Dusy Bay

There’s a lot to today.

It’s Imbolc. For us Pagans out there, it’s a big holiday, a sort of “kickoff” for the year, bringing the light back to the world, & life back to nature. (The first flowers started to bloom, calves & lambs start being born, yada yada)

This, for me, is a sort of Pagan anniversary, as this was when I dedicated myself to my Path, 21 years ago. I celebrate, quietly, on my own, every year.

It’s also my blogging anniversary here at WordPress, I guess? I received this today…

So there’s that.

And…

I quit smoking on Jan. 31. That was the day I had my very last cigarette, at 7:40 am… And, yes, I’m about ready to put my head through a wall.

But I won’t.

So February is the beginning of a lot of things for me.

Let’s hope this is the beginning of more good things.

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Third Wheel Contemplation

I’m sitting in the backseat of the company car, on my way to an early-morning conference, with a coworker & her husband in the front, & feeling rather like the kid on a family trip, or the proverbial awkward third wheel on a friend’s date. 

I’m not a morning person, not do I like country music, and I’ve got both going on right now…

So, I’m wearing my ear buds, listening to my own music, and have been contemplating the inside of my eyelids for a good portion of this 2- hour drive.

What is it about Pink’s song “Where We Go” that puts me in such a meditative and thoughtful mood?

I think it’s the hook…

“So, here we go

Take my body not my soul

Take me high and left me low

I honestly never imagined we’d get this far… Oooohhh…

There’s a road that takes me home,

Take me fast, or take me slow,

Throw my head out the window

Feel the wind…make me whole,

Write my name up in the sky,

Let me contemplate goodbye

I don’t know, we don’t know

Where we go…”

It just- really strikes me – this song is so sweet and the beat is so bouncy and light and happy…and yet…

The lyrics are about dying.

This is so… I don’t know how to express it right now, because I’m not completely awake to it right now, but it strikes me right between the eyes every time I listen to it.

I love the whole damn Beautiful Trauma album by P!nk.

Fucking phenomenal. Phunny. Phantastic. Philosophical and psychotic.

And totally Pink.

You never write, You never call…

I haven’t written here for a while, I know. I could make excuses, I could apologize and squirm and fall to my internet knees…

But I won’t.

Yeah, I’ve had things to do. Yeah, I’ve been working on writing my book, which means I haven’t really had the urge to write here too. Yeah, blah, blah, blah…

Truth is? I haven’t really felt all that inspired to write here, either. I’ve been a little under the weather, & in a depression.

My head is kind of a dark place right now, & I haven’t really felt like sharing.

What I really want to do is curl up in the center of my bed, pull the covers up, & stay there for the next few days…but

There are bills to pay, & guess who earns the checks ’round here? 

So, every morning, instead of curling back into myself like I want to, I crawl out into the world & do what I have to to survive.

I ain’t got time for this, I got shit to do.

But, I so badly want to stay in the dark…

The Woman in the Mirror 

I’ve had self-esteem issues for as long as I can remember.

When I was very little, I had no worries. I was a total tomboy, who didn’t care what other people thought of me. I was happier dressed in clothes I could climb trees & get muddy in. And often did just those very things. I climbed up & down a cliff behind our house on a daily basis, snagging my hair on tree branches, and chewed my nails down to the quick, making my mom lament of me ever being a “girly girl”. 

She has often told stories about how she would wait until we were literally on our way out the door for church to get me in my dress, or I’d get something on it.
But, little girls grow up, and as they do, they eventually start to care about how others see them.

I was no different.

By the time I hit 6th grade, I cared about how I was perceived by my peers, as well as by adults. 

Alas, also by this time, we’d moved from Iowa, where I had friends, to a small town in North Dakota, where… not only did I know no one, but I was a complete outsider.

I was, and still am, a nerd. I read a lot, was good at school, & got good grades.  I wasn’t a troublemaker. I’m not good at sports (my nickname in volleyball was “jello-wrists”, no joke) except for horseback riding, and our small town lived for its sports. I wasn’t considered pretty enough to garner the “pretty new girl” attention, & I didn’t have the “right” last name. 

All of these things pretty much signed my social death warrant there.

In high school, at 5’7″, 125-130lbs, I was considered the “fat girl”.

I smiled here because I knew it was almost over. 

My saving grace through high school, was that my best friend had faith in me. She was a total extrovert, who moved to our town when we were in the 8th grade. She was good at sports, & was/is gorgeous & skinny. And she believed in my writing.

She sort of adopted me, & pulled me out of my shell, got me to leave our small town, & we went on adventures to other towns where we fit in much better, & made our own fun.

