Doubt. Check. Destination. Check. Delilah. Sit.

Broken hearted but let's see what I can learn

2011, My Father Died

nearly a year later and not fully desensitized

On one of my last days in Florida, I drove over to Destin to their large outlet mall.  Massive selection of stores.  I practically went into everyone looking for nautical attire.  I figured if I was near the ocean then a perfect place to find a red and blue striped cotton mini dress.  While putting a puzzle together with Kelly, I got a text from Brian stating that I was to attend the Yacht Rock Revue with him.  Having no idea what that was, I turned my attention to Google.  Kelly chimed in that anything that has the word Yacht in it must be amazing.  You’d think.  As I pull up a site with a group of men wearing retro hawaiian shirts and sporting handle bar mustaches, I quickly learn that crystal filled Dom Perignon was not in my near future.  I did though learn that it was a 70′s cover band.  I knew who Steely Dan and Holland Oats was but did Brian?  And why in the world would he want to listen to soft rock on purpose?

So, after the ninth store, I began to realize it was me.  Upon every entrance into another world of discounted clothing items, alarms would start raging.  Attendants would stop what they were doing and look at me.  Other shoppers would turn around and stare as well.  I hardly ever carry a purse, only a wristlet so they all quickly saw that I wasn’t confiscating anything.  I began to blatantly announce upon my arrival with a loud and assertive voice,  ”I have no idea what’s happening, so sorry”  while nonchalantly browsing their inventory.

Thankfully the manager at a dress boutique suggested I run my body over their scanner to figure out what was on me and then I could become desensitized.  Shoes? Nope, that wasn’t it.  Upper body?  Nope, beeping not heard.  Hips and Waist?  Yep.  It turned out that my VW keys were causing all the ruckus.  And in one quick swipe, the alarms no longer detected any problems.  I was desensitized.

But that simply is not the truth.

I still have Rosie’s email in my inbox of his itinerary to Germany.  He left last year from January 07 to the 21st.  One day later he died.  I can’t move the emails from him into desktop folders.  He had fwd me an email from Fred Carl about maps.  Two days ago, I finally stored away some of his belongings into large bins.  I was on the phone with Scott as I folded his little jeans with iron on patches on the knee.  Scott and I were engaged in an in depth conversation about life when I had to interrupt him, “there’s still a belt in these jeans.  A belt he put there.  Scott, I miss my daddy.  This is not get any easier.  When will it, Scott?”

It may not ever get easier.  As my cousin Beth said, “the whole never goes away, you just figure out how to move around it”.  She lost her dad, my uncle, dad’s brother to a heart attack as well when she was 14 years of age.

It’s hard to move around the whole when I feel like I’m sitting right in the middle of it.  The day he died and after I had driven to Pennsylvania from CT…I laid in bed with my sister.  I did not want to go to sleep.  I wanted to hold onto that day because within those 24 hrs, I knew my father had inhaled breaths.  I wanted to never leave that day even if he was no longer using his lungs.  So, I looked at my phone and would not allow myself to sleep until it was midnight.  It was the only way I knew how to just….hold onto him.

He existed in 2011.  And as much as I could not wait for this hellacious horrendous  year to get over…I just wanted to hold onto it.

The alarm is still raging inside of me.

 

 

No Comments by on January 4, 2012
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A Big Rolling Snowball in Alabama

And the heat illuminating from my face couldn’t even melt it

I blame all of this on my addiction to Circus Peanuts.  A few years back I had written a play and the first three pages were a conversation about this high fructose candy.  I only treat myself to them if I am on a road trip…possibly because this delicacy can  usually be purchased only from gas stations for around two dollars a bag.

I left on the 23rd to drive to Florida..and after half of the trip behind me…everyone including the car needed a break.  Delilah’s head had been Coraline’s sitting cushion for far too long and Coraline had begged with her subtle dinosaur-screeching like yawns for over an hour that her stiff body needed to be reminded that it was an agile puppy.

