Thankful. . . .

Thank you for being so confused about us that it made me be crystal clear. 

Thank you for being so selfish that some of it rubbed off on me and I've discovered that I, too matter. 

Thank you for being so cruel that I saw who you really are; it makes walking away easier. 

Thank you for being so distant that I remembered I can walk this journey alone. 

Thank you for being so cold that I created my own warmth. 

Thank you for treating me as if I were invisible because it made me show up in more vibrant ways.

Thank you for the broken pieces of you that I cut myself on, for those scars will be tender places I never allow to be ripped open again. 

Thank you for throwing me to the ground, shattering me, for it has allowed me to piece myself together in a truly unique, beautiful way.

Thank you for making me question my self-worth, for now I'm certain I'm worth more than you can afford.

Thank you for abandoning me just when I needed you the most, for its forced me to be my own hero. I'll never rely on another for that ever again. 

Thank you for being the catalyst for the change I've so desperately needed but never realized until you held up that mirror and shined such a bright spotlight on all my flaws. 

Yes, in the end. . . . .I'm thankful for the destruction you brought to my life, for I know that a Phoenix rises from the ashes and that stars are created from what SEEMS like the most destructive force in the universe. 

Life in "Perfect": The Evolution of My Apology

Life in "Perfect": The Evolution of My Apology: I was sorry that I hadn't met you sooner, Unable to love you when you were younger, less jaded.  I was sorry that I couldn't earn ...

The Evolution of My Apology

I was sorry that I hadn't met you sooner,

Unable to love you when you were younger, less jaded. 

I was sorry that I couldn't earn your trust, 

Someone must have really hurt you before. 

I was sorry that you were so fragile,

I knew I needed to handle you with care.

I was sorry that no matter how delicate I was,

Those broken pieces of you never healed.

I was sorry that I was always so careful,

Carelessness remained your default.

I was sorry that I didn't know what I was doing,

While you are a professional dater.

I was sorry that I was so naive, vulnerable and open,

Thinking I needed to be more like you.

I am sorry that I loved you, 

While you barely tolerated me. 

I am sorry that I thought I could care enough for both of us,

Not understanding that that's where I was doomed to fail.

I am sorry that I saw only the best in you, 

While I was invisible to you, never seen at all. 

I am sorry that I overvalued you, 

Being so undervalued myself.

I am sorry that I cherished every moment with you, 

All you did was take me for granted. 

I am sorry that I made you a priority, 

When I was barely an option in your mind. 

I am sorry that my light shines so brightly, 

All that was left for you were the shadows. 

I am sorry that you prefer the shadows, 

Never embracing my light. 

I am sorry that I wanted to help you,

Not recognizing how you relish the brokenness. 

I am sorry that I wasted so much time trying to build you up,

In that same time, you were tearing me down.

I am sorry that I never wanted to give up, 

Not accepting that you never gave in.

I am sorry that I thought I wasn't enough for you, 

All the while I was "too much".

I am sorry that you want less,

Here I sit, only knowing how to give it my all. 

I am sorry that I believed in you, 

I believed in the facade.

I am sorry that I took it so seriously,

While you thought of me as such a joke.

I am sorry that I trusted you, 

When all you knew how to do was lie. 

I am sorry that you'll never know what true love is, 

You're too busy hating yourself. 

I am sorry that I tried to tell you so much,

Knowing now that you were never listening. 

I am sorry that my pain was such an imposition,

The pain you so carelessly inflicted. 

I'm sorry that I didn't see it sooner, 

So much time wasted. 

I'm sorry that I'll never be able to reach you, 

Your armor so thick, your intense protection, impenetrable. 

I'm sorry that I'm so stupid,

Never wanting to believe who you really are.

I'm sorry that it's taken me this long to realize, 

I have nothing to be sorry for. 

I Didn't Know (A Follow Up to "I Just Knew)

 I didn't know you,

The person standing before me,

Hiding in plain sight. 

I didn't know what you were doing, 

Every time you left me, I thought you just went home,

It never occured to me you were going to someone else's bed. 

I didn't know that everything was a lie,

That you were using the same words with other women,

All to trap us in a web of deceit. 

I didn't know you were pretending to have never even "met anyone",

It was worse than us just being "casual" or in a "situationship"

You denied that I even existed. .  .you denied WE ALL existed, all to gain MORE women.

I didn't know that the "friends" you were visiting every weekend you had to "escape" were all women,

You were so strategic in your words, your pictures, your explanations, 

You covered your trail so perfectly. 

I didn't know that your anxiety wasn't REALLY about having feelings for me,

It was ALL about being nervous about getting caught,

Or maybe it's the little bit of humanity left inside you that KNOWS what you're doing is so, so wrong.

I didn't know that your "anger" towards me was really anger at yourself, 

You'd get so angry at me, for contacting you when you were with her,

How was I to know I was "stressing you out" BECAUSE I was jeopardizing "your game"?

I didn't know that I was apologizing for YOUR mistakes,

I believed that I really was the cause of all of your stress and felt so badly about it,

I would tell you how sorry I was, try harder, be better, all while YOU were the one being shady.

I didn't know that I could fall so hard for someone that didn't actually exist,

You've created such a beautiful character, he's charming, vulnerable and likeable, 

Does this mean that my love isn't real, if YOU'RE fake? 

I didn't know I could cry so hard, 

So hard that I almost threw up, so hard that I couldn't breathe, 

These tears are in direct proportion to the love I had and the trust you broke. 

I didn't know that I could feel so hollow,

You've taken something away from me that was fundamental to who I was,

I'm not sure I'll ever be able to trust anyone else and love them the way I loved you. 

I didn't know what I didn't know,

You took advantage of that fact,

And allowed me to love you anyway. 

I didn't know I could feel so broken and alone,

All while still wishing you could hold me, to comfort me,

And simultaneously wanting to punch you in the face. 

Funny that what I DIDN'T know turned out to be the most important thing about you. . . .

 

I Just Knew

 I had been alone for years,

I had done all "the work" on myself,

I just knew,

It was time to try again. 

I opened up that "dating app", 

Did all the clicking and swiping, 

I just knew, 

This wasn't going to work. 

Then, one day I opened it again, 

Someone new had "liked" me, 

I just knew, 

I needed to open my heart and mind to the possibility.  

I took that chance, 

I liked you back, 

I just knew, 

This could actually be fun. 

The messages started going back and forth, 

First you, then me, 

I just knew, 

This man seems different. 

We decided to meet, 

Just lunch, in public, you know, something safe, 

I just knew, 

I was actually excited for the first time in a long time. 

I saw you walk up, 

Because I'm ALWAYS the first one there,

I just knew,

I was attracted to you.

One date, turned into two, 

All in the same day, 

I just knew, 

We had a connection. 

You kissed me, 

It was a good kiss, 

I just knew, 

I was in trouble. 

The night was a blur, 

Kissing, touching, intimacy, 

I just knew, 

I felt alive for the first time in a long time. 

There were so many firsts for me, with you, 

Things that, at MY AGE, seem improbable, yet were true, 

I just knew, 

This was special. 

We'd see each other, we'd text each other, we'd touch each other, 

Everything was moving along, the way "these things do",

I just knew, 

I was having fun. 

You said so many amazing things, 

You seemed to know how to touch me, how to treat me, 

I just knew, 

I trusted you.

Somehow, you made me feel safe, seen, beautiful,

For the first time in my life,

I just knew,

I could fall in love with you. 

Then it happened, as it ALWAYS seems to happen, 

You started pulling away, pushing me away, being more closed off,

I just knew, 

Things weren't going as I had hoped. 

I started overthinking, over worrying, 

But, I know that stresses you out, so I also became quiet, as not to "make it worse",

I just knew, 

Maybe if I'm patient, things will work themselves out. 

The distance became greater, 

The times between replies and visits became vast. . . .chasms really,

I just knew, 

This was the beginning of the end. 

You were talking to other people, I wasn't, 

You had every right to do this, because you had made it clear, "you didn't want anything serious",

I just knew, 

I was watching you find my replacement. 

You told her you weren't seeing anyone,

Even though I existed in your life, 

I just knew, 

I didn't matter at all. 

I figured, you were done with me, 

I said as much to you, 

I just knew, 

You didn't want me anymore. 

You somehow made it seem as though I was the one that didn't want you, 

As if YOU weren't enough for me, even though I never felt that way, 

I just knew, 

There was nothing I could do to save us. 

We're done,

Two simple words really that, individually, don't mean much, but together, 

I just knew,

My heart shattered.

Now, you are just a few words here and there on a screen, 

Someone I care about but can no longer touch, 

I just knew, 

This one is going to take a LONG time to recover from. 

So, here I am, full circle, again, putting in "all the work" to heal my aching heart, putting those pieces back together,

Reflecting on what happened, because. . . .

I just knew,

Even knowing what I know now, I'd still do it all over again, just to be with you. 

Take a deep breath, 

It's just another day in "Perfect".

It's Been A While. . . . . .

