Country Girl with Big City Dreams

He's so FINE he blows my MIND

2009-02-20T05:32:00.000-08:00

Jason Shaw...my 5th grade boyfriend...gold chain around neck and big crooked teethed smile
by far the fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinest boy in my Sunday school class

...the girls were jealous...

He loved my hot pink shirt i tied in a knot on the side to accentuate my very high-on-the-waist stone washed/tucked in and rolled at the bottom jeans...my matching hot pink socks skwinched down into my eastlands with the shoe laces tied in a spiral...no need to tie laces...it just took way too much time out of my very busy life of applying and reapplying frosty pink lip gloss.

We were absolutely perfect for one another...even Kristy Mapp said so (who by the way pretty much had the coolest bangs of all time.) Sundays and Wednesdays were the best days of my week because, of course, i loved Jesus, but i also Looooooooooved...with a capital "L" Jason Shaw.

I loved the way he shot a basketball in the gym to the way he drank his warm generic cool-aid and ate his stale sugar cookie during snack time at church. He was Magnificant.

His mother drove a van...gray, one of the newer kinds that had the extra seats and i dreeeeeeeeamed of sitting in one of those extra seats on our way to the most perfect romantic date to see "She's out of Control" at the movie theatre...

This movie was about this really semi-ok looking teenage girl who gets a makeover and suddenly turns into sexpot at her school and she becomes really popular because she was so HOT and cool and her dad (played by Tony Danza) totally freaks out...

Of course i wasn't allowed to go with Jason Shaw ANYWHERE nor would my parents have allowed me to watchthat movie in fear that I myself might turn into a little 80's hooker that my parents could not handle.

This relationship was filled with the most passionate moments I can remember. Glancies across the fellowship hall...brushing shoulders in the church kitchen...stepping on the back of my flip flop to give me a flat tire...

And the most exciting memory of all is when the head pastor was leading our sunday school one morning and we were watching a movie...Jason and I totally held hands/touched each others finger tips RIGHT IN FRONT OF PASTOR EMORY...of course he didn't see because any time he turned around we both jerked quickly away from one another...i'm sure he had NO idea

I remember that day because when Jason Shaw touched my hand for the first time a burning sensation shot all the way down the back of my right leg...and when i say burning sensation...i mean BUUUUUURRRNING sensation that could have been the best feeling of my life...well, up to that point. It left me weak and helpless.

I remember countless nights i would listen to New Kids on the Block for hours dreaming of Jason Shaw...what a STALLION.

For my 11th birthday he gave me an I.d bracelet. It was gold linked with my initials on it. It was the best present I had ever received in my entire life... The thing was, my feelings for Jason had begun to fade...i mean, I was sooooooooo young to be tied down like this...even Kristy Mapp said so...and he wasn't even as cute as he was last sunday...even Kristy Mapp said so

With that said, I broke up with Jason in the parking lot of our church after the 10 o'clock service the next sunday. I had planned out exactly what i was going to say so i wouldn't get nervous and back out. I had practiced countless times playing out every possible scenario of what he might say back. "Jason, I want to break up"... "Ok" he said. It had gone just as i had imagined.

I thought it would feel satisfying and powerful...i mean sometimes a girl has to do what a girl has to do...but it was awful...i remember he looked kinda sad...and embarrassed...2 emotions i wasn't used to a man of 11 years old having, at least not over a girl

I didn't give him back the I.d bracelet he had just gotten me...he said i could keep it... that was nice of him... I was guilt-ridden for breaking his heart. I didn't know if i would ever be able to forgive myself...

2 days later he was dating someone new...

and so was i...

so...whatever...

but just for the record...the burning leg thing never happened again :)

Im feeling officially old

2009-01-04T14:04:00.000-08:00

I'm feeling officially old...

mtv is too risque...short shorts and boots are slutty
calling in sick to work because i'm feeling a bit sick is not an option anymore...
recession...layoffs...bills...kids and teenagers that call me Ms. Melissa...

"Bob's house" sounds dreadful because of the next day hangover...new tires...living by a planner...and washing my face every day and night with expensive clinique products...googling aches and pains I've never had before to see what my diagnosis could be...knee aches when i run...

helping friends through miscarriages and divorces....loss of children...first time gray hairs...and Oh My God cellulite...on my ASS...awesome

shopping at express and banana republic...hair up and out of my face...and professional...ALWAYS mascara and lip stick...cussing is not as appealing...it sounds "trashy" and "unprofessional"...but it still FEELS so DAMN good to do it...checking the SPF in my makeup...boyfriend...serious boyfriend...talking future and travel plans and places to live and...

quickly cutting off thoughts of other men that pop into my head...strangling and choking out any desire to let my mind run wild...accepting the fact that this man could be the last man i ever kiss, touch, breath quitely and secretively with...and being thankful for that...

reading memoirs and the newspaper and coming of age books and post modern religous books...listening to podcast sermines while i exercise and going to conferences to learn about financial planning... adoption options...mammograms...and x rays...and heart tests...

stepping on a plane with no anxiety...because I have lived such a great and satisfying life so far...with all the hurt and mistakes...so many mistakes...and family drama and love drama...and work expriences and friendships...and travel...all over the world...

big panties and bras that are comfortable...showering everyday...putting pictures of my friend's babies up on facebook and framed on our refridgerater...dressing up Roscoe and thinking its the funniest thing i have EVER seen in my ENTIRE life...sitting with my friend's parents as their peers...stocks...and board game night...holidays are the only times the gang really gets together anymore...losing touch with her and him

looking at pictures at 22 and wondering where all that extra energy went...probably the same place my fake bleach blonde hair, leopard print pants, and my beer gut went...

listening to John Tesh and 94.5 because it doesn't play all that "rap music crap"

yeah...i'm feeling officially old

freedom

2008-09-29T22:20:00.000-07:00

she told me i was free to write...that she was jealous
she told me it would change when i loved and was loved in return
...that writing would be hard
the vulnerable stuff...the raw honesty stuff...the real stuff that happens in my head...
the stuff that would hurt...hurt you...or hurt me to write

mostly because it becomes real on paper
way more real than when it's just in my head

there is a freedom in both love and loneliness and there is a curse too
because you share and yet lose part of yourself

and the thing is...i like myself...and when parts of myself, my past, my inner thoughts start feeling threatened, I run...
to the other side of the bed or unanswered text or in my office with the door shut
...because i need you to know that I'm still powerful...that when you think you know me...you don't really at all...well, more than i want you too...so just let me believe that only i know me...and that feels good...like i share secrets with myself...and that's okay because i'm a pretty good friend to other people...so i trust i will be to myself...you should trust that too

and please don't be threatened...i chose love...thought it out and allowed myself

but the inside of me sometimes runs wild... and you don't know how free it feels...
it feels so free that i feel guilty

...but that's not freedom...

I'm resistant and stubborn and need to be in control. I'm bossy and please please don't tell me what to do...
...i guess none of that is freedom either...

Cottondale Baptist taught me that Jesus would tell me freedom begins with letting go...whatever that means...i suppose it's the principal of giving myself fully to something...letting you know every part of my being...soul...mind...body...secret thoughts...writing

but that seems quite intrusive...don't you think?

then i felt okay

2008-06-20T15:50:00.000-07:00

we fought today and it felt good to know that you care that much
you're just so calm all the time
i almost cried when you raised your voice...
but when i closed my eyes...there's was this sun and it was moving it's mouth with everything you said...
like it was making fun of you...real dramatically...and the sun had sunglasses on too...
and i didn't laugh on the outside...
but on the inside,
it was funny
real funny

and then i felt ok

i feel like writing something girly

2008-05-29T23:16:00.000-07:00

i feel like writing something girly
like flowers and kart wheels and humming

like tangled hair and sun dresses and bare feet
and lip gloss and freckles and pink

i feel like writing something girly
like hair ties and painted toes and sun kissed shoulders

like skipping and twirling in front of the mirror
and swinging high where your feet touch the sky

i feel like writing something girly
like you and me sittin in a tree

like cinderell--lla dressed in yelll--llla
and sittin in a rockeeeeer eatin betty crockeeeeer

i feel like writing something girly
like bathing suits with poka dots and batting eyelashes

like mommas perfume and bossin boys
and strawberry suckers and glittery jelly shoes

siiiiiiiiiiiiiiggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

i feel like writing something girly

if you talk to loud it might go away

2008-04-09T23:23:00.000-07:00

sssssshhhhhhh.......quite...if you talk to loud it might go away

no big statements or strong beliefs

whisper…

just.let.it.be

my heart beat has risen to my throat and i know you feel it and you hold me tighter...buried into you until i might suffocate...i can’t even breath…it seems worth the risk at that moment...right then

and i'm a bit embarrassed...i swear you're not the first man to hold me...like that...well maybe

but i've thought that before so you should know I won't believe you all the way...but maybe I want too…maybe

and god damnit i'm fine without you...you should know that...i don't need you...i don't...so you don't have to be so nice and patient and giving and patient and giving and patient because i'm fine...seriously...i'm fine without you…and i don't know if you know this...but i'm fine without you

i like you but I’m good at take-backs…just test me…wait…

…don’t…

and i'm sorry i pushed you but you just got too close for a second...and you know you were...and you just stayed there in that moment...seemed like a fucking hour...and you did it on purpose...and i expected you to be gone when i finished...why did you stay??

guarded and torn down and pushed away and pulled into and holding you away from going inside every part of my being

whisper…

on the inside are my secrets

i won't speak them out loud

but when you kiss me i try to tell you

sometimes you open your eyes and i think you've heard

and it's weird for you to look at me that close...

for me too look at you that close

like you're seeing way deep down inside

and it should scare me

and it does

it fucking scares me

your stare from across the room can make me wet

sometimes just your voice over the phone

how do you do that???

don't ever stop

i mean...please...

please don't ever stop

and thank you...wait...at least so far...but i could take that back...i mean...just be gentle...except i really am fine without you

...stay...

