i want to know what love is

Gosh - I was just listening to Ambrosia - How Much I Feel. Great song. Then up popped Foreigner.
Now, being a girl of the late 70's & early 80's, Foreigner was at one time quite a popular band. I think some of their contemporaries were the Doobie Brothers, Fleetwood Mac, the Bee Gees, Journey, ELO, Styx - boy - am I showing my age. 
I remember I dated this nice guy named Rob who played the guitar and would sing, "Waiting for a Girl Like You" to me. Very sweet and kind. And so life goes.
Again, the lyrics of this song are cathartic in the sense that I feel them when I hear them. Deeply. It is a battle cry of the wounded heart. Just reaching out wanting so badly for the love to be returned that I so freely give.
So I dedicate this song to all those hearts out there that share that same yearning to feel a deeper level of connection and love out there. It is waiting for you. When you find it, never let it go.

touched by grace

Standing in the line at Albertson's Starbucks location. Talking on the phone to my best friend Barb. Laughing and giggling. I order my drink - grande decaf non-fat no-whip mocha. Slide my gold card. Opps!  Short $1.65. 
I'll be right back - I have it in the car. I dash out the door giggling with my friend on the phone. Come back quickly with my checkbook. I start to write.
"Don't worry about it. An angel fairy paid it."
I look behind me. Nicely dressed gentleman. He shakes his head. Not him. I look at the staff - Marci - not her. The clerk - nope - not him. I look beyond the racks. At the table sits the Hailey homeless man who's bicycle is parked outside with water jugs hanging from it.
He needs a shower. He needs to shave. He is disheveled.
And he is not the first person I looked to as that angel. And I am ashamed.
He smiles and says, "Yep. I am your angel fairy. And someday you can buy me a coffee."
And I reply, "I promise you I will. I absolutely will."
And then the tears. In that moment, Jesus moved through this man.
And I have been touched by the grace of God.

tapes... you really have to grab this one.

This is most likely the song that best describes me in my entirety. In fact, it is the ringtone when my mother calls. Because a mother is love. Unconditional acceptance and love. And this is what I learned about myself. 
It is disturbing. It is depressing. It is haunting. It is full of sadness. But it is my reality. Everyday. Every single day of my life. Despite all the good I have done and continue to do. Despite my achievements. Despite the size of my heart. Despite all the good you see in my smile when you greet me. This is completely how I view myself. Damaged. For life.
I thought about posting the Live - A&E Version but decided to post instead an album cover. It is because I want everyone to clearly hear the lyrics of this exquisitely written poetry Alanis has shared. Her own vulnerability. And it spoke directly to me. It is the precise message I received growing up. And the tapes that play, rewind, reverse, and play again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and fucking again.
The first verse - my childhood. My father would boost, my mother would tear down. My father would drink. My mother would tear down. My father would give up. My mother would tear down.
The second verse - me as I view myself.  
The third verse - a warning. I guess for all who enter my life expecting the spectacular.
So to parents out there - your messages are strong. Your examples are powerful. What you say is never forgotten. I work hard on those internal messages. I give more than most. Not only to prove to you that I am worthy of your love and your time but that I can also believe, in my heart, that I truly deserve it.


"I am someone easy to leave
Even easier to forget",
a voice, if inaccurate
Again: "I'm the one they all run from"
diatribes of clouded sun
someone help me find the pause button...

All these tapes in my head swirl around
Keeping my vibe down
All these thoughts in my head aren't my own
Wreaking havoc.

"I'm too exhausting to be loved"
"a volatile chemical"
"best to quarantine and cut off"...

All these tapes in my head swirl around
Keeping my vibe down
All these thoughts in my head aren't my own
Wreaking havoc.

"I'm but thorn in your sweet side"
"You are better off without me"
"It'd be best to leave at once"...

All these tapes in my head swirl around
Keeping my vibe down
All these thoughts in my head aren't my own
Wreaking havoc.

life as it is...

Boy - what an excruciatingly painful day for me. I watched someone basically take themselves down because of their need to control. To self grandiose. To feel validated and important. And maybe ultimately just to feel loved and appreciated.
Does it feel good? Not at all. Because despite all of the angst and anxiety, the inappropriate behaviors, the breaking of trust, I always see people as basically trying to do the best they can to simply feel like they can belong somewhere and feel important to someone.
My friend Jen was absolutely, 100% right about me. I take too much in and feel too much empathy and pain. I have no right nor should I think I am that important that I should feel the pain of someone else and make it my own. But I do understand what is it like to feel so badly about myself that I simply want to push my agenda. However, I have never acted on it. I never would. It simply is not who I am. 
Because I was taught to always do an exceptional job and that few could follow or accomplish what I was able to, it would seem natural to push my ideas around. However, I never felt empowered enough to use my abilities as a weapon to further my agenda and I certainly do not believe I have all the answers. My father's ridiculous ideas about my abilities did teach me to be persistent in the search for the right answer so I do fight hard when I feel rules are broken and people are being harmed. So this is what I did. In this situation. Fought for what was just and right.
And the truth prevailed. But it doesn't make me feel good about the result. Somehow, I don't think this person feels remorseful or saddened by the damage left in the wake. That is the strange part. Because I am most likely feeling more sadness about it than they are. And that should speak volumes about what I was actually dealing with. To have it overwith? A load off my back. To not have the drama? What a gift. To be able to advocate without feeling sabotaged? OMGod - a miracle. To know the program I introduced will survive and thrive? The best news I could ever receive.
I will continue to put this into perspective. And I think a good night's sleep will give me relief. 
Unbelievable.  

