd like, more so easy on others. In the cases where we just aren't easy on others, easy on ourselves. And in the cases where we aren't easy on ourselves...well, that is what God is for. To remind us, be there, and send a gentle reminder our way. To be easy on ourselves.<br />
<br />
So in accepting responsibility, I first and foremost must be easy on myself. Because God is easy on me. In loving and being vulnerable and making friends and starting a new career, He is In Charge. I may try to take less responsibility for others' wrongdoings in the future. I may paint in vivid colors, but sometimes may only be feeling black and white. I may stop associating myself with "what I've come out of", but it will always have a role in shaping me and how I look at things. Will I ever stop apologizing for everything? Probably not entirely, but I'm trying. God not only knows, He understands. On the days that I'm not that understanding of myself, I could not have asked for better company.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-53434018188179744862013-02-26T08:02:00.001-08:002013-02-26T08:02:18.346-08:00carpe diem on a tuesday.<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Change your thoughts and your change your life."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Since you alone are responsible for your thoughts, only you can change them." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">~Paramahansa Yogananda</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The first of these caught my eye while driving home yesterday. The latter popped up in my Google reader just a few moments ago. Two days, two not-so-random hints from the universe. Just as I am grappling with direction, with personal focus. What you put out is what you get back, yes? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Clearly, someone out there is trying to tell me something, and in this case, I am taking it as a much-needed reminder that only I hold the power to mold where my thoughts are going. More so, where I <em>let them</em> lead me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I am taking the reigns today, getting back into the swing of things, drafting a plan. I am working on my future. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">It's time these boots got to walkin'. Or writing, whatever. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">On with the show. :)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<br />
<strong>“If you’re not terrified of the next step, your eyes are still closed. A caged bird in a boundless sky.” ~Jed McKenna</strong>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-90443291792715120562013-02-25T20:43:00.000-08:002013-02-25T20:43:00.229-08:00dating.<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Divorce has
left me afraid. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">My ex-husband
has left me afraid.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Afraid of
being vulnerable, afraid of letting someone in. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Really</i> letting someone in.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I want love.
I love Love. But I don’t want it now, and I want it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">now</i>. I don’t want it like I thought I had it. I want it how it is
supposed to be, how God wants it for me, how it will be healthiest for me in the
long term. How I want it for my daughter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I suffer from
amnesia. It is amnesia induced specifically by attraction, by butterflies, by that
feeling we are all searching for, running after; by enthusiasm and newness and
promise. The promise of a new relationship: something beautiful, and meant-to-be,
out of a dream. No matter how many times I tell myself not to fall, no matter
how many times I try to temper my emotions, this amnesia kicks in. The amnesia
gives way to idealism and excitement and suddenly, out of nowhere, opens the
trap door as I am about to take a cautious (well, let’s be honest, I don’t do
much with caution. Haphazard, maybe?) step forward and BAM! I fall. I fall
hard, and fast, and unexpectedly. I hit the ground running sometimes, but it
never turns out the way it should. You know why? Because that trap door, I knew
to look out for it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I am
idealistic, we’ve covered this. I want so much to fall. I want to fall hard,
and fast, and with my whole heart. And as much as I hope that one day someone will
want me to fall hard, and fast, and entirely, I don’t know that it will ever be
the easiest or best thing for me. That amnesia, it not only prevents me from
seeing and learning from past mistakes, it prevents me from seeing danger when
it’s there. It leads me to making the wrong choices; choices fueled by
impulsiveness. Choices where my heart goes and my head stays.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I’m not
saying not to fall, I’m not saying not to take the next step, but what I have
learned is that I can’t just forget it is coming or leap blindly. I can’t let go.