...please...

i think

…maybe…

sshhhhhhhh...quite...if you talk too loud it might go away

just one of those nights

2008-03-12T21:30:00.000-07:00

sleep does not come
just one of those nights
ive dreamed about you 3 nights in a row but you change from you to him and him
so i feel really confused when i wake up
but it always starts out as you...

and i don't know why you are popping up again...i don't think there is anything significant about this time and you
but you wont leave me alone...

you never call...you never really have
and if you did, i'd screen you
but it would make me feel better if you did call
but not if i answered...only if i screened

and i hope you are not happy with her...that makes me feel like a bad person to feel that way
like i should only wish you the best of luck and joy with your new found love...
but i can't
i hope she is as frustrated as i was...god, i am sorry
this isn't even coming from anger
it's just the way i feel
i do feel bad about it

and im so damn lonely tonight
but it's okay because i'll be fine after i fall asleep
and this never lasts that long
but it sucks right now

sucks so bad that i crawled out of my comfy bed at 1am to find roscoe
and laid down beside him on the hard floor just to feel something breathing and warm close to me...
he put his head underneath my chin...
that was a nice thing for him to do...
and it did make me feel better...

i want to tell you i'm a different person...but there are lots of reasons that wouldn't matter...and lots of reasons i wouldn't want that to matter
i want to tell you to give me another chance...but i think that sounds weak...and i don't even know if i would even want that if it ever came down to it
i want to tell you that we could have been so good together...but i don't even believe that
i want to tell you that i'm having the hardest time getting over this...but it has made me a better and stronger person
i want to tell you that nights like this are few and far between...but when they do happen i feel like i could wake you up with my thoughts
i want to tell you that i know i never wake you up...that i know i never have

i want to tell you that it all still makes me sad...if i let it
i want to tell you that typically i don't let it...
i want to tell you i never talk about you anymore
i want to tell you i found that damn letter in a book i hadn't opened in a year and i ripped it into a million pieces...

but couldn't bring myself to throw any of those pieces away...

it was such a beautiful letter to write...it made me feel beautiful inside...
now it makes me feel like there is an hollow hole going from my throat to my belly button...
i'd like to never have to feel that again
that would be good

i want to tell you that the only 3 dates i have been on the last two months and the only three text you have sent me have been on the same fucking day

there's lots i could tell you and sometimes want to tell you...but nothing i ever will again...and certainly nothing you want to hear

well, let's face it...i'm sure you want to hear it all...but nothing would come out of it...
except for me feeling so sad...and you feeling so powerful

neither of which i am interested in

i am man

2008-03-01T23:13:00.000-08:00

"i will do it" he spoke...but what he really said was "i am man"... i had never felt more injustice and inequality in my life...i could not keep my thoughts to myself...they came out forcefully ...with poise and strength...and pride....and a hint of validated anger...i am not afraid of him...he knows it

he looked at her across the room with eyes that physically beat her down...she is quite
i am not...at least non-verbally...i stare...glare...catch his eye and he knew my mouth would soon follow...in front of "friends"...he gracefully bowed out of this fight as his eyes cut to the wall...but i cannot protect her tonight when she is alone with him...i do not want to make it worse

but she is a fighter...he hits...she hits back..."i will not cry in front of him"..."i will be strong, he will never see me cry"...but we cry together...i hold her until she pushes me away...i hold her tighter...she is woman...she makes me proud..."it's worth it" she says..."it's worth it for him to beat me...so i can look him in the eyes with no tears"

our souls held hands immediately when we met...and have never let go

to see her cry fuels a part of me that has to be tamed...that wants to throw all rationale out for a temporary ass beating or at least a verbal lashing that leaves him with his dick between his legs and his pride smashed under both of our tiny powerful feet...

"where are you?"

"on the way home"

"you better be"

i grab for the phone in my mind and tell him what a fucker he is...how i will never look at him the same...how if he ever disrespects her in front of me...i will beat him down in every way i can...and scream to the world "WIIIIIFFFFFEEEEE BEATER" so everyone will know

and she lets you touch her...kiss her all over...and she is more gracious than i would ever be...or maybe smarter...planning...for the sake of safety and family she gives in...it makes me sick

i imagine myself on his back... arms wrapped tightly around his neck and pulling him backwards while she runs...i would take his pathetic beatings...for her to be able to run away forever...piece of shit

he looks at me with distrust...and he should...my loyalty lies with her...you hurt her...you hurt me...

you hit because you are scared and threatened...you hold her back because you know she deserves better than you...that she has a better life to live...that she is beautiful and brilliant...you hold her back because if she finds out these things about herself...about yourself...she will run....

the thing is...she already knows...

silence control fear

2008-02-25T21:07:00.000-08:00

~yes

line 1, it's the education director

~thanks...this is melissa

hi melissa...so have you heard?

~yes

we want you to take the case...the judge has referred her to you

~i heard that too

do you know the background?

~yes...i requested the chart from madisonville county, read up on it last night

what do you think?

~the same thing you do

you know she hasn't spoken to anyone in 6 months

~yes, i know

what are your thoughts?

~do you blame her?

for what?

~her silence?

....no...have you ever worked a case like this?

~no

you are quite? you are never quite...

~i haven't been shocked in a while...i thought i was passed that point professionally

(silence)

we are hoping you can work your magic... she likes to draw and she likes animals

~yes, i read

do you want this case?

~is this a trick question?...you know my thoughts already...it's why you want me to take the case...i will not see her without her mother being in treatment...if they want me to take the case...it is contingent upon her mother's involvement in her own therapy...dad is not allowed on these grounds...that's my recommendation and boundary...period

i know...that's why we chose you...(silence)....are you afraid of him?

~hell yes i'm afraid of him...everyone should be...and if i am afraid of him...think about her

he shouldn't be a problem...we have a restraining order against him

~the last thing he cares about is a restraining order...

(silence)

thanks for doing this...we'll do everything we can to help...just let us know

~listen...don't try to make her talk...she will when she is ready...just let her be in control for a bit longer...she needs that

Rest in Peace Eric Banks (Sept 1979-Dec 2001)

2008-02-12T10:00:00.000-08:00

a black crow was sitting on my car Sunday morning when i came out for church...shit

6am Monday morning...up before dark...headed to the gym...it's cold as hell...today will be a long day...a long sad day...i want to make sure i'm ready...emotionally and physically...wanna make sure i get my endorphones going and my serotonin up...i wanna make sure i'm ready

last night i received a phone call...late...that there was a suicide at the high school...
the Kentucky State crisis team had been called in and also a request for me to be there as well...for the whole day... to provide grief counseling and be there for any other needs that arise during the day...

my scheduled appointments were rescheduled and with coffee in hand and a very deep breath, I opened the double doors to Woodford County High...silence and calm...few tears...mostly blank stares...shock

this very scene evokes all kinds of counter transference and personal pain...death, whether we know the person, hear it on the news, or are watching others deal with surviving after the loss drudges up our own past darkness and experiences...that deep hollow black pit we have all felt when those we have loved have left us...and then the questions...the confusing unanswerable questions...the same questions we have asked a million times and will ask a million times more...

this isn't the first time i have been in this very library watching adolescents mourn the passing of a friend...sitting in silence with innocent faces untouched by the brutal passing of anyone they have held dear until this very moment...the ones that have experienced death for the first time...they are the ones weeping...holding on to the other...looking at me with desperate eyes that scream at me for any logic behind this or answers that might make this very new and dooming feeling go away...

then there are those who have been through this before...and not just once...and not just twice...and not just three times...but many...those are the ones starring at the floor...unable to make eye contact... angry...angry.. AAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNGGGGGRRRRRRRYYYY...and numb...so numb...to the dark pain of death...just angry...and shut off...because letting themselves experience that familiar pain again would be too much...so they just stop...they turn off...

they are not interested in asking me questions...they are not interested in talking...they are not interested and figuring out why...WHY????? the INFAMOUS question...the question i still ask myself about Eric although i know it can't be answered...and the question asked of me 786 times yesterday...why??? why???why???why??? whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy???

the truth is...no one knows why...and it sucks...and it sucks to have to give such a cliche answer to these kids...it seems like they deserve an answer right??? that God should come down and give a speech to broken and innocent children for goodness sakes...but God's not...and it is true...no one ever knows why...no one will even know why...

and to try to put logic to such an irrational act is futile...how do you explain that to kids???

i remember my training..."DON'T EVER CRY IN FRONT OF SURVIVORS...NEVER...YOU CRY WHEN YOU LEAVE...YOU CRY WHEN YOU GET HOME...BUT DON'T YOU DARE THINK OF CRYING IN FRONT OF THEM...YOU ARE THEIR GLIMMER OF STABILITY WHEN NOTHING ELSE IN THAT MOMENT MAKES SENSE...WHEN THEY SEE YOUR FACE...THEY NEED TO SEE HOPE...DON'T EVER EVER CRY IN FRONT OF THEM...EVER"

and i didn't...as a matter of fact...it never crossed my mind...i was stronger than a rock... surprisingly...6 hours in machine mode...in and out of offices, comforting and consoling...sitting before groups...explaining as much as i could about normal feelings and suicide and answering any questions they might have as best i could...holding on to teachers who barely made it through the day...i was a professional to the core...and proud of it...proud that I had made it through that day untouched by that sickening feeling everyone was trying to make go away

on the way home i passed a car that looked like Erics. A black neon with a red head in the drivers seat...he waved at me...I still don't know if it was real.

I pulled over immediately right in front of the airport...i couldn't catch my breath...i sat their for 20 minutes weeping...a plane landed over my head snapping me back to my mission of getting home safely in the ice and sleet...

i pulled out Eric's memory box last night...i found notes and pictures and drawings of him kicking my boyfriend's head off as it was portrayed with Jason's head flying through the air...ha...he never really cared for him...and skateboard sketches and emblems of "the dogg pound" gang we were members of...sometimes...unless the boys were mad at me and Lesley and then we were kicked out until we made amends the next day...or five minutes later....whichever...ha

i sat down and wrote his family a letter...i don't know if i'll send it...i should get home to alabama to visit him soon...i remember exactly where he is buried...i remember everything...

i remember the four of us showed up together to the viewing...i remember how i was the first one of the group to approach his father...i remember how his father wrapped his arms around me and put his head on my should as he fell to his knees...i remember the weight of his big body holding on to my little body...i remember my friends grabbing him to help me hold him up...

i remember the last time we hung out i feel asleep on the chair and when i woke up he was upside down on the recliner...ha...

i remember that ridiculous van he bought in high school to carry all of us around in...and the one time he kissed me in his car...gross...ha...and dancing and singing together...i remember silly video after silly video we would make...i remember the skits he would put on for pep rallys and how he NEVER got in trouble because he could always weasel his way out...

i remember plans to attend Indiana Wesleyan together and driving up together...I remember one week later when he decided to go back home...packed his stuff and left me and Wes there...

i remember being so mad that he would just leave like that to head back to COTTONDALE without giving this new experience with all of us together a chance...

he always was a homebody

i remember the call reporting the car accident

i remember meeting friends in louisville to head back home to say goodbye to him leaving for the last time

i remember the man i was dating at the time trying to console me..."my mother died when i was four" he said...i was enraged...how could he even pretend to know how i felt...he didn't know Eric...he had no idea when i was going through...he was four for god's sake...and did i mention he DIDNT know Eric...i broke up with him that day

It's been seven years...god...seven whole years...sometimes it feels like yesterday

Rest In Peace My Dear Friend...

and thanks for saying hello today

write

2008-02-06T20:35:00.000-08:00

I tore pages out of my journal today...it felt good
i'm sure i'll regret it in the future

It really did hurt my feelings...a lot
I would never tell her that...
I hope it had nothing to do with him

i can't believe she's pregnant...
she'll be such a great mother...
it couldn't have been worse timing...
i've cried out of joy more than she has...
i wouldn't be sad if i was having a baby

she's coming to america and never returning home
i'm the only one who knows
she's leaving her kids and husband to "be free"
i'm her only friend...or will be when her "Christian" friends find out her plan

being sick sucks
i feel guilty like i should clean or read or grocery shop
but all i wanna do is lay here in my room surrounded by empty water bottles and
tobaggons for when head gets to cold...then too hot...then i sweat
no one came by to make sure i was ok for a week
that sucked too

my parent's dog died
i wonder if that will send him into relapse
i wonder if she'll leave again
i wonder if this will ever end

you are so good looking...
and your accent is nice...
you are so patient with me...
that DR in front of your name is fabulous too...
you'd spoil me...pay for my travels
and you sure can kiss...
i'm sorry...i just can't...or won't
you leave next week...
and i haven't returned your calls...
i really do care...

i nailed the interview
i was so nervous

i think he missed her more after he talked to me all day
i should have never looked

God i hope i never do that again...
will i ever do that again?

