Struggle

Every Thanksgiving we all list of things we are grateful for.  I wish I did it more, I wish I took more time to say "thank you" and make it a lifestyle not a day. I have tried and, I wish I was better.

I try to maintain gratitude in my heart and actions and to be giving to those that I meet.  I have been blessed by so many, I get overwhelmed when I think about it.  If I have not properly thanked you, I apologize, wholeheartedly.  I have really tried and I promise to do and be better.

This Thanksgiving, I am grateful for struggle. Not grateful in a victim way or anything (I hate that), but it has made me appreciate a full refrigerator and having gas in my car.  It has helped me teach my kids that nothing is owed to them, everything is a gift and to treat it as such.  It has helped me in my philanthropy efforts, because I have been helped...over and over again when I struggle. Those people have taught me SO much, including how to be kind and pay it forward. Seriously, I have been rescued so many times by friends and family during both financial and emotional struggles. Those people and what they have done for me...well, they've inspired me to do the same. Struggle has helped me appreciate the meaning of honesty and integrity and true friendships, that I am so thrilled and LUCKY to have. It has taught me the meaning of  being a good human, because I have seen it and now I aim to be one. Struggle has also provided me a sense of humor and laughter and, cripes, where would we be without laughter?  It has taught me forgiveness and has taught my children how to be humble and never ever take anything for granted.  All of these gifts are priceless and I am so grateful.

I know that I often rant about things, but it is all in jest.  I know, if you don't know me, you might think my priorities are wine and coffee.  But that is just not true, my priority is joy.  Without that struggle, I do not think that I would know exactly what that means.  I am so so grateful right now to be filled with such ineffable joy and for the many lessons that I have learned from the amazing people in my life as a result.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone, may yours be filled with endless joy... and food and booze, too. Duh.

"Write More"

“Write more.”

My girlfriend read a blog of mine and said I should write more… and most times I need something to be inspired about.  So I took that to mean: “get inspired more”. 

Initially, that sounded like somehow the universe owed it to me to get inspired.  Well WTF kinda logic is that?  Shouldn’t I seek out inspiration?  It is there.  I just have to open my eyes.  PLUS, I am the one who needs it to write and if I love writing so much – it is my duty to open my eyes.

So, today, that is what I did.  I spent some time walking around – with my eyes wide open.  Once I changed my perspective, what I saw was incredibly breathtaking.

I saw baby Sam, 2 months old.  He saw me… and my hair. He witnessed curly hair up close today for the first time in his life.  I watched his eyes widen and follow me intensely as far as he could. Can you imagine seeing curly hair for the first time, when all you have ever seen is mom and dad?? Dad with short hair and mom with her hair pulled back all the time so he does not eat or pull on it…

Then I saw Toni.  She is in her late 60s, dyed dark shorter hair, relatively fashionable. She was talking to Debi who is in charge of welcoming our seniors.  Toni is feisty and you can almost see the younger version of Toni.  She doesn’t feel like she is in her 60s… every time a younger woman walked by, Toni inspected them carefully.  Then you would see her fidget with herself.  She adjusted her posture, stood up taller and  almost had a little self-talk reminding herself why she came in to the gym, yet reassuring herself she looked DAMN good for her age.  She then would refocus on Debi and get right back to the conversation.

Then I heard a “mom… mama”, I turned to see my son.  My sweaty, sticky, shirtless 10 year old son.  He is enrolled in one of the summer programs here & I have the privilege of seeing him while I am walking through the halls. I asked him where his shirt was and why his hair was all wet.  They apparently had a water balloon fight and was drying off.  He waited with his friend as I walked closer… he walked up and hugged me.  I asked if everything was ok and he said yea, that he just wanted to give me a hug. I am guessing that it might have had something to do with the fact that he was seen getting a “talking to” in the hallway earlier and he wanted to “hug it up” in case he was in trouble.

Yesterday I would have seen just another baby, just another new senior and just my kid.  Today I saw things differently. I saw a new discovery, I saw new determination and I got to know the ins and outs of my son's day - both good and bad.

I walked back to my desk, smiling. I sat down and began to write this... completley inspired.  Thanks Bonny.

50 Shades of Meh

Ok, I know I'm going to catch a ton of flack for this and I hope we are all good enough friends where we can agree to disagree, but I have to tell you, I do not get 50 Shades of Grey. Mind you, I only read to page 64 and was so dizzy from my own eye rolling that I stopped. Well, I did jump ahead to try to find the good stuff... I found it and it was, well, meh.