Not now, not yet. I need - in order to trust and believe in myself, for my own
self-preservation, for my daughter, for my heart - to watch out for that trap door,
avoid it for the moment. My heart, that little girl in me that has been hurt so
many times, we are working on falling in love with each other again. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">We</i> are building a relationship, courting
each other, and I want them to fall for me. The only way I know how to do that
is to care more about fostering that trust, about nurturing that safety,
between them and myself than I am able to for someone else. I have never
allowed them to trust me as much as I have now, it has never been as vital as
it is now. I want them to trust me, I want to trust myself, I want to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">believe</i> in myself, more so than I have
ever given myself permission to, and my gut is telling me that, in order to do
that, I have to prioritize myself more than ever. More than I have ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">That
sometimes includes disregarding others’ advice and going out on a limb. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">But, if that
limb is my own intuition, my own opinion, my gut…it is about God-damned time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">It has taken me
33 years to want to take care of myself more than anyone else. And it feels
scary, and self-indulgent, and simultaneously justified and deserved and just
like what that little girl has been waiting her whole life to hear: that she is
safe. That I am going to do my damnedest to show her I am the luckiest girl in
the world to be dating her. That I will never again take her for granted. Or
that at least I will try.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">So, yes. Divorce
has made me afraid of letting someone in. Except that it has also taught me to
let in the one person who I tried so hard to shut out for so many years. It has
given me the opportunity to date the person I should have been courting my
entire life, for the first in a decade.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I am letting <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">myself</i> in again. And it feels so good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">It is about time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Oh how I wish I were a trinity, so if
I lost a part of me<br />
I'd still have two of the same to live<br />
But nobody gets a lifetime rehearsal, as specks of dust we're universal<br />
To let this love survive would be the greatest gift we could give<br />
Tell all the friends who think they're so together<br />
That these are ghosts and mirages, these thoughts of fairer weather<br />
Though it's storming out I feel safe within the arms of love's discovery<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Indigo Girls: Love’s Recovery<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-24942001462240929122012-12-03T18:53:00.003-08:002012-12-03T18:53:51.468-08:00a new reality.
<br />
I wrote this almost nine months ago, after dropping my little bit off for the first overnight visit with my estranged spouse. <br />
<br />
Funny how this memory feels like a lifetime ago, but the pain of it is ever at my fingertips. It never fades.<br />
<br />
<br />
Such is a mother's love.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">M</span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">y dearest little one,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I just dropped you off with your father for the very first
time less than one hour ago. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Regardless that I realize this is the best decision for both
you and I, there is no denying that my world will never be the same.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have loved you more than I have loved even myself since
the day I knew you were on your way. It has been 18 months, 3 weeks and one day
since I have been separated from you more than just a few hours on the outside.
Add pregnancy to that and it has been almost 2 ½ years. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I will never be able to explain to you how long it took me
to get here, to this place where the greater good for both of us is to have you
spend timely separately with both your father and I, but I trust that one day you
will realize that your mami did what was best. That your mami protected you
until the end of the Earth, and that she will continue to do so with an unprecedented
ferocity until the end of time. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You deserve everything I have had in my life and so much <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">more</i>. I have already denied you a
complete nuclear family, but I hope you will never understand that our was
family never that, that what mami wanted so much to give you from the very
beginning was always a few eggs short of a dozen.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What I wish for you in the future is health and happiness.
You have all of my love. I hope that one day I can provide you with an example
of a genuine, healthy, love-filled blended family. As much as I think that you
will on more than one occasion be disappointed with your father, the goodness
in me hopes that for your sake I am wrong. That maybe, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">just maybe</i>, for you he will change. Unfortunately for me, I have 7
years of proof that he has not, but I can only hope that he learns how to love
outside of himself, for you. Of course, this is where the human mommy side of
me chirps that it will be better for me if he doesn’t, because obviously I want
your deliciousness, your sweetness, your smell and smiles and straight-from-the-moon kisses all for me, but that is beside the point.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"></i></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">For you</i>, I hope that it is different,
that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">he</i> is different. I hope that he
learns from this. </span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I don’t know that you will ever read this. I don’t know if I
can ever let you read this. I don’t ever want to be to blame for negative
feelings about your father. I want you to know that you were, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">are</i>, the best thing that has ever
happened to me, and that every millimeter of you is sheer and absolute
perfection. Words cannot do justice for my love for you; and even now, as I
know in the back, center and front of my mind that you are not here, as every
cell in my body aches for you to tug at my hip saying “Uppa!”, I still manage to look up
at My So-Called Life reruns on TV and for a split second think that you are
sleeping and I should turn it down. </span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Old habits die hard. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
I love you to the ends of the Earth and back. <span lang="ES-US" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-US;">Mami te quiero muuucho y GRAAAAANDE.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="ES-US" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-US;">Besitos de