Anticipation

Because in life, there is so much to live for.
So much to look forward to.
Blessings and love to all my friends...  xox

growing old

What do you wish for when you grow old?  Someone asked me that today and it kind of got me thinking.
I would pray for good health for myself and my partner. I would pray for the strength to care physically and emotionally for my partner to fulfill their last life's wish. I would wish for peaceful and content companionship. I would also pray for healthy self esteem and love to surround me. That would be the greatest blessing. I would be thrilled to simply be able to sit and talk. To just hold hands and look into each other's eyes. To live with absolute honesty. And I mean I would want a real emotional connection where you are able to explore each small wonder of your partner. Lots of touching - exploring - every little piece of your partner's puzzle. God willing, you'd have time. You create that "bucket list" and you work together to make your life's dreams, simple as they may be, come true. I would cultivate laughter and joy. To wake up with a smile in the morning and never go to bed mad, hurt or sad. To take long bubble baths and playful showers. I would work to create little surprises, offerings of love every day - many little gifts in many different ways. Small notes. Cards. Any way to bring that glorious smile to the surface. Surprize post-it notes.
My partner would never want. Because he would be so happy to come home to me. I just know it. Because of who I am.
Laying on the couch watching movies and television together. Embracing each other's hobbies. Maybe a little hiking. 
A cabin in the woods. A travel trailer searching out the countryside. A condo in the city - with a glorious view. Where you could venture to the farmer's market. Or spontaneously go for a coffee or a lovely dinner. It really wouldn't matter - just somewhere safe where one could enjoy culture or the beauty of the outdoors. Savor the aroma of the pines or the smell of the city. 
I would learn to be a better cook. I would practice making meals for my partner - or let him help me screw them up. Making breakfast in bed. Reading the Sunday NY Times. Or in a snowstorm, watching movies in bed for the entire day. 
I would embrace my daughter and her family. Love any child and their families that would come into my life as if they were my own. The larger the family, the more love that surrounds you. I know how much I love my child so I have little doubt I would truly be the best grandparent ever.
I would recreate romance - embrace the youth I lost. And put all my energy into loving completely the blessing God gave me. I would make up for all the time and painful memories of past pain and hurt and know that I could send that person home to God knowing that they didn't miss one moment of love they truly deserved. And I would hope in the giving, it would be natural for it to come back to me.
Is it OK to be a bit selfish and ask to be someone's treasure? That if I could give in every way, and through praise and encouragement give even more, could I be loved and taken care of like I mattered to someone? I have never really felt I mattered to anyone except myself and my daughter. Truly. I think it just comes from being strong and independent and feeling fearful of giving up control and turning over trust because my life has been a constant series of broken promises.
I have said it before, I believe if you give more to your partner than yourself and they do the same, then how can it not be incredibly beautiful and work magnificently?  
You know - you can always dream can't you?...  and when you wish upon a star (as my father would say) your dreams do come true.

Boy... this one's for you...

Straitjacket

Alanis can do anger and pain really well. So can Kurt Cobain. I think
they will be my choice of music for today.
To all of you who dispense pain like medication, go fuck yourselves.


Something so benign for me construed as cruelty
Such a difference between who I am and who you see

Conclusions you come to of me routinely incorrect
I don’t know who you’re talking to with such fucking disrespect

This shit’s making me crazy
The way you nullify what’s in my head
You say one thing do another
And argue that’s not what you did
Your way’s making me mental
How you filter as skewed interpret
I swear you won’t be happy til
I am bound in a straight jacket

Talking with you’s like talking to a sive that can’t hear me
You fight me tooth and nail to disavow what’s happening

Your resistance to a mirror I feel screaming from your body
One day I’ll introduce myself and you’ll see you’ve not yet met me

Grand dissonance
The strings of my puppet are cut
The end of an era
Your discrediting’s lost my consent 

Here with Me...

This song is about the joy of love as it enters a woman's life. She maintains her strength and independence while embracing the newfound emotions a man brings to the table. I love Dido's energy and joy in this video. It is clean and calming and thoroughly enjoyable.