Even with that, I still stood in the shadows. I was always – “Oh, you’re S’s friend, right?” 

*sigh* yes, I’m her friend. 

I did make some friends of my own, separate from her, we did each gave our own groups that we’d hang out with, occasionally. And I did have boyfriends from those other towns that had no connection to her.

But I never felt as though I was enough.

Every relationship I’ve had has ended with me feeling as though I wasn’t enough for the other person. I always felt as though I was lacking, somehow, because of how things ended. Every. Single. One.

I’ve never really, truly, felt good enough.
And that includes my writing.

I’ve had certain friends tell me for years that I should write a book. That my words are worth more, that they have value.

I’ve always kind of just pooh-poohed the notion, telling them that I write my blog for me, to get the words out of my head.

After all, friends & family are supposed to say nice things to you, right? They’re supposed to back you up no matter what, right? Even if it’s trash?

Nephew… You live too far away to smack me on the back of the head right now, so sit back down.

I love you.

And I’m not done talking yet.

Because right now, I’m standing on the edge of a cliff.

I’m terrified – and exhilarated – and about ready to puke – all at the same time.

Because… I’m taking a leap of faith, & I’m going to try to build a pair of wings on my way down.

A little over a week ago, someone that I’ve admired & respected from a distance for a long time, but who has had zero idea that I existed, contacted me. 

We started talking, & in the course of becoming friends, I introduced this person to my blog. They liked my writing, & started telling me that I should write a book. 

I told them to talk to my Nephew, because it sounded like an echo.

My self-esteem still needs work – I know this.

I still look for acceptance & approval from others on my work, whether it’s my writing, my crafts, my remodeling I’m doing on my house. I’m never sure that what I’m doing is good enough, and I flounder in indecision about the choices I make unless I get feedback from people I trust.

I don’t know if it’s just a Gemini thing, or just a Jen thing… 

Even today, when I spoke to one of my coworkers about the possibility of me writing a book, she called me crazy. And I immediately started to doubt myself.

It’s easier to believe the bad stuff.

The woman in the mirror every morning looks at me with bleary, disbelieving eyes.

The woman in the mirror at night usually tells me it’ll be better tomorrow.

I’m hoping there’s a bad ass bitch hanging around somewhere in the background who’ll kick both their asses, smash the mirror, & yank me up by my collar one of these days.

Till then… I’ll be shoveling sand.

Drive Time

I had a lot of drive time today, having had a doctor’s appointment in a city about 2 hrs away. 

It gave me a lot of time to think, since I like to do these drives & appointments on my own, independent little cuss that I am.

(Pain Management Clinic, went for shots in my hands – yeah, both hands)

Anywho…

I know that I write a lot of “dark” posts here on the blog. At least lately, anyway. There hasn’t been a lot of sunshine and unicorns popping up between the lines…not that there ever really were… I mean, really I’m not much of a glitter and frappuccino kind of gal.

I’m much more of a sarcasm and cigarettes kind of sort, you know?

But, honestly…

There are happy, good things in my days.

I laugh at work.

(Usually dark, self-deprecating laughter, but hey, a gal’s gotta start somewhere)

I love my cat.

(The other cat in residence is my son’s, & yeah, OK, I somewhat like her too…but Sally is my baby) ((and they’re both assholes anyway))

I have lilies growing in my flower bed that I planted last fall with my own two hands, and they’re almost ready to bloom. 

There will be many different colors, & I can’t wait to see them! (Cause I can’t remember exactly what I put in!)

I talk to the Beloved Nephew a few nights a week, & love the hell out of him. He’s my best friend, and some days, the only thing that keeps me off the emotional ledge.  We do that for each other often.

(OLLLD picture, from my redhead days, back from before he moved. I miss that kid!)

And, I have my plan in place, and begun, for my transition next fall.  Early stages yet, baby steps. Not quite ready to reveal all yet, as it’s still so new and fragile, but I’m certain it’s what I want. What I need.

But, in the darkness, there are glimmers…

And, while driving, I had a lot of time to reflect on those glimmers of hope, those sparks of light, those small coals of fire I’ll need to hold onto in the days/weeks/months to come.

The 5 day silence was broken today.

I received another email from E, trying to reach out to me, & got a phone call right before I would have normally been off from work, from a strange, unknown, international number. I’m assuming it was from him, letting me know that he’s once again back on this side of the ocean, back on his Caribbean island, and now much closer to reaching me.

I know he’s not finished with me yet…but I can only hope that my continued refusal to interact with him or respond to his overtures will show him how futile his gestures are.

Once trust is broken…

So, I hold the hope, and release the broken.

And the hope glimmers…