Tag: #thehighlysensitiveperson

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We don’t love like the humans do….

This experience is leveling me to the ground. And whilst I am laying here I can see perfectly clearly using my lenses of hindsight.

I never noticed what a true miracle the three kids I have already created are. They are miracles. They made it through pregnancy, through my immature phases, through so many changes. They love hard still. They are wide open and warm. And I have hardly had the vision to notice this. I think if I had I would have spent day and night afraid I would lose them also.

My children have had to wait for me to come back to life from traumas so severe my only choice was to become numb and survive. The mechanics that make you that way do not lend to calm and gentle seeing presence.

“You cannot be everything you want to be before your time.” I have always wanted to be everything for them.

I love them more than I am able to convey in ways that feel like presence to them. Some people I’m guessing are able to choose to abandon any other thing to choose one. Their kids are their entire meaning. My kids are also, but if I didn’t make my own growth and healing a priority I would have only ever been able to love them at 50 percent capacity of my being.

They would have seen pain behind my eyes. You cannot hide things from children. You can lie to yourself that they don’t see, but children see the world much more clearly than us jaded adults do. They are much more capable of magical thinking and beliefs and therefore likely to be able to be happy, creative, and kind.

I know no matter how I look back I will always see the things I missed, some of them quite profound. I was there, but I wasn’t. If I couldn’t be fully present with myself, if I abandoned her too because that’s what I knew, of course I would be too afraid to accept their love and endless faith in me.

I am often envious of the partners I have given my children too out of desperation. Financial desperation, anxiety desperation, fear of myself as a mother desperation. It has often felt like I would be swallowed by my feelings. So I saw these happy people who were functioning and I wanted them to always have that. I could be more of what I was around. I was just trying to choose the right thing to model myself after.

So many times what looked warm and safe turned out to be much different underneath. An in tact family is not the only criteria for a good situation. It took me years to learn that. To see through the very alluring most attractive parts to me.

When you have subsisted on crumbs for so long, half a moldy cookie on a table looks like a Thanksgiving feast. And this is an expression of my path and pain. No person I have ever shared my heart with was a moldy cookie. The health of the relationship for various reasons (many due to my attachment fractured beginning), was the rotten part.

Some family of any kind is better than none right ?! So why wouldn’t I have stayed? Stayed for the kids, stayed for me. Perhaps many of the kinks would have worked themselves out over time, or perhaps I knew beyond my consciousness in some way what was best for us. This thinking seems correct based on where we are now.

But what have I caused up til this point?

And you see there it is. Taking responsibility for everyone and everything.

This is a product of trauma. The person is forced to become self-sufficient to a level beyond them, and this is a side effect. And later in life they suffer immensely trying to be an island, needing to be one, but also wanting to belong and connect. The obfuscation is immense. The dark wood feels seemingly endless.

Until that one person, or many along the way, see something in them they can’t yet. Hence the reason I am a counselor, it wasn’t a choice, it was written in the muddled beginning.

I needed people to see the good in me. I needed it so much that was the only factor it took for acceptance into the fold of our family. It fed me to be seen. I have been accused of feeding off of others to meet my needs. And I accepted that fate again as the bad guy, but finally I am able to see there is so much more to that story.

We watched Cheaper by The Dozen last night. A comfort. It was making me think of all the movies that have resonated with me over the years, made me get goosebumps, and how I would watch them over and over, and listen to songs over and over. People would tease me about my love for sappy movies or my behavior of repeatedly watching them. But these were me comforting my heart and shaping my dreams. Watching stories of people’s lives drafted in artist interpretation. Trying to find something to model after.

It would take me a long time to differentiate the romantic portrayal of movies and the grit it actually takes in real life to create a healthy and thriving family.

I wanted my story to be something more than it felt the first half of my life. I’ve fought tirelessly for that. And the fight has left me so exhausted in my soul, that often times regularly expected trials and tribulations of life now feel too much to bear. And it doesn’t take much invalidation, even and especially accidental, to wound me. Just think positive, well yes but that takes for granted every way that has wired me as far as my experiences. “You’re too introspective, you’re exhibiting frightening mental states like your mother.”

For me I just need to vent my feelings. To know they are there. To pinch myself to make sure I’m still capable of feeling. To lay my hand across my chest to make sure it still rises and falls.

The love of my life understands this about me. This line brought more tears to my eyes. There have been many the past two days.

I’m trying to accuse myself of wanting more than I already have right now. Worst case scenario-ing my character at every turn. It’s what I am best at. My very own valid feelings end up becoming some fatal flaw. And this is what I am working on in myself right now.

I have to make sure this life I have often rushed to create now takes into account the feelings of all participants and not just mine, I wasn’t so good at that in the past.

But I see I didn’t just force this onto my family, this is all of our dream now. We have always wanted another child to share our love with. I have known that from the time one of my best friends rented our downstairs and gave birth to her son in this home. As I often kidnapped him for snuggles and a bottle.

I have accused myself of wanting children for selfish reasons, and not because I have all that is required inside of me to properly nurture them. I will always be hyper vigilant that I may not. If you saw what I came from you would understand.

I have long wished I could just play some scenes from my childhood back on a tape so that the people knowing me could know. I’m torn between not wanting them to feel sorry for me, see me differently, and between desperately seeking understanding for the differences in me that feel like the separate me from the humans.

Thankfully I am loved by someone now who can see it without having me show them, and they love me harder for it. And that extra love that was missing has filled in all the gaping holes.

I am healing. I am still healing.

It’s no co-dependence, it’s not taking advantage, it’s not pathology, it’s not selfishness. It is healing. It’s taken this much. I could have turned out so many ways. But what I need for those I love to know the most is I’ve worked so hard on myself so I can belong with them. So I can feel my heartbeat near theirs, and not shrivel away for fear of damaging them with my damage.

We want to bring a child into the world to share all of what we have learned in our new story together. The kids want this baby too, and the transition from “babies” to baby is utterly painful right now. Seeing my wife’s pajama bottoms with the blood soaked through on the floor still because we were too exhausted yesterday to do anything about it is devastating. Not knowing whether the rest of the pregnancy will make it through this turbulence or not is gut wrenching. And that’s all ok. I still love my first kids that much too.

I still know it was early and blah blah. I feel things this much. So fucking what! This is who I am. It’s how I’ve been made, and I can’t help a thing about it. Except to do this (write) to cope, and to allow my story to be shared, whether or not anyone reads it.

So here I am wide awake with all my feelings always at the crack of dawn. In my morning watery womb of my own creation RE-birthing myself daily into the person I know I can be.

