read that today, can’t get it out of my mind
Have been reading for some time now a little book called If The Buddha Dated by Charlotte Kasl, PH.D. It definitely is a small read that could easily take a few days or an intense long afternoon. I bought it months ago not because I was in the market for dating but because there is an underlining message about self awareness that is always a nice refresher. Yes, of course there is ample amount on dating too. Today there was a section on accepting loss and a fragmented sentence I cannot shake: Step into the fear. It reminds me so much of the self defense class I took in Pasadena, CA a year ago. We were taught that if you are grabbed by the arm of wrist, our automatic instinct is to pull away because it is scary and of course you want to flee…but it’s actually better to throw the attacker off kilter and step into him.
So, fear is inanimate not like an attacker and I’ve been pondering on how I can step into it and look it straight in the eyes.
I talked about cutting the rip cord…but what if too, I cut off parachutes?
We all have parachutes…those devices we keep around to keep us safe…often they come in packages shaped as people or momentous or the very elusive patterns we keep repeating (they can be caught by first recognizing them).
So, a minute hobble was made this evening…I’ve released myself from facebook. How will people find me? More importantly, how will I find people?
Maybe by just walking into them on the street.
Now, I will be my person for me…
Recently, I have dreamt twice of the man who inspired this blog. Two separate times promptly sprung from my reality. It doesn’t take two years visiting with my therapist to see the connection. First was after a hurtful disagreement with my mom and secondly during a night while the Gentleman caller was in town. See, he (the man who once was my person) was my family in Los Angeles. He represented my constant familial structure especially when my own continually hardened my heart. He also was my comfort, support and the one I searched out when I needed a hand to squeeze. He was my person. He was my other half. But together we weren’t whole. I knew that our deep friendship was not on path towards a complete union…but he was my person nonetheless. And when my world here…miles away…got shook…I dreamt of him. twice. When I felt exposed and unsafe my sleep reached out towards him.
It’s obvious that many things in my life are pointing to me. just me. Casey is gone…Kaylyn has left. Again, it’s just me. They say the most important steps you take are the ones you take all by yourself. Okay. I see. (deep sigh). Then.
It’s time for me to be my person for me. I don’t think I ever have. When I moved out to LA I was so young and still so very dependent on others for emotional support. What if I just cut the rip cord?
Dig deep, Durden…I believe in you.
We have them for a reason
As I let out a sigh of relief, I also look around the room to make sure no other surprises are abound. So, I’d like to blame this whole thing on Trey who told me not to shoot all the dogs just because one has fleas…remember that? Well, thing about that Trey is the fact that the one who had fleas…has had them for 45 years for a reason…and most often those red flags are there to us to take notice…or fleas, what have you.
Gentleman caller came out. Gentleman caller has left…early. THAT WAS A TRAIN WRECK. And he is not a gentleman…just so that we’re clear.
Kathryn was appalled by the whole insane story. The fact that he nearly attacked me within seeing me for the first hour to not answering my phone calls for 14 hours to ending it on the high beautiful note of “you need to have Jesus in your life” (prior to his sweeping blanketed judgment calls on my life). Ugh. And as Kerry cried out laughing “Hooray, he didn’t let me down, I knew he’d go all crazy religious on you”. Kristen made me feel better, “you are taking chances and your moving forward with you life…yes, it didn’t work out as planned but I’m so proud of you putting yourself out there”. Kaylyn was so disappointed in him for she has been his number one fan for awhile now. Kelly had me laughing through tears while she shared with me how she has almost signed up to one of my “packaged deals” but she saw that her guy looked like a chicken and couldn’t pull the trigger. ”At least your guy looks like a Greek god…however he sounds like Forest Gump”. Kathryn apologized profusely for not discouraging me from it all. She knew him from years past but she was hoping for the best. The best was hearing Robin’s silence on the other end of the phone and saying “when I think it can’t get worse, it just does”.
I want to roll around in sage. I’m somewhat confused to why any of this happened. But here’s what I know…my instinct said no to this and I didn’t listen it…well, I did but I then went back and changed my mind…discarded my instinct…pushed my beautiful bold instinct aside and forged ahead. Yes, Kristen, I did take a chance but I also appreciate so much of what Kerry said “Just because someone is a nice guy doesn’t mean you have to give him a chance…there are plenty of good ones out there…don’t waste your time on ones that haven’t cut the apron strings.” Yep. red flag. bag of fleas. instinct radar alerted.