We are in Alabama and I stop at a Chevron to get gas.  While the car is getting refilled, I take out the dogs to stretch their legs and go to the bathroom.  It was quite chilly and was happy to return to my overstuffed car.  Forgetting to bring a bowl, I poured water into a Frisbee and they lapped it up along with their beef treats.  I put a call into Scott.  He did not pick up so I left a message.  I return a text back to my landlord about a fed ex package.  I felt extremely tired and knew I needed a pick me up…circus peanuts were purchased inside.  A very skinny woman missing a few side teeth and showing off her holiday cheer, wore a santa hat on her head.  She gave me back my change for the two bags I purchased.  I got back into the car…took a picture of them (which I tend to do every time…last time Scott got this picture…Kerry the time before…this time Brian was introduced into my sweet orange world).  All things done and it was time to go.  I start up the car and drive off.

And the moment I did…I just knew something was terribly wrong.  Something was eerily amiss.  I couldn’t put my finger on it.  I drove past a BP station and should have stopped there…but drove up the hill a tad bit more and into the circular driveway of a run down nursery.  I had barely put the car in park when a scraggily man in an old flannel coat walked out the door and letting the screen door slam behind him.  It was one of the only moments in that next 9 minutes that was in slow motion.  He raised his arm and pointed at me and his mouth twisted in a somewhat smile.  ”You done did it now”.  Still not completely putting the pieces together, I walk to where he’s standing and pointing.  Yep, I done did it.  I drove off with the pump and hose still attached to my car.  He told me to drive back with it to the Chevron.  I asked him if I could take it off.  He said, “Best not do that or you might blow up.”  What??? And then I hear a distant yelling coming from the BP station.  A woman in a letterman jacket who possibly graduated from high school 30 years ago is waving her arms in the air as if pleading to air search and rescue “Bring it Baaaaack!  Bring that hose back!”.  I look to Robert, “Oh my god, has this ever happened to anyone…are they going to yell at me?”  His somewhat twisted smile returned. “I know them.  You tell them that Robert said not to touch you.” Not to touch me???  I was only worried about being the focus of yelling.  Then a beyond bright yellow pick-up truck flies into the driveway.  The driver puts both of his folded elbows out his driver side rolled down window…as if we were about to have a casual chat.  ”We all saw it happen.  I ran in and told Mr. Lewis to turn off the gas so no one would blow up.  You gonna bring back that hose?”  I opened up my trunk and put handle and hose into it.  If I was going to done blow up then Robert and Yellow truck man were going down with me.

I drove past BP…past the woman in the letterman jacket who stared at me with crossed accusing arms.  If there was a helicopter and she had been trapped on a cliff in a thick wooded forest…I would be very tempted to only throw her down a rope and some granola.

I pull up to the Chevron Station.  There’s a sheriff car parked near me.  They called the Sheriff?  Lovely.  I go inside.  There are four people behind the cash register.  Scary Santa spots me first.  ”There she is.  There she is”.  She then elbows a very bedazzled woman in a pink swirly shirt.  ”Are you her?  Do you have the hose?”  Then the three people who were standing in line all turned around and stared at me.  She continued…”Mr. Lewis she’s here.”  Mr. Lewis and I meet near the pork rinds.  ”Mr. Lewis, my name is Sarah and I am so very sorry”.  ”You got the hose?”  I started to feel like I was transporting something exotic…not a black rubbery hose that had been dragged behind me on a county road but something that was confiscated from a dark alley in Belize where I had traded a dancing monkey who could tango in order to deliver this magnificent object to the glorious Mr. Lewis.  We walk out the door and very large massive man holding a hot dog is behind me.  He leans down to me and laughs “Don’t sweat it, I’ve done it too but I had done it late at night where no one saw me.  We all saw you and it was the highlight of my day.”

Mr. Lewis didn’t charge me for anything.  He was just so happy that I had returned the hose.  I guess maybe those don’t usually get returned.

And you know what…there was a part of me that didn’t want to return it…that option was completely dismissed after the village came after me but yes, the temptation truly lurked within my gut.  Why is that though…Why is it hard to step into our human shadows where the sticky lies and just feel your way through it.  What can I learn from this…well, I’m in a sticky shadowy place now…trying to find a direction to a new career….I may not have the characters of Alabama pointing me in the right direction but I do have hope.  And it’s not dragging behind me nor am I trying to run away from it.  It’s in the core of me.  It’s keeping me balanced.  And oddly is one letter away from hose.  The object that all wanted returned because without it, things just don’t work properly.