I'm glad everyone was safe during the weather...
i dragged rachel to the basement at 2am
man, she was happy
better safe than sorry

if i could just sale my car........

you sting me

2008-01-06T09:35:00.000-08:00

i suppose i deserve it, right
you do to me what i've done to you
i suppose it makes you feel pretty good inside
it makes me feel pretty awful

and i believe every word you say
but i don't really, not at all
maybe i just want to in the moment when you look so sincere

and you can't be straight with me either
can't look me in the eye
you've become a good liar
did i help with that?

you want me behind closed doors
but hardly acknowledge me in public
i can't even begin to understand the mentality behind that thinking
or why you think i'd be okay with that
or freely give myself to you the way you want

i can hardly be mad at you but have plenty of reasons to be
you remind me of my father
you remind me of your father
you sting me

i miss you to the moon

2008-01-03T22:37:00.000-08:00

i miss you to the moon
and more than that
you woke me up again tonight

i miss you to the moon
even though you keep me far away
and i keep you tucked inside

i miss you to the moon
i said ask me a year later
and my answer is still the same

i miss you to the moon
"i wish it could have been easier
instead of any longer"

i miss you to the moon
dammit
i miss you to the moon

deep thoughts

2008-01-03T12:30:00.000-08:00

so here i sit in front of the tv. i will openly admit that the idea of work made me sick today. coming off of the holiday vacation i assumed i would be a bit more ready to throw myself...all of my freakin self...back into my job so that my clients, the schools, and community partners could blow up my phone, email, and office with complaints, problems, and requests for interventions or advise.

with that said, i called in. i'm not proud of it but i don't feel guilty either. what i do feel guilty about is that i'm still in sweats...but they are my favorite sweats if that matters (Tennessee sweat pants and an Alabama sweat shirt...yeah, yeah, i know that doesn't go together in a lot of ways) and i have also been watching America's next top model for about 8 hours straight. How does that happen??? I've already seen these very shows about a million times... (it's the next to last season with arrogant Jade...seriously want to punch her in her mouth but she is quite stunning...i also have a slight crush on Nigel but i can't tell if he's gay...a common flaw of mine).

all i've been able to think about today is moving to florida, landing a fabulous well paying job, renting a house right on the beach and buying a boat that all my friends who will come visit me can enjoy. when i get into these modes i pretty much am worthless for the day. i come up with every strategy possible to make it happen soon pushing away all the sad parts about moving because then they would mess up my 24 hour obsession.

there is snow everywhere outside and it's colder than icicles everywhere i go. my friend bri loooooooves this weather. she constantly sends pictures to my phone from her fancy office window 13 stories up---Minnesota layered in white sheets of snow. the picture is then followed by a request to come visit her. maybe i should tell her that's really not the best way to allure me to visit....hey bri...that's really not the best way to allure me to visit.

i've been eating peanut butter and crackers all day, mostly because thats about all we have in our cabinets since Roscoe has figured out with his dog paws how to open our cabinets and eat everything he can get too...awesome.

i'm also ready to go over seas again. i've thought about that some today too. the funds are limited, specifically after the holidays...ooooooooooohhhhhhhhh my gosh, i'm broke...or at least more broke than i want to be, but i have to get out of here...HAVE to feel far away soon, have to see something new and experience something that moves my soul and connects me to the rest of the world/universe...my body aches for it.

Azniv moved today. it was sad. i stayed up late with her last night. she's been such a great friend and i hate HATE that she will be so far away. But she promised us a gig at "the earl" in Atlanta and we promised to drive to come hear her show. i don't like when my friends move away. it seems like that's happened a lot this past year.

i've started a new book, The Glass House. I love it.

i haven't stopped eating for about 3 weeks now...nor have i exercised. my clothes are pissed at me. everytime i step on the scales i make sure to take off anything that is very weighing just to make myself feel better...ha... i'm ready for a hair cut...maybe some bangs...Yes...i like that idea...but will my very round face and humongous cheek bones agree...

America's next top model kinda makes me feel bad about my body...wait no...it makes me want to get an eye lift actually...my poor eyes reflect a rough year... dark circles and recovering depression...i have aged a bit...i'm okay with it...mostly because i'm just glad to feel happy again. i refuse to drown this year.

i have to teach dance tonight... a few couples and then a group class...i love it so. I'm competing in February but my dance partners car has broken down and he lives far from me. the only option i have to practice is to pick him up and drop him off...yeah...that's not happening...is that terrible of me??? yeah it is, maybe i'll call him now.

i have a good feeling about 2008. i suppose i have to after last year. from the very start to the very finish it was difficult. but thus far, 3 whole days, has been quite enjoyable... i'll keep my fingers crossed and my mind/emotions in check. when i visualize 2008...like really see the numbers in my head...i see a sunshine around them...that could be because the forecast of sunny weather is in the bottom right hand side of my computer...but still...i will hold it as a promise.

...

2008-01-01T21:10:00.000-08:00

Imagine his surprise to discover that the happiest, most confident woman he'd ever met was actually---when you got her alone---a murky hole of bottomless grief. Once again, I could not stop crying. This is when he started to retreat, and that's when I saw the other side of my passionate romantic hero---the man who was solitary as a castaway, cool to the touch, in need of more personal space than a herd of American bison.

His sudden emotional back-stepping probably would've been a catastrophe for me even under the best of circumstances, given that I am the planet's most affectionate life form (something like a cross between a golden retriever and a barnacle), but this was my very worst of circumstances. I was despondent and dependent, needing more care than an armful of premature infant triplets. His withdrawal only made me more needy, and my neediness only advance his withdrawals, until soon he was retreating under fire of my weeping pleas of, "where are you going? what happened to us?"

(Dating tip-Men LOVE this.)

The fact is, I had become addicted to him (in my defense, he had fostered this, being something of a "man-fatale"), and now that his attention was wavering, I was suffering the easily foreseeable consequences. Addiction is the hallmark of every of every infatuation based love story. It all begins when the object of your adoration bestows upon you a heady, hallucinogenic dose of something you never dared to admit that you wanted--an emotional speed ball, perhaps, of thunderous love and roiling excitement. Soon you start craving that intense attention, with the hungry obsession of any junkie.

When the drug is withheld, you promptly turn sick, crazy and depleted (not to mention resentful of the dealer who encouraged this addiction in the first place but who now refuses to pony up the good stuff anymore---despite the fact that you KNOW he has it hidden somewhere, goddamn it, because HE USED TO GIVE IT TO YOU FOR FREE).

Next stage finds you skinny and shaking in the corner, certain only that you would sell your soul or rob you neighbors just to have THAT THING one more time. Meanwhile, the object of your adoration has now become repulsed by you. He looks at you like you are someone he has never met before, much less someone he once loved with high passion. The irony is, you can hardly blame him. I mean, check yourself out. You're a pathetic mess, unrecognizable even to your own eyes.

So that's it. You have now reached infatuation's final destination---the complete and merciless devaluation of self.

The fact that I can even write calmly about this today is mighty evidence of time's healing powers.

We continued to have our bouts of fun and compatibility during the days, but at night, in his bed, I become the only survivor of a nuclear winter as he VISIBLY retreated from me, more every day, as though I were infectious....Most mornings, he would wake to find me sleeping fitfully on the floor beside his bed, huddled on a pile of bathroom towels, like a dog.

"What happened now?" he would ask---another man thoroughly exhausted by me.

...But then there emerged a pattern: I would separate from him, get my strength and confidence back, and then ( attracted as always by my strenth and confidence) his passion for me would rekindle...It HAD to work, didn't it? Reunited with fresh hopes, we'd share a few deliriously happy days together...but eventually he would retreat from me once more and I would cling to him (or I would cling to him and he would retreat---you never could figure out how it got triggered) and I'd end up destroyed all over again. And he'd end up gone.

He was catnip and kryptonite to me.

~elizabeth gilbert~
_________________________________________________________________

xmas 07- "Tiffany"

2007-12-27T00:35:00.000-08:00

On my flight to Bama, I met “Tiffany,” –a little southern bell from Ozark. I felt her staring at me while I read, waiting to get on the plane. Like all true southern women, Tiffany did not care that I was reading, nor did she get the hint that I was not interested in any type of conversation—verbal or non-verbal. When I refused to accept her very clever attention giving body language, she became inpatient and jumped right in. I could already tell that Tiffany is used to getting people’s attention.

“HAY, I liiiike your boots”

“Thanks”

“Your hair is so pretty too”

“Thanks”

Aaaaaaaaaand silence…but the stare continued…

Once aboard, it was open seating. I could hear Tiffany’s voice coming down the very long isle of the very large plane. I stuck my head as far as I could into my book. I had even kept my sunglasses on all morning long and in the terminal as to avoid any eye contact with anything breathing; specifically all the “Tiffanys” that would be flying from Kentucky into southern alabama.

She was talking Alabama football and cooing at every baby she passed. I had to admit she was a crowd pleaser. People enjoyed her genuinely honey sweet accent with a hint of redneck and her big smile that she used to tease and generously hand out compliments to anyone making eye contact with her.

What happens next is inevitable. I had already accepted it when she told me she liked my boots.

“Can IIII sit here? You don’t mind do you?”