Here I am wondering with faith in one hand and science in the other, and what the universe has in store for our family.

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These Dreams Go on When I Close my Eyes….

So this morning I am scheming and dreaming. I’m at the vision board and I’m designing.

The goal: my wife and I want as much time together as humanly possible. We found each other late in life. I understand with extreme clarity the fragility of our time together, and I don’t want to spend it in an ordinary way. What I mean by this is toiling and only having a free few moments together. I don’t want to be rich in money, I want to be rich in time. And it would seem though that money can buy time, and as long as you don’t spend ahead of the making, and get above your means, I think this can be achieved.

This is what I’m thinking about most of the time lately. Originally I had hoped to do this by writing a book. However as I learn myself more and more, I realize that to sit quietly I need time, and to get quiet time I need money. And with twins on the way I’ll never have that hehe 😉 but I still think I can do it. I always think I can do it. It is this naïve enthusiasm that has powered me this far.

Couldn’t we all have more naïve enthusiasm?

The problem: My wife is a 911 dispatcher and 7 years invested in a pension. And she holds our amazing health benefits that keep my Crohn’s securely cared for and has funded our IVF. Her schedule is terrible. She works 7-3 one week then 2 days off and then 3-11 the next week and 3 off after. We can never get into a schedule and I cannot imagine how she will do this with twin babies. Her commute is an hour plus filled with traffic. And her job is a lot of sitting to which her body feels as if it’s falling apart. It has gotten us this far, but we have added so many other elements to the story we are going to need a change.

Needs: good benefits for us 4, the big kids have Tricare insurance through their father. A flexible schedule to be able to take care of the kids. Less commute, more time together. Yes these are needs, not wants. So this is a tall order right ?! But how can you say it doesn’t exist if we don’t look? At this point we could have a reality tv show 😉

So we need to find her ideally a part time job with good benefits that she can enjoy, but have most of her time at home crafting and being a mom like she wants and loves. Something she can be active and engaged doing what brings joy to her.

So if you want something different you have to lay blueprints to those dreams. Then you have to ask, look, research, and not stop until you’ve found a solution. There are always many solutions it just never feels like it because our minds are wired to see potential danger. We don’t see possibility nearly as often as we see the potential for a harmful outcome. Fear rules the roost.

Our dreams: time together raising our family, having the means for a vacation together and to see Hamilton as a family, having a family cottage we can create memories in and mom can write a book, our little identical twins make it safely into the world, Tyler gets into the college he wants and transitions as smoothly as possible, our family will love and accept us and want to be engaged in our lives, writing and sharing our story, and there are many more! Oh and paying off student loans and financial freedom to buy time together.

To enjoy life. To really taste food. To get goosebumps more often. To art. To cry regularly. To love gently. To encourage and nurture humanity in humans. To be kind. To learn new things.

In other news I have been enjoying talking to people, walking in neighborhoods, fresh air and perspectives. I am enjoying the newness of it all. I’ve also begun to feel the heat a beat of less relaxation and more my mind spinning towards one task or another. And scheduling has been hell! Trying to fit dr appointments, knocking time, trainings, meetings, baby appointments, kid appointments, client appointments, and the list goes on.

I have long known that this level of chaos feels at home for me, but also parts of me have changed in that regard without really knowing. When I am busy and engaged I am happy. It’s no longer trying to outrun something, but more an energy fueled be enthusiasm. Yes that’s it! I’m not running away, I am running toward. And I feel good about myself in the world.

If you would have seen me 5 years ago, my struggles, my behaviors, my outlook…. you wouldn’t even recognize me. Life is all a matter of perspective, self-acceptance versus critical abuse, and finding connections that energize your soul.

I had to pick this post up later, and I’ve been very scattered. I would guess it reads that way. Life is a jumble when you’re in the midst of change, and it’s difficult for most to tolerate that feeling. I’ve lived on a healthy dose of it my whole life, and have found the payoff to be quite grand.

Write a new blueprint anytime you want to make a chance, you are after all the lead architect of your life, and you don’t want fear getting a heavy hand in your project.

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Letter to a friend, profound gratitude at 4 am

My dearest Katelyn,

It’s 4 am. The bulldog had an itchy fit. That creature is an abomination sometimes, often, lol. Anyway I got so cranky he wouldn’t let up I’m now wide awake. I’m struggling to breathe, damnit I’m so allergic to cats. We will have to take my car on our next adventure, and before you feel bad don’t, I had the best day.

So here I am in the bath contemplating my existence and what came is how grateful I am for you. Both you and Courtney seem to see me through a lens of generosity I can hardly even comprehend.

In some ways you’re like Teflon it seems, like nothing can touch you and so brave and outgoing, and yet inside you’re so incredibly sensitive and care so much for others, it’s actually humbling. In both these ways you’re almost like a mirror for me. A twin flame of sorts. And I can’t imagine what I’ve done for you, other than make your best friend happy. 

Kate I am becoming emotional now because you cannot imagine the world I crawled out of. Most of the people I grew up with are either recovering or not recovering in NA and AA. My grandparents who sort of raised me are dead and gone, nothing left, and my only memories are of me torturing them as a teen, I never got to see the other side of adult relationship where I cherished them. My father will be dead two years this December and his parting words to me were concern about my emotional stability, cold steel blade to my throat. 

After one last time of thinking I could weather a relationship with my mother for her benefit I cut the cord and let myself loose again, floating out into the unknown that had to be better. 

As far as biological family I am alone in the world, and not only alone, but ever aware of the wreckage I arose from.

I know a flare for the dramatic in writing. But how can you know what even a single kindness means if you do not know these things.

And I’ve grown wise enough to know that people can still have their family close and be just as hurt by their intended care. I am not as naive anymore, I do not assume I have it worse. I used to feel sorry for myself in this way. Not productive.

Your line about the difference between people who don’t make it at Vivint resonates strongly with me. “They are the weak”. And we are most certainly not.

I love what working for Vivint represents to you and how much you have grown as a result of rising to that challenge. If I understood it correctly you were coming off a partnership that challenged your worth as an earner and as having passion. And it appears there were so many other benefits as well. The people you’re connecting with, your self-concept, and financial security and confidence to name a few.

It’s actually your strength and energy that makes me think I can do this at all. The fact you believe in me, and even said I could be “better than you”, not that this is relevant, but I can’t tell you how much your investment and faith means in me.

You, Courtney, and every person who so easily sees me potential, worth, inner nature, you are the parents I never had. And it heals me constantly.

This is what I feel energized by. You’re like a lighthouse. And I’m so hopeful that I can turn this opportunity into something that can help me enjoy the confidence of freeing myself from feeling a financial burden. I’ve been behind since before I began.