No Comments by on December 27, 2011
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Normal Extra Small and Asian Extra Small

And other things that make half-way sense

But maybe that’s all you need.  At least half of it making sense vs. none of it all.  I went to Target yesterday…had to pick something up for Kelly (can’t actually say, she reads this thing) but it is a Christmas gift that she will receive personally by me.  Side bar: will be traveling to see her and her mom, Kathy for the holidays with the lovely creatures as my traveling companions.  I look forward to this new environment with the smell of sand and ample amounts of water to revive my eyes.

While at Target, I also purchased a long sleeve black lined exercise shirt.  I usually am an extra small but as I squeezed into this wet suit like straight jacket, I knew I had grabbed the wrong extra small…I had purchased it’s cousin: the Asian size.

I needed an extra layer (however, not an extra layer of painted on skin) because of my need to stay warm on my most recent hiking outings.  These were introduced last Saturday morning with Brian…remember…the youngest son of Dr. Dave.  Coraline and I met him and his standard poodle…yes…his awesome standard brown poodle at Percy Warner.  What a fantastic reminder: be with people who like dogs and never for a moment think it can work the other way.

And then that Saturday night he invited me back for another Predator’s game…sitting in the lower bowl.  It was different viewpoint for the game and this lower angel caused me to casually look straight forward…and with such an ease…my eyes were looking right at Jeff and his own date.  This place was 40% more packed than the Tuesday before.  Really???  Really, I’m seeing him right now?  But you know what I saw?  The fact that I felt bad for this girl…he was on his phone practically the entire time…maybe reading texts from either Richie or Jason that they had just run into me and met my date….Yep, that happened an hour before…I just happened to look to the right of me and saw the two men.  Damn but Awesome Lower Bowl!

And then after the game, Brian and I went to a honkey tonk.  I was standing there drinking a beer and he grabbed my hand and we began to two step…and then I was spinning.  Every time I am twirled, I think about my friend Laura.  She told me ages ago with sparkling eyes…that she adored to be moved across a dance floor by a man who knows what they’re doing.  And yes, Brian, had me smiling the entire time as a Rock-a-Billy Band sang above us.  We danced to so many different songs that I had lost count.  If someone had told me this scenario a month ago, I would have argued it…saying it just doesn’t make any sense.

But why argue anything? Yes, there are times in life that we should fight like hell to get yourself out of the patterns but just maybe the moments when you feel like you can’t breath…due to a tight-ass shirt…or seeing someone you loved with someone else…or because your laughing so hard as the young handsome man slides down a muddy hiking path…may just mean that these are moments where you need to stop and learn about who you are in this moment: I’m Thin.  I’m Healing. I’m Alive.

No Comments by on December 21, 2011
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So…This Totally Makes Me a Sexual Predator

But let’s not judge…

Who has been stamped as an official Nashville resident due to her attendance to a hockey Predator’s game?  Brian followed through…the man that I met at the Station Inn…the son of Dr. Dave…he texted and asked me out.  Kristen once said that a sure fire way to distinguish the boys from the men is if they text or call first…I will comment on this later.

Because recently life loves to constantly poke at a rapid pace with a bony pointy finger on my shoulder so I don’t forget who’s in charge during this painstakingly present chapter…Brian texts me a few hours before the game: “You’ll get to hear Oh! Canada, we are playing a Canadian team”.  Awesome.  And as both anthems were sung by a four man quartet, Brian sang both as he stood to the left of me.  The Bridgestone arena is massive…and even though, I took to heart what Kelly said…I still scanned the thousand and one seats looking for another particular season ticket holder.  However, each time I found myself doing it…I quickly came back to me and the moment I was in…on a first date with a man named Brian.

Interesting, I keep using the word “man”.  Has that been noticed?  Maybe I’m trying to cover something up…crap…I can’t cover anything up.  I’ve written on here about my mom and about the Avatar and dating a Goonie (okay, I never really stated that before only eluded…but there’s some more truth for you).

