Joyous Holidays

Joy fills the air and laughter fills your ears. Smiles on people’s faces and you can’t help but feel the heart soften.
Ah yes, it softens. Yes the holidays once again are near. With that brings the reminders why I just really do not like the holidays…
I just left my young sons room where he lay in his bed just staring at the wall as he rested his head on his flannel covered pillow. I asked what was wrong, he said nothing. I told him goodnight, I loved him and that is when he turned to me. In a voice that you could tell mustered all the courage he had, he asked, “Mom, do you know where dad is yet?’
I stopped. Looked into his eyes and saw the tears he was fighting back and I walked over to him. I sat on the bed, wrapping my arm across him tightly. I breathed in deeply, here, my son needed an answer and I wish I could have given him the one he sought. Instead, with heavy disappointment, yet with all the tenderness a mother’s heart can carry I answered ‘No baby, but as soon as I do, I will let you know.”
The room grew still. The air grew thick with sorrow and longing. The pain weighing so heavily it’s as if gravity tripled in that very moment. I stroked my son’s hair gently and did not move from that spot.

Watching the tears of abandonment, of loneliness, form in my baby’s eyes as he longed for someone who would not come. As he ached for someone who would never again hold him. I tried to soothe his hurt. I tried to mend the tare in his heart. I tried to patch the hole that gapped with loss, but I could not. There are some things even all the love in a mother’s heart cannot heal. There are some things all a mother’s magical kisses cannot soothe. This is one of those.

Yes, it’s the holidays.
I remember why I hate the holidays.

You judge me for looking normal. Really? Is that what you see?

You wear the marks of cutting to bring the pain to the surface. I wear the smile of always trying to hide the myriad of abuse, the belittling, the shame.

You bare you tattoos as a mark to let the world know what you think. I bare lack of memory for trying so hard to forget what all the world knew.

You display your piercings to proudly announce your break from society’s norms. I display simplicity to proudly announce I survived them.

You boldly claim your sexuality. I unleash mine in safety still remembering the repreaves when I didn’t.

You wear whatever you want and encourage people to look. I try to blend in to encourage anyone not to notice.

You say I am normal. Fine, a title I’ll graciously accept and gladly wear as honor. But when you look in the mirror and are content in who you see. Remember Normal can still barely glance at its own reflection, still scared to remember what it saw.

Silent

Wrap me up, tightly, in something confined.

Don't look at me, keep your gaze far from mine.

Love me I scream

Love me I beg

I plea

I cry

You never see it...nor do I.

The tears that have all but dried

But today

Today.

One single tear strolled down my cheek

One single, wet lone tear that gave redicence my heart is mending.

My heart is slowly stitching together.

My heart can feel deeply.

But....

But with that terror I know then it can break deeply.

Pain and sadness are endured. I do not know if that I was ready for.
I now feel vulnerable.
Open
Breakable
Easy to read and easy to rip into two

Think I am beautiful
I want you to think I am lovelier then any others you lay eyes on.
But how can you? How can you when I am not perfect.
I am flawed.
My body holds scars
Imperfections
It’s not perfect. It never will be. How can you?

My cold exterior breaking.
Melting.
The walls falling
Crumbling

Damn

Feeling the insecurities so readily opened that I have not had to feel.
Feel as though I cannot compare.
Feel as though I will never be beautiful enough
Feel as though Love can never truly hold me.

I want to feel it, I want to feel what you say flow through me and cover me whole and I do.
For moments I truly do.
But alone, I cannot hold it.
Alone I cannot wrap my head around…
You love me.
Me?
You love….
Me?
You love me.

I am scared. I am terrified.
I cannot be broken.
I cannot fall.
Trying not to close off and push you away, but to open and let you in.
And I am
I am open
Vulnerable
You are there...
You have pushed past the gates and are now at the walls, though there are fallible gaps. There are holes so that all you have to do is reach a little further and you can crumble them all.
Crumble them
Reach for me
Draw me in
Crumble them…
And then
Then…
Then where will I be?
Then where will we be?
exposed

Love me I scream
Love me I beg
I plea.
Love…
Love me…
Lov…
How can you? I am not perfect. I am broken. I am scared and I am flawed.