Making continuous poor decisions financially with no parachute, because I never had one. I’ve been free falling, grabbing onto a cliff here and there, bloody knuckles and hands and clinging for brief rest, and letting go again.

And now I have gear, goggles, helmet, glider, chute, all the protection of friendship and a found family, and from all that security I am able to have fought hard enough to be able to enjoy bringing a life into the world with a true love, one that is the kind I am wired for. To feel I deserve that second chance and this much love and support, is a daily task. My beginning experiences tell me otherwise all the time. This is a battle I have made companions with, its familiar, but it may never fully be over. 

And here you are another beautiful gift from the Universe helping me with an opportunity that can alleviate the stress of my student loans and not being able to provide enough for the children I in many ways grew up with. I want to give them the world for having faith in me, when it’s been so hard to find it in myself.

Even buying those Hamilton tickets would have been unthinkable a couple of years ago. And it would be hard to do much of my dreams or fun things, if I can’t make sure the responsibilities I already created are not set up. My life force begs me to do both/ all. But my thawed out heart forces me to have enough empathy to consider the feelings of those that my choices impact.

So if I can make my days feel a little less life or death all the time by being able to pay off my student loans and help the kids more and support Courtney and our baby… then sign me up. I am so hopeful I am up to the task and that I can weather fears of making others uncomfortable and rejection that has been the hallmark of my life, that I’m so nervous about that trigger. Except I think that this task is before me, to realize the enemy isn’t that big anymore.

This is yet another opportunity to learn how to love myself better by rising to a task and learning from the whole process.

So all of these words, these intense, dark, deep, grateful words are to say thank you for believing and investing in me.

Thank you…

Christina

Sent from my iPhone

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Bathroom accidents or profound life lessons?

To the tune of I saw the sign by Ace of Base….

Today’s lesson brought to by my second “near death” experience in the shower/tub.

You may recall a few weeks back that a cabinet fell of my bathroom wall and showered me with breaking glass and debris and turned my writing sanctuary into a post accident trauma scene.

Well I had a similar experience this morning. My wife had installed a shower caddy to hold our ever growing family’s bath time needs. She had also installed the cabinet so she’s beginning to doubt her installation abilities, we don’t want that. Plus this makes for great life lessons.

Any tiny thing can be a profound life lesson if you choose to see it that way.

So this morning as I was filling the bath, not even in it yet, the whole damn supply tree flew at me, two deep bruises and a tiny cut, not to mention a big mess to clean up.

But not nearly as big as helping my kids not worry about me or my giant emotions. That one will take some work.

My first thought “my bathroom is trying to kill me”, or my wife 😉 second thought “what did I do to deserve this, as if today isn’t tough enough already.” I’m preparing for my 4th colonoscopy tomorrow morning. I’ll spare you the gory details, but it isn’t much fun.

As I traveled through those emotionally driven negative thoughts I began to think, if this has happened twice in a short amount and of time what exactly IS the message here.

And a wiser and calmer conclusion appeared:

“When things get too heavy and full they come crashing down.”

We can’t blame the installer here, because in both cases with a large family and a minimal understanding of physics (though our son is working on it), the clear culprit here is over-loading.

The universe always seems to have my back.

Any and all of the problems in my home currently between family members is a crashing down from being over-loaded with something, and then our less than best selves emerge.

We can become heavy with our own thoughts, too many bad ones about our selves and the shelf comes crashing down.

We can become over-whelmed when we don’t make enough time for play along with our responsibilities.

We can become pressurized to the point of bursting when we don’t feel close with others and like we are seen and understood.

The good news ? Wait there is good news?

Yes. It wakes us up to reconfiguring the whole set up. It helps us to examine and reassess the situation. So when we set it back up, we can make adjustments.

Now we will only use the necessary bathroom items on the caddy. Now we can clean up everything and put it back neater than we found out. Figure out what is necessary and what is just junk on there.

Now we can notice when the thing begins to get over-crowded and looks like it’s going to snap. And we can do that for and with each other as well.

As someone who lived much of her life just piling things on herself and believing she could carry it no matter what. This lesson teaches me to pause and be deliberate about my decisions, check in with myself and my family. This heals the impulsivity that was naturally gifted to me by my experiences in childhood.

I learned to run fast, and as I am learning from Madeline L’Engle in her book Walking on Water: reflections on faith and art, and from Pete Walker: Surviving to Thriving, and my vicious bathroom:

I must slow down, stay open, and RE-assess the situation. Simplify rather than complicate my life.

Now after a lifetime of the opposite just how am I supposed to do that? 😉

“Generally what is more important than watertight answers, is learning to ask the right questions.” Madeline L’Engle

❤️

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On Narcissism, Empathy, and the Many Shades of Grey in Between…..

So now I am sitting here thinking about “who is this self so long ago who fell in love with this man, and who was this man for that matter?” And perhaps more importantly what did both of these people need and want? What were they looking for, and how did that translate into finding one another, and believing this would answer their insecurities about where their lives were going.

I recall at one point wanting a Nintendo more than anything. Those shiny controllers with their attractive two red A and B buttons and directional pad. My grandparents would hem and haw about how expensive and unnecessary, and I would be relentless until I got what I wanted. I am still relentless in pursuit of my dreams. Relentless at the expense of others is what those who have been victimized by me cry out. It was easy to believe I was bad or wrong. I always had looked for ways this was true. I remember the very first time that he posted a MySpace status update saying, “so I married a narcissistic lesbian”, to the tune of “so I married an axe murderer”. Might as well have been. I remember already having spent years fearing being a narcissist. I poured over texts on the subject and was my own judge and juror, always finding myself guilty. So realizing I was meant to be with women only solidified those negative beliefs. The proverbial nail in the coffin so to speak.

Here are a couple of my favorite articles on Narcissism and Empathy. It is rarely cut and dried, all or nothing. A relationship between two people is a complicated alchemy full of lots of external factors. All people are capable of light and dark, whichever side presents itself more depends on many factors. Where they just came from, who they have been around, what they want, what they need, how life has touched them up until this point, their belief systems, and on and on. If only we sought to understand for the sake of understanding and not to reduce our discomfort by being able to label something. If only we sought to understand for the growth that it provides, and not to appease the ego. 

They are favorites because they don’t encourage a victim perspective. Why the World Needs Narcissists.