“Of course not”

I try to turn back to my book giving every polite sign that this early flight was not one in which I wanted to hear about her boyfriend or step-baby or grandma or where she was going or whether I thought Alabama was going to have a good season…but clearly, this did not matter to her.

“So I brought a People magazine. I bet you like those. You look like you would like this stuff. You look like a movie star with your big glasses and boots and your fancy hair. Where are you from? Why in the world are you going to Alabama? You don’t look like you’re from Alabama”

really…really?? I just wanted to read my book. I purchased this book over a month ago. I’ve been waiting to be on vacation where I could read this book guilt free without any late paperwork being held over my head that I should be doing instead.

I dodged and answered in the most polite way I could.

“Why thank you. I do enjoy People magazine. I grew up in Alabama and my grandparents live here so I’m spending the holidays with them this year. I’m actually from Lexington.”

“Lexington, KY??? Why I have some family in Lexington…”

of course you do, I thought, they probably live right next door to me...

she flips through her magazine, gasping for air in the most dramatic inhale I have ever heard, aside from my grandmother when she hears a movie star say “God damn.”

“Look, riiiiight here…it’s your book you’re reading. They say it’s a top 10 best seller. What is it about? Should I read it? Do you like it so far?”

Okay, from sizing up Tiffany thus far, I would say this: Tiffany would not be able to handle this book without it shaking the very core of everything she believes about God and the world and sucky people. I say this only because…I am a recovering-Tiffany.

“You know, it’s a hard book to read. You probably don’t want to read it over Christmas. It’s kind of sad and talks about life in a different country and how hard it is.”

“Yeah, it’s hard enough in my own life sometimes. I don’t think I would want to read something like that.”

There was some ignorant truth in this statement. I admired her for it a bit or maybe I was just jealous that she allowed herself to find peace in her naivety.

Tiffany, who is 26 years old, began telling me her life story, literally, which would be too long to explain, but we conversed to the point of talking about everything in her life to “why a pretty girl like me isn’t married” and how she used to like Brittany Spears but she doesn’t anymore because of her poor morals and the fact that she doesn’t even claim she is a Christian these days and “can you believe her little sister is pregnant? Bless her little heart.”

....and so forth and so on until the plane hit the ground ubrubptly and in the midst of our conversation and Tiffany proclaimed, "Well that never get's old now does it. I hate to fly but I didn't want to say anything because I thought maybe you might be afraid to fly too...and well, two scared people in the same seat...well that could have been a whole heap of trouble" I couldn't have agreed with her more. Maybe Tiffany was much smarter than I gave her credit.

Once off the plane I couldn’t find my glasses and had to dig deep in my purse to search. Apparently, I had taken them off at some point in the conversation, sucked in by Tiffany’s contagious and entertaining spirit. I was exhausted…but not so much in a bad way.

The thing is…she totally won me over…pulled me out of a sleepy and emotionally recovering funk from the night before…she poured a little sunshine over me before giving me a big ole hug and asking me to tell me grandparents “merry Christmas” for her.

Maybe I was a little bit disappointed that I would never bump into her again. I am always very aware of those clear moments when you already miss the person you will never see again and that you will always remember even though you are still in their presense...it's like a present-nostalgia. We parted ways with two very mutual smiles and a bit more Christmas spirit in our souls.

I want to be more like Tiffany.

xmas 07 no christmas dreamland

2007-12-27T00:31:00.000-08:00

The night before I was supposed to leave for home for the holidays, I couldn’t stomach the 13-hour drive I had planned, so I purchased a plane ticket, reserved a rental car, came home early, and tried to sleep. For the first time in months, I was very awake, very aware that I needed to sleep, and very aware of my emotions that I have kept under quite a tight reign lately.

One Gazillion thoughts were racing through my head, none of which I wanted to be there. Sleep came lightly but rest was non-existent. Somewhere in between deep breathing and visualizing myself on a beach, I drifted into dreamland where I proceeded to have an affair with my best friend’s husband. This sent me sitting straight up in bed, sweating, and heart pounding.

Next, I dreamt of my first love in college. A three-year relationship in which I enjoyed very much, still having butterflies when he walked into the room or ran onto the court until the day he walked out of my apartment with his things. I still think of him fondly. In my dream, I could not find my basketball shoes and I was frantic to find them or else coach refused to let me play. The dream setting was in my high school gym and I ran to the boy’s locker room to ask if anyone had seen them. Danny opens the door. My heart pounded. He was in a red uniform, dark hair and skin. He was holding a baby, his new baby. The baby was beautiful, just like him and his wife. I woke up gasping for air…I’m not sure why.

Next dream was about my father and mother. Hard times. No fun. The dream disturbed me so. When I awoke, I was crying, which is very odd if anyone has had this experience. My new philosophy is that the more you break down the easier it becomes…so if you have to--then do it fast. Lingering in that emotion can drown you in your own tears…so I cleared up immediately, and felt very proud of myself.

I asked God to let me sleep.

Lastly, I dreamt of my last heart wrenching love. It felt so very bizarre and real and it felt the exact same as it did a year ago without all the hurt and anger and annoyance and drama separating us over the last forever months. By this point in my sleep, I recognized it as a dream and fought to wake myself up to avoid this phony feeling.

I received a text that woke me up at 4:16am

And I am awake

Awake for two days straight actually, without the help of any drugs or caffeine.

Just soulful energy I suppose.

Merry Christmas to me.

I AM THANKFUL I AM THANKFUL I AM THANKFUL

2007-12-12T21:32:00.001-08:00

If i could write...make sense of the whirlwind of life that has happened to me in the last 2 months...if i could explain the extent of growth and happiness that has happened in my life...i would do it...but to contextualize it into words has been incredibly challenging. There are nights i stay up half the night thinking and scribbling and thinking and scribbling with so much energy stirring in my mind and soul that i can't relax...and no matter how many times i have opened my journal to write...the same thing always bleeds through on the paper and then i am overwhelmed with the completion of my writing...that being...

"I AM THANKFUL...I AM THANKFUL...I AM THANKFUL"

but...there's soooo much more...there's so much more to say and write and express and sing out and dance to big and loudly...but i can't seem to get it on paper...so, i must trust that it's not ready... or i'm not ready to get it out...but I soo am...i am bursting with light...in the midst of the last few months of the shittiest and grueling happenings of my life in the last decade...I am revived and strengthened...I have no idea with whom or what to give this credit too...maybe God...maybe the universe... maybe myself...i can not say...but what i can say is....I AM THANKFUL....I AM THANKFUL..I AM THANKFUL...

healing and peace

below, the most powerful passages in which i have connected with so emotionally that i have literally sat alone in utter silence, for minutes/maybe hours...time seemed nonexistent... feeling the hole in my chest begin to repair and fill up again.

________________________________________________________________

I don't want anyone to talk to me. I can't tolerate anyone's face right now. I even manage to dodge Richard for a while but he finds me at dinner and sits down---brave man---in my black smoke of self-loathing.

"What's got you all wadded up?"

"Don't ask" I say, but then I start talking and telling him every bit of it concluding with, "And worst of all, I can't stop obsessing over him. I thought I was over it, but it's all coming up again."

He says, "Give it another six months, you'll feel better"

"I've already given it 12"

"Then give it another six more, Just keep throwing six months at it till it goes away. Stuff like this takes time...Listen, someday your gonna look back on this moment in your life as such a sweet time of grieving. You'll see that you were in mourning and your heart was broken, but your life was changing and you were in the best possible place in the world for it. In a beautiful place of worship, surrounded by grace. Take this time, every minute of it. Let things work themselves out."

"But I really loved him"

"Big deal. So you fell in love with someone. Don't you see what happened. This guy touched a place in your heart deeper than you thought you were capable of reaching. I mean you got zapped. But that love you felt, it's just the beginning. You just got a taste of love..."

"Please don't laugh at me now, but the reason I think it's so hard for me is that I seriously believed he was my soul mate."

"He probably was. Your problem is you don't understand what that word means. People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that you are holding back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with your soul mate forever? Nah, too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave. And thank God for it. Your problem is, you just can't let this one go. It's over. His purpose was to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light could get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you had to transform your life, then introduce you to your spiritual master and beat it. That was his job. Problem is, you can't except the relationship had a short shelf life.

"But I love him"

"So love him"

"But I miss him"

"So miss him. Send him so love and light every time you think about him, then drop it. You're just afraid to let go of the lasts bits of him because then you'll really be alone. And YOU are scared to death of what will happen if you are really alone. But here's what you gotta understand. If you clear all that space in your mind that you're using right now to obsess about this guy, you'll have a vacuum there, and open spot---a door in ---God will rush in---and fill you with more love than you ever dreamed. So stop using him to block that door. Let it go"

_________________________________________________________________

Most of humanity, the Buddha said, have eyes that are so caked shut with deception they will never see the truth, no matter who tries to tell them. A few others are so naturally clear-eyed and calm already that they need no instruction of assistance whatsoever. But then there are those whose eyes are just slightly caked with dust, and who might, with the help of the right master, be taught to see more clearly someday. The Buddha decided he would become a teacher for the benefit of that minority---"for those of little dust."

I clearly hope that I am one of these mid-level dust-caked people, but I don't know. I only know that I have been driven to find inner peace with methods that might seem a bit drastic for the general populace...

I don't know if I have much of a choice though. I have searched frantically for so many years and so many ways, and all these acquisitions and accomplishments--they run you down in the end. Life, if you keep chasing it so hard, will drive you to death. Time, when pursued like a bandit---will behave like one; always remaining one county or one room ahead of you, changing its name and hair color to elude you, slipping out the back door of the motel just as you're banging through with your newest search warrant, leaving only an ashtray to taunt you.

At some point, you have to stop because it wont. You have to admit that you can't catch it. That you're not supposed to catch it. At some point, you gotta let go, sit still, and allow contentment to come to you.

Letting go, of course, is a scary enterprise for those of us who believe that the world revolves only because it has a handle on the top of it which we personally turn, and that if we were to drop that handle for even a moment, well--that would be the end of the universe.

But try dropping it. This is the message I'm getting. Sit quietly for now and cease your relentless participation. Watch what happens. The birds do not crash dead out of the sky in mid-flight after all. The trees do not wither and die, the rivers do not run red with blood. Life continues to go on...why are you so sure that your micromanagement of every moment in this whole world is essential? Why don't you just let it be?

I hear this argument and it appeals to me. I believe in it, intellectually. I really do. But then I wonder--with all my restless yearning, with all my hyped-up fervor and with this stupidly hungry nature of mine--what should I do with my energy, instead?