alcoholism

I promised a friend that I would try to explain my issues with this subject. Almost like a taboo, I feel like alcoholism has followed me like the darkest of lurking shadows for as long as my mind can remember. Alcohol  has been a welcome guest and in fact personally invited itself into every home I have resided. It has broken down my front door and tiptoed silently through the back door. And as it stays, an unwelcome guest in my life, it leaves a trail of broken hearts, confused memories and despair to depths I never hope to experience again.
I hate the power of alcohol to destroy relationships, taint personalities and massacre families. Generation after generation. Like an unstoppable plague where no one is able to master control over it. I am incredibly blessed to not be addicted to alcohol so I can happily imbibe at will. It has no hold on me. And sometimes, I can feel the burn in the back of my throat and anticipate the comfort that on some level, I will be able to drift away from whatever is really bothering me at that second. I have never been out of control. I have always stopped after two. There is simply no appeal to me beyond that. However, while I am entwined in it's snare, I genuinely feel seduced by the power of joyfulness it brings and it's natural ability to remove my inhibitions. I dance and celebrate. I feel carefree. I close my eyes and I spin out of control and enjoy it's brief embrace over my judgement. I do what I would never think to do. I act foolishly. I giggle and embrace people freely. My cares and woes disappear. It feels almost like playing with fire for this rather naive woman. I view it as naughty but entrancing. Very seductive. Sex after a couple of drinks surely allows me to free myself from whatever holds me captive and it does feel good. Really good. 
Sounds so attractive and appealing doesn't it?  Perhaps to those who are insensitive to the person who is having their one man party. Because alcohol use by a solitary person is a act of true selfishness. It takes the user to another place. The user is free to escape the reality of what exists around them; all the while the sober individual gets to be the witness, punching bag, fool, brunt of the joke, sex object, rescuer, forgotten heart, well - I could go on endlessly. And this doesn't change whether you are a nasty drunk or a happy drunk. The sober individual just sits and takes it all in. And it can be very confusing. And hurtful. Especially when your heart and your love is involved. 
A sober caring soul - be it a spouse, a child or a friend, will attempt to intervene. They will come from love and affection. They will assist in any way to stop the activity. They will dump the alcohol down the drain. They will sit down and try to discuss the situation. They will convene with medical personnel. The will apologize endlessly for the conduct of their loved one. They will apologize inappropriately to the addict thinking the drinking their fault. They will feel ashamed and foolish for making a bad choice for their life or for simply being related to someone who can't get their act together. They will search for reasons to understand why their significant other wants to drink. They will source out educational materials. They will join Adult Children of Alcoholics, AlAnon or any other group to look for answers and support. They will consult clergy. They will try to get their loved one to admit they have a problem. They will try to solve the problem. They will get down on their knees and pray. They will beg God to help. They will take the car keys away and risk being harmed physically. They will take verbal and physical abuse from someone who says they love them. They will defend their family even though they realize on some level it is terribly broken. They will sit alone and cry night after night because of the loneliness. And then one day, they will throw their hands up in the air and simply give up. The alcohol can always triumph over the human spirit, if that spirit isn't motivated or strong enough to see the reality of the chaos they are causing through their need and desire to drink alcohol.
So now I will make a laundry list of how alcohol has affected my life - 
-  active alcoholics abandon you while you are in plain sight. They don't care about you. Period.
-  it irreparably damaged my relationship with my father. I worshiped and loved him completely and he was the most present parent I had, however he was never truly able to be there when I so desperately needed him. This paved the way for the abuse my mother was determined to act out on towards me. And I was almost killed. I am actually one of few survivors of M by P and have actually been studied. But that is a whole other issue. There was no one there to protect me but my drunken father. There was no advocate for me as a small child. The alcohol always came before me, my feelings and my very life.
-  I spent every day marking liquor bottles I could barely reach in my father's cabinet. I thought that if there was less alcohol then I might be safer. I was six years old and stood on a kitchen chair to reach the 26 oz bottles of Lamb's Navy Rum. I am simply lucky that I didn't drop a bottle. I can't imagine being beaten because of breaking one.
-  I saved up for an anniversary cake for my parents, walking to the store to buy it with my piggy bank money when I was 9 years old. I presented it after dinner - (yes, my parents were fighting) - my mother threw it at my father and he threw it back. They never acknowledged this simple gesture by a child that just wanted to be loved. Who just wanted her parents to love each other.
-  My father, when he drank, would escape in our 61' Dodge to his mother's house. I would sit on his knee and steer the wheel. My father was drunk. I was made to remember the directions there and back and never forgot them. I was three when this began.  We were never stopped by the police. My father eventually had blocks for the pedals.
-  When my father was drunk, he would say stupid hurtful things to me. Things he would NEVER say to me on any good day. I have been called a whore (I was a virgin for Christ's sake), a fucking bitch, a cunt, a goddamn nuisance, a child adopted for convenience, a bohunk (something he used to call my mother which means displaced person), told me I'd be returned (to God knows where), that he thought I was an idiot (smartest kid in my class), that he didn't want to listen to me because my feelings didn't matter, that he was glad I wasn't a boy or he'd slap me senseless, that if I kept crying he'd give me something to cry about, that he wished I was a boy, that even though I was a girl I needed to act like a man, that if I got pregnant he'd kill me, that if I ever fucked up he'd leave me in jail, geez - I could go on. He once told my best friend who was gay that homosexuals deserved to get AIDS. At this time I was liberated from my familial home and looked my father square in the eye and said, "So Dad, what did you do that was so awful that you got cancer I wonder?" He felt so ashamed he left the room and soon after apologized. I can't even count how many times I felt ashamed of him as a child.
-  I was driving my parents home from my cousin's wedding. My father couldn't even walk. He was in the back seat. He told me to stop the car. I had to stop - there was a stop sign. I had my license at this point and my own car. I was 15 years old. He got out of the back seat, opened the driver's door, grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me, all dressed up, to the pavement. My father was really strong. Washboard abs. I scraped my face and arms. I got up quickly and tried to stop him from getting in. He backhanded me. I wasn't thinking. I crawled into the backseat. And it was just another of those horror movie rides home - hiding under the front seat with my sister, while my mother screamed her fucking head off to stop the car. Horns honking everywhere around us. Sensory deprivation. Well he stopped it all right. Right in the middle of an intersection and passed out. It took us 4 hours to get home.  I have called him in 100's of times for a DUI but he was never picked up.