Don't look past these eyes

Sitting, shivering, awakened, you ask what was the dream...


Please don't look past these eyes


Please don't make me feel


I'm scared to let go


Scared to show


Scared to know that pain is still real





You know, as the minutes have moved on. As the hours have turned into days. As the days have turned into months. As the months have become years, I still feel it. Not so often now. Hardly ever really, but it is there. It seems to always be there. Right below the surface. Never showing until I am still enough, quite enough to feel it stir. Then it rises.


Love me. Just Love me.





My God, after all these years the pain of rape still rises to the surface in quite moments. The dreams still haunt me. The blank moments of my youth I still cannot recall. The torment of being told how ugly you are and your body is the only worth. I still cannot look in the mirror without torture and disgust.





There are days I feel so alive. So valued. So in control of my life. Then my eyes close and my memories remind me I am broken. I awake. Sit. Stare. Try and remember I have come so far. I have lived through it. I am still here. Still strong. My heart still beats with passion. I convince myself again I am not scared. It has had no effect on me. I am not damaged. No one knows, so I can still hide. It was so long ago.



I am reminded though. Every time I cannot look at my own reflection. Every time I am told I am pretty and I shutter. I am reminded.





The dreams remember being pushed face first into the pillow, raping in an area where he would leave the hymen intact. Even now, I still cannot say it.





The dreams remember watching my brothers feet under the bed as he stood so far away not knowing what was happening. He stood in the partially opened doorway playing 'Judy'. He was told to watch for enemies, which were parents, while behind the cover of the high bed, the older boy slipped his tongue between my thighs. That is all my dreams show, just the distance of his feet and the tears trickling down my face... quietly, so my brother wouldn't be harmed.





The dreams recall the classmate who drove friends and I home from school;who one day took me home alone, yet behind an empty white church laid blood trailing down legs. Every cry of 'no', every desperate shove away from his hips were answered with another brutal thrust. After being dropped home as if nothing happened, the evidence was quickly cleaned, clothes buried beneath the kitchen garbage and the memory captured as a photo shoot happened that evening. Dad's and family cannot be disappointed.





The dreams vividly tell of limbs being frozen. The terror of a mind knowing what is getting ready to happen as the pants are pulled away. The drugs that were slipped in your drink give him access to it all without any retaliation. The horror in flashes as you slip in and out of consciousness and back into a black abyss.





The dreams reminisce of marriage, being scolded and verbally broken every time I let go and enjoyed making love. Climaxes brought what seemed like hours of his mouth moving with noise flying at me.





I have come far. I have lived through it and to look at me you would never know. Everything is open yet those are the secrets I hide. I have learned to sleep nude without the fear of what would happen when I drifted to sleep. I have learned to speak up for myself and to defend if necessary.


If you knew would you still love me? If you knew would you still accept me? I have never been willing to take that chance. You would probably think I am broken. I am used. Would you still want me? Why, when you could have something new? Something untainted.



So I will hide it. I will keep it where only my dreams recall the truth. That is my past. I am not her any longer. I am strong. I am beautiful. I am confident. I love and can be loved. The past does not define who I am, it only has helped to make me. I want you to know who I am today.



So, please don't look past these eyes
Please don't make me feel
I'm scared to let go
Scared to show
Scared to know that pain is still real.

I Love you

As I busy throughout the house, body busy with household tasks, my thoughts keep coming back to you. You. They seem to always come back to you.

I would say I lusted for you as I have in the past I am sure. I would say it was because there are so many things you have introduced me to that are new, but then I have done new things with people lots of times before. No, I have to say I am in love with you. Madly, taken back and swept into you. Yes, that funny word love.

Love. Now there is a word. I actually wouldn’t say love is funny more like a hysterical nightmare. How so? Think of all the silly things you do in the name of love. Think of all the risks involved in loving. Yes…Love.

And so I am here, in a hysterical nightmare. I tell you the truth; there is no place I would rather be. Well, maybe on a yacht sipping a sangria in the middle of the pacific, but then my dreams would still be of you, so rather be here. In love. In your intoxicating thought.