So, let’s back up…I’ll get to the truth, but let’s go back two weeks.  I attend the Station Inn the following monday after my first Time Jumpers listening lesson.  The solo woman sang her sad lonely song again and I ignored Dr. Dave when he said it was for me.  Three other doctors came: Jen, Divya and Bill.  Jen and Bill date and I barely spoke with Divya that night.  Side bar: when leaving she gave me her card and shared with me that she had lost her father 4 months ago (she had overheard my telling Bill what prompted my move to TN).  Lovely little B story: Divya and I had coffee last Saturday morning.  We connected instantly and I do believe she will be a dear friend.  Okay, back to the main, A story.  So the Time Jumpers are jumping and Dr. Dave leans over to tell me something…which I find odd…because along with his no texting rule there is also the no talking rule.  The Doctor yells in my ear, “YOU talked to the wrong son!”.  I respond, “You said you were bringing one, when you bring two, it’s very confusing.” He yells again, “You talked to the wrong one!”  At this point I’m laughing. “Dr. Dave, one lived in Virginia so I didn’t think he was the right one and the other one is a Nashville native…figured that must be the right one”.  The doctor quickly notes, “No, wrong.  He’s only 26.”

WHAT?? (I thought he had to be joking…I mean, I would know what a 26 year old looks like…and that man…that boy…didn’t look like he was 26…damn MOVEMBER: the mustache growing charity event.  Brian had a full one when I met him.

I looked at Dr. Dave in a panic, “I gave my phone number to a 26 year old?!”

“You gave your phone number to my 26 year old son??”

“What?  I can’t hear you…the fiddles are really loud!”  He just laughed and shook his head.

Soooo…when Brian asked me out on this Monday via text (yep, Kristen, there’s SUCH truth to this).  I just stared at it.  And so I call in on the K’s for support.  Kalyn insisted that I go “Your not going to marry him; just have fun”.  Kristen said it totally wasn’t a big deal.  Kerry thought it would be good for me, may help move through the break up muck.  Kathryn chimed in about a couple in her town where the woman is 13 years older and nobody gives a shit.  Kelly said the same thing about the marriage point of view.  They all suck…and so I went.

He wanted to pick me up.  That made very uncomfortable.  I met him there.  His mustache has been removed…now that it’s December…and no…he doesn’t even look close to 26…he has grey stubble!

Overall…good date.  We are both funny.  He walks me to my car and then I drive him to his…he says that he’ll call me and for us to take our dogs to the dog park.  Then he hugs me…and all I’m thinking is “26 26 26 26 26″.  (okay, let’s be more honest…also thinking…so cute)

He texts me the next day: I really had a great time last night.  I hope you’re having a good day.  I look forward to seeing you soon.

I don’t think he has any idea that I’m 37.  I think when you’re petite and still have long hair…it can misconstrue it.

Okay.  So.  There. You. Go.

One last thing…I didn’t see Jeff there…maybe if I had binoculars I could have…wow, that just sounded creepy…but I did see Brad there…the guy I had a few dates with when I first moved out here…he really liked me but I couldn’t get past his weight…still chunky…so that weight was there to stay…but I’m glad I saw him because it reminded me…I have let go of people in my life just like Jeff did with me…it’s part of life.  I’ve done it just as much as the other person.  I can’t judge Jeff anymore because…I knowingly went out with a 26 year old.  When I was sixteen he was five.  Five.

No Comments by on December 15, 2011
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Move Over Heartache

There’s A New Sheriff in Town

What, you’re not over the break up yet?  You still miss him? Ohhhh…and you’re still mourning your dad aren’t you?  I knoooooowwww it’s been a difficult nine months…but the year’s not over yet!  I mean, you can take a little bit more…Remember, you’ve always said your freakishly strong…that may have only had to do with your ability to lift objects bigger than yourself (and this might have stemmed from playing the trombone when you were twelve)…but come on…your a champion…sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo….you shouldn’t care too much that you lost your job two days ago.

Yep.

Excuse me…can I get shot?  What, this isn’t a bar?  This is just a post on a blog? Where’s the Sheriff, could he just shoot me…which is like a shot? And this is a blog where you can do the play-on-words-thing….

Yep.

There goes a tumbleweed.  In the distance a coyote howls.  And I’m just waiting for the dust to settle…for it to just finally settle.  But I’m still in a duel and I’m not giving up without a fight…even if my weapon may only be a brass band instrument.

No Comments by on December 10, 2011
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It’s just so tempting

to shift it all to one side

to cling onto all the bad of Jeff vs seeing the entire picture.  Why is this I wonder?  Is to preserve the ego?  Or could it be the opposite latter…the fact that I now, can actually see the true identity of this person I shared too much of time with…and sadly gave my heart to…which I struggle to regain.