A letter to those who call themselves empaths

I was forged in narcissism. A narcissistic mother. But not someone who was merely selfish, not somewhere on a spectrum, but fully disengaged as a mother. She never became a mom. I spent so much of my life fearing that would be my fate, when I was never disengaged in the same way that she was. I was off in my head often. I still am. I was there trying to make full well sure that I didn’t harm my children in the same way. All the while the very thing I feared creating a self-fulfilling prophecy. To be in my head afraid of the thing took my presence. To focus as hard as I possibly could on the goal of not being something, created so much of what I feared. Crippling self-doubt. Trapped inside my head, one of the only things drawing me out was the security of the joy I was able to find when engaged with another adult. Don’t leave me alone with me I used to think. I could be like her. I could hurt my kids, but if I stayed busy, and active, and around others I felt this was less likely to happen. It made me be outside my head. When I was alone with the kids I felt so anxious in ways I didn’t even understand that I felt like I was distant from them. My assessment of course reflected the harshest possible evaluation. If an another adult was around, particularly a fun one, I could take a deep breath and relax. This represented a safety to me that kept me from causing damage. A damage I only anticipated as a possibility and therefore dreamed it into a very real threat. I was nothing if not adaptive…. and to be successful at adapting one must separate themselves from their feelings enough to observe the best course of action. Hence my lifelong mission to reconnect to my feeling self.

So much shame lies here. By looking at others and thinking that should apply to me, taking for granted the differences in many other areas. 

I remember playing video games on the Nintendo and Super NES system. I really liked Mario brothers and Adventure Island. I remember being very impatient playing these games. Watching my grandma play was like watching paint dry, lol. Watching anyone for that matter. I didn’t want to learn from watching. I wanted to be the one playing always. I ran quickly forward. I wasn’t the type to fully explore for all the secrets and hidden things. I was the type to rush forward and see how fast I could get through a level. I was anything but conservative and careful. I still live like this. It has made for a very interesting life, full of lessons. Clean up on aisle 9! I live life as if I have unlimited lives, just like I did in the video games.

Another thing Martha Beck said in this last video lesson was: Comedy is just pain + time. Once you are far away enough from the situation you can see it with a different clarity that allows you to be able to capture your own truths, as you saw them, and make them into something someone can benefit from in some way.

This is the mission that I am on currently. From the secure space I now occupy in my life humor is a much larger part of my everyday world. I think perhaps when it comes to writing I have an outdated version of myself in my mind. One who takes everything seriously and who isn’t that funny. My wife finds me funny all the time. It’s interesting who you are able to be in the presence who believe in the best possible version of you. And how easily if you don’t fully believe this yourself, someone can pull you back to a place of self-doubt based on their opinion. This is the necessity of the solidly grounded self. This is what I am working on right now, and writing into and through my feelings is my cement, mold, and level.

This process of being so utterly happy and wanting to bring another life into this world as a result, and not being able to get what I want right when I want it, is what has brought me to my knees. It is forcing me to sit still in feelings, to see myself in new ways, and to have an even deeper level of empathy for all of those around me. It is bringing me even closer to myself, uniting all my broken pieces. I am able to truly connect to how those around me feel in a way that is calm, careful, and present. For me this is truly being entirely re-wired. It turns out there is a lot to this wiring stuff. I am beginning to believe we are all capable of a lot more than our experiences in this life lend us to be. As I am able to watch myself become a more whole person, a more kind person, a more attentive one, a wiser one. I know that it is possible.

It’s a complex mixture of having the right amount of support, along with the right amount of accountability. Too much of one, or too little of the other and its a dangerous concoction. I am very enthusiastic to continue to share this journey and everything I am fortunate enough to be able to become aware of, to learn, and to share. 

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Writing the Life Authentic: How to not repeat a pattern, complete with raw example from my own life

*Somewhere in the town of Stamford far removed from family and creature comforts my wife is coping with another possibility of life leaking out of her. Hurting physically and mentally. Here at home I am doing the same. We are both sending one another signals of love and light, they are powerful enough to make it across Countries, so I have faith that they will reach one another and hold us safely these few towns away.

Interesting that our love has such a strong and safe foundation, and that a love that was built on expectations and ideas of dreams yielded three children in a way that felt effortless at the time. It could have been easy to expect that this should be granted us because true love would make us entitled to the gift of children. This is often not how life works.

We all take so many things for granted…

I was brought in a round about way to thinking about childhood me. I want to talk about her, but also what got me here.

In an attempt to not be upset with myself for yet another thing I bit off, but was unable to chew and swallow, I took some time today to watch the next video in my Martha Beck Write into Light course. The material will no longer be available as of October 31st. After all the talk, and the money invested I am determined to finish this thing that I started. So here I am again facing myself down in the mirror, this course demands nothing less. I have learned by now that it is not all or nothing, but rather beginning anew as many times as necessary to keep going. I am grateful I was born with the courage to continue on this process. I don’t believe everyone is so lucky, In fact the more I understand, the more I see my gifts as rare gems in this way.

In fact this is what module 5: Writing a life authentic, is concerned with. In it MB talks about how will power doesn’t work when it comes to change. Funny because the power of my will has often felt like the only thing that kept me going. MB describes how our neural pathways are wired for habit, and something we are used to doing gets deeply entrenched and becomes essentially automatic (myelin sheathing on the neurons) and nearly unstoppable. She describes the only process she has found to be successful at actually creating change to be “light writing”. A process where you observe a pattern and watch yourself like a field researcher, you must be removed enough to not get sucked into the story, so you can actually watch the behaviors. She suggests you write DEEPLY into whatever you are working on. It’s kind of like taking a plain sheet of paper out and brainstorming. For this particular lesson she is teaching about how to not repeat a pattern. She has suggested two things.

One is to take a pattern you do not want to repeat and write it down on a piece of paper. She says it is important that you choose something you yourself deeply want to change, it has to come from a DESPERATE NEED THAT IS YOUR OWN, versus something your mom or partner etc wants you to change. Then take that paper and rip it into many pieces or burn it. Say outloud as you do this, “I invite in a new pattern”. She explains even if it sounds silly the importance of putting a physical aspect to this. She then instrucs you to do one of two things in your exhale. The exhale is the part you brainstorm through and get all your thoughts out. The inhale is the more constructed piece of writing that gives attention to your reader.

So I need to choose to either write a manifesto about leading a revolution to break this pattern. Rally! Have fun with it. …. here is what I will no longer tolerate about this pattern.

Or to write a comedic anectdote, one that is lighthearted. How you did something over and over again, how you can look at it with humor enough to be able to change your behavior.