That answer arrives, too:
Look for God. Look for God like a man with his head on fire looks for water.
_________________________________________________________________

~Both passages: Eat, Pray, Love-Elizabeth Gilbert~

tornado

2007-11-20T16:42:00.000-08:00

You live your life like a tornado.
Destruction follows everywhere you go.
And you have no plans to stop or slow.

And I tried to remove myself from your path,
But I keep on waking up in the aftermath.
So I pick up again and say I won't look back.

And I will not let this bitter root grow in me.
I will not let you leave that legacy,
But this constant fight is breaking me

And every time I find healing, you're making a new mess,
And I am learning the real meaning of forgiveness.

And it hurts when you hit at the hearts of the ones I love;
When everything you touch is rubble and dust.
And it gets so hard to know how to trust,

And I could move and never send you a forwarding address,
Or I could learn the real meaning of forgiveness.

~sara groves~

hide me

2007-11-18T22:55:00.000-08:00

hide me from this city...from myself
take me away...to newness...to anything but now
murder the dark side of me
"what's wrong?...is he dead?...did he die?...is he alive?

am I?

take me back for a moment to my grandfather's church... right over the bridge in pecan grove
let me sit with no fear of life or me
let me curl up on the front pew and hear him whisper scriptures and prayers
kneeled reverently before this God my family believes heals sickness and families and broken people...
where is the healing? damn it...where?

can I just be?... with no fear of tomorrow
or what is happening right now
there is a hole in my chest i can't seem to repair
always trying to repair

i do...i keep trying to get better...i swear to god i do...i keep trying to get stronger...
i keep trying

the grass is always greener

2007-11-11T22:48:00.000-08:00

i have now become the guarded and compartmentalized individual that i used to fight for...and against...and it actually makes me feel quite a bit stronger...I suppose that's why other's do it too...i never really got it until now...there is certainly a freedom in keeping others at a distance, specifically men...you may miss the emotional fun of it all, including butterflies and breath taking moments...but at this point...it sure beats the fear of another potential disappointment...

i can't tell you that i believe in love anymore...not the kind that lasts forever anyway, nor can i tell you i will or won't believe in it next year or the year after or a decade from now...

i certainly won't make such strong statements of what i "know" to be true as so many past black and white beliefs have now completely swapped places or turned to gray. Better said, i have found that i can not confidently trust my emotions, thoughts or confidences in a moment or month or possibly years, as so many "certainties" have caused me confusion and grief soon after such "clarity"...

my mentality regarding love changes as frequently and dramatically as Kentucky weather...therefore forcing me to fall back on my own experiences and reality...

THAT being: you're one lucky son of a bitch if you find it...true love i mean...the kind that doesn't change who you are but certainly makes you appreciate and love everyone around you deeper because of the love and trust you find in someone else...the beautiful kind that you hear about when one aged lover passes into the next life and the other soon follows...the committed kind...the "no-deal breaker" kind...the peace, even after a disagreement kind because you know the other will still be there when you wake up

I've come to realize that loneliness is not so bad though...in the moment it's quite swallowing and violent...particularly at night when my bed feels like an ocean full of only me...or the daily out of the blue moments that i find gloriously romantic ... but typically purposefully avoid as it only leads to a deep dull pain in between my breasts...and a lump in my throat that i'm quite sure anyone looking at me in that long moment could notice

but what i have found is that loneliness never stays to long, thankfully...it never really lingers...i just feel a bit emotionally tired the few days after...like getting over a terrible stomach flu that only lasts for a day...and the following days of mental and physical thankfulness that it's over and recovery...

i can think of much worst emotions than loneliness...one being guilt

i'm not ready for a relationship...nor can i imagine wading through my issues at this point with another man...or talking and processing and talking and processing and talking and processing through another love and hurt with exhausted friends and exhausted me...i have found power in not talking about pain or emotions...it helps it go away quicker...seem unimportant...or silly even

i fear i would immediately sabotage...I KNOW I would immediately sabotage...possibly purposefully...possibly neurotically...possibly angrily...but absolutely 100% ruined before someone even approaches me...i could not put that baggage on anyone...I would feel selfish and guilty to lay my still sensitive scars of 3 years of "love and loss" in a man's lap in hopes that he would quite possibly know what to do with it all...considering at times i have no idea myself...it would be a lot like asking someone to carry around an egg in their pocket for a whole week...no wait...a day... without breaking it

my mother, whose only desire is to be my "mother" again, tells me "God's just preparing your heart for the right one"...and while i appreciate the optimism and hope and faith i hear in her voice...i can't help but recognize that with each year of my life and each romantic experience with a man, i have become more closed off and possibly less healthy and most definitely unready...i wonder how that's all gonna work out? siiiiiiiiigggggggggghhhhhhh

but it will i'm told...and i guess maybe half of me believes that...that in 10 years i will be in a nice home worrying about when i'm gonna have time to do laundry for my family in between work and mini van rides to sporting events...wow...that was weird...

but at least by then i'd know my place in life...because the comfort of being young and married certainly gives you passage into the staple American lifestyle...and no one questions just what's wrong with you to be almost 30 and unmarried...because you can now check the box to the next only acceptable life stage after graduate school...

...there has to be some sort of satisfying emotional developmental security in that young married stage of life...much like knowing your role as a child, teenager, college student, married parent, or grandparent...but floundering around out here in the "late 20's and still single" stage...is quite discontenting at times...especially living in the south

and then there's always that fear in the back of all uncertain women's minds that they will soon turn into the fun single aunt that takes the nieces and nephews to the mall to meet up with their boyfriend/girlfriend or has a house full of creepy cats to keep the loneliness away.....ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh gooooooodddd

but then there are the redeeming singlehood moments when i get calls from married friends of mine jealous over my latest love affair or even hang over...as it represents freedom and lack of commitment and acceptable selfishness of not having to answer to anyone and only pleasing oneself

reminding me that there are a lot of freeing things about being a single young professional...i just wish the rest of bible belt world would understand or recognize that... without patting me on the shoulder with a sympathetic nod, trying to reassure me that "you'll find someone soon, honey"... when what they are really saying is "oh you poor poor pathetic girl that know one really wants...i'm sure there's another old lonely person out there that's left with no other options either...and you'll soon find each other"...

thanks...uuuummm i guess...GEEEEEZZZZZ...only making me think..."well friends and loved ones, i'll be catching a plane to new york city or L.A now, where it's perfectly acceptable to be a late 20's single woman...here, i will throw myself into an unfulfilling career and make lots of money so i can afford to follow the trend of adopting a child to make everyone back home except me as powerful, respected, and nurturing woman"...

by the way, the adopting a kid move definitely throws you into an acceptable life stage

ahhhhh well...i suppose the grass is always greener...

....

2007-10-24T18:06:00.000-07:00

"why are you crying then?"

"i don't know...guess i needed to"

"about what though?"

"...don't know"

"was work stressful?"

"yeah...i guess"

"what happened?"

"nothing really...nothing unusual"

"are you upset with your parents?"

"i don't know...yeah"

"are you upset with him?"

"no"

"did you talk to him today?"

"not really"

"what's that supposed to mean?"

"well we didn't 'talk'..."

"when?...when are you gonna stop?"

"it's not him...it's not my parents...it's nothing"

"well...it's something because your upset"

"is it?...does it have to be?...maybe i could just be upset for nothing"

"who does that?...that's dumb...that doesn't even make sense?"

"maybe because you've never been upset over nothing before..."

"stop...what happened?"

"NOTHING HAPPENED?"

"dude...whatever...okay fine"

"...it's that...what you just did..."

"what?"

"no one gets me...and that's not even the worst part..."

"huh?"

"the worst part is...no one even tries"

"what are you taaaaaalking about, I just asked you what was wrong?"

"...i don't know...i don't know"

"okay...just tell me...i'm listening"

"my 16 year old...she cried today because...she said...she's lonely"

"and..."

"she said she's keeping him around, even though she knows he's sleeping with another girl, because losing him would be worse than living with the fact that he's with another girl too"

"so...so what...she's a kid"

"no...she's a person...who feels alone"

"okay...so what does that have to do with you?"

"...nothing...nothing...it has nothing to do with me"

"...sooooo you wanna go grab a drink"

"sure"

"where?"

"i don't know...where do you wanna go?"

"i don't know...where do you wanna go....."

i need air

2007-10-14T18:53:00.000-07:00

lingering memories of burn and suffocation and "I'm done"
overshadowed by nostalgia... damn fucking nostalgia

echoing music of slow devastating heartache bouncing off ceilings... and dark rooms... and falling asleep in her clothes
swollen eyes and whimpers and hour long sniffing
and coffee coffee coffee

desiring only distraction but ending up alone again...drained...exhausted
and no one will know except for one...and these painted walls

because southern strength is driven from within...deep within
from held in...pent up anger and pride and proving to yourself that you don't need anyone...
not even your mama

so, dark will be the house... and light will be the outside
and no one will know except a chosen few...sisterhood

and when it's over...it will be forgotten...or at least not talked about or mentioned

because memories only reflect strength in these parts

until it's someone else's time to hurt...and then we reveal our "dark side"...our "weakness"...
only as a means to offer hope and healing to those we love that hurt the way we remember... but desperately want to forget

broken love

__________________________________________________________________

i dreamed of you today

you screamed and yelled and cussed at me...in front of everyone

you were wearing green and black

and i had forgotten about you...didn't call you...and you had to take a cab

you tried to act okay at first

but you knew i didn't want you there

i hated you in my dream

i hated that i might become like you

i hated that you would treat me that way in front of my friends

i still haven't called you today...and i won't tomorrow

i'm still angry at you for what you did

still angry at you that my mind could subconsciously think you could do that and play out a story while my body...my mind...where too exhausted to stop it

you're messages won't affect me today...the more you call...the more i hate you

let me sleep in peace

_________________________________________________________________

i don't care...care more than you'll ever know

2007-10-10T23:06:00.001-07:00

"you're a mean girl....you're a bitch!"

you spread rumors of sex and betrayal...
you're everywhere i am...staring
you never win...because you try too hard...way too hard

stop trying and the crazy goes away
stop caring and the crazy goes away

but you can't stop...and everyone knows
no matter what you do... you always lose

you make me look better than i ever could on my own

i thought i was drama
but when i feel neurotic
i think of you
and feel sane again
___________________________________________________________________

D-Remember when he got so drunk that he made us go out into the snow with blow dryers and hammers and beat the ice off the steps???

M-Yes

D-It was crazy...why didn't you stop him?

M-(silence)

D-Remember when he chased me around the table, caught me by the hair and threw me up against the washing machine....you saw him do it...i saw you...you were there

M-(silence)

D-Why didn't you do anything???...SAY SOMETHING...SAY FUCKING SOMETHING?