There are days when I think of the very smell of your cologne. There are moments when I think of the touch of your skin. I think most of the time though of how you are. Some of those random silly thoughts are of listening to your quiet click at the computer as I fold the laundry. Playing together as dinner is being prepared, taking road trips with you, even to the local park. My thoughts are of just being with you in all capacities.

What an odd hysteric it is to want to be with you in such trivial, meaningless moments. This is quite a new venture for me. Okay, not a new thought by any means as I have dreamed of what I would like to do with someone were I to ever spend such time with them. It is new in the sense that I have not thought these things of another person in years. I have wondered on several brief occasions of others, but quickly dismissed the idea. As the thought of the sound of their breathing in another room or even lying next to me for any period of time annoyed me. Any slight bit of their irritation would infuriate me and I would have sent them out the door quickly with bags sweetly following in mid air.

When I thought of you though, what it would be like to spend a great deal of time together, I quickly shuddered. I froze. I hastily changed my thought. Why? Why such an unusual reaction?
It was because I relaxed. It was because I enjoyed the thoughts. It was because as I thought of you being irritated with something, my mind started to think of ways to help and solutions to fix it. It was because as I thought of you sitting in another room doing something else I was delighted with the thought of you just being there. It was because when I tried to think of things that would possibly annoy me with you I wanted to compromise. I wanted to work through difficulties. It was because when I thought of you I thought in terms of longevity. It was because when I thought of you, I wanted to be yours. Those thoughts frightened me to my very core.
To know that I wanted more from you and not knowing what you felt in return. Not knowing if somewhere in your thoughts, ‘longevity’ had crossed your mind.

Wondering if you had ever thought of wanting to roll over every morning you would have and kiss my lips. Pondering if you had ever wanted to spend all your nights with the sound of my heartbeat next to yours. Contemplating if you had ever thought of going through life’s joys and hardships with me by your side. I am Entranced in the thought if you had ever, ever, ever considered if you would have wanted me as…a wife. I know a wife.

Now you see the nightmare. How could I have even thought this? My intellect tells me this has been too quick. That people just do not know those kinds of answers so readily. That time must be had to make such a bold statement as that. That I am much to grounded to think this sort of nonsense. Then my heart answers I have had years to think of what I would want. I have had ages to know what I am looking for. My mind checks its list and then stands perplexed as you fit. You. You this man who came from out of the blue. You. You, who came to me at the height of contentment with being on my own and you fit my criteria I put forth. You fit what I have made lists of. You fit what I have thought so many nights upon. You fit what I have rationalized in my mind year after year.

I am reminded of Shakespeare’s ‘As you like it’:
“No sooner met but they looked; No sooner looked but they loved; No sooner loved but they sighed; No sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason; No sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy.”

I know the reason as do I know the remedy. The reason is I love you. The remedy is to tell you I do.

Through your eyes

There are friends in your life to fill all capacities. Some fill most, others just a few. They bring you joy and pain. Some you know for just a season, others for a lifetime.

I have been very blessed to have people in my life that have helped me along the way. Some of these people have only been there with a kind word and smile. Others, with love and compassion. They all have meant a great deal to me. Whether they were there for a month or there for years, they all have a special place in my heart.

Though I think of each one at some time or another and there are many who should have a spot on this page with an ode just to them, I can only write what I am thinking at the moment.
There are two that at this stage of my life have influenced me in more ways than they know. So it is to these two friends that I pay tribute. Thank you for your strength, your courage, and your creativity. I have leaned on your shoulders, sometimes known, sometimes unknown and I am incredibly grateful for having you two in my life.
This is for you.

Through your eyes

You say I’m beautiful
You say that I’m kind
You think I am wonderful, you love my determination and mind

You say I am creative
You say that I’m strong
You think I can do anything; there is no where I don’t belong

There are days though when I am none of those things
There are days when all of that seems like a lie
Those are the days that you give me wings
Those are the days I live through your eyes.