-  As I grew older, I asked him to put a lock on my bedroom door. My sister had started to party and my stuff began to disappear. If he got angry, he would kick my door in. I can't count how many times he fixed my door. He was beginning at this point to have an inappropriate relationship with me - telling me all about his marital woes, sexually fantasies of his (which if you are someone's child just make your cringe). All I did was continue my rant about him being alcoholic and needing to join AA. I think I am the only person he admitted to being alcoholic to. I had all the pamphlets. However he never sought help. I did catch him masturbating once which made me feel weird. However, now that I am older, it doesn't surprize me because he never felt touched or loved by his spouse in that regard.
-  He beat up my ex-husband's friends at "D's" stag. He ever punched through the wall of the facility which I had to pay to repair. Totally made an ass of himself in front of my new father-in-law.
-  I had to beg him not to drink at my wedding. He didn't drink. That the good Lord Jesus.
-  I married an alcoholic. He wasn't a drinker until his dreams all went asunder and he decided it was easier to blame me than himself for his personal issues. Didn't believe me when I said I would leave. I gave him a year to get help. Presto *ByeBye*
-  Moved into an apartment. The architectural firm I worked for at that time was closed by the bank. I put everything into storage. My drunken father, thinking it was such a great thing to do, shipped all my personal belongings to Winnepeg,  Manitoba to my drunked husband "D's" house that I was legally separated from. Can you believe that? My personal belongings. I went to go get them (2 day drive) without telling my boyfriend. While I was gone, my boyfriend's father, who I absolutely adored, had a massive stroke and died. When I got the call (this is before cell phones), my drunk ex-husband listened in to the call and then asked me if I had a boyfriend. Me being the honest woman I am, said yes. Well - I tell you - not a smart thing to do when he is 6'4" tall and 230 pounds. I truly thought he was going to kill me. I got thrown up against the wall a couple of times but managed to extricate some of my belongings and myself from the situation. That cost me $4,000.00 - to move the stuff back that is. And then my ex stole my car. My dad went and got that back.
-  Ever loving "D" set my precious dog Brutus free in a field never to be seen again. He was four years old and the absolute love of my life. When I asked him why he said, "Because you're a whore." Lovely.
-  I married my second husband who also has a history of alcohol abuse. He drinks because he can't talk about what bothers him at all. His roommate Tom Montgomery (God I miss him so much) had an intervention with him and two local doctors. His liver enzyme count was and still is through the roof. Cyrrosis...? Who knows. It was even hard to get Life Insurance. Did that change the behavior? Nope. Several years went by and then just before my second husband had his stroke, I told him to get out. He went on this rant about it being his house. Well guess what. It isn't. However, I am not hostage to any man who has issues with alcohol. I am simply gone. Period. My daughter will NEVER LIVE WITH AN ACTIVE ALCOHOLIC PERIOD. NEVER EVER NEVER. So I pulled down the suitcases in front of my child - who was confused because I seldom go over my level of tolerance - and when my husband saw I meant it, he broke down and begged us to stay. I told him I would give him another chance. Prior to the stroke, he would drink alone and selfishly. And when people came over, well slowly but surely he would continue to amp up to his old alcohol tolerance level. And the best part of all of it, is he'd make an absolute asshole of himself by demeaning me in front of my daughter. One night, she went up to him in front of company and told him to grow up and that he needed to quit drinking because he was being nasty and acting like a fool. I was proud of her for having the courage and voice I never had. However, this is NOT HER JOB. I AM THE PARENT. It didn't register with him. It never registers with a drunk. Period. Oh yeah. I get all the next day apologies but it just adds a bit more kindling to the pile in my fire pit. I just end up disliking him even more. 
So then my beloved has his stroke last year. No more alcohol for 6 months. Slowly he is reintroducing it. Red wine. Justifying it. Now beer. I just watch. My daughter has said to me she notices he is amping up again. Nothing out of control. But here's the thing. To a non-drinker or non-alcoholic - it simply just stinks. The drinker just stinks. And the behavior of feeling brave enough to go after me is slowly creeping back. Back handed insults. Nastiness. No loving gestures. Just barking. Because he simply cannot deal with his emotions and talk it out. He has a counselor. 
That is just a small sampling - so many more stories to share. Here's the thing. My husband comes from a long line of alcoholics. His own mother sees this behavior. And she knows I have absolutely no tolerance for it. So time will tell how this story plays itself out. Seems the alcohol is more important than the relationships he has in his own home. And my daughter is old enough to understand why it is unacceptable. 
So ask me again if alcohol and I can ever be good friends and I will tell you never. This is just my experience. And I could use all the memory up on this computer telling the infinite stories of how alcohol has affected the many people I love so dearly in my immediate circle.
Pray for me. I do the best I can. I just look for a positive outcome. I pray for my husband. He needs to find another way of self expression because keeping all this anger and rage stuck inside caused this stroke in the first place. He is a good man and has the ability to love. Most alcoholics do and are very smart. They are simply unable to express whatever it is that causes them such deep pain. I think the key is unlocking that pain in a safe place, getting it out and then doing your level best at moving forward. It can be done. 
My father did it. We unlocked that together before he died and I shed all my pain, my anger and my deep seated rage. We forgave each other and we said goodbye at the same time. And I had an "aha" moment. It never occurred to me that he would not remember doing any of this to me at all. Because he loved me the best he could. When I told him all the stories, he was mortified, genuinely remorseful and sobbed in my arms. It was then I brought in the clergy so they could reaffirm to him that he was a good man and that he had done the best he could despite his circumstances. Some would say he should have done better. Well we can all do better. I just accepted that love on a human level and I completely forgave him. We had the best three weeks of our lives together the last three weeks of his life. 
I miss him terribly.  I love him so totally. We are all only human trying to move through the human experience, hard as it may seem. And some of us will actually get there with a smile on our face.
And when I got home, I saw a rabbit today Daddy and knew you wouldn't mind me sharing if it helps someone else. I am your sunshine. And I know someday you will be there to hold me and protect me again like you did when you really could. xox