M-(silence)

.........long pause..................

D-You were afraid too, weren't you?

M-(silence)

D- You're glad too aren't you????

M-Glad about what?

D-That he's dead
_______________________________________________________________

i love it when you do that...that thing...right there...you're doing it now
like you know i like it even though i've never told you
even though i've done everything in my power to make you think i could care less about you and the things you care about

go ahead and take her home...in front of me...i don't care... it kinda turns me on
because i know you will think of me
because i know you're just a nervous kid overwhelmed by fame and drunken sex
i know you see me...watch me...but you won't know i care...ever

selfish seems to work...i should have learned that by now

you won't effect me

and you won't know he stayed with me last night
and i kissed someone in the ocean the weekend before
and it was good and different and innocently orgasmic

and i didn't think about you
and you would hate it if you knew
hate it more than the power you feel taking her home in front of me

you will not hurt me...i will hurt you

__________________________________________________________________

you fought it 5 years ago and it almost killed you...almost killed me

so helpless in the hospital bed...big strong, American staple of what "man" looks like/acts like

and i held your hand thinking this may be the last time I see you

always thinking this will be the last time i see you

prolonged hugs and minute kisses on the check and foreheads

everytime...EVERYTIME i leave you...i weep

please do not go just yet...please hang on...for me...my kids...for the man that i chose

part of me will die when you are here no more

i'm not ready to die

because when you leave me...my only stable roots, the only stable man in my life... will disappear

and i might too

please hang on

don't go

.......i'm sorry...i've never heard of you

2007-10-02T19:08:00.000-07:00

i only kissed you the first time because you looked like someone i used to love

isn't that messed up...i feel like i should feel guilty or embarrassed or ashamed...but i don't

you were better...smoother...had done this before...lots and lots of times before

i had never heard of you or your band...even though apparently everyone else has...and i say i'm sorry...and you say "i'm glad you don't know us"...and i never really know what THAT means...

because you won't be glad when i don't come to hear you sing because i'm at Blue moon dancing to Maria Carey or JT...but you say you like JT and the Reds and you love sports even though it doesn't look like you've exercised a day in your life...and your dark wardrobe and messy black hair would make you stand out at any sporting event...

you sang and sweat and spit and yelled into that microphone...and i wanted to be that microphone...ha

i don't even like your music... but i saw you caught up in your passion...and it was sexy...and dirty...in an underground dive bar rock n roll almost famous kinda way

black hair, pale, skinny, skin tight black jeans...dark red circles under your eyes from sleep deprivation or drugs or sickness or all three....but they saw me as beautiful...you liked my dress...

"baby girl" "darlin" pulled me close...you smelled like beer and tasted like cigarettes...your pale skinny chest and arms covered in trashy colored tattoos...and i liked it

seemed appropriate for you to be holding a bottle of jack and smoking a cigarette as you laid beside me...and it would have been a picture perfect album cover...oh...and you're band is making a video too?...congratulations

you talked about LA and New York...how you aren't meant for this place...and... i really do hope you get out of here...not necessarily because i think you or your band are gonna make it...but because you will never be happy here...you'll always be wanting more

money's not important to you...the "american way" is not important to you...as a matter of fact, you despise it...along with organized religion and war and George Bush... but you like to talk about all 3 when your drunk... and mostly i agree with you... and even if don't, i won't fight you because... you're so gentle when your feet are on the ground and not on stage...

and you don't even provoke me to fight because i know you won't...because you don't care who wins because...you already know what you believe and it's okay that i believe different

and you touch me so soft...sometimes...at the right times...and you stop when i ask you too...

and you think i have it so together...mostly because you dont...and you hate girls like me usually...but there's something about a women with an education and a job that won't let you do THAT....that didn't know your name when all of this town does...

and why do you always end up liking me...and me you...we are so different...

i hate your music...you hate mine...you won't dance...i can't stop...your atheist...i believe in Jesus...i drive a nice car...you drive...sometimes...never...you're house is trash and full of liquor bottles and empty cigarette cartons...you live in the ghetto...thats why you like staying over...you're always younger...barely holding a job...

and i can't get enough

what you can offer me is...the opposite of loneliness...but not companionship...it's different...it's fun and non-threatening...and...it's just...what it is i guess...but it's nice to have you around for right now...but not for long...you know that right??...

and what i could offer you...you wouldn't want...because music is your life...it keeps you a live...and music is what i listen to when i get ready for work or am driving in my car or when i want to dance

you come around every year...different face...different name...different band...

but the same guy...

and you stay a while...until both of us realize what a brilliant disaster this could turn into...

anyway...

i'm sure i'll bump into you this weekend...and the next...

and the next

I don't do "goodbyes" but "I'll see you soon"

2007-08-20T20:52:00.000-07:00

Although we have only known each other closely for going on a year...my soul tells me otherwise.The last night with you for three whole years. I suppose it seems silly to feel so deeply about your leaving. It's good and right...so very right...and I'm excited for you and for the people that get to experience the nature of who you are.

I think that's the sad part for me-that I won't be there to go through your struggles/happiness/loneliness/growth. I admit that I am a bit jealous of the beautiful relationships you will make, how new people will be your strength and support, how others will get to enjoy you on a daily basis. I suppose I have gotten used to having you close. I have gotten used to the realness of your processes and struggles and passions. While I will get to read about them from time to time, your words will be articulated and precise, speaking of experiences and growth after all the emotion/rawness/loneliness/and insecurities have been edited out...but that's the part I love most about you...you are real.

You get me...my struggles with religion and men...my struggles with my parents and fighting depression and anxiety...you get me...and while we are different in many ways...you have always made that be okay...in fact, you have always made that good, bringing out differences that I may consider weaknesses but you admire... that has been so very important to me in my relationship with you

You have taught me more about the nature of Jesus than any other person I know. You have this brilliant way of explaining everything I believe to others, and they want to support you and send you away to tell others this belief. But ironically when i explain in to others, they question my faith and pray for my salvation... maybe because of the bitterness behind my voice...and the love behind yours.

Thank you for staying in all weekend to take care of me when I couldn't move from the bathroon floor for two days...for walking in during the middle of the night and early morning to make sure I was still breathing and to place your cold hand against my fevered forehead...yes, i was awake...and yes...it meant more than you know.

Thank you for crawling in my bed on nights that i cried myself to sleep over the past 9 months...thank you for gently speaking truth i wasn't ready to hear...for loving me through my neurotic behaviors. Thank you for waking me up, getting me moving, and reminding me that I am lovable and strong when I had no energy or motivation to make it through another day...for crying tears with me and speaking truth into my life so passionately that you would weep.

And thank you for sharing of yourself. For letting me see your pain...for making me apart of the process of your work in the States, grieving over your grandfather, the difficult decision of giving up your life here to follow your passion. It has been beautiful and I count it a privilege.

And thank you for your passion for the children in Sierra Leone. For the tears you wept over the last 7 months as your heart longed to live among them. I admire your dream. My heart longs to find that reckless passion for something...someday. "There must be a thousand things you would die for...I can hardly think of two"

And thank you for the last two nights. For late night talks and tears and laughing till we couldn't breath...for prayers lifted up over you by friends that you have so much blessed their lives.

And thank you for once again reading a random passage out of one of your favorite books, knowing that I would relate...that you know me that well...and seeing you struggle though it yourself as you sat beautifully at the end of my bed hoping it would touch me as much as it touched you.

I have never been more touched by written words. A part of my spirit healed hearing you read them. Thank you Stephanie. May your healing spirit touch many broken and hurting people...may God protect your mind and heart...may He grow you in ways unimaginable...and may you come back and sit with me for tea in three years while I soak in the wisdom and beauty of my soul mate friend.

Thank you for this passage...it has changed me, and so have you. I love you girl.
_________________________________________________________________

At the beginning of my spiritual experiment, I didn't always have such faith in this internal voice of wisdom. I remember once reaching for my private notebook in a bitter fury of rage and sorrow, and scrawling a message to my inner voice-to my divine interior comfort-that took up an entire page of capital letters:

"I DO NOT FUCKING BELIEVE IN YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

After a moment, still breathing heavily, I felt a clear pinpoint of light ignite within me, and then I found myself writing this amused and ever-calm reply:

Who are you talking to , then?

I haven't doubted it's existence since. So tonight I reach for that voice again. What I write in my journal tonight is that I am weak and full of fear. I explain that Depression and Loneliness have shown up and I am scared they will never leave. I say that I don't want to take the drugs anymore but I am frightened I will have to. I'm terrified that I will never really pull my life together.

In response, somewhere from within me, rises a now-familiar presence. Offering me all the certainties I have always wished another person would say to me when I was troubled. This is what I find myself writing to myself on the page:

I'm here. I love you. I don't care if you need to stay up crying all night long, I will stay with you. If you need the medication again, go ahead and take it---I will love you through that, as well. If you don't need the medication, I will love you, too. There's nothing you can ever do to lose my love. I will protect you until you die, and after your death I will still protect you. I am stronger than Depression and I am braver than Loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me.

Tonight, this strange interior gesture of friendship--the lending of a hand from me to myself when nobody else is around to offer solace---reminds me of something that happened to me once in New York City.

I walked into an office building one afternoon in a hurry, dashed into the waiting elevator. As I rushed in, I caught an unexpected glimpse of myself in a security mirror's reflection. In that moment my brain did an odd thing---it fired off this split-second message:

"Hey! You know her! That's a friend of yours!"

And I actually ran forward toward my own reflection with a smile, ready to welcome that girl whose name I had lost but whose face was so familiar. In a flash instant, of course, I realized my mistake and laughed in embarrassment at my almost doglike confusion over how a mirror works. But for some reason that incident comes to mind again tonight during my sadness and I find myself writing this comforting reminder at the bottom of the page:

Never forget that once upon a time, in a unguarded moment, you recognized yourself as a friend.