Enchantment

A new development in the saga of a divorcee'. These days everything burns a little brighter. The birds sing a little louder. The wind blows a little warmer.

This happened a little differently. This took me by surprise. This snuck up behind me, grabbed me from the back (nibbled my neck first) and held me in its embrace. I believe I am enchanted. Okay I would say LOVE, but goodness that is a strong word. I have not uttered the word 'Love' in a very long time. I would say years. Well, not to a man. I will not say it now. I don't love, I am to feisty and fierce for that nonsense. So I will not. I will say enchanted. Yes, he enchants me.

He makes my heart melt. Feeling things I have for so long not felt. I have felt intense lust and infatuation. I have felt pain. I have felt happiness, joy, and disdain.

But this man elicits something so much more than superficial feelings. He elicits thoughtful emotions. He elicits my mind to wonder. He elicits me to curiosity.

I want to know how he thinks. How he likes his eggs cooked. I wonder what he will be like 10 years from now. I wonder how he brushes his teeth. I wonder what his days are like.

Here is where it gets even more aloof...I think of when he is sick, bringing him soup and wiping his fevered brow. I think of rubbing his feet when they are tired and aching. I think of helping him decide a tough decision. I think of holding his hand through the pouring rain. I think of helping him pick up a fallen glass. I think of if he should ever fall terminally ill, standing by his side and caring for him as best I am able. I think of folding his laundry and putting it away neatly in a drawer. I think of dinners at the table. I think of silly things I can do to turn his head. I think of kinky things to do to entice his desires. I think of the vixen to play just for him. I think of simply walking by his side. Of course I would not tell him these things. I can't believe I think them myself.

When I think of him all the different parts of who I am, all want to have equal say. The vixen, the coy, the shy, the funny, the goofy, the silly, the nerd, the clever, the passionate, the procrastinate, the doer, the actor, the mother, the lover, they all are there for him to see. All the different sides, I hide, I only show parts of to different people, but to him...the whole.

When I think of him I smile. My eyes glow, my heart warms. My toes even warm. My chest swells a mile and he matters. I care what he thinks. Me...I care what he thinks. Me, who is perfectly content in her own world, with her own things, with her own finances, with her own hobbies, with her own ways. Me, I want him to be a part of my world and I a part of his.

I do not know how it happened. I do not know when it occurred, but me, me, I want to enchant this man. I want to enchant this incredible man.

Me, the runner, the never love you. Me, the to hell if I will ever cook you dinner, you can do it yourself. Me, the leave me alone if your sick and call your mother. Me, the I don't care what your thinking and I definitely don't want to hear your feelings. Me, the I can do it all on my own and I need no one. That me. That tough, push them all back me...wants him more than I care to admit. That me wants to hold him, to care for him, to enchant him for as long as he has breath. That me, has given in to the sweet , fragile, docile, yet strong and powerful woman who hides behind all the masks; That terrified of enchantment me , wants to cast a spell on him so completely that no other can break it.

That me...

That well...That I...

I am completely taken aback by this man. This wonderful, amazing man, and I have discovered that I believe he enchants me...

don't make me say it...

resist, resist...

I refuse...

I give in...that me...

that I...

I love Him.

I love you.

Alright blog now it is up to you to keep my secret, because I will never tell! I have to many things to do than to do that!

Didn't see that one coming did you bloggers. Oh my so now what to write about...Hmmm...I could write about the escapades between he and I. That could give you all a run for your money. I think there was even Saran Wrap involved!

A treasure

Hold me till the pain subsides...

not to close, I am still healing.

Love me for always...

not to much, I am still soaring.

Want me fervently...

not to much, there will be no apprehending.

Touch me with tenderness...

not to close, there will be no yielding

Be my friend ...

and I will treasure you always

Once again I am returned. Returned here to this state of unrest. Returned here to the tears. He is out. He has been set free. Which has condemned me to my prison. My place of torment.

To confound this, my lawyer has royally screwed me. If he could mess up even more he would be New trainee at Burger King. He didn't give me my order. I didn't get it how I wanted. The whole thing is terribly wrong. He has sentenced my children to visitations with that man.
Would he leave his children with a known drug user?
Would he leave his children with a known convict?
No.
So why must he subject me to this torture.
It was supposed to be in the divorce decree NO VISITATIONS!
How did the Bastard screw up so horribly?