the tunnel

You know the funny feeling you get when you walk into a tunnel where you can't see through to the other side? I have driven through many on the TransCanada Highway - one way tunnels with no lights. It leaves you a bit tentative because you feel like it may never end or that you may even get trapped, never reaching the end. I think this is what it feels like when one feels caught in an inescapable situation and cannot see their way to resolve. 
In many ways, driving through that tunnel can parallel life's situations. I know many times I have felt trapped in a tunnel with no exit. Everything looks simple enough. The road is paved. The walls are solid. Nothing untowardly. However there isn't a light to guide my way. And eventually, I feel lost in the forward momentum - never sure if I'll ever reach the end. But I know, from previous experience, I always get there. And I have always arrived safely and securely, braver and with more confidence than I had before I entered. 
I try to tell myself that in life, everything has a purpose. People come into our lives all for unique reasons. Each to reveal some new and special layer of ourselves that we may have never explored before. Sometimes it forces us to look closely at what we have and challenge our beliefs of what we think we want or need to be happy. Often our personal relationships can lead us to examine every little piece of our life if we allow it. And maybe if we listen, we may capture something new that we really do need that we have dismissed for a long time. Of course, there is the piece about creating balance. About doing things respectfully and paving the road to allow for change so that it happens in a way that honors relationships respectfully and one that maintains peace and harmony in all of the relationships we cherish.
All we have in life is time. Time to move at a pace that feels safe. You set the speed limit on cruise, and you move through the tunnel feeling safe knowing that the ultimate purpose is to end up on the other side alright. And you really should try to enjoy the ride. You take in each little beautiful part of the ever moving journey. Something new revealed each time the tire rotates. And you savor each moment because it leads you closer and closer to that light. The light of clarity, new discovery and focused vision.
Your patience is rewarded when you cross the road seal to the pavement connecting the end. And the excitement of new life is revealed to you brighter than you ever imagined. You have finally reached the all knowing end and everything becomes crystal clear. You've completed another difficult challenge in life and you've grown. 
However, it is more about enjoying the journey. If you can find a way to do that, then how could you not live in constant joy each and every day? So sit back and enjoy the ride. In the end, life is well worth it.

goals & hopes...

Life is all about setting a series of goals. Your parents set the first ones, based on their hopes and dreams for you as you grow up. Sometimes lofty and most often nothing you’d aspire to simply to please them. I suppose it’s all about wanting for you what they wanted for themselves. Almost like vicarious living. I can see it now that I am a mother myself. However, I decided, through my own experience, to let go of setting any kind of rigid goals for my child. I simply want her to do what makes her happy. When she wakes up each morning, I want her to be excited to greet the day and enjoy whatever it is she chooses to do to earn her living.

I feel like I have bumped career walls for most of my life. I remember writing an essay on becoming an Interior Designer. I also remember another essay on being a travel consultant. And another about being a doctor. And yet another about performing as a drummer – even though classical piano was my gift.

So truly – did I know what I wanted to do? I don’t think so. Over the years I have earned a good living as an Interior Designer – most likely because I am good at it and did enjoy it. Stepping out of my career for this length of time does me no favors should I decide I ever want to practice again. My mentor and biggest fan has sadly passed and my other mentor just retired. And truly, my life experience at the present time suggests it isn’t something I want to step back into. The doors have opened to other ideas and being the idea person I am, I am busy exploring them.

I am a really active advocator. But it doesn’t pay me the money I need to survive. The people I work for are absolutely amazing. I really am blessed to be connected to such amazing people. But none of it all pays my bills. I feel like I need to find just the right paying niche where I rise every morning knowing that I am getting compensated as much as the energy and passion I put into my work. Really that is what is an equal exchange to me. You get the very best I have to give which is simply amazing. You’d never be disappointed. And I get paid exactly what I need to live nicely like you do, be able to give back and finally save enough to retire.  Seems simple to this loyal and dedicated girl with a big heart.

Well – I am exploring a couple of options. And we’ll see what becomes of them. Until then, I will continue to advocate for what I know is right and fight the good fight. The hamster wheel keeps on turning and somehow I feel like it is never safe to jump off. Maybe someday. I will add it to my prayers tonight. And blog about it some more later. My mind is weary.

Color...

The canvas of my body has been decorated in black for many years now. Mourning the loss of my perceived once beautiful and attractive self. It hasn’t been all bad. Black is certainly a slimming color and there is something striking and powerful about wearing a black jacket and shirt with a nice pair of blue jeans and kick-ass Frye boots. That was quite a while ago and I have adapted to the appropriate taste and style that suits my age. I am getting older but I feel somewhere deep inside I still can hold court in my own age group given some serious attention to my physical and emotional self.

It’s interesting that my daughter notices the black thing more than I pay attention to it. She told her friends at camp, when I went to visit her, to look for the only person to show up dressed in black. And I didn’t disappoint.

It is also incredibly easy to coordinate a look for any occasion. I have a lot of black. A lot!

I do love black, but I also look good in ‘blue red’ and green is my favorite color. I simply choose to seldom wear any other color than black. It is from my deep need and apparent uncomfort-ability of being noticed. I don’t want to be seen. Not at all. Not looked at. Not noticed. Period.

This goes back to bad choices I made when my first marriage ended. I don’t like drawing attention to myself. And the accumulation of weight over the years is for the same reason. Grief over giving up my career that so defined me. Somewhere, a loss of self.

However, if I want to live to see my child grow up without taking a risk on my heart (which I think is a predisposition genetically), I need to make some serious changes to my lifestyle. Now. Before I am 50. That would be my target but I am ¼ of the way there and I am determined to stay on this path. Absolutely determined.

Part of the lack of motivation has been the usual low self esteem that I think everyone carries. Just some have a harder time with it than others. We all hold inner pain that manifests itself in any number of ways. And if anyone knew my true history, they would understand that I really don’t know what my true weight should be.

I do know that I was 89 pounds when I graduated from high school and my daughter weights six more pounds than that in Grade Six. I find that bizarre and interesting.

So I think this is happening for a combination of reasons. One is the obvious one I stated above. My daughter. The second is the empowerment given to me by friends who love me who wish me to rediscover and celebrate the beauty I have buried deep inside of me for many, many years. It makes me feel like I have lost a lot of years. However, I simply wasn’t strong enough nor was I ready to face the challenge of breaking out of my comfortable place.

So today I impulsively purchased a gorgeous colorful dress. What a shift. And I love it.  I can’t wait to wear it. 10 more pounds. It fits but I want to feel great in it. And I am coming alive slowly. And it feels so good.

The photo is from my iPhone and you can see, it sure ain’t black! Cool, isn’t it?