I spoke with Kerry on the phone a few days ago and I expressed that I didn’t want to make him all bad and she completely agreed…because there is a better way to come through to the other side.  However, it so very tempting to share the bad and the ugly…I really don’t have to dig that deep…nope!  Wait, what am I doing?

okay…I just took a very deep breath.  Here’s the thing…I kept blinders on…I didn’t really want to see what was right in front of me.  I gave jeff an honor that he didn’t even come close to achieving…I wanted to believe that my dad had found him for me…in my foggy foggy mind…it made sense.  I had gotten off of terrible Nashville on line dating and said out loud: I will meet someone in normal circumstances…and quite shortly after, I met Jeff at Al’s bbq.  Jeff shared that he wanted children and he was ready to be married…he also shared that he was done with going to bars…hmmm…I just just clung to the first part…squinted at the rest.

Many of my father’s eulogies was about how he treated a human being.  How engaging he was to every single person.  Jeff was not this person…and one time, I was embarrassed that I was sitting by this person due to his actions towards a taxi driver. (yes, Kerry, if you read this…I didn’t share this with you…I should have…I should have been sharing the underbelly of him all along…instead, I took up for him…the man who was being stalked by two women when I met him)…yep…two…and there’s a whole other story to this…but let’s move on.

Bottom line…dating someone seriously after the death of someone so very dear to me was terrible timing…I hadn’t created my own communities yet…and I fell into someone in order to not have to do the work…thankfully…truly, thankfully…it was someone who had no capacity whatsoever to care for another person…so my fall didn’t lead to a comfortable catch.  Which in turn, catapulted me to reality.

Jeff was exciting…he was a lovely crush…for a few moments, I felt like the most important person in the room.  He has a strong work ethic and when he takes down his agitated walls he had the capabilities of being gentle and playful and good.  He made amazing breakfast sandwiches and exercised…I’m not scraping the barrel here…qualities that are on my list :)

But as Peter said…”ahhh, that guy, he would only ever give you Nuggets of affection…nuggets of any sort of love…and you would pocket those…hold onto those…hopefully, praying…that they would add up to something bigger…but baby…that boy can’t do more than that…yeah, he want’s to be a daddy but he has no idea on how to be a husband”

Did the good outweigh the bad or the bad outweigh the good?  Let’s just say…

I don’t know who’s side I’m on…but I’m on the side where the person who wants to be with me will be standing right beside me.

No Comments by on December 4, 2011
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Fiddle me this…

Always the same, starts out as a puzzle…

A good month ago, I had a private event at the cooking school where I work…btw, I coordinate these things and mostly I do a slew of administrative work prior and help the assistants after I’ve introduced the chef. (There’s some other filler actions but that’s an abridged version).  This event that I speak of now was a very large group from Morgan Keegan.  I can’t remember why I started to talk to Dr. Dave but my remaining 45 minutes of the night consisted of me sitting in a chair next to him and his wife.  His energy was infectious.  He kinda yells at you when he’s talking to you but there’s absolutely no bite in the bark.  He was very straightforward asking me why I was so thin and how old I was and if I was married and if I had children and if it was up to him, he could get me married by the end of the year.  His wife would occasionally look over and smile.  Dr. Dave insisted that I go to the Station Inn on Monday nights to listen to the Time Jumpers, head lining Vince Gill.  He said it was the ultimate feel good music and he said I needed uplifting.  He also raved about the popcorn for $2 and that I should eat at least five baskets.  He wrote all the information down on a napkin and I gave him my card.  I promised I would call…

but I didn’t…but there’s an odd reasonable excuse…Coraline escaped from her crate while I was at work one day…the Napkin was the least of my worries that was destroyed that day.  Ugh, puppies.

He called me and said that I broke his old heart and that I needed to come and listen to the three fiddle players and the steel guitar and Vince.  I said I would come the next week.  The next week, Jeff broke my heart and I just couldn’t stomach it…even if Vince was there with his crooning voice.

After returning from PA this past weekend…I called Dr. Dave and informed him to save me a place at “Doc’s Table”.  He told me that Reena and Bonnie would be expecting me…he said that these two young ladies will be happy to see you.  Reena and Bonnie are both close to 80 years old.