I have been through this lawyer hitting on me
Demeaning me
Yanking me around
Taking his dear sweet time
Losing my paperwork repeatedly.
And yet the lawyer still tells me 'Don't worry Hun everything will be alright'.

Has he been the one to try and put this family back together again from scratch?
I doubt it.
The Bastard!

I meet with the Bastard tomorrow. He used to be my lawyer whom I relied. Now he is just a bastard. He practically has represented the misfit and has left my 2 boys to pay the price.

Do not corner a Momma Lion protecting her cubs my dear. You may just get more than you could have ever bargained for!

I have nothing to offer you, but the heart that beats within.

I have nothing to offer you, but the thoughts of my soul.

I have nothing to offer you, but my kisses and my touch.

I have nothing to offer you, but a place to rest and a shoulder to cry.

I have nothing to offer you, but a smile to warm the day.

I have nothing to offer...but me.

Am I enough?

Nothing else matters

What is it like to be a single mother? What is it like to be a son without a father?

Sitting in the midst of the night. The dishwasher running, the dryer humming. Tired from the long day of work, making dinner, doing dishes, cleaning the house or at least trying. Yet you find the strength to hold your son with his head pressed tightly to your chest.

You wrap your arms around him as securely as you can and rock him while he presses against you. His tears catching upon your shirt. The tears form the puddle of the river his heart is crying. Yet you can do nothing to mend the hole. You can do nothing to stop the hurt that is pulsing throughout him. All you can do is sit, stroke his hair, pat his back, and hold him tightly to your bosom.

You can do nothing but kiss his cheeks, his forehead and whisper how much you love him. You can do nothing while he longs for a father's touch.

These are the moments when your heart breaks. When your heart aches with every beat of his crying agony. This is the moment when nothing else matters.
This is the moment when friends, work, loves, when none of it matters.

This is the moment when you realize that you are all he has.

This is the moment you realize that everything you do is for him.

This is the moment when you realize that you have to give it all you have to make a way for him.

This is the moment when you realize you have to dig in even further and pull out every bit of determination, strength, endurance, courage, and will that you have and persevere on.
This is the moment when you realize you can' t look at what you don't have but grab a hold of what you do and make it better.

This is the moment where you realize that your petty wants for love, for affection, for a mate are so minor in the face of what you have to do.

In the face of what lies before you.

In the face of what you have rocking, steadily crying in your hands.

This is the moment

where you are

mom.

Standing in line, license in had. People around me. No one talks to me. No one smiles. There faces all vary in emotion. Some have hard lines of defiance, others sparkles and stars emit from there eyes whole others have the look of defeat. What's mine? The look of shame.Feeling lowly eyes diverted from every ones. I try to maintain composure but it simply comes across as cold. I'm not cold, just trying to preserve the last bit of dignity that remains.I hand the lady behind the thick glass my license. She writes my information upon a log. Is it the lamb's book of life or the devils book of advocates? To me the book of despair. The book of humiliation. The book of a chapter that should never have been written. Some epic novel that doesn't seem like it's my life but someone else’s.I sit, wiping the chair first. As if this will magically cleanse the degradation that has sat there before me. I wait. Head swirling. Unable to hold to any thought. Unable to grasp the emotion. There's none. My head erect, shoulders squared, back straight as I sit. Legs crossed, right over left, hands folded precise and direct. Nose tilted slightly up. Am I haughty? Prideful? No none of these things. None at all. I've been humbled through it all. But the actress in me covers for my shortcomings and falls. The actress in me...refuses to convey to this audience my chagrin. It refuses to convey to this audience the self-disgust, the self-reproof that is harbored behind its opaque window. Look in it invites and see the colors of honor. The colors of unreproach. But you will not find the tears. You will not find the loathing. You will not find the knees that are bent by the bedside holding on to the folds of a comforter, face buried in the side of the bed begging for the pain to stop unable to stand from the shock that has been delivered.You will not find the mouth covered by the hands as I sit in the restroom, the furthest place to be isolated, tears silently dripping upon the floor. Quiet so no one hears the heartache that has ripped me in to pieces.
What you will find is the strength, the determination and the unspeakable joy that can never be taken. What you will find is a zest for life and for human kind. What you will find is a part of love that never died. That will never wither. What you will find is honesty and respect. What you will find...is my character. Something that can never be destroyed.