Seat 1C

Sitting in IC is one of the most enlightening experiences I have been privileged to experience this year. I have never, ever thought there was anything special about those people who have always sat rows ahead of me eating off of china plates with silverware. This morning, I was treated to just that – Chex cereal with yogurt, fruit and a croissant. All beautifully presented with my own drop down little video screen in front of me. Entertainment while you nosh.

Yes, the seats are very comfortable. There is a lot more leg room. More room to spread out and relax and once you plant your bottom, you feel like you are here to stay.

However, I hate it up here. I am the lone female among a pack of men with two flight attendants who are truly enjoying treating me like a juvenile. Of course, it is most likely because when I saw where I was sitting I was horrified. I said something a bit goofy like, “WOW – no wonder my ticket was outrageously expensive!” Not a great way to build friends fast with the staff.

So all of you out there, you’d think I won the lottery. But for several reasons I was extremely uncomfortable.

First of all, I was clear with Delta I would not sit in first class. So my initial reaction was shock and disbelief. Now I knew why I was being charged another $700.00 Perhaps this was the only seat left on the plane. However, I doubt it.

Second of all, the flight attendants behave as if they have never seen a woman before. Because the first class cabin is loaded with men – attractive young men – and I am a middle aged woman (I can only guess – however the attendants look 10 years older than me), they are  swooning about and acting like fools.  Total lack of professionalism. I understand  guys behaving this way when they get around women (I know that sounds sexist) but when I see women doing it, it just shows that all the work we have done to de-sexualize our work positions isn’t being taken that seriously because there are still some bimbos out there acting like they’re pushing a 50 IQ.  I mean – what’s with all the giggling and leaning into the face of people anyway? Seems like women set themselves up for a double standard. It’s not OK for guys to make sexual remarks in their own locker room at female reporters but it’s OK for women to sexually swoon in the first class cabin? Seems a bit inequitable to me.

Even the nice young Indian fellow next to me reacted to one attendant’s treatment of me. (He does keep praying and it makes me very nervous.) I was turning my iPhone off prior to take off and it wasn’t shutting down. So the attendant says, “I said turn it off now…. Please. And I mean now.” The fellow next to me told her to lay off. So she left. She bitched about my carry on which is a standard size. Then she bitched about my purse. They she had someone test my Mocha and my water (I am already cleared in security so this seemed ridiculous and I politely asked her if she was trying to frighten me). No answer. So I was being bullied I guess. Whatever. I kept a big smile on my face all the while feeling violated.

Thirdly, MY people are 10 rows back. I mean the real people. The ones that work hard like I do to earn a living.  Who didn’t get Chex cereal with china and silverware.

So it seems to me this experience mirrors life in so many ways. The poor are denied and the rich are spoiled to excess. And it just doesn’t feel good to me. My employer, who could own a jet if he wished, never flies first class. I am not sure if the reason is the same – I doubt it. It just seems flagrantly wasteful. And it really is.

For all you gossip seekers - there are a couple of professional basketball players and an actor who people keep coming to get an autograph from. I have no clue who the hell he is. And I wouldn’t ask because it would make me look even more like a fool, It is not only purposely disruptive up here, but filled with overblown egos and much too much testosterone for my liking.

So for all you out there – I think I’d recommend sticking to coach class. I hate to say it, but a friend of mine named Tom once said to me, “I don’t like to date outside of my social class. We’d simply have nothing in common, including our values.” And I think this has been a good lesson in that regard.

Well back to waiting for them to ask me for another free alcoholic beverage at 8 in the morning. What a life!

And the Indian fellow is praying again.  Take a breath Wendy.

I am...

I am a child of God.
I am spiritual.
I am an adopted child.
I am named after Wendy the Witch from Casper the Friendly Ghost Cartoon.
I am the mother of an adopted daughter.
I am the author of my own life.
I am responsible for my conduct and behavior.
I am honest and integrous.
I am compassionate and forgiving.
I am a student of thanatology.
I am a exceptionally loyal friend.
I am big hearted.
I am completely passionate about music
I am an advocate for those unable to speak for themselves.
I am a bright light of creativity.
I am continually inspired.
I am sensitive and very emotional.
I am a writer.
I am a rule breaker.
I am addicted to Starbuck's decaf, non-fat no-whip Mochas.
I am almost half a century old.
I am living with intention.
I am totally into laughter.
I am a true believer in the power of love.


There.  My assignment for P2P Training class. Sounds a little presumptuous but I am sharing it just in case someone out there doesn't view me this way. Don't hold back - let me have it. The truth will set you free! (Thanks David Viscott)