Hey there readers! It's been a while. Like a LOOOOONNNNG while since I've written anything. There's a myriad of reasons behind that I suppose. Most of which are excuses AND reasons. (You know the difference between the two by now, right?) But, I think mainly it's because I didn't feel like I had anything worth saying. I was deep in feelings that were perhaps too painful to share. I felt too vulnerable; too broken to open up here. 

Ironically, now I feel even MORE emotional, MORE vulnerable and MORE broken and I think it's important to share it. 

As humans we tend to close ourselves off from things. Shut out the pain by taking that drink or smoking that thing or popping that pill. Maybe it's finding a beautiful distraction; which turns out to not be so beautiful in the end. I've been doing this for too long now. Not allowing myself to feel the pain of it all. Being the strong woman everyone expects me to be. The "I don't need anyone or anything" tough bitch all of my friends and family have come to know and love(?).  You know what it's gotten me, being closed off? A complete disconnection with myself and those around me. 

I've been so busy protecting everyone, including myself, from my feelings that they've run amuck. (Amuck, amuck, amuck. . . . .if you know, you know!) I've denied that I feel hurt, angry, frustrated, disappointed, betrayed and abused to the point where now I'm struggling to find any joy, happiness, fulfillment, contentment or pleasure. You see, it's not like I can simply "turn off" ONE of my emotions and leave all the others on "full blast", so I can "just feel the good shit". Don't I WISH it worked that way? Hell, don't we ALL wish it worked that way???  Wouldn't life be so much easier? 

So, here I am. . . . .sitting in my anger. My frustration. My disappointment. My betrayal. My abuse. Not wallowing, but noticing, naming and releasing it. All in the quest to find my joy and to reconnect with myself and everyone I love. 

Here goes: 

I didn't ask to lose my husband, my mother, my grandmother, my aunt and have to put my sweet kitty down all in just a few months time. I'm upset that I feel abandoned by all of them; even the ones that died and had zero choice in the fact that they left me. Emotions don't have to make sense. I'm ANGRY at them for leaving me. I'm frustrated that I had no control over the "leaving". I'm disappointed that things didn't turn out differently. But here we are. They're gone. I'm moving past it. 

I had to sell the only home my daughters have ever known and move across the country. Again, through no choice or action of my own doing. I'm pissed off that I lost so many precious things in the process. I'm fucking LIVID that I had to leave loved ones behind. I'm devastated that I lost the only home I ever wanted to live in. I feel betrayed that this was thrust upon me by the choices of someone else. Pile on top of this moving to a place where I feel like an outsider. A place where no one talks to me. A place that's so foreign, it almost feels like a different planet to me. And you end up with LOTS of resentment towards the man that forced this upon me. The deep sense of loss is almost indescribable. This one "event" truly made me lose myself in the process. The sheer shock of it all. The utter "leaving behind" of everything I knew and held dear did profound damage. I. AM. ENRAGED. This one is being a much harder one to RELEASE. I've noticed the pain. I've named the emotions, but I'll be damned if I can truly release it yet. I think I'm afraid if I "let it go" I'll simply fall apart or maybe just start floating up to the sky, never to be seen again. Like somehow, this . . .this fucking agony is what's keeping me grounded. 

And yet, I feel all of this shit with a smile on my face. Not wanting to pollute any of my relationships with how truly sad and broken I feel most of the time. I feel alone. Lonely. Isolated. And yet, even in that there's a comfort for me. A protection of sorts. If I don't let anyone get too close to me, they won't let me down again. They won't hurt me any further. (Which let's face it, at this point would be a tragedy of biblical proportions, right? Insert eyeroll here.)  In truth, all this does is make me feel like I'm lying (which if you actually KNOW ME, you know how I feel about THAT SHIT!) and being disingenuous to the situation at hand.  

But, I've been working on myself lately. Quietly. Privately. Where no one can see me. Not telling anyone. Walking through the fear of what I'll find when I truly find myself. Holding myself accountable for the things I've done that have caused people to leave me in the past. Seeing my part in situations that didn't work out the way I wanted them to. Also realizing that not EVERYTHING is indeed my fault. Some people are just incapable of loving someone the right way because of their own damaged, broken heart. Some situations were never going to sustain themselves, no matter how hard I tried. I've been learning to not only forgive the OTHERS that hurt me but I'm learning to forgive myself for so many, many things. This makes me vulnerable. This has shown me "my broken" in a way that I've never seen it before. It certainly has opened up a world of emotions. 

There are, however, these glimpses I'm getting, of myself. The person I could be. The person I want to be. The person I need to be. A whole person. I healed person. I thankful person. Not a perfect person, but a perfectly imperfect, delicate, gentle, honest, faithful, noble, tender, compassionate, empathetic, caring, loving, nurturing, fierce, strong, reliable, determined, loyal and genuine human being. Someone I can be proud of. Oh the beauty in the glimmer of what could be!!! 

So, yeah, it's been quite a while since I've tried to put my thoughts down, but here I am laying it all out to be seen, in the hopes it will help keep me accountable to myself to keep going on this journey of discovery, forgiveness and growth. 

Take a deep breath, it's just another day in "Perfect". 

We Accept the Love That We Think We Deserve

It's a universal truth, whether we like it or not. . . .we really do accept the love that we think we deserve.  This can be an amazing thing.  It can allow folks to end relationships that aren't fulfilling and create loving, stable, complete, equal, tender partnerships.  Where this becomes a total CRAPPER kind of a deal is when someone doesn't really feel their own worth.  Say someone who's been abused their entire life and they feel "less than", dirty, damaged, unlovable, tarnished and undeserving.  Now, IMAGINE what kind of love THAT kind of person might "accept"?

It's painful when you've already been used and abused and then find that the person who claims to love you is really only "in it" about 10%.  Why would anyone put up with a person only loving them 10%, you might wonder?  Well. . . .I'll tell you, when you feel like 90% SHIT all of your life, YOU try ten times harder to be lovable. . . .be quiet. . . .be accommodating. . . .NOT be demanding. . . You carry the weight of that relationship because, in fact, you feel as though you DESERVE to work harder.  You DESERVE to put in 190% to make up for that "loved ones" 10% effort.  I mean, come on, isn't he doing me a favor by lowering himself that much to even BE with me?  Aren't I so beyond damaged goods that no man would ever want me?  No man will EVER love me?  He's the "only one" who'd even take on someone as fucked up as I am, right?   Then, you've got his family reminding you what a piece of shit you are and guess what?  You believe them.  Why?  Because you tell yourself the same thing every time you look into the mirror.  You KNOW that you're broken, scarred, incomplete somehow.

I suppose the part that's never really made any sense to me is, why don't people WANT to help someone who feels like shit up?  Stick your damn "pristine hand" down in that shit and lift that person, whom you CLAIM to love, up to "your level".   Why does it NEVER fail that the folks who end up with these fragile, vulnerable people are takers?  Non-stop takers at that.  The kind of takers that leave a person so depleted and vacant and empty and lonely that they consider walking away from their entire lives, just to get a (much deserved) break.  It's funny how both people in these totally fucked up relationships are, actually, "getting something" out of it.  For the 190% giver, they get someone. . .ANYONE . . . .to love them. . . someone to take care of, someone to have that "perfect little life" with, someone to "finally get it right" with, someone to wake up for and go to sleep with, someone to build your entire life around, someone to give you sweet babies and a roof over your head.  Someone that will construct such a life, as to allow you to show the world "SEE, I'M NOT TOTAL SHIT!  I CAN HAVE IT ALL!"  Even when "all" of it is total bullshit.  Even when you're so totally alone in the "facade" of a life you've built that you wonder if anyone would even notice if you just were to vanish into thin air.  Then, the 10% person gets all of your love, commitment, devotion, emotion, care, concern, attention, admiration, adoration and caring. They get taken care of, seen, valued, built up, nurtured and validated. They are allowed to be lazy and still get the reward. This validates that they're "doing everything right". I mean "look at how well she's treating me, right?!!?!? "

So, I suppose, in the end, the only way to break this self-destructive cycle is to start seeing, feeling and really BELIEVING that you deserve something better. Believe that you deserve to be seen, taken care of, babied, nurtured and validated, too. The only way out is through. Now, I'm not saying it will be easy. Hell, I'm not even sure how to do IT myself, exactly, but, I'm trying. You have to start somewhere. You have to dig deep and look inside yourself to understand that, just as you are, you're good enough. Just as you are, you're deserving. Just as you are, you are lovable. Open yourself up to a "better love" and a "better love" will find you. Until then, you'll keep accepting that damaged love you think you deserve.

Take a deep breath, it's just another day in "Perfect". . . . . 

Life in "Perfect": Some "Simply" Complicated Truths

Life in "Perfect": Some "Simply" Complicated Truths: There are a few things that I hold as "simple truths".  Now, I realize that my truth might not be your truth and I also recognize ...

Some "Simply" Complicated Truths

There are a few things that I hold as "simple truths".  Now, I realize that my truth might not be your truth and I also recognize that what's simple for one might be very complicated for another.  Stick with me and let's see where we land. . . . .

There is no reality; there is only perception. 