corseted in red

bound by black

tighten the bindings behind my back

smooth and slow

thoughtful and distinct

plotted from pure carnal instinct

His thoughts dip me as if a dance

teasing my senses, this unknown man

Opening the locks

revealing the keys

to the hidden chambers

kept from all to see

Release the passion

the lust

the wiles

Bounded

blind

but unafraid

life's puppet to this charade

Walking through life

eyes closed tight

wearing the mask

of an emotionless plight

but touch me

hold me

and you will feel

the rushing of thoughts which are concealed

So tighten them tight

Bind them true

teach me to trust

open that part kept abstruse

No congratulations, but then again...None is needed.

Have you ever done something that felt so right, that felt so exhilarating only to have the very rug ripped from you?

Have you ever experienced an accomplishment and been so elated just to have it dashed?

If you have, I understand that emotion. That emotion that is so conflicting. The emotion guilt, elation, anger, happiness, confusion all rolled into one discombobulated mess.

This weekend our cast went to the ACT theater competition. We performed our play all I really needed to know I learned in Kindergarten. We performed through several blows against us that threatened to shake our focus.

We had a cast member to have her mother die, sending her to Oregon for a funeral and unable to compete.

A director who filled in for the missing cast member, memorizing the lines in one week and having one rehearsal with us, which happened to be the night before we left for the competition.

Once there we had a piano with a broken sustaining pedal that they finally found someone to come in and fix it.

Once it was fixed the piano crashed over.

We had the complete lack of sleep we all were working off of.

Take all this into consideration and it should have been a formula for disaster.

It indeed was not.

This group, this talented group rose to and above the occasion. We were even more determined to show that we belonged there. That we were there to win. That we...through it all...were going to let the playfulness and love for acting show through and infect each member of that audience.

We were there to give our craft the justice it deserved. The recognition that it merited.

And so we did. And so it was noted. We won best director. Best actor. Best cast ensemble. And we won Best in Show.

In addition we won the right to represent our state at the regional competition. What a fantastic honor.

All that and it brings me to home.

I arrive to my mom's to pick up my son. Is there a congratulations? No. Is there great job? no. Is there any appraisal or recognition? No. What was put forth was "and what's this going to get you? You have a child, a job your in training for, school...what purpose does this serve?"

What purpose does this serve? My children are taken care of. They are loved. They are cherished. I do my job and I do it well. I am in school and succeed at that too. Where did it say that when you have children you lose everything.

For as long as I can remember the arts was a waste of time. I felt silly for even sometimes wishing I could be an actor, or a writer, or that I dreamed of dancing when I was little. It was completely silly. So of course as an adult there would be no way that I would dare put forth from my lips...'you know...I enjoy acting. I enjoy writing.' as these are considered silly, frivolous talents. None of them warranting a second thought. Just a silly flight of fancy.

And when you have children...you can forget it. It's all over.

So, I started to do a few plays. I landed a few commercials. I got involved in a comedy troop. I tried stand up comedy yet, I kept it to myself. I did tell my family but none of them came. Ever. So it started that I wouldn't even tell them.

It's been a long process but I am finally reaching for my own. Finally coming into my own. Finally saying...to hell with the pretenses. To hell with the thoughts of others. To hell with what they think is the right thing for me. Because what is right for me...isn't always what's defined as correct. I know what works in my life and what doesn't. I am tired of living it someone else's way. It's mine for the taking and I plan on ceasing it.

I know my children and what responds best for them. I know the joy they have in their eyes when they have their accomplishments. So this life. This very life is mine, not anyone elses and I fully intend on making it whole despite the rhetoric.