~Eat Pray Love~Elizabeth Gilbert
___________________________________________________________________

and here lies my anxiety

2007-08-13T21:51:00.000-07:00

What can i be certain of?...i can feel certain...i can think i know myself...trust myself...believe in myself...believe in Jesus...God...heaven and hell....love...friendship...truth...passion...forgiveness...

but I don't know anything 100% for sure...does anyone? ...can you really trust? can you really?

and here lies my anxiety

and what i think i know...what i think is right and good and healthy is betrayed by my emotions... betrayed on a regular basis...more powerful than my mind...maybe not in the long run but certainly more extreme and influential and scarring....so yeah... maybe in the long run

emotions are not truth...they just aren't... so why give in at all...why let them flourish...because usually they just fuck you up... lead to decisions that you know are unhealthy

i suppose it's to enjoy life more...which in turn allows you to hurt more

so then that's the ultimate decision i guess, right?
is it worth it? maybe...at different times it is??? maybe

but what i think i know about myself...and what i feel...is that making the decision that it's not worth it is not even an option for me...not even if i tried...at least not for my whole life... and i can't tell if i'm angry about that organic decision or relieved...

blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

sometimes i wish i could be hooked up to a lie detector and i could ask myself all these existential questions that role around in my head daily...and crowd my thoughts...that keep me up at night....to see when i am actually telling the truth...because i don't even know anymore

what do i believe? about the world...myself...God...my passions

What do i believe anymore?
What is really real?

and the more i think...the more confused i am...and the more frustrated i become...the more exhausted i am...the more i want to say fuck it...and sleep...and sleep...and sleep

because i have a feeling that i'm never really gonna know...and this battle with my mind...with my emotions... will continue to be fought until the day i die...

maybe by that time...i'll be ready to go...ill be too tired to want to think anymore...maybe by then i'll find peace...and trust...in something...that is real

or maybe i'll just feel like i believe in something 100%... even though I really don't....maybe that's what you have to do to relax and just let things be...

maybe

Not a bad day

2007-08-07T20:54:00.000-07:00

Today at a training on "how to manage difficult children" my boss mentioned "blue blockers"...the sun glasses...it made me laugh on the inside

While at Wendeys a young guy behind the counter asked me if the 12 year old girl beside me was my daughter...really, REALLY???...it's not the first time this has happened...it still was kinda funny to me

After a one hour session...i had six messages from 6 different friends...asking me how i was...telling me they missed me...for no reason...that rarely happens...it was wonderful

While passing by a random conversation in my office today...someone mentioned Tony the Tiger...cracked my shit right up

At dance class this fabulous black "man" approached me after class to tell me how "good i danced"...stumbled around for more conversation...then proudly proclaimed he just graduated from Lafayette High School...geeeeezzzzzzz...hahaha...i actually did the awkward coughing laugh involuntarily...wow...

It's tournament time for my sand volleyball team...rule is no one is supposed to show up drunk (which is a big challenge for most of my teammates) ole girl was bumping the ball around with a cigarette in her mouth and Johnston nailed her dead in the face...smushing the cigarette into her check...i tried not to laugh...but couldn't contain myself...COMEEEEONNNNNN....everyone knew it was coming

My roommate and I practiced a dance routine in the spare bedroom for over an hour...i mean...life doesn't get much better at 27 right?

A 3 year old kid head butted me in my freakin mouth and busted my lip...awesome...I don't know why it made me love him more...I decided I'm adopting by 32

On the way home I jammed out to "Queen of the Night" by Whitney Houston...and yes...it was on the radio...and yes...i sang every word...loudly and proudly

My roommate and I cooked the best spaghetti eeeeeever, served with toast and butter and a big ole glass of whole milk... pretty much my favorite meal of all times...brings me back to high school

Alecia and I reminisced about her mamaw answering a question from a producer at NBC with...."LADY...I'M POOR"...and about lost my damn mind i was laughing so hard...

I walked in on our dog Roscoe pushing the garbage can peddle down and grabbing out a 2 foot loaf of bread my roommate overcooked...priceless!

I'm actually tired enough to pass out in this chair right now...and since I haven't slept in almost a week and a half...i'm pretty excited about my bed and restful sleep

Not a bad day:)...i have lots to be thankful for

i've known you

2007-07-30T20:34:00.000-07:00

there's something terribly romantic about umbrellas...girls in red shoes...waiting beside windows for lovers...a drawn bath with hair up...patchwork quilts...hand holding underneath the table...old books read in pj's and socks...slow dancing to jazz...playing that song that reminds me of him over and over and over again...stairwells...eating ice cream out of the tub...kisses on the forehead...watching you sleep...winks across the room...touching my arm when i am by your side

i try to hide my love...but everyone knows...they all know...

your black shirt lays folded on the corner of my bed...i won't touch it...move it...waiting for you

i've washed you out of my pillow 5 times... one wash for everyday you do not return

where can i go that you are not?

i've known you for years...i've known you for months...i've known you for seconds

what am i to you?

i am country

2007-07-28T22:55:00.000-07:00

tomato gravy...big grandmama's specialty...sometimes i would eat it with a spoon

camp stew and lemonade stands...10 cents a cup...my cousin debra

the mail-man that always pulled a peppermint from behind my ear...(how did he do that?)

being spanked with fly swatters, switches off bushes, and bare hands

crawling underneath beds and up into attics

sugar cookies and biscuits

walking down railroad tracks with chocolate milk we stole from uncle jessie's service station

red clay dirt roads

riding the golf cart down to the mailbox or over to the dump

picking tomatoes in big grandmother's garden without her knowing and eating them like an apple

funerals and funerals and funerals of family members with names like aunt pearl, aunt mary-lou, dotty, granddaddy pue, cousin patricia, grandmama bernice

fried deer meat and red kool-aid with no ice

kool cigarettes and homemade ashtrays

short hair cuts and big size women in house slippers

dresses made by hand to fit around their wide wastes and stomachs filled with the best southern cookin you ever could taste...with all the fixins and butter and grease

houses that carried the smell of bacon and coffee

bonnets and brooms

bare feet

fishin poles and crickets

skinned knees and long stringy, tangled hair

hand-me-down over sized clothes

hide-n- go seek in your yard and the neighbors yard and the one across the street

watching braves games and the soaps

lying to her and him and "don't tell your mama" this and "don't tell your daddy" that

black and white photographs hanging on the walls

and big ole hugs...pulled in tight between breasts as big as watermelons

my forehead would catch the sweat on the top of her chest as a result of years of taking care of
her family and the neighbor's family and her children's children

and letting the little girl down the street spend the night for reasons they would never tell me why...except to "stay away from her daddy"

big rifles and guard dogs

love sent through hands in the kitchen and collard greens on the table

eatin everything on my plate because of the starving children in Africa

fried okra and green beans

Big Grandmama

southern Alabama

these are my roots

i am country

its light outside tonight

2007-07-28T02:20:00.001-07:00

pouring grace all over those who have poured grace over me

clorox the walls and hearts...my heart

looking into peoples eyes so broken that you can't not love them

no matter what they've done... no matter what

letting go of anger while you desperately try to hold on

because it's your only way to protect yourself...

so you don't feel...so you keep them states away

seeing her laugh for the first time in years...seeing her awake...

then seeing her sadness and her longing for a relationship with me

my bitter heart feels tremendous amounts of guilt

if i could hold that guilt for a year i would

if it meant that it would soften my soul

if it meant that i would be kinder and more forgiving

more understanding and less judgemental

if it meant that others would not be afraid of my anger...or my words

if it meant that I could be just 80% selfless...

i would suffer for a year

if i could just understand love a little bit more

or at all for that matter

sometimes i feel like i don't love anyone but myself

nor could i ever really love anyone if i tried

please don't judge me

even though i've probably judged you

please forgive me

even though i probably haven't forgiven you

i don't like myself for it

i loath that part of me

the part when i speak too quickly about the mess around me

like i played no part in it

like it's all your fault for getting yourself into this

please let me feel this guilt for just a year

so i can truly stand beside you for the rest of my life...or the rest of yours

without you having fear that you are a disappointment to me

you looked so beautiful...i forgot how beautiful you were

you are my blood...thick you run through my veins...thick i run through yours

i just want us to be okay

her body a temple

2007-07-22T21:52:00.000-07:00

her body a temple

wanting to be breathed in, tasted, sipped on, swallowed down.

she fights mind and body against conviction of "purity" and desire... against the things that make her blush to remember, burn underneath her belly button, tingle down there as if it was happening all over again...she crosses her legs tightly, and if feels good.

the color of gray reminds her of him...he tasted like rain

her head falls back...she shakes...always has, can never stay still..."shhhhhhhh" he says...

crawling backwards, relentless chasing...wanting to be caught...she forgets about the insecurities of her body... about the lack of planning what to wear underneath

why does he like the lights on?

hand behind her fallen neck and she wants to give in...to let him take her over...and over and over again...

but she doesn't...wants to so badly her stomach aches...

and it's over...

......................"so, you need a ride home?"...............................

and she remembers why she doesn't

i wish i could make it rain

2007-07-18T19:58:00.001-07:00

9 year old female

i cupped her soft cheek in my hand and ran my finger between her eyes at the top of her nose...

"hey little lady, wow...i like your scar...when did you get it?... i don't remember it being there last summer"

"i'm supposed to lie"

"lie about the scar?"

"yea, pa-paw told me to lie...he said to tell everyone that i fell"

"did you fall?"

"no"

"what happened?"

(silence)

"i'm sorry...you don't have to tell me...i'm sure you have your reasons...but if someone is hurting you...are you okay?"

she begins to bite her lip and a tear escapes from her left eye...

"he cut me...he cut me with some glass...he was mad at me and he broke a bottle and cut my face...but...it was an accident...he didn't mean too...and i was being bad...real bad...and i shouldn't have been"

"look at me...hey...look at me...no one...NO ONE should put their hands on you that way...i don't care what you did...how bad you were...YOU ARE WORTH MORE...look at me...you are worth more baby"

(silence)

"will you adopt me? i'll be good for you...promise"

i wonder what kind of a person can cut their child...not hit or slap across the face...but CUT and slowly slice an X in a child's forehead?...ill tell you who...someone that i'm sure will end up in hell one day, if there is a hell...and if there's not...certainly karma will get him...no wonder she fights...no wonder she runs away...i would too...because if she didn't...she might die...and i don't mean that metaphorically...but let's identify her as "oppositional defiant" because...well... if not then we might have to remove her from her home...and we want to keep all the children in their homes if possible...it's the fucking American way right?

it's bullshit if you ask me

___________________________________________________________________

10 year old female

"hey darlin, your skirt...there's something on your skirt...why don't you run to the bathroom and make sure you didn't have an accident"

she has problems with hygiene in general...we've been working on cleanliness for months...low functioning mother, completely unable to parent...emotional absent father....poor...poor...poor

another therapist grabs me...hands me pads and says 'she has asked for you'

"can i come in?"

"yeah"

a smell hits me stronger than death...i feel my lunch shoot up to my throat...she stands there, taller than i...breast bigger than mine...size 18...skirt and panties down...mother nature has colored her from knees up, panties and skirt soaked from the fall of woman...hands covered in blood...she holds them forward, palms up

"i don't know what to do...what am i supposed to do...what is happening?"

i couldn't breath...unbathed, overweight, and unaware...i couldn't breath...i force out a smile

"this is what happens to our bodies when we start turning into women...congratulations!...i know this must be weird but it's okay...you're not sick or dying"

"I felt down there and i didn't feel a cut...and now my hands...they have blood all over them...my hands..."

her hands were shaking and she began to cry

"no worries, hey listen...this is happened to every woman you and i know...it's happened to all of us...to me...to your mother...to your therapist...to your teachers...it's okay...as a matter of fact...i'm glad i get to be here with you to talk about it...it's a pretty big step pretty girl"

"really?...i'm not dying?...should we go to the hospital?...what do i do now?"