This can be best demonstrated by eye witness accounts of events. If 10 people witness and event, if 100 people, hell if a million people all witness the same event, if you interviewed each individual person would you get the same EXACT story twice? Absolutely not. Are they lying? Well, most certainly some of them might be. Some people just like to do that shit. You know who you are. Shame on you. Anyway, are they lying? Most of them are not. They are however victims of their own perceptions of the event. 

Your perception is easy to manipulate.

Just ask any marketing firm, advertising company, political party or media outlet and, if you can find an honest person, they'll tell you. You are constantly being manipulated to believe things, feel things, want things, dislike things, be fearful of things, hell, you're manipulated into downright HATING things. This is doubly bad when the manipulation comes from within and not without, as in from a family member, lover or close friend. 

Your ability to be manipulated is predictable. 

Depending on your IQ, your EQ and the totality of your life experiences, your "baseline" ability to be manipulated can be extrapolated. If you're a person that thinks that you're "the smartest person in the room", yet you have the emotional depth of a teaspoon of water in an Olympic sized swimming pool, you'll be easy to manipulate. However, you'll also be easy to manipulate if you're a super emotional, touchy feely person that has the intelligence of your average tree frog. Your "soft spots" will, of course be different from each other, but you will both be targeted often. Even people that are high in the IQ and EQ department with tons of applicable life experience can and do get manipulated. It's almost inevitable. As "pack creatures" we are very inner connected with our "pack mates".  Which brings me to the next "simply complicated truth". . . .

You're prejudiced against (or for) something. 

Yes you are. We all are. I'm sorry. I know that you don't like it. However, seeing as how we ARE "pack animals", we all just want to belong, be loved, be seen, be accepted, be safe and feel like we're actually part of the fucking pack. We look to our surroundings to find confirmation that we're behaving properly, doing the "right thing" or that we'll have support from our peers should we need it. Because of that, you're prejudice. In the truest sense of the word. You have a preconceived notion about something. That's how our brains work. Imagine all of the time it would take for us to have to evaluate every single individual thing that happened to us; like it was the FIRST time ANYTHING had ever happened to us? That would be a cluster fuck of monumental proportions. We are hard-wired to make snap decisions about things. For instance, if you're a woman reading this: Imagine that you're in a darkened parking garage, underground. It's late at night. The garage is nearly empty, but not quite. There are still a few cars here and there, scattered around. You start to head to your car, WAAAY in the back corner, because that was the only spot left when you got to the mall to get your cute ass shoes that were on sale. . .DON'T JUDGE BECKY! Anyway, you're walking to your car and notice that there's a van parked right next to your car. Then, when you're halfway to your car, you see a man start running towards you. Any man. He hasn't said one word. He hasn't approached you, directly. How do you feel? Now, everyone, tell me, is there a part of town that you wouldn't want your car to break down in? How about your daughter's car? How about your grandmother's car? That's a prejudice. You might also feel a strong affiliation with a political party or a certain organized religion; to the point where you feel that the people that don't feel like you are wrong, dumb, stupid, lost souls. That's a pre-judgement. Maybe there's a part of the world that you would "never go to". Why? Do you find that you tend to surround yourself with others that agree with you? Hmm . . . .interesting. 

Narcissists, pathological liars and "general shit stirrers" muddy the waters.

Make no mistake about it. We're all just these floating perceivers that are easy to manipulate with preconceived notions of the world, but when you throw in a good old narc or a compulsive liar or even just the ever present "shit stirrer" (could all be one person here. . .) things can go off of the rails quickly. See, there's no way to really KNOW if people are being honest with you or not, right? Sucks, but it's true. Is that story that your neighbor told you even true? Did your husband REALLY work late? Does your best friend really love your cheesecake? How will we ever know? The constant inner struggle to try to determine who and what to believe can make one feel insane! 

Even with all of this being true, there still IS right and wrong.

Yes, my perception is vastly different from yours. Yes, we're all too easily manipulated. Yes, we are, without fail, predictable creatures. And, yes, we all have our preconceived notions about things, other people, far off places and most things, both experienced and imagined. But, let's not forget, there are some fundamental things that are "simply" right and wrong, too. 

Apologies without behavioral changes is just more manipulation. 

Just saying "I'm sorry" doesn't cut it, people. Grow the fuck up. Fix your shit or keep your mouth shut. 

Causing another harm, be it physical or emotional pain, is unacceptable.

See, we've all "signed off" on a social contract that simply states, "I don't get to hurt you". When you violate that contract there are consequences. One doesn't get to play the victim, after stabbing someone else in the back. See this big fucking knife right here? Yeah, you did that! Just stop. 

Unfortunately, there is NO karma or real justice to be had. 

The sad, simple truth is, there is no karma; there is no real justice; there is no "big reward for being a good person", just like there's no "real fucking horrible punishment" for all those assholes. After it's all said and done, what I've seen is that, unfortunately, the "bad guy" usually wins. There's no justice for most victims. Even if your "perpetrator" goes away, goes to jail, or even dies, is that really justice? Does it give you back ANYTHING you lost? I've seen more assholes get away with shit than I care to think about. I've also seen more good people suffer than I can stomach. The universe/God/karma police don't actually hand out gold stars or demerits according to behavior. You do NOT "reap what you sow". You don't "get what you give". That's just stupid shit that we say to each other to try to make ourselves feel better in the moment. Deep down, you know it's true. 

In the end, just be a good fucking person.

I'm a strong woman. I'm a loving mother. I'm a caring sister. I was a kind daughter and a devoted wife. I'm an independent in my thinking and my political views. I'm a fierce friend. I'm an atheist.  I'm also a good fucking person. Let's all just aim for that, okay? But, please don't get stuck in thinking that "your way is the only way" or that "you're always right and everyone else is always wrong". Just be a good fucking person. 

Take a deep breath y'all, it's just another day in Perfect! 

Speaking From Experience

Here are the things you need to know about me before you read the rest of this:

I'm a woman.  A woman who has experienced gun violence perpetrated against me.  A woman that's been physically and sexually abused by men.  A woman that's held a gun in my own hands, debating on whether or not to end the life of one of my perpetrators.  A woman who has had five "spontaneous abortions" (the grotesque, but still utilized medical term for what we all call a 'miscarriage').  A woman that's had to struggle with infertility and being able to stay pregnant.  A woman that had to be on hormone injections, daily, to even stay pregnant.  A woman that had to face the very real possibility that I was going to have to have a late term abortion to remove one of my "so very hard fought for" fetuses from my body due to a genetic condition that would have killed my sweet baby mere moments after its birth.  I've also worked with and for the police department.  I've worked in the school system.  

So, when I say that I'm "speaking from experience", the above information is what I'm referring to.  

I've seen both sides of most of the "hot button" issues our country is facing.  I've been the victim and I've wanted to murder someone.  I've been the one that fought for my pregnancy and the one that lost children.  I've been protected by people with badges and guns, that allowed me to do my job safely and I've been scared to death, running "safety drills" inside of a school.  

I have family and friends that are or were police officers and I have family and friends that are or were teachers.  I'm friends with people that hunt and people that are vegan.  I was raised Southern Baptist but have grown to be an atheist.  I've read every single page of the Bible and our Constitution.  I've shook the hands of Buddhists, Muslims, Jews, Pagans, Wiccans and others that didn't even have a name for what they felt was their "religion".  I've listened to Native American people tell their sacred stories, with rapt attention to every detail.  I've valued every one of these people, even though we were aren't the same in many ways. 

Here's what I can say, speaking from experience, we're far more alike than we are different though. Most people are doing the best that they can.  Most people want to love and to be loved.  Most people want to do no harm.  Most people just want to make it home safely at the end of the night to see their family, their friends, their pets.  Most people see the value of life.  The hardest part these days seems to be agreeing on what those things even mean. 

We can't even agree on whom we're "allowed to love"; whom we can call "our family"; what constitutes being "safe".  

Speaking from experience, I know that "it" isn't easy.  There is no "one size fits all" answer to "hot button" issues like gun control and abortion.  What I think that MOST people are truly sick of is hypocrisy.  I think most of us are tired of hearing how "my side is right and your side is wrong", even when BOTH SIDES are saying the EXACT SAME THING, just about different subjects!  But, what makes most of us angry is the fact that we seem to have just . . . . .given up.  Resigned ourselves to the notion that we can't make it better, do better. . . .BE BETTER!  

We absolutely HAVE to do better.  We owe it to our children and their children.  We have to try.  

Speaking from experience, laws are ONLY EVER FOLLOWED by the lawful.  That doesn't mean that we have NO LAWS.  That just makes no sense.  Speaking from experience, I've never had to have an abortion, but at the time where I MIGHT have HAD to have one, it was legal and I'm thankful that that was the case.  I'm saddened to think that I would have either had to become a criminal or force a baby to be born into this world only to suffer and live for mere hours.  Speaking from experience, the reason I didn't kill my perpetrator, honestly, had NOTHING to do with the idea of "jail time" and everything to do with not hurting his family.  Speaking from experience, I would never want to live in a country without an armed police force to serve and protect me.  I also wouldn't want to be asked to carry a gun into my classroom, in order to do that for my students.  