pececito,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span lang="ES-US" style="mso-ansi-language: ES-US;">Mama<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"></span> </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-17554537832302182322012-11-27T20:17:00.003-08:002012-11-27T20:17:54.454-08:00LOL<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Living out loud. It belongs in all capital letters because,
well, anyone who has ever felt they were happiest - meant to really - live out
loud, knows that it would only befit the scenario that it belong in all capital
letters. Except, of course, for those times where we are in a slightly insecure
place, maybe a tad vulnerable, in those moments where we are not so sure that
LOL is the right thing, the true thing, the best way for us. It is in those
moments where we lol. Purposely. Intentionally lower-case lol, so as to apply
somewhat of a mute button to our natural state. So as to make sure that our lol
doesn’t scream at our friends, our loved ones, the public; so they will know
that we are really trying not to push onto them our exaggerated LOL, but that
we don’t exactly know how. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In these moments, lol is the best we can do.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Moving on.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Parents. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My parents have a way of pushing my buttons in a way that no
one else in the world can. It is first and foremost due to the fact that they
created those buttons, but also because they’ve gotten to know them the best
over the course of a lifetime. They assisted in the harvesting and maturing of
said buttons, and now know how to push them without even trying. In their
sleep. And, since my parents’ sole purpose in life is to love me, and convince
me that they have learned absolutely every life lesson in their combined 146
years while simultaneously passing these lessons on at inopportune and
unwarranted moments, this leaves me an anxiety-ridden, yoga deep-breathing,
mess of an individual LOLing throughout their visit, all the while insisting
they stay longer. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It all involves a LOT of screaming.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And huffing. And sighing.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And that’s just the genetic portion. We’re Cuban. I have no
inside voice.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Regardless, my parents were here over the holiday weekend,
and each visit with them leaves me reeling with exhaustion and yearning to have
them close-by.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I, however, am going through what I would call a
high-conflict divorce, which makes that nearly impossible. None of the details
really matter, except that it will NEVER end. Never. The conflict being thrown
at me – outright, silently, passive-aggressively, in front of our child – all of
it will be ongoing over the course of my life as a parent. It is tragic,
really, to be faced with such a dismal outlook, but it is quite the contrary
for me. It is the exact outlook I need to convince my hopeful, optimistic, self
of, in order to fully free myself. The moment I truly lose hope, give up my
desire, my wish, my hope that things will change, that somehow, somewhere out
there (cue Linda Rondstadt), there exists a shred of reason or decency that
will find its way to my estranged spouse and permeate his being, even if only
for a nanosecond, is the moment that I give my conscious the right to let go of
any guilt I may be holding on to for defending myself, for having an opinion different
from his, for not giving in. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is the moment I will truly Live.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So I am going into this upcoming mediation, this chance at
closure, compromise, cooperation, with outwardly no hope at all. Inside,
though, that Little-Engine-That-Could is huffing and puffing and
I-Think-I-Can-ing away…all the while holding out the secret hope that something
even remotely good could <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">possibly, maybe,</i>
happen. It is times like these when I need my friends, my parents.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Also, wine.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I know when I come out of that conference room, that office,
that building, into that vast city, that concrete parking garage, that SUV with
the toddler-seat in the back.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I will break.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I will break for all of the expecting-the-worsts, for all of
the no-hope scenarios I have run through, for all of the preparation I have
done to convince all of me that I will leave there knowing nothing more about
the future than when I went in. I will break for the part of me that wishes I
had fallen in love with someone different. The part of me that still wishes she
could change him, make him somehow human, empathetic. But that part of me is
the part that still wants to “be married”. Doesn’t matter to who (well, let’s
be honest, that’s a lie), but in order to validate myself somehow, in order to “be”
a success. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And although that part of me grows smaller with the passage
of time, all of these milestones, benchmarks, steps in the divorce process,
whatever label you want to put on each of them, rub this healing wound the
wrong way. Draw just enough fresh blood out to make it real, to remind me that
the underlying hope is still there. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You know, I’m not in any way saying I want to be numb during
or to this process. It is really an awakening period of self-discovery, another
adolescence of sorts (equipped with much more freedom, happy hour, and the
potential for much funner mistakes, really (YES, I just used the word funner)),
but it has been close to one year since this process began, and over a year
since I have been working through this on my own, and I am exhausted.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am a planner. I like to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">know.</i> Even if the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">knowing</i>
ruins things for me, which it oftentimes does. As a child, I was notorious for
removing the tape from Christmas presents with such care that my parents did
not suspect a thing, solely to confirm that I got that Barbie car I wanted. Or,
when given the opportunity by my best friend to be told of my gift before even
receiving it, I take it. I have no shame. The surprise is equally as satisfying
to me. Or at least that is what I tell myself.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So. As this process, this rebirth, is happening, I am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">trying</i> – don’t laugh, I wrote it in
Italics for a reason, this is HARD – to change how I do things, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">react</i> to things, in order to learn these