When I get there, I pay my fifteen dollars and a woman in a heavy flannel shirt show’s me to Doc’s Table.  Bonnie and Reena shake my hand.  Dr. Dave hasn’t arrived yet.  Reena asked me if I have ever met the Doc’s son?  ”Oh, he’s a good looking one!  Big with dark hair, Oh, he’s a looker!”  I was somewhat unsure how the subject came up…I just smiled and nodded.

Dr. Dave came in twenty minutes later with two young men who were both his sons.  Mike and Brian.  At the end of the folding table I sat near both.  The Doc went and got two baskets of popcorn.  Mike was somewhat quiet like his mom whom I briefly met back at the cooking event…which felt like years ago.  However, I could easily tell he had a kind creative soul.  His brother Brian favored his dad, easily.  Gregarious.

Something caught my eye and I look up.  Reena is motioning in a VERY non discreet way with a big goofy smile and a thumbs up…for like five minutes.  I awkwardly smile.

Brian and I were both fiddling with our phones while the fiddles fiddled.  The Doc insisted loudly that we put away our machines and tonight is for listening.  He promptly told me that the next song was for me, that it was my song and I should listen.  It was a slow song sung by the sole female vocalist.  My face turned a pale pink while she sung about being alone in life and how love hurts.  I think that was the gist of it…I really wanted to crawl under the table…maybe popcorn had fallen.

After an hour set the band takes a thirty minute break and then started up again.  The night ended with a yodeler and a harmonica…two different mouths made this happen.  Yes, Dr. Dave…it was a very uplifting music venture…and it was needed.

I’m saying goodbye to all and Brian happens to ask me if I have ever gone to a Predators game.  I take in a quick breath.  Jeff and I had plans to go…I wanted him to take me. He had season tickets.  Practically every Sunday I would go and enjoy watching him play goalie on his hockey team…and I would be one of the very few in the seats cheering on Matty, Jason, Richie, Milo, Jesse and the team…it just felt like that was always going to be the case.  Me with a blanket smiling at Jeff who leaned on a goalie post.

“Nope, never been”.  He told me that he had season tickets and that if I’m new to Nashville then I must go with him to a game.  He then asked for my number.  And in my head, I’m thinking…well, this is unexpected to say the least.

I’m unsure if he’ll call…but maybe he doesn’t need to…maybe he was a lovely reminder that I’m cute.  Ha!  yep, I just wrote that and I’m going to keep it…but more so…life can be so confusing and puzzling but if you just accept the invitation and go listen to some good ol’ country music then maybe it’s the key to opening yourself up and to trust. trust. trust.

1 Comment by on November 30, 2011
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Checking in?

Yes, round trip

it’s interesting when the light bulb goes off…that internal light bulb where it illuminates the simplicity.  I am flying out tomorrow morning…on thanksgiving to land in Pennsylvania to meet Porter.  My sister had a baby girl three weeks ago.  She is named after my dad.  So much can change in a year…or on the cusp of a full year.  Jeff and I had spoken about having Thanksgiving together.  (woops, he asked me to never say his name on here. woops)  So…I was planning on flying out on friday vs. thursday…I wanted to be with him.  But things changed.  And today…was hard…I cried a few times and felt a heavy low thud deep within me.  All said…Allison, Scott, Kerry, Vicky…all said that I must feel the pain and move through it.  Their advice is based in love and support but it didn’t make sense how that could make the deep hallow thud disappear.

I keep replaying our past weeks together.  We went to Rock City where he said we should come back at Christmas.  We went to Cheekwood where he wanted to take me because he truly saw I wanted to go…we took silly pictures and we walked the grounds.  Where he held me during that long CMA country music christmas concert because I was so very cold.  Where he brushed the hair off my back and gently held my hand while City and Colour sang a lovely song called “pretty girl”.  I keep running it all through my head.  It’s on a constant loop.

Tonight, I checked in on line for my early am flight.  I put in my confirmation code.  I was then given two options: “today or tomorrow”.  And that’s when the beam of simple little light glowed within me…shining past the gloomy thud.  There’s not a choice for yesterday’s flight…that’s ridiculous…of course…one can’t check in for a flight that has already happened…because it’s in the past.  All we have…only choices we have…are right now and tomorrow.  My flight with Jeff is over.  It’s done.  I can’t check into it.  I can’t figure out anything about it…it’s over.  I do have the option though to be in the present and look forward to the next step…and if that step is simply tomorrow…then that’s an easy step.