"here are some wipes...wipe everything until your skin is clean...wipe in between your legs front and back until there is no more color on the wipes...take off your clothes, put them in this bag and tie it up tight...wrap all wipes that you used into a ball of toilet paper and put in in the garbage so no one can see anything that looks like blood...then wash your hands and underneath your fingernails...I will be right back with some brand new clothes and then we will talk...woman to woman"

she pushes out a tearful smile

i walk out the door and run straight outside...breath in deeply the hot Kentucky air... so young and so alone...no woman to teach her how to care for herself... how to be proud of her body and its changes...no woman to teach her how to put in a tampon or what pads to buy...no one to teach her how to clean herself...no woman to wash her clothes stained with womanhood and no one to put a heating pad on her belly and buy her pop sickles to ease her nerves...no one to proudly push her hair out of her face and comfort her new step as a female......no one...she has no one
__________________________________________________________________

8 year old male

"i hate you...you made him leave...i heard you say it...you said 'don't come home'...it's your fault...you're not my mama...you don't love me...if you did then you wouldn't have made dad have a heart attack and leave us...your the one that has problems...you scratched him and threw his shoe in the toilet...and it wasn't even flushed...your crazy and made him go away...i'm finding a new mother"

mother sits in tears...i let him continue

"call him mom...do you have his number?...just call him and tell him how much we feel...tell him how much we love him and how much we miss him...you haven't even called...you made him leave"

dad's a liar...makes promises that he can't keep...sat in my office 3months ago and committed to 4 couples sessions to work things out...mother confronts him about an affair...he denies...she leaves the room for a bathroom break and he moves closer to me...makes a joke...and winks...yeah...he's having an affair...and beating off to his therapist at night...he leaves her the next day...on her 33 birthday

" maybe we could call his mom and dad and they will yell at him and spank him and then he'll come back to us...or if i see him i can hit him in the balls or pour chemicals in his eyes and then he'll come back because he'll know what we feel like all by our self in the house without him"

"yoooooooooooouuuuu are the reason he left mom...because your crazy...you are...he doesn't have problems...YOU DO...and i hate you for making him go...I HATE YOU!...i cut my leg and YOU didn't even call him to take care of me...you told him to stay away...he doesn't love YOU anymore so he stays away from us...you made him not love you and now you're the reason he won't see me"

mom did call...his father refused to come to the hospital...

"my daddy is a liar...he lied to his first wife and us and he will leave his new girlfriend...mom...call his new girlfriend because she might love us if she knew us...but he'll just leave her too and then she can be on our side like everybody else and then he'll be alone and he'll know what it's like to feel like we feel and then he'll remember that he loves you mom and he loves me and then everything will be back to normal and no one will be sad anymore...just call him mom...and call his parents...everything is going to be back to normal right? right mom? will you call him and tell him you miss him and i miss him, okay?"

his new girlfriend is carrying his new baby...what do you tell this child who has every right to be angry...every reason to yell and cry and try to find something, someone, anyone to blame...when we don't understand...when we don't have closure...how do we move on? how does a 8 year old move on? how does a therapist of a 8 year old help him move on?

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this is my day...i cried all the way home...i haven't been able to stop thinking about them...hurting for them...weeping for them...i washed the smudged mascara from my eyes and put lotion on my face, noticing the smooth of my skin on my forehead...i took a bath and cleaned between my legs three times...and was thankful for having women in my life to address my growing body's needs......i called my mother to say i was sorry for any harsh words i have spoken to her unfairly...

maybe God will let me hurt a little for them tonight...so they can have a little relief....so they can sleep easy and not be afraid that someone will hurt them...again...ignore them...again...or leave them...again...

i wish i could make it rain on their insides...and the ugly parts would wash out of their toes

home

2007-07-12T20:19:00.000-07:00

Pit as deep as black...white used to be the walls now tainted yellow from smoked lungs and heavy coughing...stained teeth...empty pill bottles and old bills...the smell of depression and deceit so thick it hovers over like a cloud meant only for this place...

Deep lines cover a face that make-up never touched until I said "It makes you beautiful...more beautiful"...Downward spiral of shame until she holds out her hands...empty, stares into them..."Don't come...you're the only thing i did right...please don't come" Lowering her voice...head heavy hung down so far her beautiful hair covered her exhausted and hopeless eyes...too tired...too damn beaten down for excuses or blaming...

I am silent...screaming inside...I feel nothing...everything...nothing at all...angry, so angry i am numb

"Hello...are you there...i know it's you...you're number came up...please...i'm sorry, so sorry"... his sorrowful voice shaking...pleading...i hold the speaker to my forehead..."baby?"... he means it...and i believe him...i always do when i hear him say my name like that...I can't speak...won't speak...have nothing left...feel nothing...thumb presses hard...my spirit connects with the monotone sound of the dial tone... and I rock to the melody of nothingness...

The basement floor is checkered...It looks different from the ceiling...I've never been here before... it's peaceful...and I'm suprised at how delicate I look below me...I would never describe myself as delicate...wish that I could....wrapped up with both knees tight to my chest...and i look like her...and him...and i look sad...just like her... and him...but i don't feel sad...i don't feel...i don't...

i wish i could make it rain on the inside...and the ugly parts would wash out of my toes...I am everything you think i am, nothing you think i am... I am home

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Home. There was nothing to do but pack my suitcase and wade into it. ~ sue monk kidd~

You don't THINK your way into a new way of living, you LIVE your way into a new way of thinking

2007-06-13T20:33:00.000-07:00

This month has been a gamut of emotions and full of life's good oooooole lessons...growth is all around... so is appreciation...so is hope...so is sleeping more soundly and wanting to wake up in the morning...to routine and eating breakfast and saving money and exercising and not drinking and eating healthy and to remembering that I'm never stuck in a situation although it certainly FEELS that way at times... for days and weeks and sometimes months...relationships, jobs, Kentucky, finances, spirituality, fears...WHY DO I HAVE TO FEEEEEEEEEEEL SO DAMN MUCH????

How can emotions be so captivating and so detaining at the same time???

And when am going to learn to FILTER FILTER FILTER these emotions before they vomit out of my mouth????

It's my greatest strength and my greatest weakness...it's why people call me "refreshing" and others call me a bitch...it's my desire for people to know me...and my confidence that if you did know me--you'd like me... because you know you could trust me...for people to know that what i say--they can believe...that I'm the same person in front of you and her and him... and if i say it "behind your back" I've said it to "your face" too...probably in a sit down "family talk" or after a few drinks...it's my desire for you to know that you are important or that hurt me or i don't agree...or I totally agree or I'm sorry or I'm pissed or...just plain REALNESS i suppose...it's not always healthy and it's certainly extreme at times but...it happens...a lot...

I've got so much growing up to do...so many more years of figuring out who I am...it makes me laugh out loud sometimes when I think about the counseling career i chose...

Sometimes I sit in meetings and conferences and trainings and sessions and say things that blow my damn mind...because it's good...and healthy...and so very sane...and people listen and want more...and i make people feel better and i see them make big changes...and I'm praised for my work and professionalism...and I get comments about how I have it all together...wow...THAT is hi-freakin-larious...

Then I walk to my car and call my friend back whose hung over so she can tell me the scandal that went on downtown last night or how "so and so was sooooo drunk that he peed in her laundry basket in the middle of the night"... yeah...right after making a strong case for Women victims of Domestic violence, or being a role model to the little ones watching us, or ideas of improving our addiction's program...

I think about the night before when i stalked people on myspace...reading their blogs...looking at pictures...comparing myself to them or wondering who that bitch is...

I think about how i changed the channel from Nancy Grace to watch That 70's Show...

I think about how i rolled out of bed this morning 40 mins before my first session and it takes 25 to get to my office... how i meant to catch up on my paperwork today but instead i googled Yorkshire Terriers for sale in our area and read the latest news on Lindsey Lohan...

I think about how I reread old emails from ex-lovers and cried while eating a chocolate jello pudding i stole from our children's program's snack closet when no one was watching...and i shut my door to my office so i could put my feet in the sandbox I use for Play therapy, played Bob Marley, and pretended I was at the beach... flying a kite... with my daddy...back when we used to talk and laugh and spend time together...

I laugh at the irony of my profession--mental health--and sometimes wonder if it's just a professional facade i play or if behind my frontal lobe there really is a mature...self-identified woman growing and becoming everything i dreamed her to be...

As I have struggled with the above idea for months...maybe even years... I decided some self-reflection and goal setting MUST happen lest I DROWN in my lack of personal self-confidence and professional competency...

So, I decided to re-read a book called the Passionate Marriage, byDavid Schnarch. This book was my favorite read in graduate school. Schnarch is a student of one of the great pioneers in marriage and family therapy, Murray Bowen. Bowen's theories and literature have been a huge part of understanding who i am, who i am becoming, why it's hard for me to get there, personal patterns, boundaries... boundaries... boundaries... and empowerment...

Bowen coined the term "differentiation" ...aka: self-identity, self-worth, not losing yourself in your relationships or others, knowing who you are as to enhance relationships in which you are involved and not pulling from the other to full-fill your self-esteem or identity needs...wow...that was boring...thanks for sticking with me...

All of that to say... For the first time in a long time...I'm beginning to trust myself again AAAAAANNNNNNDDDD...and this is a pretty big one...I'm starting to believe people CAN change...really change...and I would say that's a pretty important concept for me to believe in since I'm a freaking therapist right??? but I haven't believed it fully in a very long time...and by not believing that people/clients can change...I have given into the idea that I CAN'T EITHER...and that...THAT...is a sad sad place to live...

So YAY!!! There's my classic blogging pain and growth and bla bla bla...but seriously, if you feel like a good therapeutic read to enhance and empower yourself and understand how and why you interact the way you do in your marriage, relationships, and your sex life...read the Passionate Marriage...you don't have to be married...obviously...

Also, if you are a human being you should invest some time and energy into The Road Less Traveled, by M. Scott Peck...and oldie but a goodie...and a must read...especially if you have children or are planning on having children...it will rock your world and make you a better person...promise...

With that said...one last thing...I was at a training all day today where this video clip was played...I've seen it many many times...but it always...ALWAYS...gives me chills...I'll let it speak for itself...