valuable life lessons, these gems that God is placing in my lap with a
handwritten note that says “PAY ATTENTION”. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But only to the point where it doesn’t affect my LOL.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Because that God, if I know him the way I think I do, He
loves my LOL. Loves Me just as I Am. He would Never want to know that I am
muting myself, subduing my reactions, emotions, and the hard-wiring that was
given and designed by His very self.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And He, that
omnipotent spiritual powerhouse, He made me an optimist.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So I will continue to try and prepare myself as best as I
can for what is most likely sure to be disappointment, I will warn my family,
my friends, that I may need some uplifting when I inevitably feel so small that
evening, so blind as to what my future holds, so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tired.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One thing, though. One thing is for certain. </span></div>
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I will continue to Live Out Loud. Without shame, with only
occasional reservation (you know, in libraries and such), and with the gift of
His Grace.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And my future, regardless of where I am, what I do, and who
I’m with, it holds Happiness.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">HAPPINESS.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now there’s something worth capitalizing.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-27316907920748254302012-11-12T11:26:00.002-08:002012-11-12T11:27:21.976-08:00one of those mornings.<br />
<img alt="" aria-busy="false" aria-describedby="fbPhotosSnowliftCaption" class="spotlight" height="693" src="https://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/311282_10152264865090217_388188729_n.jpg" style="height: 570px; width: 456px;" width="554" /><br />
<br />
Everyday. Especially today, but everyday.<br />
<br />
God gives us only what we can handle, right?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-39942680669885176902012-11-09T12:13:00.001-08:002012-12-03T19:19:05.524-08:00in this moment...This holiday season, I'm thankful for being where I am, who I am, and how I am, in this very minute. I trust that I am in the place that God wants me to be, and that His will is being carried out each day, regardless of whether I understand or am privy to what that is or where it is leading.<br />
<br />
I have faith. Faith is intangible, it is immeasurable, invisible. <br />
<br />
It is enough.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-9995589174854922112012-11-02T17:24:00.001-07:002012-11-02T17:25:10.293-07:00strength<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can’t help thinking that the reason I surround myself with
strong women is in the hopes that I will eventually become one, if only by
osmosis. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then I take a step back, and my logic kicks in and tells me
I am already strong, that I’m one of them<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.</i>
But since my heart and my brain are often at odds, my heart pipes up and says,
“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Remember how you cried while watching
The Muppets?”</i> And I nod my head in agreement. I’ve got to give credit where
credit is due. It’s not like my tear ducts will ever know a drought. They try
to build up a stock pile, but then my 2-year-old will thank God for her mami
during her bedtime prayers, and Bam! Tears. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Or she’ll throw a blood-curdling tantrum because I refuse to
remove my shoes at her request.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Same reaction. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I’m faced with a situation in my life that I want to avoid,
I do other things. I exercise, eat, I shop, I dance. All errands are suddenly
no big deal. Everything except the exact thing that is uncomfortable for me. I’m
a procrastinator. The difficulty for me is to face that situation head on,
breathe into the discomfort, and evaluate life from a different angle in order
to right the situation, find the answers, or work towards the solutions that
I’m looking for. Achieve happiness or die trying. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A yoga teacher rubbed my back during a forward fold the
other day and I felt the all-too-familiar tightening in my gut and welling of
tears in the back of my throat. There is something about taking a new class, a
new flow, the break in familiar routine, and simple human touch that brings up
all sorts of new emotions along with the blood flow. But there is no way to
avoid it. I’m there. I paid. Unless I’m willing to walk out, which I refuse,
I’m stuck. Trying new positions, exploring new physical limits, even looking at
a room from a different angle than I am accustomed to - upside down between
twisted arms while holding my ankles - it is all a challenge. A challenge I
have no other choice but to work through, breathe into. One I need to face head
on. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is in coming out of those new contortions that I feel a
little dizzy, light-headed. Still reeling from the blood and oxygen and sweat
that my body is busy circulating and breathing and producing, I can feel the
answers I’ve made happen and, whether it was perfect or not, I’m proud that I
tried. I feel so focused, at peace…strong.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In that quiet moment, my heart whispers.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Maybe I’m one of them after all. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Maybe we all are.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-83908809786100774282012-10-31T20:55:00.000-07:002012-10-31T20:55:28.141-07:00sharing is caring
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Maybe one day, the way I was built to endure this world will
make sense to me. The way some of us were wired to live through this cruel and
beautiful and bittersweet life will all come together. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And some days it doesn’t.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I always wonder why sometimes it just feels <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">too hard</i>. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Life. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My best friend, so many of my friends, actually, were built
like a Ford (or is it a Chevy? I can never remember): tough, like a rock. They
let everything roll of their back. Other people, others were built in my
often-desired state: blissful ignorance. Content where they are, with what they
have, seemingly without a care as to what else is out there. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Me, I can’t take a pee without over analyzing it. That state
of calm, peace, stillness, that I do yoga for…well, that is the reason that I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do</i> yoga. My mind doesn’t rest. It is
always wondering, thinking, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">feeling</i>.