I recognize that these are hard things.  We can do hard things.  We've DONE hard things.  Let's figure this out together . . . . .speaking from experience, not premise; speaking from experience, not spoon fed  rhetoric; speaking from experience that has shaped us, formed us and made us wise to the ways of the world!

Let's all take a deep breath, it's just another day in "Perfect". . . . .

Capacity?

You know what I'm sick of?  Pretty much fucking everything.  No.  I mean it.  Really.  EVERYTHING!  If there was a little "timer" that would/could pop out of the side of each and every one of us "humans" that indicated when we've just "had enough". . . mine would have popped about a year and half ago.  (And don't we all kinda wish that such a thing existed?  Imagine all the bull shit we could prevent from happening?  No more crazed folks running around shooting innocent people.  No way!  We'd be able to "lock people away" until their little "I'VE HAD ENOUGH SHIT" meter returns to "normal"!)

I digress. . . .I mean aren't YOU sick of everything, too?  Such as. . .why on Earth do I need Christmas decorations out for sale in the middle of July?  Really?  Because, of course, there isn't ENOUGH stress put on us moms to make that "blessed holiday" (yeah, right. . .more like COMMERCIALISM AT IT'S FINEST!) bloody perfect every year?  Let's make me start panicking about my inadequacy in the middle of summer?!?  No thanks.

I'm also super tired of politicians.  I hate them all.   I'm tired of being told that I'm an "idiot" and "un-American" for thinking that there's really just no good damn reason for you and I to be able to go out and get a "clip" that holds ONE HUNDRED ROUNDS OF AMMUNITION!  Really?  I'm stupid?  There's something wrong with ME?  I've never heard of a "hunter" needing to shoot a deer a hundred times to kill it.  (Since all I "EVER" seem to hear about is "hunters need their guns for this and hunters need their guns for that. . .)  Not to mention, if I'm using "my gun" to PROTECT myself, again, why do I need 100 bullets to shoot a bad guy?  Are we really THAT worried about the zombie apocalypse?   I'm also tired of them throwing FITS when they "don't get their way" and keep on threatening to "shut the government down".  I find this hilarious because you can bet your sweet ass that they'd keep on getting paid.  Not really "shutting the doors", are ya?  Fuckers.  I hate liars.  I hate fakers.  I hate whiners.  Suck it up and do your damn job for once!

If I see one more Dunkin' Donuts next to a Curves or 24 Hour Fitness I'm going to explode.  What the hell is wrong with us here in America?  People aren't struggling enough with their health and weight, we need to give them some EXTRA temptation?  Come on.  I hate cruelty, too.  And to me. . .this just seems cruel.

Then there are all these damn 'studies' that make each and every one of us either feel stupid and inferior or superior and brilliant.  Again, really?  How much damn money do we spend on 'studies' of NOTHING IMPORTANT?

Speaking of feeling inferior and stupid. . . . why can't women be nice to each other?  I'm tired of being used and abused by people who claim to be my friends.  No good deed goes unpunished there.  Evil knows no bounds in this arena.  Someone knows your inner most secrets?  You can bet she's going to use that to, not only, stab you in the back but also in the front.  The side.  The head.  The shoulder.  The eye.  You name it.  It's apparently not "off limits".  And I love how then they turn around and blame YOU for the "drama" in their lives.  Ummm. . .???  WHAT?

I could go on and on, but really. . .the point is this. . .  .do we each have a set "limit" for what we can take?  How does one go about "resetting" their "capacity timer" once it's gone off?  I'm really struggling with trying to figure this one out.  How do I put the cork BACK IN THE BOTTLE?  How do I STOP feeling overwhelmed with my life and the lives of all of those that intersect mine?  Why do some folks seem to have a much larger capacity for bullshit?  Why am I one of them?  (Or at least USED to be . .)  Why was I able to, quite easily, just sit back and swallow all of the crap that was handed down to me; given to me through little or no choice of my own?  Why now. . .all of the sudden. . .am I UNABLE, perhaps, unwilling, to accept what, once was, not only okay but expected?  Is my current "lack of capacity" a sign of growth or weakness?  Does your level of "capacity" change over time?  Should it?  Can you consciously "adjust" your level?  How can we recognize the "warning signs" in ourselves and those around us that, maybe, just maybe, they've been pushed too far?  Why can't anyone seem to hear me; when I'm so clearly standing in the middle of this room SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS???  (Oh sorry. . . . .my 'turkey timer" popped right out there. . .)  

I just don't know.  I don't know why, or how, or when, or where any of this went off of the rails.  I don't know who am I some days.  When I became this person who I see in the mirror every day.  I don't know how I got here and I certainly don't seem to know where I'm going.  I've lived a lifetime "under my capacity" and now. . . .now that I'm "over it", I'm not sure that I can put the genie back into the bottle.  I'm not sure what it would look like if I allowed myself to be raw. . .edgy. . . hard. . . .bitter. . . .selfish. . . . out of control. . .  ."over capacity".   What would happen if I just SAID what I really thought?  

 

Take a deep breath, it's just another day in Perfect!

What My Divorce Has Taught Me. . . . .

So, it's done.  Finished.  Over with.  My marriage that is. . . .and the divorce.  It's done.  It's . . .all. . . just. . . DONE!  It's strange really.  The divorce took eight minutes.  Yes, you read that correctly.  EIGHT. MINUTES.  That was all the time it took to murder a family.  Eight FUCKING minutes!  They have this shit down, I tell ya. . . .to a science, for sure.  It's very clinical.  They're very clinical.  The magistrate and the recorder.  They sat patiently waiting for my answers to questions that stuck in my throat, through my tears.  But, here's what this has all taught me:

Nothing matters.  No, I don't mean that to sound all cynical and negative.  If anything it's the opposite.  It's the fact that those eight minutes don't really MEAN anything.  I was still the same person I was when I got there, when I left.  I didn't crumble or crack or fall over or. . .DIE, like I thought I was going to.  Did I cry?  Yes!!  Like a fucking BABY!!!!!  I cried on my ex-husband's shoulder.  Yes, you read THAT right, too, I cried on. his. shoulder.  He let me get snot and tears all over his nice shirt.  And you know what?  It didn't matter.  He wasn't pissed about it.  He wasn't "put out".  He can always wash his shirt. It didn't matter that, as of 10 seconds prior to the bawling fit, we were no longer married.  It just, simply, didn't matter.  I was hurting and he held me.  Period. 

It doesn't matter that, as far as the state is concerned, I'm single.  Single, people.  Single.  I haven't been "single" since I was 14 years old back at good old "Smoky Hill High School", just prior to dating Keith!  What does one do some 32 years later?  How does one "date" again?  I have no idea and it doesn't matter anyway.  I'll figure it out.  Or I won't.  Either way, it doesn't really matter.  Life will go on. 

It doesn't matter that I loved my ex-husband in a way that, probably, wasn't healthy.  It doesn't matter that I wish I would have showed him how much I loved him better.  In a way that would have made him KNOW it, every single day.  It doesn't matter that I now know how lucky I was to be allowed to stay at home with our daughters and raise them, the right way, in our eyes.  It doesn't matter that I now realize I should have had more fun when I was there.  I should have allowed myself to go to lunch more often.  I should have stopped cleaning so much and allowed myself to relax.  It doesn't matter that I know for a fact that I tried EVERYTHING I knew how to do to save my marriage.  It doesn't matter that it didn't work.  It just doesn't. . . . . .

If I could give anyone a piece of my heart and some sound advice whilst going through the divorce process it's this. . . .it. doesn't. matter.  That piano doesn't matter.  The house doesn't matter.  Who's right and who's wrong, doesn't matter.  Even when it's GLARINGLY apparent!  None of it matters.  The day that you get a divorce is just like the day before it and the day after it.  There's nothing special about it.  Truly.  There's not!  You'll survive.  It'll be different and painful and difficult and nearly impossible some days, but it, in the end, still doesn't even matter.  You'll wake up tomorrow and put one foot in front of the other.  Then, you'll wake up the next day and do the same.  And the next day and so on, until you forget what even broke you up in the first place.  You'll settle into a routine.  You'll find your path.  There will only be the one set of footprints now, instead of two, but that doesn't matter either.  Eventually, you'll walk so far away that you can't even see the path that you both were walking down, once upon a time. 

Just know that none of this shit, that you're going through right now, matters.  You matter.  Your children (if you have them) matter.  That's really it.  That's all.  Don't make it more than it is.  Don't make it less than it is.  It's a divorce.  That's it.  And really. . . . .it just doesn't even matter! 

Take a deep breath. . . . it's just another day in Perfect!  

On The Eve Of Our Divorce. . . . .

In twelve short days, I'll no longer be your wife.  Yes, you've left our home many days ago. . . nearly a year's worth of days, actually, but still.  In twelve days, my life will be different.  I will no longer be able to say that I'm "your wife".  There will be no question, during conversation, as to how to qualify you.  You will be my EX-husband and I your EX-wife.  What does that even mean?  Does it mean that we stop loving each other?  Does it mean that we never DID love each other?  Does it mean that all of the caring, loving, hurting, crying, sharing, building, creating, worrying, fretting, celebrating, enjoying didn't matter?  Does it mean that we wasted twenty two years of our lives with the "wrong person"?  How is one supposed to be able to survive such a drastic change?  How will I breathe deeply ever again?  How will I ever relax again?  How will I ever allow someone in again?