Is READING really the way people are enjoying sex nowadays? Trust me, I'm a fan of porn, so I'm no prude, but I certainly don't pretend it is for anything other than a masturbatory tool. I don't try to pass it off as great film making as so many are trying to make reading this poorly written shit as "literature". Sorry, not buying it. I only have a few examples but the ones I have seem legit.

1) Rich hot guy falls for innocent virgin pale clumsy girl. Can we stop with the Cinderella bullshit already? It doesn't happen. Period. Ever. Thank you Disney, Pretty Woman and now Christian Grey for deceiving the minds of girls everywhere with this bullshit theory.

2) She calls drunk from a bar and hangs up, then he appears. He traced her call. Really? What are you fucking Batman? And how women just think that was awesome hurts my soul. Hey, stalker narcissist crazy man, fuck off.

3) He has mommy issues, he calls her a crackwhore. Oh sweet Jesus. Let's encourage more women to try to fix men because that works nine times out of NEVER. Zero amount of times. Not at all...never ever ago.

4) He hands her a list of shit that's not cool in bed...including gynecological tools and fireplay. Sorry, I was unaware that needed to be said. And who is the freak with a speculum in their night stand? Seriously. Who are you?

5) While having sex, he says she smells divine. Do people really say that while fucking? If someone ever called me divine while my ankles are around my head, I'd likely bust out in laughter and kill the mood. I may try that sometime, divine dick has a lovely ring to it.

Granted, I'm thrilled people are reading... And it may be the first time for many that they've read in ages, but are we so sexually deprived that it takes a poorly written book like this to get us to read?

I know it is a guilty pleasure, just for fun, etc. My only request is that you read a REAL book sometime too and just admit that this is just about the sex and spankings, which I get. But redtube is far more efficient and gets to the point without pretending to have a plot.

Maybe, I'm way off, I couldn't read it all. I cannot judge what I didn't read, but what I did, well... Meh.

Now, off to see Magic Mike... Jk

4-20

No, this blog post isn't about celebrating the almighty ganj... this is about a different celebration.

April 20th was the due date of a child I did not have (see previous post) and has subsequently broken my heart. Yesterday I received tons of prayers, well wishes & virtual hugs. I got lots of advice, lots of attempts to preoccupy me & distractions.

I am forever grateful for those.

The most important...the most wonderful...the best thing about yesterday was a little girl. A little girl in yellow, one years old, just a few teeth, clinging to her mom. I'd seen her before, she was so shy & I believe she questioned my sanity even at her age. She had never smiled at me before. I needed her to. Her birthday was April 19th, when I thought of her, I thought of mine. Would mine have her mannerisms? Would mine be shy? Think I'm crazy too? They could've been playmates. We could've split birthday parties for a few years.

Yes, my brain gets carried away.

So, this little girl...she comes in with her mom, in her pale yellow dress. Spaghetti straps falling off her, the hair she has is curled up, she turns her head, her eyes fix on me. I pause in my step, smile & greet her, "Well, hello princess!" She stares at me for a moment, blankly...questioning my sanity... And then...

Smiles

A child.

This week marks the anniversary for the birthday of a child who isn't here.

A child who could've saved the world & saved us all from fear.

A child who never had a chance. A child who didn't have a name.

A child who may have been a boy...or a girl, but I'll never know. Such shame.

A child who never got to laugh. Or cry. Or coo in delight.

Or have a first birthday. Or face plant cake. Or keep me up all night.

A child whose eye color I don't know. Whose face I cannot see.

A child who would've been a far better person than me.

A child that I think of everyday. That I see in every baby.

A child I cant reach in every nightmare. A dream that I dream daily.

I hope you got my skin tone. Funny like mom. Creative like dad.

My curls. His smile. I really don't know. Just a face I wish I had.

I'm sorry we never met. One day we will & I hope you recognize me.

You may be gone, but the love I have, it never stopped growing inside of me.

Open letter to your version of reality

Dear asshole,

I'd like to take a moment to acknowledge my part in letting you in to my life.

Now that we have moved passed that. I'd like to shit on your version of reality.

Simply returning the favor.

See my version of reality was that you were kind. That you were my best friend. That you were human. I believed those things because that's what you presented. But, eventually, my version of reality was shit on by ACTUAL truth.

The truth is you are a lie. You have no truth. You haven't found it yet. How sad for you that my old truth...what I built you up to be... is better than you, the true you. But when you take me away. You are nothing. You are lost. You refuse to be anything because you live in fear. You chicken shit. You refuse peace because you prefer your miserable lonely existence. Stay there before you tear down another someone who is good. You suffocated someone & kicked them & held them down & humiliated them...someone who helped you breath, supported you & made you feel good.