But you know what...I've always been the one to if you say I can't...I say I will. If you say I won't...I say I did.

I will add this. I have been fortunate enough for a very few people to have been placed in my life that have been very encouraging.

They have all been in my life in different venues and capacities and all has been significant in helping me to reach independence. To reach where I am and where I am going.

So...thank you to each and everyone of you. Some know who you are, some will never know. But I thank you. I salute you.

WE WON! Yes WE WON! We wON the competition. We now compete at regionals!!!

I haven't posted in a bit. Life has gotten a bit hectic. So as is the life of a divorced single mom:) But if any of you have experienced that, or even if you haven't I am sure you can identify.

Life has thrown a few curve balls all at once. I mean does anything ever happen in steps? It probably does, we just don't ever see it until it all has pile up to a heap and then we wonder 'damn where did that come from?' So we come to what has been going on?



Let's start with business, hobbies, and then we'll get to personal; although, all of it is personal is it not?



So goes the cascade:



I am in training for a new position at work. Enjoying it greatly. Although it is a new experience I plan to tackle it like everything that has been thrown my way; with force, gusto, and triumph.



I have been house hunting. This is quite the new adventure. Did any of you realize all the work it went in to purchasing a house? You think shopping for the right bra, swimsuit, or that elusive pair of perfect jeans is difficult. Sheesh, the house is that times a trillion. Some things fit, others are off. It is really a search and find unfortunately what you have to search for is a needle in a haystack but the find is complete bliss and peacefulness. Not a bad trade off. Just difficult.



I successfully pulled a 'C' off in Economics. I don't know what small act of God I need to attribute that to, but it occurred. Miracles still do happen!



Our play is going to competition this weekend. It's been lined with it's ups and downs most assuredly. One of our cast members mother died. Yes, died, so she will be unable to perform. Our director has stepped into fill her spot and we are having our first rehearsal with her in the cast today. Tomorrow is the competition. No, pressure. No pressure at all. If you remember, shazzy, from previous blogs...she is who is filling the slot. So...if anyone could do it or at least have a fighting chance of succeeding it will be her. You know what we can do this. We are good darn it! We can do this!

The selfish part is I feel a bit of let down from my cast member. It's like okay...she's deceased. It's horrible, it is. But dive into what you were committed to and do it. For that moment be free, let the thoughts of all the shit in the world drop off your shoulders and just do it.
I realize that I have never dealt with the death of a parent, but I tend to delve into projects to stop emotions anyways. When my mother dies...I'll probably start to raise tigers in India or backpack across the world to make the pain stop.



This now brings us to personal. Yes...that elusive personal.

I have acquired a few new acquaintances since the last time I have blogged and some I'll even call friends.

Well I lied...I'll leave this portion closed :)

I'm bringing Sexy back

Well the unfolding of the drama in divorcee land continues....

I called the county jail again to see if the ex is still sitting there. I use to call every day, then every other day, then it dwindled to once a week. Sometimes if I was feeling particular confident I would even skip a week, but never more.

Now regarding this particular call lets back up....

I had checked just last week on the computer to see if he was still there (as I call and computer search) and had noticed his bond was changed. It was 30,000 and then read 0.00. Now I didn't know what that meant so I didn't know to ask about it.

So today when I called she told me...He was going to prison. Going to prison. Wow. I don't even know how I feel about that. I don't feel anything about it. I know there is something going on because my chest is a little tight but I don't consciously feel a bit of remorse.

I don't have any criminals in my family so this is a whole new area for me still.
I don't feel embarrassed about it anymore as I have come to terms with the fact that he does not define me and the actions and path he chose to take does not reflect me. I am my own woman now. the actions I choose to perform reflect me. I am not his other half any longer.

That's sounds so easy to say now and it looks so simple to understand but it wasn't long ago I struggled with that issue. I struggled hard to find what defined me. I struggled hard with holding my head held high knowing my husband was in jail.

So...what does this mean now. It means I have a little more time to breath. It means I can finally let my guard down for a little while and not hold my breath in fear every time I open the door to the house wondering if he is there.

It means I don't have to look around everywhere wondering if he is watching me.