In twelve short days, everything changes.  I will be single.  SINGLE.  Legally. . . S.I.N.G.L.E.  I will be solitary.  Individual.  Separate.  Cleaved.  Changed.

In twelve short days, my identity changes.  Forever.  I don't even know how to start to find "me".  I've spent twenty two years loving you.  I spent twenty two years focusing on you.  In all of that time, I gave little to no thought to "me".  Now, suddenly the world expects me to just "figure it out" and "do what I want to do".  But, how can that happen when I've spent so much time NOT thinking of myself?  How do you just wake up one day and start to be selfish?  How am I supposed to just stop thinking about you?  Worrying about you?  Loving you?  Caring about you?  Who am I without YOU?  My identity has been so closely tied to you that I don't really have one OUTSIDE of you or the idea of "you and I".

In twelve short days, I'll be free to love again.  You'll be free to do the same.  But, how?  When?  Where?  Will I EVER be open again?  How will I take the broken pieces of my tiny, fragile heart and glue them back together enough to even allow anyone else to look at it, much less, touch it or hold it?  Love ME???  No way.  That's terrifying!  What worse?  Knowing that someone else will love you.  Hold you.  Comfort you.  I don't want you to be unhappy or unloved, so these are things that I truly wish for you but I'd be lying if I said that a little part of me didn't die every time I think of someone else being "your wife".

So, in twelve short days, our divorce will be final.  It appears, however, that nothing else is quite so clear cut for me.  The papers have all been filed.  What's done is done.  There's no stopping it all know.  But, tell that to my heart.  Tell it to stop aching.  Tell my eyes to stop crying.  Tell my brain to stop thinking of the millions of things I did wrong; that drove you away.  Tell my body to stop longing for your touch.  Or my ears from wanting to hear you say "I love you", just one more time.

Take a deep breath, in twelve short days, it'll be just another day in Perfect. . . . .

The Myth of the "Amicable Divorce"

Amicable:

ADJECTIVE

1. (of relations between people) having a spirit of friendliness; without serious disagreement or rancor:

   "there will be an amicable settlement of the dispute"

   synonyms: friendly · good-natured · cordial · easy · easygoing
   
   

   Let me be clear here . . .there is NO SUCH THING AS AN AMICABLE DIVORCE!  You can not be "friendly, good-natured, or easy going" when you're going through the most painful thing a couple can go through.  Now, don't get me wrong, you CAN exhibit these behaviors.  You CAN show each other kindness and not scream at each other.  You can not blame each other for the broken state of your marriage, but underneath it all, you ARE crumbling.  You're destroyed.  Even if you saw it coming.  I ask you, if you SEE that bus that's coming down the road to hit you, does it not still flatten your ass once it strikes you?  Yeah, I thought so.  

   Being aware that you're going to be "flattened" does NOTHING to prevent the pain. . .the "shock and awe" that comes with filing some stupid paperwork.  One wouldn't expect such a "mundane sounding" event to create such chaos in one's life, yet it does.  It's beyond chaos.  Beyond pain.  No, this. . .THIS is something entirely different that I don't think there's a word for yet.  Total destruction, doesn't even do it justice.  

   My husband and I are "amicable".  I hate that fucking word.  Yet, we are; on the surface, quite amicable.  We've been amicable our entire marriage.  Not fighting.  Not even once, in twenty years of being together.  Yeah, I know, I know. . .you think I'm totally bullshitting you, yet, I'm not!  We "polited" ourselves straight into divorce.  We never once raised our voices.  We never once spoke out of turn to each other.  Yet, here we are.  The "amicable" divorce.  

   People "praise us" for how well we're handling it all.  Let me also be clear here. . . .I'M NOT HANDLING THIS WELL AT ALL!!!  I'm falling apart.  I'm lonely.  I'm heart broken.  I'm angry.  I'm FAR from friendly, good-natured, cordial or easy going!  Most especially to myself.  I'm beating the ever loving SHIT out of myself.  Questioning all of the things I didn't do.  Why DIDN'T I?  Torturing myself for all of things I DID do, just incorrectly.  Why didn't I do that better?  What's wrong with me?  No. . .there's nothing amicable about how I feel.  So, when people tell me how "well we're handling all this", I can't tell if I want to laugh or cry more.  If I'm "proud of us" or if I think we're just fooling ourselves and everyone else, too. 

   
   

   As much as I WISH there really was an "amicable divorce" I KNOW that there's not.  There cannot be.  No matter how much you KNOW you don't belong together or you're better off apart or you didn't mesh or you didn't have anything in common or you "lost that loving feeling" a long time ago, it's just not amicable.  How could it be?  You're ending something.  You're killing something.  "It', the marriage is an entity, in and of itself.  It was this living, breathing thing that you had around you every single day.  It might not seem that way, especially at "the end", but let me tell you it's there.  It's alive.  That is, until you kill it.  Until you smother the life right out of it. . .it's alive.  It exists.  It's real.  It matters.  The pain involved in the "death of what could of been" is so immense, it drowns you.  It's the huge waves that pound you down and the undertow that pulls you under until your lungs fill with burning salt water and you gasp and you struggle and you fight and you try to swim to the surface, yet the surface never comes.  Somehow you just get pulled deeper and deeper and it becomes darker and darker and then. . . .POOF. . . .it's just done.  Dead and gone.  Just like that.  With the ink of a pen.  What's amicable in THAT?   What's "friendly" or "easy going" there?  

   
   

   I will survive.  I will, somehow, get "washed up on the shore" on some strange island where, I'll live alone.  Well, not "alone alone", I'll have my wonderful children to look after.  Those two amazing human beings that we created on "our island". . .the island of our marriage.  These two people who also got dragged down and spit out onto a new land mass.  The two people whom carry my heart with them, as they travel around this big new place, called "divorce land".  They will give me the strength to pull myself up and brush off the sand and salt and untangle the sea weed that's wrapped around my neck.  I will see in them the love and support that I've given to them, so freely over the years, paid back to me in my moment of desperation and need.  I will return the favor, freely, in the hopes that they won't hate either one of us for making this "one decision" that forever changed the course of all of our lives.  You know the one. . . .that "amicable divorce". . . . . .

   Take a deep breath, it's just another day in "Perfect". . . . .

What It's REALLY Like to Be a "Perfectionist". . . . .

I get teased.  A lot.  Yes, I'm an adult.  Yes, I can handle it.  Yes, it's all of part of life . . . .everyone's life.  But, sometimes, just every now and again mind you, I wish that people would know. . .could know what it's already like inside my head.  The hostile environment I live in every single day.  All self inflicted. . . .the suffering.  The damage dealt.  The pain.  The constant nagging.  All coming from inside my own body . . . . .is relentless!

I get teased because I "clean my house too much".  People throw around the words "OCD" and "anal" like they're just words.  First of, OCD is a real condition that has little to nothing to do with my need for my home to be spotless every second of the day.  Do I have a "touch of it" in the fact that I'm COMPULSIVE about crumbs or dust or vacuum lines in my carpet?  Sure.  Perhaps.  Perhaps not.  Who knows?  Better, who cares?  But, if you could just hear what I tell myself about those crumbs.  That dust.  Those "stupid lines" in my carpet.  If you really knew the disgust I feel about myself when those things are present or lacking, you might not be so quick to "make fun" of me.  You might give me some grace and treat me a bit more tenderly if you understood that I simply cannot allow this space, this refuge, this "sanctuary" to be anything less than perfect because I feel that it is such a reflection on who I am.  What I am.  At my essence.  I'm a failure if it's not "perfect".  I'm less than.  I'm a loser.  I'm lazy.  I'm "not pulling my weight".  I'm pathetic.  I mean, who can't keep their fucking house clean?  I feel dirty on the inside so maybe. . .just MAYBE if I can keep the space I live in spotless I'll feel a little bit less damaged.  Survivors of sexual abuse generally feel dirty.  Broken.  Guilty.  We feel like WE did something wrong or that something MUST have been wrong with us, because otherwise, it wouldn't have happened, right?