Your version of reality...that any of that is acceptable..that you don't owe me a zillion apologies...that you shouldnt be kissing my white ass for not murdering your fucking face...is like you, a lie.

Love, Mon

Making an Entrance

Sometimes, you have to really HAVE Faith to understand it.

For the past two years or so, financially things have been shit. In very intrusive "hey I am taking all the money out of your bank account with zero notice" kind of ways.

One of the things that kicked my ass was an old wound. When my ex and I first got divorced, we cashed out my retirement and split it 50/50. Apparently, our tax guy at the time forgot to include that in our taxes that year & my ex, of course, would not split the penalty with me. Needless to say, last year at tax time, I was traumatized. I sat in my accountants office sobbing. I owed even MORE money because I was so damn poor, I had adjusted my withholdings so that I could have more money per pay period, because I needed to live. My oldest had moved in with me full time and I was not getting support from anywhwere. I knew I would owe, but just how much floored me. So, last year I set up a payment plan for both of the years and got in to the process of paying it all off. Or so I thought.

Somehow when they added the amount owed from 2010 to 2008, the account got messed up at the IRS and good old Uncle Sam ass rammed my bank account sans lube, leaving me stranded at a gas station on my way to a doctor's appointment for my son. I had already had my account wiped clean before, due to identity theft, so I was in a panic. I stood there looking at the college age gas station attendant in tears and confusion. I kept saying "I put $1400 in this morning. This is wrong. This is wrong." He said "We take a good two weeks to cash checks, maybe just do that."

So I did. I finally got the situation handled. There IS ONE nice person at the IRS who sat with me on the phone in my car for 2 hours while my son was at his appointment. I was able to get some of my funds released. My parents wired me some money and I was able to breathe... a little.

The entire year seemed like this. Just raining bullshit and heartache. In fact, just last week, I sat outside in the rain with my friend, over wine and tears, and I told him "Faith is hard as hell, but it has to get better. You have to know that. Look at what Jesus had to go through. I know it is not the same, but the KNOWING part is, I think. Right?"

The next day I got a notice from the MN State of Revenue, saying I owe them $1000 or so from that same 2008 year and they were just getting around to noticing. I put my head down, said a few "mother fuckers" and poured me a glass of wine. The next day, my horoscope read that in April I would be getting notice that I "owed money to no one willing to negotiate - like the government." Ironically, spot on, it also read that I would get it turned around almost as soon as I was notified of it. To just hang in there and have faith.

Huh. Faith. Please. FAITH FAITH FAITH.

Yesterday, was my tax appointment day. I got in my car to travel 45 miles to my tax guy. He had given me some tips last year and I was hoping I did not owe any more money. I gathered up my paperwork and got in my car. I was terrified to drive so far because I had expired registration tabs/stickers on my car, the others had not arrived yet.

I shit you NOT, I had 5 cops behind me on the way there and NONE of them pulled me over. I got to my accountant's office, parked & looked up at the sky and said "Thank You. I hope this is a good sign." I went inside, presented my paperwork to my accountant & sat back. He said "Last year, you left in tears. Let's not do that again today, ok?" I said "It will probably happen again." He went through my paperwork, looked at me and said "Do you want to know the damage?"

I took a deep breath, nodded & sat back. I noticed he was smiling. "What?" I asked. He asked "Do you want the total of your refund...or do you want me to break it down by state and federal?" I reminded him of my back taxes and he smiled even bigger and replied "I know, it is all gone now, ya did good kid. You even have some left over for something for you. You must have listened to my advice." I bowed my head on his desk in tears, happy tears. I had not cried happy tears in what felt like forever. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you. It has been so hard, just thank you" I said it over and over again. I looked up and God and just kept saying thank you. It was all gone. Just like that. Damn.

I nearly skipped out of his office. I was glowing in tears and peace. I got in my car and screamed. I chanted, I "woo-hoo"ed, I thanked God, I could NOT believe it. After a few miles of God chat and thinking about Faith and how hard it had been, but I made it.

Ironically on Good Friday, I was getting this mesage. I apologized to God for my moments of doubt when Jesus got his ass whooped and had more Faith than I did. I thanked him and smiled up at the skies.

I leaned back in my seat, turned on the radio and at that moment "Have a Little Faith In Me" by John Hiatt ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8UkKTlzyLhQ )came on the radio. I burst in to tears again driving. My heart nearly lept out of my chest & I felt more peace at that moment than I have in YEARS. "Ok, I got it, loud and clear!" I said outloud through my sobs, "MY BAD DUDE! I do, I have Faith."

