He's so FINE he blows my MIND

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"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

~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)

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

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

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

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

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.

...

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~
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xmas 07- "Tiffany"

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

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

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"

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

tornado

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

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