So much so that it sometimes drives me bananas. Other times…other times I own
it, live it, love it. I find it to be what I think of as authentic me,
endearing about myself, the fact that I can complicate anything and
simultaneously make life a breeze by looking at the bright side, the fact that
dropping my cell phone in the toilet has me deep-breathing through an anxiety
attack, but that my dad getting a triple bypass has me calm and collectedly easing
everyone’s concerns. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I want to live in those other times. I always want to live
in those <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">other</i> times. The problem is,
those other times, the times where I DO so that I don’t THINK, those times my
coping is out of whack, which leaves my psyche out of whack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only I haven’t realized, until now really,
that it is exactly the reason why I DO: to quiet my brain. So that the hamster
stops running for a little while, so that the wheel stops turning long enough
for him to eat something and get some rest. (Clearly, the hamster is a He. Only
something with an additional appendage would be this big a pain-in-the-ass). Other
times, I am so busy doing that I end up ignoring my own burning need to feel,
to think, to exist, really. It is just another way of falling out-of-balance;
the same way that feeling and not doing leaves me…well, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">feeling</i> out-of-balance. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I know the moral here is to find a way to stay in the middle,
to find the moderation in letting my mind, my body, and my heart, each take
their turn at running things around here, but how is that done? Has anyone,
ever, really accomplished that? Does anyone, ever, really have it together all
the time? Because it sure feels like I don’t, so it all begins again. The cycle
of letting one versus the other run the show. Because then I look at my
friends, my neighbors, my family (well, let’s be honest – not my family…we are
all the way we are for a reason, right?) and think, “Wow, they have it all
together. They know when to step back, get some perspective.” And then I wonder
where my balance, my perspective, has gone. Then I can’t embrace, own, or even
snuggle with my own nature because how can I love something that doesn’t know
how to keep balanced?!? Everyone I know is balanced. Even the neighbors can
keep balanced. Who wants to snuggle and get cozy with something that keeps
kicking you?</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yup. Just like I told my best friend. Me?? Not dramatic…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">at all.</i> (Which I bet you completely
guessed by my lack of italics use, no?)</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So what, you say, is the purpose of putting this down on
paper? Probably none, really. However, from experience I can say that hearing
or reading that someone else, even one person out there, feels the same way
even for a moment, it helps me. It makes me feel less like a hamster on a wheel
and more like a hamster that is part of a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">family</i>
of hamsters. The ones you see in PetSmart frolicking in their cages, waiting
for the right child to wander in and con a parent into buying them. The ones
with friends who actually want to take turns on the wheel with them. It make me
feel less alone; more on the inside and less on the outside of life.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And THAT. That feeling, on days like this, is worth sharing.
Even if there is only one other hamster in my cage.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5874161587350441766.post-73636744824815461042012-10-31T18:28:00.001-07:002012-10-31T18:31:28.570-07:00the why.<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Writing makes me happy. Music makes me happy. Yoga makes me
happy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So I write, sing, and practice. I'm afraid of failing at all of the
above, but who doesn't want to be happy? Is the risk worth it? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">These are my rumblings.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05595615045444607310noreply@blogger.com0