It means I don't have to make a phone call every week and wait with my stomach in knots until the jail clerk tells me the answer.

It means an even bigger since of freedom. Not a facade of freedom. But the freedom that means you can sore with out fear.

On that note I will tell you that I am so elated. I feel as if I just won a lottery.

In turn though, I feel incredibly guilty for this feeling. Incredibly guilty that I feel this sense of elation at the downfall of another.

I am not glad that he is going to prison. I am not glad that anyone should choose that path and be held like a captive dog away from society because when they are let out they prey upon them like a savage beast. But selfishly I am glad because I no longer have to fear.

Bitter Sweet.

For the sweet. Guess who I spoke with last night...the infamous Mr. S.

Yes, Mister Sexy himself. It was lovely. The conversation was as if nothing had changed. It was an absolute delight.

So...does this mean that my creative mojo will come back? I hope so! It would be just in time for the play competition the 24th. Oh how I need my mojo. It was starting to wane.

How can one person have such a force over you? I have felt it before. A taboo force that drives you. Once many years ago. A taboo force that gave me confidence, strength.But that's another post.

On the C.L.: The Picture You Can?t Stop Talking About: Meet ?the Woman on p. 194?: glamour.com

On the C.L.: The Picture You Can?t Stop Talking About: Meet ?the Woman on p. 194?: glamour.com

Shared via AddThis

An old Journal

I was cleaning today and found one of several journals I had written in. I opened it up and came across a few freestyles I wrote. I immediately remembered the night they were written. I remember the tears that streamed down my face. I remembered the pain of my heart ripping into pieces and wondering if they would ever be able to be put back together. I remember thinking will the pain ever stop hurting. Will the nightmare ever end or would it always be that way.

Since this blog is about the thoughts of a divorced woman and what she experiences in the dark nights when no one is there to listen I thought what an insight on what it is like to live in the midst of hell. What it is like to live in the midst of a husband with a secret addiction and feel helpless because you want to believe with all your heart that he is not on anything the whole while everything else is telling you he is. What torment it is to wake up in the middle of the night to find he's left you again and all you want is for someone to hold you and tell you everything is going to be alright. To know what agony to have absolutely no one to call because you have been isolated from the entire world and all you have are the children you are trying to protect and your own thoughts. The thoughts that wreak havoc on your sanity as each day passes that your there. So...with out further interruption...here are the few freestyles I came across that were written out of the deepest pain through tear flooded eyes:

Daddy's car

Shh...Can you hear that?

Nope it's just the neighbor coming home

Shh...Can you hear that?

Nope...just myself and the boys all alone.

Shh...Can you hear that?

Nope it's just the hush of my son's cries

Shh...Can you hear that?

Nope, it's just my son wishing there were no goodbyes.

Shh...can you hear that?

Nope it's just the sound of drums

Shh...Can you hear that?

Nope, it's just the anger of (son's name here), the youngest son.

Shh...Can you hear that?

Nope, it's not daddy's car

Shh...can you hear that?

No, no, it's not Daddy.

His heart is still so very far.

A marriage slipping

Listening, waiting

quiet, hating

hurt, sadness

silence, madness

breaking, tearing, begging, pleading

confusion, quilt

despair, wilt

Weak, pain

lost, shame.

A happy family

(Older son's name here) is sad, sensitive, angry, stressed, emotional, ready to pop

(Younger son's name here) is angry, acting out, mad and inconsolably sad

Mom is worn out, crying, hurting, wanting it to stop

(Spouse's name here) is out there lost, wasting, lying, forgotten about being Dad.

Slipping

So Black.

So Black.

So BLACK!

I'm so alone. So alone. So ALONE!

So Heavy. So heavy. So heavy.

Why? Why? Why?

So discarded and tossed aside.

The pain so intense inside. So much my lips feel numb. So much my cheeks are numb. Tears stream, can't stop.

Slipping. Slipping. Slipping.

So BLACK. so Black. so black.

I just have one more thing to say...

damn it sexy! You have blocked my creative mojo. I need it back please, if you can remember where you stashed it. I would like it back now.