judge not lest yea be judged

I was always taught to let God be the judge of actions of other people. Any person walking this planet has no idea of the heart of another except through their integrity and the display of their actions. We cannot assume that any of us are super human in that regard. None of us can presume to know the answers to any given problem in a day. I do know one thing for sure. I know that Raye Smith did not kill her daughter.  I know that Kathie Briggs went full force to vindictively take her down. I know that Richard Smothermon wanted to get re-elected and felt threatened. I know that there was juror misconduct. I know Kelsey's father abuses women. I do believe that Michael Porter sodomized and killed Kelsey Smith Briggs. In the many times I have written about this case and advocated for it, I have presented accurate data and truthful facts. These seem to be blatantly disregarded and I, as well as many other decent human beings who advocate for truth and justice, are attacked repeatedly for simply stating fact. There are no laws to protect us. There are no laws to protect you who read this. These nameless, faceless creatures who create colorful stories about their fictional lives profess to actually live the story they never heard about until after it happened.
God gave you and I all a brain to use to discern between evil and good. And unfortunately, the evil get most of the attention. I am almost sick to my stomach that this pack of wolves feels it their duty to attack every voice that speaks for justice however I will not stop advocating for Raye. Because she did not kill her child. Period. Because to stop advocating would be to allow these people to win. 
Here's a couple of bible verses for all you out there demanding justice who can't be Christ-like and allow forgiveness in their hearts.  
James 4:17 - So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.
Romans 12:21 - Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.
They will not overpower the group of educated intellects who are not afraid to fight for what it right. To speak our truth. Jody Ortiz and her book will clearly spell this out for all of you. However I doubt that in reading it, any of you will actually comprehend what it clearly states.
I am grateful and glad that my catholic parish sees this for exactly what it is. Those of you who chose to not fight a clean fight will have your own conscience and your Higher Power to deal with. My is clean. Go ahead and phone the Pope if you like. My telephone line goes directly to my God.
I also want to comment that I heard that at the "local fair", the fictional writer's of "Who Killed Kelsey?" believe it is tasteful to auction off a photograph of a wrongfully convicted mother and her dead child. This may well be the sickest thing I have ever heard in the past year. Now I ask you this - who in the world would want this hanging in their home? This is yet another way to prostitute the death of this wee baby by a pedophile who was given a plea deal by the child's grandmother.
Disgraceful.
And - because I want you all to read how foolish you sound, please go to the link. I will await the calls from my parish for being the Anti-Christ.
Please do yourselves all a favor and advocate for a more loving and forgiving world. I think we could all use a little bit more love around us.
And Raye - I do love you honey. I know where your heart is. Stay strong because the fight doesn't end until it's over.
Catholic News Agency

little wendy, or diane, or penny, or janie or wtf ever...

Here I am with my daddy. He liked to play Santa at Christmas time. I was intrigued with the Santa Claus thing until I was over 13. Pretty crazy huh? My father worked really hard to keep the story alive. God bless him.
I brought up something tonight with a friend that has always been a source of discomfort for me. I walked this planet for over 40 years believing the hell of my youth was all my own fault. Of course, that is completely illogical. I mean - how can a small child be blamed for their parent's chaotic and abnormal behavior? All I remember is the constant fighting and hiding in my closet with a little red flashlight and washcloths to help them change color. I would come out and try to make peace between them so I could get some me, or little kid time. But there was no de-escalating the fighting. No stopping it. And once Dad quit talking, well he quit talking. This would propel my mother into further rage and the screaming would continue. Just crazy.
I got down on my knees in an exercise once in an Adult Children of Alcoholics class. Everyone else would remain standing and I would "walk" around on my knees. It became incredibly clear, very quickly, that I was powerless. That would be my first experience with the actual reality I dealt with as a fragile little girl. The next exercise that really intrigued me, was writing a letter to my adult self using the opposite hand I usually write with. I have studied this concept as part of therapy work for grief and it was so powerful. I wrote the letter to my adult self with my left hand and asked her to forgive me for being so bad. For being born at all. For hurting my parents and causing them so much pain. For making them fight endlessly. When I was done, I could not stop sobbing. A nameless, faceless person came over and held me. I was 25 years old.
It took 15 years of therapy to forgive that little girl who didn't deserve to be forgiven because she had done absolutely nothing wrong. In essence, I had held myself accountable and lived ashamed of me and that little girl. I remember vomiting into a trash can at the therapist's office at the very thought I hated and blamed myself for the horrors I'd held from my childhood. What the hell is the matter with parents acting this way?
And truly, the reason I write this is I never wanted to birth my own child - a child that looked like me -  because it would be as though I was looking at my little "rotten" self. When I think about that it makes me cry because I was a precious little child of God and I deserved to be loved as cherished as I do my own daughter. So when I look at the old pictures of me with an ear to ear grin, I give them a kiss and tell that little girl how much I love her and how much I cherish that she had the strength to overcome and survive what really could have been unsurvivable, being so sensitive and loving child as I truly was.
I'll just add that I read a Bible Story in a book my father gave me where a little child way dying. The story ended with the little girl's arm propped up by a pillow to the sky so that she could hold Jesus' hand when she passed. Well guess how many nights I propped my arm up asking to go to Heaven? And God never granted me wish. So I also believe I was unlovable in His eyes also. Isn't that just the saddest thing ever?
So I get to do it over. This time I control it. And believe you me, my child will never endure or feel what I did. Ever. And when I hold her in my arms, the tears gently fall when I remember the little girl lost who deserved so much more. She's OK now. In fact, she's doing really well.

the courage to trust...

I just picked up on recommendation a book called, "The Courage to Trust," by Cynthia L. Wall, LCSW. And I just cracked the spine. I love that she uses the words - "Trust Wisely". She also calls it a skill, a choice or a gift that you share with others. In trusting someone, we look for the compassionate response. Acceptance. All it takes is shift in the emotional current to completely shut down a conversation based on one's attempt to share something meaningful. Loss and betrayal by your caregivers, or parents, sets the stage up to make it difficult to build one's own inner confidence. Because it is such a difficult action, why would anyone want to bother to trust at all?

"Almost anyone has found a way to their feelings, flaws and dreams. Hiding your authentic self may be a means to avoid rejection, and seen as the only way someone could ever love you."

The first chapter deals with the betrayal of parents to be able to love their children as they should. How could you possibly learn trust if you parents abused you, frightened you, ignored or neglected you, criticized or shamed you or abandoned or rejected you? There is that word again, abandoned. But you can add abused, criticized, frightened and shamed to my personal list. And I keep telling myself God doesn't make junk and I was born perfect. I survived my own personal set of horrors.

What is interesting is that I am honest to a fault. I tell the truth and then am betrayed. It is as though I have poor boundaries around this issue completely. Hopefully this book will give me some direction on how to deal with my poor boundary issues and my need to reveal too much to someone I believe to be trustworthy without putting them to the test. I trust much to easily and have followed the rule, "trust until you're given a reason not to." I don't know that this has served me well.