God sure knows how to make an entrance.

Amen.

Happy Easter.

Ghosts

I stand in your way.

You look down.


You don't hear me.

I yell.


You run away.

I chase.


You don't see me.

I throw things.


You don't care?

I break things.


I am a ghost.

But it is you who haunt me.


Ghosts just want to be seen.

This poem I just wrote.

Common sense is not so common.

Humanity is not so humane.

Anger isn't so angry,

it's more like amplified pain.


The forgotten never forget

The broken never take brakes

Eyes never cry,

Heartache simply aches.

Angry phase vs Angry face

An angry phase can be quite productive.

An angry face is not.

Don't confuse the two.

Feelings...the analogy.

Sometimes, it really isn't you, it's them.

Sometimes you JUST don't understand & have to accept that you never will.

Sometimes you get to hurt... But at least you're feeling. Tears are a sign that you're alive, breathing & feeling. It's what they wait for when you're born...to hear you cry. It says you're human. It says you're alive. When you're a child, you don't know why you cry or why it hurts, you just know it does. You don't know what you're feeling, good or bad. You just know when it's good, you like it & when it's bad, you cry. When you grow up, you start connecting your emotions. You identify them with actions, consequences & situations. You acknowledge them, try not to let them drive you around or you get lost... But you sure as shit don't handcuff them, gag them & stuff them in the trunk & pretend they don't exist. Because they do. They exist & if you pretend they don't, they're back there screaming to get out, crying, begging & pleading. Some people do that, however. They shove their emotions in the trunk, turn the radio up & keep driving. The screams get louder, they're crying & driving around & end up somewhere & they're not sure how. What they don't realize is, no matter how high you turn up the music or try to block them out, they're still there. Then, all of a sudden, they're overwhelmed & disconnected. The tears, the pain, the love... But they can't feel it because they don't know how, they've kept it locked in the trunk far too long.

I'm happy to say my emotions, my feelings sit in the passenger seat, perhaps intoxicated, attempting to take over the steering wheel at times. But I can see them, deal with them, occasionally they distract me. Sometimes I forget to put a seatbelt on them to keep them safe, sometimes they give shitty directions... But they pick the best music & have made for some of the most unforgettable, unregrettable trips/journeys of my life.

Happy Valentines Day...bitches

"Society makes you believe that you need to have someone to be complete. I do have someone... I have me - finally" - Me

Yes, I quoted myself.

With Valentines Day approaching, I have heard such debate about being single versus being in a relationship. The most recent is a friend of mine is catching a lot of flack for posting "single status updates" on Facebook, which quite frankly, pisses me off. People in a relationship can post their fluffy "I am happier than Jesus riding Santa's sleigh to a unicorn party" posts, but you cannot do the same for being single? Isn't the point to be happy? Why does it have to be in a relationship? Why is everything so fucking categorized? Why does society tell us we have to be in a relationship or married to be doing the right things in life? Then you look at divorce rate or hear people complain about their spouse/partner and being cheated on or losing themself and think "WELL THAT SOUNDS FUCKING AWESOME!"...nope. So, you are condemning me for NOT being in something that is set up to fail? That makes complete sense.

Our inner dialogue...that we do not even know we are having likely, sounds like this: "I am attracted to them, I should probably be in a relationship with them. I have been in a relationship with them for a while, we should probably get married. We are married, we should probably have kids."

Hey inner dialogue, shut the fuck up.

MY NEW INNER DIALOGUE: "Are you happy? Yes? Do that."

If you are married or in a relationship and it works, great... zippetydoodahday for you. That is AWESOME. But for those of us who are not, stop making us feel bad. Stop asking to set us up. Stop asking if we are seeing anyone YET. Maybe we are, maybe we are not, why does it MATTER... shouldn't you be asking us "are you happy?"

I will celebrate Valentines Day because for the first time in YEARS, I am loving myself and I've got some new inner dialogue going. And I am HAPPY, yes, happy. With my nonconventional, non-label wearing, not society approved, out of the norm life... being happy.


So Happy Valentines Day. I hope you all are happy, no matter what your situation.

Too much

The only thing worse than being told you don't care, is being told that you care too much.

It means that what you care so deeply for, doesn't care that much about you.

If someone tells you that you don't care, it just means you are not doing a good job of showing you care & can do better. You can change that.

The other leaves you feeling stupid. And vulnerable.

Fuck being vulnerable.