Can someone actually roll in sage? Or does it only do it’s job if it’s on fire? If so…I’ll pass on rolling in it…but I must cleanse myself from this odd bizarro experience.
But aren’t they all Miranda Moments?
Sex and the City: a fantastic written show. Can’t recall the season but remember when Miranda began chocking and she had to ram herself into a table to give herself the Heimlich? And then she expressed to Carrie how she could die alone and then her cat would eat away at her dead body and nobody would be the wiser. Yep. not a pleasant thought. But it was my EXACT thought after I had brushed my teeth in my violet painted mini bathroom and like a ninety year old woman or an infant, I totally forgot how to swallow and began to go blue. I could not get air into my lungs. Instead of a cat, Boo dog trotted in because he knew something was wrong (Delilah was later found playing with a ball on the bed, unconcerned). As I should have been putting more concentration on oxygen my short lived Connecticut life flashed before me. Couldn’t call KC because she was in Sweden and in a few days if this happens again, I won’t be able to call Kaylyn. (side bar: another klan member is relocating) (side to the side bar: I will miss her so much) and then a swooshing thought: what am I doing here?? And then I began to nearly gag which must have broken the seal and in tiny gulps, I began to breathe.
They are all Miranda moments because at the end of the day, everyone must go it alone…right? Even if your married…I think…at the end of the day, by ourselves we have to ensure that we are breathing life (events, choices, actions, relationships, battles, break-ups, changes, chances, moves)…at the end of the day…we still have to function as individuals.
Kaylyn says “why does life have to be this hard?” I don’t know, love. But at least outside of the Miranda Moments they are sandwiched with lasting friendships and glasses of chardonnay.
Do They Really Exist?
Okay, so we warn our girlfriends about red flags. We read about red flags in self help books (yeah, I said, it…yeah, I read ‘em and you can just suck it if you want to judge) (sorry, sometimes my petite gangster comes out without warning). So, do these red flags really hold validity? And more importantly how do you decipher between a red flag or the knot in your stomach that may only be hang ups from past relationships? Without doubt, I can look back and see those red flags attempting to beat me to a pulp with the ex…I’m surprised I do not have scars. Need examples? (again, don’t judge…well, you should judge…I needed to be bitch slapped (gasp, I think my petite gangster just turned on myself). I was told “I find intimacy in snuggling vs. anything else” or “I don’t want to have children” or ”I take a very long time to do anything…it takes awhile for me to put things in motion, that’s just who I am” or when he cried when another dog ate one of Delilah’s dog toys…it was tiny bunny and it was her first little toy…Ouch! That red flag from the past just smacked me.
So…yes, I don’t want to repeat patterns. Hopefully none of the above will ever be repeated or I will then be convinced that playing russian roulette is totally not my thing.
But what about the red flags that I see lurking in the distant? How do I breathe and stay in the moment but still be smart? How do I not go into an internal monologue about all the imaginary “what ifs” that are unresolved?
Or do I just listen to my girlfriends that are married or about to get married who say things like “he will never be perfect, you will never get everything you want” or “sometimes I think he is such a brute” or “We just don’t have anything to talk about”…
Okay, writing the above did not make feel better.
This post is a downer. I think I should flag this one.
And then there was two…for the time being
Boo and Delilah
Boo Radley has joined us. I never considered D being a nugget of a dog…but she is…she is a nugget. I’m still startled when Boo leaps onto the bed like a wild antelope that has decided to join me. Not only do I have four little feet following me into the kitchen to cook or to the table to eat or to my single chair to computer, I now have an additional set of four big hooves with a sloppy wet nose and slightly gassy back end…but I couldn’t be happier. Without having a back yard that they can freely run, I am now taking many walks. D is a more spritely while Boo will tend to stop in a heavy stance when he feels the need to test me. In a low demanding “BOO” he returns to join the pack as we travel around the bend. I do not care that I use my swiffer twice a day to collect fur bunnies that congregate near the dinning chairs and under the bed. Nor do I care that I diligently cut raw meat and carrots each and every night or that it takes two plastic bags to clean up one of Boo’s potty breaks. (small dogs equal small poo…hence the choice of a doxie mix)…none of it matters because Boo Radley is a big love and I cannot imagine him not being here. Who knew that Boo from LA would be a part of my life one day. Who knew? Well, Peter knew…Peter also knew a year before it happened that in February I’d be leaving the first week in my own car, departing the state of California. Who’s Peter? He’s for another time. No…he’s not for the R rated version of this blog…but truly, for another time.