Something that came to mind was how when my wife and I get stressed out with my ex-husband and some of the petty arguments that we both must engage in to fuel: we think of Buzz Light year and Woody in Toy Story, and say “you’re a sad strange little man, you have my pity”. It has helped us more than once. Now a disclaimer to this is that I do not feel my ex-husband is a bad person, or any less of a father because we get into these tifs. In fact as I chip more and more away at the bedrock of the issue I am able to see both of our disappointment and how deeply that can run that we didn’t get to have the picturesque idea of all these years of our children’s having been shared together. That we both have needed to endure the sharp pain of separation, misunderstandings, and watching our kids be confused or hurt during the process. That we both are being challenged with re-writing a script that we thought we had already worked so hard at. We already risked so much, and carved so much out, to have to begin again and again feels unbearable. It feels wrong, and flawed, and bad, especially according to the rules of society. How deeply ingrained in each of us is it that once you make a committment of a lifetime that it must work that way. Particularly for the conscientiously minded folk such as ourselves.

Neither of us intended things to work as they did. That is one thing that I can say with 100 percent clarity at this point. And keeping us on the same page as far as the pain that comes with divorce is a much healthier way to look at it than one of us a victim and one a perpetrator. At this point in his storyline of events, he is still much more determined to see me as the perp and he the victim, it comes out time and time again. And he ups the bar as he attempts to recruit my ex-partners into those rankings. He has stated as much that he feels people should not be bought and discarded like cheap dollar store toys. He appears unable to see how this is his projection of our relationship not working out, and takes a great deal for granted when it comes to specifics. If he were able to look a little closer at what I had to overcome to achieve healthy relationship perhaps he would understand more. He is right actually that love should not work that way, and boy is it painful when it does. But there is much more than meets the eye here with me and love. There is a lifetime of work, several actually, that I’ve somehow managed to do in one.

And I do promise that you must be up close to truly see. And you must have been able to do your own self work of separating from your ego enough to observe things in such a way so that they can be changed. Otherwise your main fight will be that of how you are perceived by others. One can spend their whole lives in this way. 

But my realization in the here and now is that for me to beg to be seen in a particular way brings me right back to my childhood. A person can only see things from a viewpoint that is reflective from how far they themselves have traveled. To try and ask for them to see further is impossible and will end up frustrating to levels I cannot even begin to tell you. This is possibly one of my greatest sources of pain in this lifetime. And now the gauntlet is thrown for me to not repeat this pattern anymore. My only battle is to see myself through a generous lens. I have borrowed my wife’s for now, and people before her. But I understand as well as anyone by now that when using this model, if you do not please the person seeing you in the way that they are looking for, the generosity expires.

Much like in therapy if you don’t take the lessons that are offered and make them your own, and make them real, bring them outside the office, the magic ends at the end of the appointment and dissipates with the termination of the therapuetic relationship. A therapist lends their generosity of vision, seeing people at their best selves, but the Client themself must learn this way of seeing and apply it. They must seek to understand how the therapist is able to do that with such information to the opposite end. As if the stigma of seeking therapy itself is not cause enough to not be able to do this. So many people with their opinion at the ready to slay a person’s attempt of breaking out of painful patterns with their criticism. And to what end? To be able to stroke the ego. To be able to say “see look I was right”.

To this point with regard to my ex-husband, what would he possibly gain by proving me to be the mother that he believes. If he were able to be right and he could know that I am in fact selfish, and get my kids to believe this. What is the prize here? I see only loss and suffering at that. Immense confusion and pain.  And this is why I must challenge myself to not be a victim either, because what is possibly to gain by believing the father of my children is a bad person, in the name of ego. Wouldn’t it be healthier to believe that his life turned out so differently than he had imagined that he can’t bear to live in a truth that doesn’t back his story, that he has lost the zest he once had from this attachment fracture. Such extreme disappointment that he is lost with how to move forward. And what is someone feeling this way in need of? Certainly not more criticism and turmoil.

Sometimes in life I think we end up fighting so hard for something, when we aren’t even sure anymore what we are hoping to acheive from it. That’s a little scary don’t you think? May I always strive to be aware of the “why”, the reason I want to acheive what I am working hard towards. If I put this template down, would I ever be able to see it as a good thing for my children to see a dark and ugly side of things? This helps me to be truly aware of the power the ego can wield, of how seductive it can be. Come to the dark side it says, we have cookies it says. Of course it would say that to me. I love cookies.

If you’re looking for me I’ll be here resisting cookies and my ego lol. And being honored to be invited into the sacred processes of my client’s world, so that we both may feel less alone.

My blog post on childhood me, will have to wait… or perhaps I’ll post it after this one since I am “on a roll”.

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Letters to my children

A post on parenting. The perils and celebrations of it all. And the battle against screen time and lost connection with one another.

I wrote a letter to my son this morning. The letter was a product of hearing a hard truth awhile back, the truth that sometimes it feels to him like I’m not listening. That makes sense, because listening is a lot of my job during the day. Being present for other people is what I do. And when I get home I’m fortunate enough to have a clan of people also clambering for my attention. Burden? I think not, but sometimes it comes across like that. This means some work needs to be done.

The particular topic at hand here is if he can have his computer back. He wanted time to talk about it, and I wanted to not do any more therapy for the evening. Clash. We have learned in our home that over-tired is not the time to try for a family meeting. Which sadly for a long time were more like mommy bitch fests. Eeek. That’s a hard one to sit in.

The good news!? If you are brave enough to look at the hard truth at times, and find love and compassion for yourself, then you can do better. I am always trying to do better. Not type A better, but deep seeded repeating of painful patterns and behavior from how I was parented, better. We so easily and unconsciously end up parenting how we were parented. Even with a staunch commitment to doing the opposite. We can even believe because of our intention we are doing different, when inevitably some of those wired in behaviors are happening. This is a whole other post I suppose.

This summer we have been battling screen time (of many varieties) in this home. I noticed that mindless scrolling was leading to poor interactions between one another. That our priorities were all out of whack. Scrolling Instagram and cute videos became our focus. Just another dopamine hit mom please. As bad if not worse as any drug that has ever been made. And the proof is in the behavior particularly when said activity is removed. Suddenly family time felt like an inconvenience too. And that’s when I knew we were in trouble.

Now changing habits such as these are not for the faint of heart. They take constant effort and vigilance and for ourselves the parents to be accountable as well. If you’re thinking with all the demands of life today that that is just too much then you’re normal. But the proof in the theory and the effort is in what happens when you hold to your kids reading rather than binge watching a season of something and see the changes with your own eyes.