Each day I will check-in with myself…and what I want for my future.  Each day I will check-in with myself and what I want for my future  (it’s worth repeating)…and through this journey…I will return full circle, back to the place where I started before I got derailed on the wrong flight with the wrong passenger.

No Comments by on November 23, 2011
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(Clearing throat…taking a shallow breath…lowering shoulders…standing taller)

hi

This summer I met a boy.  He was edgy.  He was different.  He chased me.  I didn’t want anything to do with him.  He asked me out for dinner.  He was nervous.  He wanted to kiss me.  We didn’t.  We kissed one week later.  We began to date, exclusively.  I began to smile again.  We took trips together.  I discovered this new city of Nashville with a man who wanted to show it to me.  We found a unique rhythm.  The drums continued.  I then, though…began to pause.  I began to feel alone.  He changed.  I changed.  I began to fall.  He only fell away.  I wanted more.  He wanted less.  He at times followed me, but only when I was walking away.  I couldn’t follow the beat anymore.  He pulled me close at night.  He planned things for us in the very near future.  He wanted to make me happy.  I felt safe.  I felt safe to tell him that his drinking could be disturbing.  He then broke me.  He told me he didn’t see a future for us.  So, I told him that I loved him.  And then he told me goodbye.

bye

No Comments by on November 22, 2011
filed in Transition...southern

Is it Two Funerals

And a wedding??

Is that the name of the movie?  Well..it should be if it isn’t.  In a few days I will be attending another family funeral in Midville, Georgia.  Sermon held in the same church my parents got married in…Mrs. Susie Black Womack, age 93 died on Friday morning…this my mother’s mom.  No true apologies needed…I barely knew her.  I truly barely know any of my relatives…however, I do have a relationship with my mom’s sister much to her chagrin.  Soooooo….my mom will find out that I’m there when she sees me.  Can I get a whoop whoop and a big Dysfunction from the crowd??

I said this out loud to the man I’m barely dating…okay that was worded wrong…we are dating exclusively but we are in the pupa stage…btw, it’s the uncertain-doubting-hrmph-stage…where I still have butterflies…hmmm…well, that makes sense.  (read it again)..Anywho…I found myself blurting out while he drove to Canada and I sat in my car watching a man on a ladder fixing copper siding…I blurt out…”I’m tired doing this life stuff on my own…I’m tired of facing these uncomfortable moments solo…I have to again face my mom with no buffer…where’s my buffer??!”  The Canadian said nothing…wait, he did…he responded, “sometimes in life you can’t find the good in it but you just have to show up”.  Yes…that’s very logical…but it hardly dismisses all the emotional mumbo jumbo that will encircle this three day adventure to the deep small southern town in Georgia.

But I think I found the good…the good is showing up for myself…I’m going to this funeral because I want to be there for my aunt and I want to hear the eulogies to learn something about the woman who gave me my middle name.  My buffer will be Coraline.  of course it’s a dog…but as Scott has recently told me…who I am right now is not a determining factor for the rest of my life…it’s just a jumping off point.  BTW, Coraline was found on a dirt road in Winona, Mississippi just last weekend.  She is emaciated and has limbs for days like a little antelope…but she is lovely…and she will be my co-pilot of right now.  Boo and Delilah will be staying with their sitter…Coraline is not an ideal house guest for anyone…not house trained and she tries to eat good smelling candles.

It’s okay to be tired of facing problems head on by yourself.  My wiring got misconstrued along the way…and the path to love has been altered….but saying that I’m tired of the latter doesn’t change anything…I need to change…I need to stop being so damn afraid of love.  Without hesitance I pick up a very dirty lost soul of a puppy and put her easily into my car…and love her with ease…because I know she won’t pull away, say terrible things to me and then blame them on the devil…yeah, the pointy head and tail guy…the little dog will just be happy to see me.  simply simple.  I need to rewire my brain…I am worthy of love.  And not all love comes in the package that can hurt…because that’s not love…

Oh…I’ve recently read that the color of black is a protector color…thankfully, we will all be wearing it…maybe that’s my buffer…for now.

No Comments by on September 24, 2011
filed in Transition...southern

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