I get teased because I "count every calorie and I work out every single day".  People simply can't understand why, after "all these years" of maintaining my weight loss, I still feel compelled to be "so hard on myself".  I mean, come on, "Why can't you just come and hang out and have some drinks and eat some food and have fun?"  Oh, if it were just that simple.  If you could hear the tapes that are playing in my head.  Over and over and over again.  If you knew the shame I feel from eating a cookie or skipping leg day, you'd understand.  If you could be inside my body when I'm starving and craving a chocolate cake and I KNOW that I can't eat it. . . or anything else for that matter.  If you knew that words I used to describe myself. . .to myself about even WANTING a damn chocolate cake, you might just sit back and think "Wow, I'm glad I'm not her!"  Or you might think, "Wow, she's really fucked up?"  Who knows?  If you knew how painful it is to log every bite of food that I put into my mouth and workout every single day and still gain 15 pounds over the last year and half and how I simply can't give anymore in a workout or eat any less or beat myself up anymore about it, you might back off a little bit with the "teasing".  If you knew how badly I want to give up each and every day and either gain all my weight back or go the opposite way and go back to bingeing and purging "just to get there again" you might think twice about "pushing me" even harder.  If you saw what I see when I look into the mirror, you might understand.  Understand what it's like to see a fat cow staring back at you and KNOWING that there's just not one damn thing I can do to change it.  Fix it.  Make it alright.  I've given it everything I have and it's still not enough.  I've still failed.  I'm still a loser (or a gainer, depending on how you look at it).  I'm still pathetic.  Oh, those tapes, they just circle around and around in my head.  Playing on and on and on until there's nothing else I can even hear over the volume of them.  Eat less.  Move more.  It's that simple.  Until, it's not.

I get teased because I'm too sensitive and take everything to heart.  People tell me to just "let it go, blow them off, why do you care what they think anyway"?  Believe me, I WISH that I could.  I wish that I didn't care.  I wish that I didn't feel. so. much.  I wish that my tender heart would just "toughen up" already.  I wish that I could just walk away and not look back.  Look back at all the failure.  All the loss.  All the pain.  I wish that I could just "move forward" and make a vow that, "from this day forward I solemnly swear to not give two shits what you think about me".  But, come on.  I can't lie to myself.  I could maybe lie to you (although, those of you who know me, know that even THAT'S a stretch. . .my "lying ability" is not one I've developed very well over the years) but one can NEVER lie to themselves.  I know that I'll still feel the pin pricks of pain when I'm verbally attacked.  When someone is disrespectful to me or my family.  I will still hurt when I'm misunderstood which, by the way, seems to happen to me a disproportionately large amount of times.  I'll still feel confused when someone assumed the worst in me, when I'm giving them the best.  It'll never occur to me that you're lying to me, so I'm made to look foolish often.

See, here's the rub. . . .in all of this, I'm simply trying to be perfect.  I want to be.  I need to be.  I don't know any other way TO be.  In some futile attempt to be "good enough" to deserve your love, I've lost all sense of my self.  I just know perfectionism.  I only know this way.  I can only feel like I've given it my all, if I've truly given it my ALL.  If I'm left exhausted at the end of every day and if I feel tortured, beat up, hurt and empty, then I KNOW I've done all I can.  If I leave no stone unturned, no corner undusted, no floor unattended to, no person felt neglected by me, I worked out until I want to cry or vomit or both, I didn't eat that chocolate cake and ate less than I really wanted, I do more than I did yesterday and will do more tomorrow than today, then I might be able to sleep tonight.  For you see, my "being perfect" isn't really a choice for me. . . .it's a way of life.  Hell, it IS my life.  So, maybe, just perhaps, if you know someone like me, who knows, maybe you ARE like me, maybe, you could take a step back and really realize what it's REALLY like to be a perfectionist is-----you never really ARE.  It's never enough.  It's painful and long and strenuous and tedious and it's all for really damn good reasons but in the end, I'm always going to fall short.

So, maybe the lesson in all of this ranting it just this . . . . . .

Take a deep breath, it's just another day in Perfect!!!!

I Know That You're Afraid. . . . .

I know that you're afraid of me. . . . I know that you're afraid of me because I'm a woman or because I'm an atheist or because I was born in America.  I know that you're afraid of me because you don't know me.  I know that I am the "they" that "they" have warned you about.  I know that that fear has been bred into from the day that you were born into that family, that village, that world that tells you what to fear and what to welcome.  I know that you, the real YOU, that deep down part of all of us that is simply human, doesn't really want to fear me, is only curious about who and what I am.  I know that you're tired of being afraid.  I know that that fear, in and of itself, is what drains you, depletes you, hurts you.  I know that you don't know any other way to be, feel, exist.  I know that that fear can drive you.  I know that it can push you into feeling, doing, saying, being something that you're really not.  I know that you want to hurt someone.  I know that you want to hurt someone, anyone, to make that fear stop.  I also know that no matter how many people you hurt, that fear will only grow. . . .deepen. . . .SEEM MORE REAL to you.  It will grow inside of you, hidden.  Like a cancer it will eat away at your soul.  If you feed it it WILL grow.  It will become you, take over your mind, your spirit, your thoughts until nothing else exists BUT that fear.  I know that you're afraid of me.  I know that what I represent, means the end of what you represent.  Or, at least, that's what "they've" told you.  I know that that fear has convinced you that, simply by my existing, I'm threatening your way of life.  I'm threatening your actual life.  I'm threatening your children's lives and their children's lives and so on and so on, until, you feel so justified in hurting me that there simply is no. other. way.  Yes, I know that you're afraid.

But, I suggest something radical to you. . . . .talk to me.  Learn my name.  Try hard to pronounce it properly.  Look into my eyes.  See me smile.  Listen to my breath.  Watch me love my children.  Listen to my struggles to provide a loving home for them.  Come to my place of work and watch me excel in my life.  My actual life.  Not the one that has been presented to you.  Not the one that "they've" told you I lead, but, my real "day in, day out" living life.  I know that you're afraid.  But, could you "take the risk" and try, just for a moment, to let the fear go?  Can you leave it at the door?  My door?  And walk into a life that looks, shockingly, similar to your own?  Listen to it.  Smell it.  Taste it.  Savor it.  Hell, maybe even ENJOY IT!

Yes, I know that you're afraid and that the world is telling me that I should be afraid, too. . . . but, today. . . . . .I AM NOT AFRAID!

Take a deep breath. . . .it's just another day in Perfect!

I Forgive Myself. . . . .

I forgive myself or not being a size two, for many of these pounds came from cookies that were baked with love with my sweet daughters, making memories they'll carry with them for a lifetime.  Others, were a result of my needing comfort and seeking out something I felt I was lacking, in a bag of chips.  I now realize that my worth doesn't go up as my size goes down. 

I forgive myself for "wearing my heart on my sleeve" and for "being too sensitive", for I've learned that the people who say this are generally too insecure to be "open to pain" and close themselves off behind an armor of sarcasm, ridicule, lies and, worst of all, cruelty.  I now realize that my being open about my feelings of being hurt, has put too bright of a spot light on the fact that they weren't feeling anything at all.

I forgive myself for not gaining the love of my mother, for now that I'm a mother myself, I know that that kind of sacrifice, vulnerability, patience and compromise don't come easy and not everyone is well equipped to offer those things with an open heart.  I know that I couldn't have done anything differently and that children are never meant to mend what's broken in an adult.

I forgive myself for trusting you when everything inside of me screamed to run away, for now I've learned what it means to love someone in spite of themselves and to truly love someone unconditionally.  I know that I can see the "bigger picture" and know that not every lesson I take part in is, in fact meant for me.  Although it's been painful, I'm honored that I could be a witness to part of your journey.

I forgive myself for being a perfectionist, for I know that it stems from a of fear.  I'm afraid of not being good enough for you; not "earning" your love.  I'm afraid if I'm flawed you'll leave me to find someone who's not. . . . but, I'm learning that THAT person doesn't really exist and that I'm honestly afraid of a ghost, an invisible entity that I've created in my mind to scare me into a cycle of attempts followed by inevitable failure.  I realize that "perfect" is an illusion.

I forgive myself for failing, for it means that I tried something, I stuck my neck out, I made the attempt and I learned more from those "short comings" than I ever did from my successes.  I've learned that I can survive almost anything.  I learned that I'm a warrior.  I learned that I'm creative, curious, bright, caring, tenacious, brave, competent, persistent, ignorant, wise, scholarly and human!

Most of all, I forgive myself for not forgiving myself sooner, for I know that to do so would have been too painful for me, at the time.  I wore my judgment of myself like a sheet of armor.  I felt safe inside of it and it was the only place I could honestly call "home".  This new world I'm discovering on the other side of self forgiveness is foreign, uncharted and vast.  I'm not sure where to go from here. . . .when self loathing, self deprecation and deprivation have been my constant companions, I feel, almost, lonely without them, and definitely more vulnerable and even naked.  I know that I'll make "new companions" and I can't wait to greet them with my open heart and mind; to see where they take me. . .what paths we'll travel together.  I'm sure that new things will spring up that I'll have to learn to forgive myself for.  I can only hope that I can so more quickly this time and know that I'm beautifully broken and flawed----human. .  .just like millions of other humans I share this planet with.  I can't help but think what a different world we would live in, if everyone could just learn to forgive THEMSELVES!

Take a deep breath. . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!   

Letter To My "Baby Girl" on Her Thirteenth Birthday

Wow.  Here I sit at yet another crossroads in my life.  Here I sit watching you grow, evolve, change, blossom. . . .mature.  I must admit, I'm proud.  I'm joyful.  I'm sad. . . . .and I'm scared.  I'm afraid of what the future holds for you.  I'm fearful that you're going to lose that sweet, innocence that makes you so completely YOU!  I'm anxious about what the world would turn you into and what it will take away from you.  But, I'm excited, too.  Deeply, profoundly excited.