I think the saddest part is that originally this change was framed as grounding, as in a punishment. So the kids feel they are being punished. When what really happened was wanting to not go directly back to the terrible habit that made us treat each other so poorly. When the toxin gets entirely out of the system suddenly we returned to our normal selves. We could stop dreaming of perfect abs, mansions, becoming rich and successful just be being noticed, vacations, cute proposals, the list goes on and on.

Escapism. And why would we want to escape our lives? Well for a thousand fears I am sure. We are over worked and under connected in this time and in this place, and I want to change that in our family. If you can’t beat them join em’ is a powerful drug for me though. Always seeking belonging. I want to just emulate what I see in people I feel close to. So if I’m hanging out with friends who have all their devices going and think it looks so cool, all that technology, then I am more likely to think it’s ok. To not see it for the enemy it is. Substance abuse is similar right ?! If you find that group you feel you belong in, it’s more powerful than reality or truth. Belonging takes the lead.

I wish for our family that our hearts belong to communication with one another and to connection. Not dreaming about a future time when we have more or less of something. But that we feel as rich as we will ever be right now. This right now could be my happiest life. We rarely stop anymore to know what or when that is.

Helpful information about screen addiction

So for good reason right now we are concerned about giving my son his computer back. So yesterday he attempted to stage a coup. He felt it was an injustice he has been working so hard and not been recognized for his efforts. When it was never about that, it was about the fear of things going back to such an unhealthy state. Staring into that screen until 4 am regardless of the cost to the next day or our relationships in this home.

So I am just sitting here this morning reflecting on the root of the argument which was him thinking I don’t see him for his good, that I’m always just focused on his behavior as bad. Loving does not always translate as loving when it comes to parenting, and as someone who often didn’t feel loved, I am committed to cracking this code.

So for now I’ll leave you with this mornings letter I wrote to him. When I first started writing my kids I felt “like a weirdo”, but as I thought about it more and more, if I let them into my process see what it takes to truly weigh options and try to come up with a fair and effective choice, that they can develop empathy as well as know that I am spending the time I am not with them considering myself as a parent. I don’t know what’s more loving than that?! It certainly takes the guessing out of am I loved. At least from my lens.

I’ve had to argue with myself a lot as in my day children were never permitted behind the curtain. Separation was essential for them to know their role. So I tried that for a long time, but as they become older, and I become more human: I believe the importance in what is modeled to be the most invaluable source. So here is me modeling sharing my out-loud process.

I’m still thinking about all this this morning. You and I need to come up with a weekly “date” where we focus on nothing else but catching up. Funny how it’s so easy to make time like that for other people but because of our roles we let that slip. I noticed this am that I miss you. That I’m doing it again. Not listening when you talk. I didn’t listen enough last night. My best time is in the morning. By night after a client day I am toast and here we are in summer not utilizing that at all.

We could only need one hour a week of full presence to be close yet I let it go weeks and weeks and then we collide in some fight. Probably mostly because we miss each other.

I’m always proud of you Tyler. I always believe in you more than anything. I don’t always know what’s best of all the choices as far as parenting, but know that I’m trying to give you what I didn’t have. I’m trying to do my best.

What is most healing about Courtney is she is so generous with me. She’s never suspicious of my character or that things will fall apart. She never doubts us, this family, and that is so warm that I want to work so hard at being my best self.

I want to create that set up in this home. That you’re so well loved here, that you are successful because of all that warmth you’re wrapped in. Not beating yourself into action or out of it. Not so controlled that you learn to not trust in your own power and worth.

I love you with my whole heart. It’s family day today. So get up and get your dishes done and let’s schedule our weekly date always ok. For the rest of forever, even on the phone. Just like my morning writing it takes developing a habit to keep something consistent and it’s damn hard, but this is well worth it.

You’re the best son a mother could have and I never mean me trying to keep you healthy to go across different than that. If it is we need to tweak some things.

I love you….

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Sunsets and Rainbows

*last night driving home the sunset brought me to tears. I’ve been crying a lot lately. All of my emotions right at the surface… and then a giant beautiful rainbow. I didn’t even see any rain, it was just there for me.

Lately I am overwhelmed by emotions. Good ones. What even is this that is happening? After spending most of your life feeling strong on the outside, but inside; frantic, desperate, disconnected, panicked, wrong, bad, behind, abandoned, not enough, not chosen, and the list goes on.

Here I sit today feeling blessed, honored, humbled, more love than is ever possible, calm, being able to regulate, seeing Love everywhere and in everything. I feel stable like the roots of a great oak, and gentle like the rustling of it’s leaves. Many storms have passed through me, but still I stand. And to realize I stand as more, not less. The storms didn’t take, they gave.

For me to put down roots I had to break through concrete.

My Oak is in the midst of Times Square; having always felt out of place, but suddenly people are seeing it like it’s the most refreshing thing they have ever seen. It provides oxygen, shade, a different perspective, a place to rest against that is sturdy and vibrant with life.

It’s like an out of body experience, except for the first time I’m inside mine.

I am two feet in.

This morning I read an email from my dear friend Chip that I have mentioned. And I was thinking about how much I wonder about my Father, and hurt at the not knowing. I had an “Under The Tuscan Sun” moment, where I realized that here is this found father, right here. He writes me everyday basically, always checks in on us, and is supportive and kind.

Anywhere something was missing in my life, I had only to look through open mind and heart to see that it could be filled.

I realize in this moment I’ve missed a thousand rainbows and sunsets, just staring blankly into the world because of old pain and the stories it created.

Now in each moment I’m writing a gorgeous novel. And if these thoughts are never organized into a book someone else can read; you have only to look at my life to read it.

My book is one filled with love, and I never would have known I could say that before.

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Out on a limb

My whole life I feel like I have been out on a limb. In so many aspects. Somewhere along the way I learned to take the risks. During more of the unsure times in my life these risks could definitely have been categorized as the unhealthy kind. So I internalized, as I do so well, more bad information about myself.

In this second half of my life my “risk taking” is the exact thing that has yielded some of the biggest pay out. I still look at those people who cross all their t’s and dot all their i’s with great admiration. And a serious dose of black and white thinking: they are right, I am wrong.

Here in the state of Connecticut I have found that risk taking could be as simple as speaking to someone in line at Starbucks. They don’t do that sort of thing here. Stay in your lane baby girl. Mind your business. More people starving for connecting here, than I have found anywhere else. Perhaps that’s why me, the queen of connecting, ended up here.

I met one of my dearest friends in life, a man closer to the end of his life than the beginning. A good man who likes the Hallmark channel so he can get a dose of real emotion when he needs. A man who loves his son and grandson, and a wife who doesn’t deserve it so much (from him, everyone deserves love).