Boo Radley…thank you for accepting Delilah and I as your own. We sure do like you.
by one odd step at a time
Here. I don’t mean CT. I don’t mean this picture perfect little town of Wilton. More precise. Hmmm…am I referring to state of mind? But that’s so cliche, right? Yes…but I have such severe cramps right now and cliche is easy…I need easy…sometimes, you just need easy. But getting to my current state of mind was not easy. This is some of the steps it included: a ten day fast with daily colonics…yes, daily colonics while drinking a gel 4 times a day that expanded in your intestines so to attach itself to the mucoid plaque so it could be flushed out the next day. I will never do it again…I did it because I was afraid of it. I was more afraid of drinking that clay drink with the consistency of mud than that tube up my woo hoo and watching uneaten lettuce go into a pump inside the wall. Yes…odd first step. Another: I went to Ashram in Oregon…which is the inspiration to this post…because this past weekend was exactly a year since my trip to Portland where I raked a zen garden and harvested my first radishes from their plentiful garden. It was a year ago that I pushed boundaries like no other…I tracked down the fireman. (and those who know my secrets, know exactly who the fireman is…the beautiful fireman who drove the motorcycle) And like I keep telling everyone…one day I will write the R rated version to this blog…like Jenny Joseph’s poem “When I’m old I shall wear purple”…maybe I’m old fashion and surmise that a girl should still have her secrets or maybe (which I think may be more of the truth) it’s for another time…(but will say this…zen can be found in more ways than yoga). And then I returned from Portland and started to research my return to LMU to finish a degree that exhausted my shoulders but it’s weight needed to come off. But I truly believe that each time I pushed myself…put myself in situations that were uncertain…I was able to open the next door…another one that had been boarded up all other times when I had looked upon it. I took college math. It scared me but I went to every office hour and I showed up for myself. I got a beautiful curvaceous C. I drove across country with a little dog. I found an apartment without having a job. I started to seek out different paths in life. Hmmm, would I want to be a landscape architect? But I didn’t really care about why a half dead bush was half dead outside my back door…and so I then I kept asking myself questions and I wish I could tell you when I asked myself about speech pathology…but I don’t know…but it all made sense…all at once.
And so now, I am looking at grad schools where I need to take the GRE packed with math and classes packed with Anatomy and Physiology. But it all makes sense even though on paper, it doesn’t…where it’s supposed to. But it makes sense it my being. My path has always been to be of service to others like Laura reminded me.
I always said that I would never move back to the south…I’m looking into the University of Memphis. What if after 16 years, I’m finally only an hour and a half away from Kathryn? Even more, what if after 16 years…I just needed to come full circle to find my straight path?
A Ledger From Another Life
Unpacking doesn’t take too long…organizing is what continues to knock on your front door. A few days ago, I came across an overstuffed envelope of receipts. They were all food receipts. Each dated piece of paper jogged my memory. Johnnies New York Pizza located on Wilshire happened on 09/19/2009. That was back in September…we were happy then…I think. Caesar Salad with a small pizza. We sat in small booth near the entrance. We bantered back and forth about his I phone pre and post production website. We were trying to come up with clever titles to his articles. He held my hand. He always wanted to be touching me. I got in the habit of pulling away in order to look through my purse or fix my shirt or pull back my hair…it was easier that way.
07/23/2009 documented one of the numerous times we would walk down from his apartment in Santa Monica to eat outside at the Fish Grill. Two Grilled Fish Taco plates, one without salsa. He hates tomatoes. Kaylyn and I could eat them as apples…and another non transitional fact about tomatoes: KC had me smell fresh tomatoes on the Vine while we were grocery shopping at Stew Leonards…and yes, it is the best smell in the world…it’s the richness and coolness of the earth…and now, I only buy my tomatoes with vine included. He and I would have this meal practically every week. We sat in one of two tables. I’d mix my coleslaw into my baked potato. He would be wearing his black New York hooded zip up sweatshirt. Delilah would be on leash attached to one of the chairs. We were happy…I think. Yes, I can say we were always happy at the Fish Grill. Afterwards one of us would walk over to CVS and either purchase Swedish Fish or a Peppermint Patty.