I'm excited to see you become the best you you can.  I'm so very grateful for the honor I've been given, in being allowed to mother you, nurture you, learn from you, hold your sweet, tiny hand and touch your golden, pure heart.  I want you to guard that heart.  Protect it from harm.  You, my darling, are a giver.  A natural healer.  A sweet, sweet, tender spirit in a world filled with hatred, rage and darkness.  You, my sweet daughter are all that is good and kind and LIGHT in the world.  You are.  I know that as life carries you forward you will use this "gift of light" in some wonderful way.  I know that you're going to "love on" something fiercely; whether that be animals or humans remains to be seen, but I KNOW, in my soul, that you're not complete unless you're sharing your light!  With that, though, please don't give your "light" away.  Don't just entrust it to "any-old-person".  Especially, when "love" is involved.  Make that person, EARN your love.  Make sure that their love is as pure, deep and honest as yours is.  I wish that there was some way that I could accompany you through every day of your life to "protect you" from harm.  Hurt.  Sorrow.  A way for me to stand vigil over your tender, fragile heart.  Alas, I cannot and you wouldn't be able to live a full life, if I did so. Knowing that I'll have to "turn you loose" into this cold hard world sooner than I'd like, breaks my heart.

But, you've got a strength in you, I've never had.  

You possess a fire that burns deep within your soul.  An inner core that keeps you level, grounded and whole.  I wish nothing more than for THIS gift to continue on in your daily life.  Stand up for what you know is right.  Never back down from a fight, when it's the RIGHT FIGHT!  Never stop standing up for those without a voice or for someone being bullied.  I'm often humbled by your internal fortitude and your ability to see the beauty and value in all things and your willingness to stand up for what you believe in.   Your strength is overwhelming to me at times!  I find that I'm learning FROM you, more than I could ever TEACH you.   Yours is a very old soul and I cherish the time I've gotten to be in your presence.  Stand tall and be proud of yourself!  But, know that I'm proud of you, too.

Your wisdom is self evident in every aspect of your life.  Your quiet thoughtfulness reminds me that, at times, silence IS GOLDEN!  Your shy way is both disarming and charming.  Knowing when to "shut up" and "walk away" is a gift that most adults don't have, let alone a thirteen year old!  I know that you'll do well as you grow and mature into the "who" you're going to be.  Don't let the world tell you that being 'quiet and shy' is a bad thing.  Don't ever stop being that sweet, quiet girl who you are today.
But, let's not "leave the nest" too soon.  I still have a few things I'd like to teach you.  Show you.  Instill into you.  I want you to know how much you're loved.  I would like you to know that this home will be YOUR home, for the rest of your life.  I want you to feel so profoundly safe here, that you never question whether or not to share a secret with me, or open your "closet" and let those skeletons fly.  I want you to realize. . . .THIS IS YOUR SOFT PLACE TO FALL!  I will never expect perfection out of you.  I will never punish you for "failing" when you've tried something new and it just "wasn't quite your thing".  I want you to know that, although, I might WANT to be with you every moment, I cannot.  I want you to know that you're going to be okay without me.  You're going to be MORE OKAY WITHOUT ME than I'll ever be without you!  You are, in fact, a large part of my heart --  outside of my body. . . .outside walking around, looking beautiful and inquisitive and fresh and exuberant; but a part of my heart, no less.  I need you to know that I'm doing my best.  Being your Mommy hasn't always been easy.  Life does not, in fact, come with an instruction booklet and I've made thousands of mistakes with you.  There have been times that I've been too hard on you.  Times when I was "too busy" to listen to you properly.  Please forgive me for failing you.  Please forgive my short comings.  My moments of exhaustion and frustration that have taken a toll on you.  Please forgive me for not hearing your sweet, timid voice amidst all the turmoil of the world and for not always being there for you when you needed me.  Please know that I've loved you since before I was even pregnant with you and that I dreamed of you before you born.  You were wanted and loved and cherished as a huge part of my life, before you WERE a huge part of my life.

So, we've embarked on the "last leg" of our journey towards adulthood.  We've started off for the "beginning of the end", as they say. . . . . but I hope that even as you walk your path towards being an adult, you realize that no matter what. . . . . .I'll always be your Mommy and I'll cherish the moments we've spent together -----  learning how to be a better Mommy and a better person.  A better human being.  If nothing else 'sticks with you', I want you to know this. . . . . .YOU. ARE. LOVED!!!!

As "my baby", I'm clinging to you more than is probably necessary (okay. . .probably more than is healthy!!) but know that it's out of a genuine spot inside my spirit that doesn't want to 'stop being your Mommy'.  I don't want to stop being the one that you look to for advice, for comfort, for support.  I don't want to let go of your sweet, tiny hand.  So, it's with much trepidation, fear, pride, honor, anxiety, humbleness, tenderness, strength and love that I will, some day, release you into this world.  To watch you become truly, completely, deeply, strongly. . . . .YOU!


Take a deep breath. . . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!  

What My Weight Loss Has REALLY Taught Me. . . . .People SUCK!!!

I know, I know, it's been a really long time since I've posted anything.  Shame on me.  Really.  Truly.  I feel ashamed.  It isn't that I haven't had shit happen to me that was worth writing about; quite the contrary.  My entire life has changed.  Why, you may ask, has my entire life changed?  Because I've lost 85 lbs.  Yes, you read that right EIGHTY FIVE FUCKING POUNDS!!  Yay, right?  Rah-rah "Perfect Housewife"!  Good for me!  Yeah, yeah. . .blah, blah, fucking blah!

Is it an accomplishment?  Hell yes, it's an accomplishment.  Was it hard?  You bet your life it was hard.  Am I proud of myself?  Ummmm. . . .sometimes.  And sometimes, I feel lost.  I feel disappointed with people.  I feel scared.  Scared of gaining the weight back.  Scared of not losing anymore.  Scared of who I am now.  Scared of who I want to be now.   And, quite honestly, I'm fascinated by the differences in OTHER people, more than differences in myself.

For example, when I was "fat", (honestly, I was medically OBESE, yes that God forsaken UGLY, UGLY, HORRIBLE WORD that we all HATE and are terrified of. . .I was THAT word) I was invisible.  People didn't hold the door open for me.  People didn't ask me how I was when I walked into a store;  a grocery store, a big box store and certainly NOT a clothing store.  No, I got ignored.  Or worse, I got stared at.  As in, "Why in the world is SHE here?  She can't fit into ANYTHING we carry here?  Maybe she's buying a gift." type of stared at.  God forbid, when I went to a buffet type of restaurant.  I could almost hear the owner sighing and see the employees cringing.  "Oh boy, here comes a big one!" they'd think or worse, say, to each other as I walked by.  The funny thing is, when you're obese you WANT to be invisible.  You WANT to be the "un-seen".  You WANT to pretend that you're NOT where ever you ARE.  You are the girl who "holds everyone's purse" while they're trying on clothes that you couldn't possibly DREAM of fitting into.  And you're "perfectly okay" with that, right?  You're just as happy to sit there and comment on each and every "cute outfit" that ALL of your friends try on, right?  And you certainly don't want to go to the "fat lady store" (my mother's words there. . .she was always heavy and that's where she bought HER clothes).  I'd rather run over my own tongue with a bulldozer than go to the "fat lady story" with my "skinny friends'.  Yeah, being invisible is the BEST outcome an obese person could hope for, right?

Wrong!!!!

News flash folks. . .fat people have feelings, too.  I'd have loved for someone to open a door for me.  I'd have loved to be seen.  But, seen as a whole, beautiful, smart, dynamic, purposeful, intentional, loving, DESERVING person. . .not "a fat person".  I would have loved to feel welcomed into any clothing store . . . .other than the "fat lady store".  But, I wasn't.  I was invisible.  I was hurt.  I was lonely.  I was isolated.  I was ignored.  I was belittled.  I was treated like, not only a second class citizen, but worse, I was treated like a monster.  An anomaly.  A freak.  I was told by countless folks, unsolicited mind you, how I could "shed a few pounds" or how "I had such a pretty face".  The rest of that sentence was always an unspoken, "now if you could just do something about the REST of you", you know MY ENTIRE FUCKING BODY!!  People who were (allegedly) my friends would tell me things like, "Now, I don't think you're fat, but I know that you do, so why don't you try this new supplement?"  Really?  What. The. Fuck?  Is there a pill that I could give you to cure your bitchiness?  NO?  Wow. . .I should look into formulating that shit!  Wait. . .sorry, I got off track there.  At any rate, when you're fat, overweight, obese, you pick your word, you are treated badly.  At best, "differently".

So, what do I do?  I lose a shit load of weight.  I mean, I'm talking, like I've lost a "ten year old's entire body" amount of weight.  What do I expect?  I expect for folks to treat me differently.  After all, I AM different.  I realize that.  I'm not stupid.  But, I think, perhaps, I WAS naive.  See, it's been a "minute" since I've been thin(ner).  I was still holding on to that "baby weight" from back in the day.  Okay, okay, my babies are sixteen and (nearly) thirteen, but still. . .it WAS BABY WEIGHT Y'ALL!!!  Anyway, I haven't been this small since I was in my twenties.  I'm proud to say that I just celebrated my forty second birthday.  So, yeah. . .it's been a MINUTE!  However, I wasn't prepared for what actually happened to me.