Trust is the heartbeat of every single relationship. And I see I do not model that well in my own relationship with my partner. I tell him the truth, but feel unheard. I suppose that would mean he isn't listening but I think it is bigger than that. Because I feel unheard, I feel less willing to share. And I think that create issues of broken trust because one would assume if no one cares to listen to them, then what it the point of the conversation? So is my partner interested in hearing about me, my stories and being about to find the compassion to help me deal with them? I haven't seen that action. So who has really violated the trust? It is confusing to me in that regard.

Ohhh - I like this book. Now it wants me to journal. So I will have a writing exercise to try. "What does trust feel like?"

Should be a good exercise. 

Simply Red - Sunrise

This is by my request. The video is horrible - what with all the money Mick Hucknall makes he could do a bit better than T & A. Maybe he regrets not marrying Catherine Zeta Jones perhaps? It just doesn't really align with the lyrics, which I think are light and lovely. And the tune is catchy and so nice to dance to. 
For you... 

expectations

My mind is my greatest gift as well as the source of my most difficult internal conflicts. You can take people literally or you can go deeper into the emotion of what they convey and take that. This is where I need to be more discerning. It seems like lately I am going deeper, reading deeper, capturing what is deeper. And then I stick a pin in the little hole and wiggle it around to make it bigger. I want more. I want to find out more. I want to delve into the expectation there might be more for me, the excitement of more for my life. I take the invitation to wiggle the pin some more. The message, I'll admit, is a bit mixed up from the conveyor. But I grasp the thread, the hollow promises along with my own needs wiggle the pin even more. 
And then I am set straight. Things are made clear. And I totally get it. Because I should have taken it literally - not emotionally as I always do.
So a little piece of wood is nailed over the hole. However, there is still another hole next to it and the continued invitation to stick the pin in it again.
I am not sure I want to stick the pin in again. A part of me wants to because I am about love and it motivates me completely, however...
I have already shared too much. Although in the silence there is the open invitation to share, I become increasing more vulnerable with no way to make equitable what I lay out on the table. Then my old friend fear creeps in and sends chills down my spine. 
Certainly a veil of sadness comes over me because I have allowed my expectations to overrun my logicality. However, there is a time and there is a place. My desperate need for safety and unconditional love and acceptance cannot be tethered to someone else's horse. How can I expect to do something well when I have never been taught? I need to go easier on myself. The modeling simply wasn't there when I was a child. And it sets me up for heartbreak. However, I am a fast learner and I can change the dance. Being smart is a gift.
And then FUCK  - is this really what's going on?
Maybe it's just about getting through the original goals I set out with on this journey. This is the reminder - over and over again. Not only from through the pinhole but on my side of the wall. Maybe once I have completed those goals, I can sit back and reevaluate where I am at that moment. Perhaps then they'll be another hole from someone more open to me completely or maybe no hole and I will be in a place where I will do just fine. I just love the softness, sweetness and intelligence coming from door number one. So who knows? I certainly don't profess to have any answers.
So onward from here taking baby steps. Starting over, letting go of expectations and just trusting the process. Letting go and letting God.
If someone can show me a better way, i'll follow. 

joy... and more joy... and finally exhaustion

I started the day on a great high. Happy moving through the ordinary bland motions of my day. Perhaps it has a lot to do with the weight that is falling off this overweight body. I could barely eat anything tonight. I did have some salmon and a salad. But I couldn't eat anything else. I am losing my taste for food. I hope it lasts. Because I have a lot of weight to lose and I really would like to be thinner to go skiing this winter. Even if it only means fitting "nicely" into my tight ass Bogner ski suit. 
I will say it right now - my best "ass"et is my sway back and what young teenagers now call your bootay! I have an African American shaped ass when I am smaller and I like it. So it will be glorious to shop for some sexy jeans again. I have tossed everything out. I am determined to get myself something awesome - maybe Miss Me's. I really want a pair of those for sure.
And maybe a black leather jacket and new crisp white blouse. And maybe a short Meg Ryan haircut. Lots of product. A whole new makeover. Yeah - that sounds great! I deserve it. And new lipstick!
My figure is truly much like a tube. Always has been. No boobs. No waist. No hips. An Abercrombie and Fitch girl for sure (only not at THIS SIZE). I am not excited to lose my chest however it is a good trade off if I lose the waist and hips for sure. Especially because of the potential health problems I face. Can't wait to have the jeans hang off my hips with a belt. And wear my little black bodysuits and ball caps again.
I wonder if I can get away with that at almost 50? Hmmmm. Guess I will have to see what my face looks like once the weight is gone. If I am sagging everywhere, I might not be able to pull it off. I so wanted to lose this weight before 50. I mean - I have all these marvelous plans for throwing a grand party for my bestest friend in the universe Barb, and I. Now she thinks she won't be able to come because her son has enlisted and she has to fly to God knows where to see him. I absolutely understand. I'd be freaked if my kid joined the US Armed Forces. Doesn't matter what division - they get sent out and tangled up in everything. It is pretty scary. However, it does put a damper on disco party plans. I mean - what about the Bee Gees and KC & the Sunshine Band? I simply can't do it alone. I have friends here turning 50 but it isn't the same. Just isn't the same at all. We'll see.
I have some blue Levi cords in my closet I love and can't wait to wear. It is kind of exciting thinking about the possibilities. I will be a whole new me. At least on the outside.
And then what? That is the scariest part. I'll look good but will I feel good? Not so sure. Am definitely worried about that because it isn't going to change a lick some of the issues I am dealing with personally and currently in my life. I guess I will never know unless I try. So I am going to give it my college best effort. God please help me reach my goal. Friends please help me reach my goal. I don't need any sabotage now. I really want to have the willpower to get there and I need it from all of you. I won't live much past 55 if I don't get started now and my daughter deserves to have her mother HERE.