Bloom Cafe on Pico Blvd. Truly the best omelets packed with chunks of zucchini and mushrooms and then water with a hint of cucumber. Vicky and I went there one morning when I didn’t have classes until the afternoon. She picked me up after she had broadcasted on the radio in the wee LA hours. We had spent very little time together, one on one, up to that point. Well, there was that stint when I went over to her place after the Avatar fiasco. I listened to her as she said “it may be an isolated incident”. I can’t remember the occasion to our breakfast…maybe it had to do with what she asked me when she dropped me back off at my place. ”Do you want to marry, him?” And I felt terrible as I lied to her. ”Yes”.
I do not have a receipt for our last meal together. He picked up that one. Appropriately named, we ate at restaurant called SOUTH. I dressed up…I called it a date. The past 3 months while I was in school coated our relationship with tension. I was ready to refocus. Delilah was in the car in her travel bag. He was unsure if he had locked the door and went to go check. As I sat on a tall bar stool and watched him walk down the sidewalk in his staple brown button down shirt…I had a peace come over me. I decided right then and there that I did want to marry this man. I loved him. He was good. I came to peace with the truth of what he was never going to be able to give me. I accepted that I would live a sexless life with him. (did she just write that??) (she as in me??) (me as in I??). Yes…I would live a sexless life with him…but we’d work on it and I find it in me to be attracted to him again. I was attracted to him when we first met…it must be in there somewhere? We’d go to a sex therapist…we would figure out why he is struggles with it. And I seriously, felt such peace.
The next day he broke up with me. And the rest is now.
But all my found receipts are from another time. Each documenting a time and a place much much different than now. I wish I could find that receipt that notes the following: “Sarah, You love him but your not in love with him. It’s time to leave, quit holding on and a pulled pork bbq sandwich with sweet potato chips on the side.”
The nice Klan, the one that doesn’t burn crosses or where unflattering creepy clothes
Kathryn hates that I call my girls: the Klan. Good Mississippi girl. Unsure if I have shined a spotlight on my coincidental pattern (not the spotlight I used to shine on opossums while I lived in Cleveland, Ms)…the pattern of my tight group of girlfriends from all different points of my life all begin with the letter “K”.
There’s dear sweet Kelly in Florida…and we’ve never lived in the same state. Kathryn from my young college years. KristIn whom I met through Ruben and our friendship hit the road running (is that a saying? because what does it mean?) Kerry who is the one person I practically call every day to share the important news like “I tried the peanut butter jar that had the mixed in jelly”. There’s KC (yes, Casey) but when I met her she spelled her name the latter so to better compete in the dominate male field of production…so she’s still in.
And now, I’ve met Kaylyn. Oddly, she is the one renting the house from Casey. Last month I went over to introduce myself to her because she was looking for someone to watch her little one, Tyler. I thought it would be a half hour max meeting. I was there for 4 hours. We instantly clicked. Yesterday we had lunch…it was bizarre, being back over at KC’s. Delilah was so happy to be back…looked for Boo for awhile and then relaxed in the sunshine. It was as if we had known each other for years.
And so now, I have a K to represent my CT life. Yes, there is KC/Casey but remember she’s going to Sweden for a year…so she’s out of the pool.
Serving up possbilities
I love a good grocery store. Whole Foods has always been a favorite but now I’ve discovered eclectic independent ones spattered throughout all these many mini towns within CT. And even my little Wilton has one…and they are all called markets. Now, I can honestly say, “I’m going to the market”. Will be returning for another pre packaged steamed summer squash with onions and cranberries. It’s so fresh. It’s so perfectly balanced. Getting to a place of a personal balanced nature takes time…or does it…does it just happen when you stop trying to keep things safe. Rosie, Casey, Kathryn, Kristen, Ruben, and Dana all said to stop being so obstinate. Well, actually that was only Kristen who used those choice words.
He’s coming out. I gave the green light last Thursday. While holding my breath, I typed “let’s revisit the idea of you coming out to see me” and within a half a moment, he took the reigns.
Casey said “just try to stay open…promise me, you’ll stay open to possibilities”. After feeding Delilah her new raw food diet this morning, I decided to share her remaining carrots with the our neighboring chipmunks. While walking back, an english accent over my shoulder asked me where apartment 70 was located. I decided to help him because I didn’t have the answer myself. I’m 84 but unsure of anything else. In a 5 minutes conversation, I found out that he has lived in Norwalk for 8 years. He found me to be funny and much kinder than the average Fairfield resident. He has lived in Thailand and taught rock climbing in Vail, Co. He owns his own business and his eyes are warm. And his name is Oliver. Oliver, what a perfect English name…don’t you think?
Yes, I’m in the market for taking chances.
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