Do folks open the door for me now?  Sure.  Most of them.  ALL men.  SOME women.  Hm?  Okay, I'll notice that and let it go, right?  Do folks greet me in the stores now?  Yes.  ALL men.  SOME women.  Okay. . . . .Do people stare at me when I eat now?  Ummm. . . .sometimes.  But it FEELS different now.  It feels less like judgement and somewhat more like, "Huh?  What DOES she eat?"  Subtle difference, but different it is.  Do I get attention paid to me when I enter a clothing store now?  You bet.  NOW, they want my money.  NOW, they can't wait to "dress me", shove shit on me and hope and pray that I buy their crap.  What?  A fat girl's money doesn't spend right for you or something?

Do my female friends treat me differently?  Ummm. . ..YEAH!  (Not all of you. . .those of you who know who you are, know who you are.  Wink, wink.  And, YES, I'm thankful for YOU!)  But, overall, EVERYONE treats me differently.  Not in a GOOD way, like I thought.  Like I had hoped.  Like I had planned on.  Do males treat me differently?  Can I get a huge, resounding, FUCK YES?!?!?  I'm so annoyed by this, I can't begin to describe it to you.  Men, that I've known for YEARS, YEARS AND YEARS in some cases, who didn't give me the time of day two years ago, are now falling all over themselves trying to get into my pants?  EXCUSE ME???  Did I suddenly lose my wedding vows and ring during my weight loss?  NO!  Did I suddenly become a whore, because I'm thinner?  NO!  Why on EARTH, do you think it's okay to ask me to sleep with you?  Are you kidding me, right now?  NO!!  I wish that I were!  It's no joke.  It's the truth.

Now, don't get me wrong, on some levels and with some folks, it's flattering and not "over the top" uncomfortable, that they find me attractive.  I mean, after all, isn't that WHY we all want to look our best?  Don't we WANT people to find us attractive?  Beautiful?  "HOT"?  I say, we do and for everyone who says "No, we don't!", don't fool yourself.  You, too, want to be found attractive.  It's our cultural "default setting".  I, too, have that default setting.  Although, it was long buried under all that FAT!  I, too, want to be seen as beautiful, desirable, attractive, fit, pretty and ATTRACTIVE.  (Which, by definition means. . .you'll ATTRACT people, attention, etc.)  So, yes, I see the irony there.  I see that I "got what I wanted".

But, I also lost friends.  I've also upset the delicate balance of my "universe".  I am no longer the designated "purse holder", token fat friend, girl with the "pretty face" who HAS to be funny and make jokes at her own expense, just to break the "fat tension" in the room!  I'm no longer the "trust worthy" friend who you can leave "your man" alone in a room with.  (Now THIS ONE really upsets me, because YES. I. AM!!  I would NEVER touch YOUR man, or anyone else's man!!)  I'm no longer the friend who you can complain about your weight to.  (Huh?)  I'm no longer the friend that you can invite over for dinner, because what I eat is "too weird, too low fat, too low calorie" to mess with.  I no longer remember what it feels like to BE fat, so I certainly can't commiserate with you about being overweight.  (Are you joking me, right now?)  And, I certainly must not have any more problems, because I'm thin now.  (Shut the front door.  Are you crazy?)

So. . .what did I learn about myself, the world and people in general over my weight loss journey?  I know that I'm not supposed to say this and that's it's not ONE HUNDRED PERCENT TRUE, but really. . . .I learned that PEOPLE SUCK!  I learned that, no matter what I weigh or don't weigh, people will find some reason to dislike, distrust, disrespect and distance themselves from me; from each other; from love.  Have I change because I lost weight?  Of course.  ON THE OUTSIDE!  But, my insides are the same.  I'm still sweet.  I'm still funny.  I'm still self deprecating.  I'm still insecure.  I'm still genuine.  I'm still honest.  I'm still YOUR FRIEND!  I'm still trustworthy.  I'm.  Still.  Me!!!  So, shame on YOU, too.  Shame on you for looking at fat people and thinking they're LESS worthy of love than you.  Shame on you for looking at a thin person and thinking they're LESS worthy of trust or kindess than you.  Until you've walked in my obese shoes, you won't know what THAT feels like.  Until, I walked in my "average weight" shoes, as a married woman in her forties, for the first time, I didn't know what THAT felt like.  Some days. . . .I wish that I could just walk.  Just walk my path, with my head held high and not worry, think or care what everyone else was thinking about me.  Until then. . . .


Take a deep breath. . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!

Enough Already. . . . . . .

Okay, here it is. . . .I'm done.  Aren't you done?  I mean, really?  Life is hard.  The world is ugly.  Shit happens.  All. Of. The. Time!!!  Here's what I'm proposing. . . .let's just STOP.  Stop preaching to each other.  Stop pretending that we know "so much more" than our fellow (wo)man.  I'm challenging each of you to just STOP!!!!

Let's start "Make May Memorable"!!!  Let's stop all of the bullshit on Facebook.  Let's stop posting premade pictures of people we don't know and never will know.  Let's stop quoting "famous" people who aren't any more brilliant than we are.  Quote yourself.  Quote your kids.  Quote the lady at the grocery store checkout.  I don't really care.  Just so long as either you said it or heard it from a living person with your own ears.  NO. . .the TV doesn't count!!!  Let's get back to some sense of reality here people.  Let's stop propagating insanity and stupidity and hatred.

When did we decide to start equating insanity and stupidity with "celebrity"?  And while I'm at it, who the fuck decided that celebrity was the most important thing?  You ask a fifth grader what they want to be when they grow up and they say "famous".  WHAT?  What happened to a nurse or a fireman?  We happened, people.

We need to stop with all the "preaching" bullshit, too.  Last time I checked, I am the way I am because of what my life has been.  I believe what I believe because of what I've seen, felt, tasted, learned and experienced.  Just. Like. You!  Stop.  Stop trying to convince me that I"m wrong and that you, in your INFINITE  wisdom, know everything!  I'm forty one years old.  I highly doubt that you're going to convince me to "change my religion" at this point in time in my life.  And, furthermore, I don't want you to change me.  And, I promise, to not try and change you!!!  Now, I welcome advice. . .when I ask for it.  I welcome healthy debate and conversation. . . .when it's face to face and can be done in love.  What I'm over.  . . .what I simply can not stand anymore is the internet being a way to slap someone else across the face from the comfort of your desk chair.  Just stop.

Starting in May, post pictures that YOU took.  Post sayings of things that YOU thought.  Tell me what your babies are doing today.  Tell me that you're pregnant.  Tell me that your flowers are finally blooming in the back yard or, if you're like me, that you killed yet another set of perfectly good flowers.  Tell me that you went to the dentist and it hurt.  Tell me ANYTHING that's actually happened or is happening to YOU and YOURS!  Take back our humanity, people!!!  Stop preaching unless your a preacher.  Stop acting as if you're an "analytical accountant" and "know how to fix the economy" when you're really a school teacher.  Stop pretending you KNOW the intention of the "White House Administration" unless you're sitting in that oval office and are privy to those closed door meetings.  Be yourself.  Wear it proudly.  I'm a stay at home mom.  I don't pretend to know how to juggle.  Why should you pretend to know how to fix everything?  I accept you for who you are.  Why can't you?  I don't want or need to go to my "social media" sites to get "schooled".  Just stop!!!  If I wanted to hear about all the fucked up bullshit that's happening the world, I would turn on the frickin' news!!! 

Bad things happen.  We can either let it tear us apart or rise above it  ---  TOGETHER.  I'm tired of hearing about how we're a nation divided.  WE'RE DIVIDING OURSELVES!!!!!  We're letting "them" win.  Whoever "they" are.  Don't let "them" convince you that we're "separate".  Don't let them convince you that left and right are so opposite that the two will never meet.  The last time I checked I really LIKE having two hands.  There are things that I simply could not do without BOTH OF THEM!!!  So, in May 2013, I beg you. . . .Stop.  Stop posting things, sayings, pictures, retweets, whatever that are divisive.  Stop tearing each other down.  Just stop.

I hope that this takes root.  Pass this along to your friends and family.  Let them know that you want to be part of the solution not part of the problem.  Tell them that you care MORE about what's ACTUALLY happening in their lives than what's happening in the Kardashian's lives!  Show them that you want to love them, share with them, be a part of their ACTUAL lives.  Ask them to post their most beautiful, inspiring thoughts and images.  Let's rebuild the tapestry of REALITY on Facebook and Twitter.  Let's remember that each and every person who's picture we see there really is, in fact, a person.  They have feelings, beliefs, trials, struggles, successes and miracles that happen to them every day.  I want to know that.  I want to see that.  I want to FEEL that.  I'm tired of stock photos and regurgitated quotes.  I want to know YOU.  I want you to know ME.  Be real or be quiet. . . . . .

Take a deep breath. . . . . .it's just another day in Perfect!!!!!!!