I tell our story sometimes to clients and they are always baffled. You did what? Yes we borrowed sugar and an egg to make cookies. We asked a neighbor to borrow something. Naive as usual, I had never received the memo that people in Connecticut absolutely under no circumstances do this sort of thing. Psycho. Go to the store like everyone else does. Nevertheless this yielded a friendship that would become a surrogate father, and person who tells me I am their normal.

I tell him if I’m his normal he is in serious trouble. We loved him on birthdays when no one else showed him how special he is, and he loved me with all of my insecurities. He listened to a thousand anxious emails, worried I would never be loved the way I was hoping to, worried I was bad. Only one of those worries very occasionally threatens to crop up. I consider myself very blessed.

You see thoughts about going out on a limb come to my mind, and they won’t be dismissed in the name of anything. They keep tugging at the strings of my heart until I am forced to unleash them on an unsuspecting world. This wasn’t so well received when I was younger. I scared the hell out of people. I was called too intense more than you can imagine. Which of course triggered my family stuff. Too much, somehow not good that you’re around. I made myself smaller. My self became depressed, shrank.

I tried to just do day in day out with no magic. It never worked for me. When I ignore that urge to reach out when I feel that vibration, later the regret drives me mad. I know I missed out on the hidden secret the universe had wrapped in many papers and then in box after box, like those Russian nesting dolls. And the determination it takes to be brave enough to keep opening after not only finding empty ones, but also being ridiculed for trying.

I needed to belong somewhere, anywhere. That need trumped coming into my own. So it has taken me a long time to be here now. And when it comes to trusting myself I am still a baby deer wobbling on it’s new legs. Self-doubt had been my constant companion, ptsd has hard wired it into my system. But I always knew I belonged out on a limb.

Out on a limb you’re alone, nervous you will fall at any moment, and precarious. You face rejection, being discredited, and boat loads of shame. Why would anyone do that? Especially in Connecticut. If there ever was a state you do not do that, it is here. I often muse to myself that instead of being the “Nutmeg state”, we should be the repression state. I guess “Repressers” doesn’t ring as light and fun as “Nutmeggers, but I would venture it rings true to many.

Now before you’re tempted to think I’m generalizing in a terrible way, I’m not finished yet. Underneath a thin layer of steel, people here are warm and gooey just like all of us human beings. I would argue they may even be more passionate here. Whether it’s being fueled by the unbeatable fall seasons here, or the determination to make our own sunshine after a long cold winter, there is as much heart as anywhere.

The heart is in tact. And I have found people are just wanting those brave people to make that first move to connect in a real way. Sure some aren’t ready for it, that is their cross, and it is heavy. Another best friend heart (bless her), one who has known me at my worst and still seen through.

She once gave me a Globe from the show Wicked. She taped “keep defying gravity” in a small note she taped to the bottom. If the house ever caught fire this is the one thing I would grab. After the live animals of course. :p Her heart was crushed from birth perhaps, a thick skin became very necessary for her, and I broke through for a real friendship. My self-doubt made it feel invisible sometimes, afraid I wasn’t good enough, and so I kept myself away, as people who feel that way tend to do. I hope she always knows she is my person.

At that time I was an uncultured swine (ok that’s mean, a broke, single mother) and could certainly have never seen that show. I was as lost as a human can become and my behaviors sucked, and yet she still believed in some part of me. These people are two of many of my supreme gifts the Universe has given me. These people are how I help so many now. I had to be lifted up, to lift others. They are my angels and the light that shines through my eyes.

To be allowed to have the love I knew was behind a particular soul, more big risks, more limbs. I’m pretty sure she thought I was nuts in the beginning, but something bade her to keep going with it. And now we are standing on the precipice of a great dream, neither of us knew we had before.

This woman never wrongs me for the risks I take. Every time I go to talk to her I project she will tell me no way and that I’m not thinking and all sorts of other things. But she trusts me and our love to such a pure degree I HAVE to trust it also. It is unwavering. Her love and trust for me is UNWAVERING. And like the grinch who had been so hurt and rejected he had reached the point where he was bristly and mean on the outside, the parts of me that still threaten to become that way, just stop. I think my heart has expanded larger than my body, and all the light is just constantly radiating outwards.

I am a lighthouse for others, and I am beginning to believe that is true, and to love parts of myself that I shut down (to keep safe) long ago. Her love is my constant kerosene, and it’s a reflection finally of all the love I splashed at the world. A world who wasn’t ready for it, a girl who wasn’t ready to give it to herself.

Here I sit today, on the end of this limb, calmly having a picnic, dancing on the tip. For me this is the only way to live. Love is everywhere, inside of everything… Connecticut is no exception and neither are you….

💜

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Under Construction…..

Filling my morning with some of my most treasured….
A Home and Life Under Construction….

Good morning readers! It is 1:31 pm and I am still in bed. My immediate view is the one you see in the first picture. My son who no doubt stayed up most of the night “nerding out” on the computer, and my fir son snoring together gently at my feet as I write. What isn’t pictured here is my daughters that were also in the bed, and my person. Storytelling, snuggling, them listening (in short spurts, we all have ADHD) to me reading about writing. I am noticing (realizing) in this very moment that several years back my mind would have been in total chaos and none of this peaceful contemplation space was able to exist. This is heaven right here on earth.

This home that I live in…. I have been in it for six years this March. Six years is longer than most things in my life have been consistent save for my children, everything else has been constantly changing. It was move in ready when my ex and I bought it. The previous owners favored yellow, orange, and brown paint colors, but it was fresh and clean and bright. At the time we said it was ours we knew, but hadn’t told the kids. They were ten, eight, and eight years of age. Her parents video taped their reaction in the living room to us saying “do you like this house”, and they jumped around excitedly, an emphatic yes uttering with sheer glee from their innocent mouths. And then we said “good because we bought it”, and we all jumped up and down together in the empty clean living room and celebrated. I wonder if and where this video still exists.

Since then this house has seen many changes, and it has become a refuge for many a “lost traveler”, someone needing something in their lives, and they found some piece of that here with us, in the roaring of our beating hearts. This home is full of life, and strong strong personalities, every one. Members of this home that have lived here and departed include; my one almost marriage partner of most of my children’s young lives, this one came with a lovely supportive family that I am ever so grateful to to this day for all they taught me about family. The woman that I dated after her who lived with us for about 1.5 years. A magical wizard of a chef who wore her heart on her sleeve, and shared similarities with me in family of origin shit. Our triggers lied within each others triggers. We were mirrors. The roommate and still bestfriend and her son who is like my own, who gave birth to her second son here in our home. A single mother who always put her son first, and loves with every ounce of her heart. They rented our downstairs, and still to this day some of my fondest memories are of them being here. Then there was the last of my life changing relationships of someone who would inhabit this home. There is still much unfinished work in processing this relationship. This person brought the nurturing, almost parent like capacity to our lives. She was the first person I ever co-habitated with that I functioned well with. We worked very well together. She helped me get my practice off the ground and managed my business for a time. She taught me how to fiercely love myself, and to self-care. She showed up for us, and it all felt very safe. I was trying to crack the code on my inability to last in a romantic relationship. I broke my pattern by not turning this into a romantic relationship it wasn’t, just to belong and to not be alone. So we lived together like a family, with the best aspects, without the tearing at one another with expectation. I didn’t need to because she just took care of anything and everything we could have wanted, the missing needs, without being asked. Because she enjoyed being loving and nurturing. However there were some unseen flaws in this model and it ended quiet abruptly and unexpectedly. The lack of her presence is felt, I wish we could have kept eachother in our warrior tribe of women. I think fondly of her. To the best of my knowledge she does not share that sentiment towards me. I took more abrupt actions in her leaving our home. It would be very hard to explain. But I still think we each took things we desperately needed from that situation, but that it didn’t have to end how it did, with the severed connection.

Throughout all this time I was mostly focused on school, my career, and internal processes, this left no room for home improvement. The only small scale experience I had is when the almost marriage partner moved out and I was devastated for a period of weeks. I repainted and changed my bedroom in attempt to pick my devastated self up off the floor. I also watched Under the Tuscan Sun every single day and night on repeat. I read Eat, Pray, Love, and a Year by The Sea by Joan Anderson. I walked, and read, and exercised. I even “saged” at one point I believe. I got massages and Reiki. But I never knew much about DIY home things, inside or outside of the house, and learning proves to be daunting, and leave a slight flavor of irritability as I would rather be writing. Maybe it just isn’t my thing, or maybe I just allow myself to become so overwhelmed I don’t do it. In any case it was time for a change…. so my person this time is partially the catalyst for this. In a home with so many memories of others lingering, as part of our process to make this feel like our story, we are painting. Also on a longer term plan we would like to relocate closer to both of our jobs. So either way the house will be ready for market etc,.  Initially I resisted this movement mostly due to all the effort it requires and financial resources it takes. But after a long while of having stated an intention and not doing anything about it, one day, in true me fashion, we just picked up and bought the supplies and began….

So far the guest bathroom has gone from this horridly abrasive yellow/brown color, to a smooth, creamy, and calming Avenue Tan. It’s very zen-like. Though the outlet covers are naked, as we haven’t found the right fit yet, the towel rack with one hook broken on it remains unreplaced, and the new espresso cabinet we got to go over the wall where the toliet is still remains in the box from Amazon. I abhor attempting to assemble and hang things. I have very little patience for such tasks. I often wish this were different, and I try to make up my mind a new adventure will be different. Alas, each new attempt just tries my patience, and makes me wish I never started. Also although I appreciate thoroughly the beautiful view of a finished product, and the ensuing sense of accomplishment, I often thought that I hope this is the last time I can’t just pay someone to labor for me. :p I always wanted to be one of those “do it yourself people”, I admire them. But I am thinking as I write that they find a joy during the act of such work and crafting, that is not the same for me. Maybe those type of people would just as soon have a root canal as put their most inner thoughts and feelings into words, let alone allow the world to view them?

Maybe there is a lot more to this “wiring” thing than we think sometimes. I always tended to think you could do anything you set your mind to. But then again I also thought if I set my mind not to be gay, that was also a possibility, as it turns out, it wasn’t. I think it is true that you can (try things way outside your comfort zone/capability). But to further extrapolate on this, I realize now that while you can “try on” anything, and have many adventures, some will speak to your soul and be enjoyable to you, and some will not. With regard to hard work it’s not that I don’t appreciate it. As a core value I really do actually. But anymore I get physically tired so much more easily. I give so much more of myself to the rest of the world. And since I do so sitting in a chair in a cozy office, on a schedule of my own-making, I often am unfair to myself in my perception of how much I give, and how hard I work. I also attempt to constantly deny the fact I have a Chronic Illness, because I can’t find balance on this. I either am dying from it, or choose to pretend I don’t have it at all. There is no in between. Historically I am not so good at balance, or regulation for that matter. It’s been a big task of mine. It is ever a work in progress in my life.

My daugher is making “bids” for my attention as I write this, and the thing is happening. Where I become frustrated at being plucked from my reverie, every few seconds as she asks me questions that could easily be figured out by herself. She wants my attention. She has wanted it often. She is still “younger” than her other siblings in a certain sense. She still wants to play. Bless her heart. The other twin (A) is probably thinking about her boyfriend and brooding about her phone and the complexities of life. My son is sleeping off his computer all nighter “hangover”, the bullodog encouraging him by joining. It serves me more to pull myself from the reverie to be present, it gives myself and my daughter something we both need, but again it is in ways so against my wiring. It is if I am wired for lots of peaceful quiet, books, cups of tea/coffee, being cozy or as the Danish call it Hygge (Hoo-Gah)… a post on that later. I am wired for contemplation and to ponder the mysteries of everyday society, unmet needs, and the complexities of the Universe. I could basically do that all day everday, and yet I dislike my mind tricking me into perceiving my children as a burden. This has been a battle of my existence for certain.

This morning’s writing was clearly all over the place, nothing that I expected that is for sure. I expected a summary I suppose of the current year. Some tender musings on hopes for this next one. The obligatory Resolutions. Today most importantly is the one year anniversary of initially reaching out to my beautiful person. We celebrated not with fancy dinner or fanfare, but with allowing ourselves to wake slowly and lounge in the comfort of one another this morning before she left for work again. It was the best feeling. Maybe the fact that my posts have less of a beginning and an end means its meant to be more of a book. My daughter has the hiccups and she is desperate for my attention from the next room. She has been asking someone to play a game with her constantly. So I am going to go be present and hope to write more soon. I did want to share some of my thoughts on Anne Lamott’s “Bird by Bird” that I started reading this morning. At first read of her I was a bit turned off by all the religion speak, and something about her disjointed style (hmmm pots and kettles), but as her language familiarizes itself to me… it’s a bit like falling in love. I guess that’s how it happens really anyway, right ?

Unchained Melody is on Pandora. I think of days of glamorizing Patrick Swayze and in Dirty Dancing, when these days I look back at tomboy Demi from the movie ghost and swoon. Life is funny.

<3