Something I’ve Never Been

Well, I got my down-time, in an unexpected way.

I ended up with pneumonia, & had to stay home for a couple of days. 

Not exactly what I was going for, but then again, is it ever?

I have, however, had a lot of time to think. Which could be good or bad, considering who’s doing the thinking, since I tend to overthink every-fucking-thing. 

I’m tired of being alone all the time. I’m tired of my days consisting of nothing more than work, working out, & working on the book & house. 

And while I adore my Beloved Nephew, having my only real adult conversations be on the phone with someone hundreds of miles away…well, sometimes it lacks a little something.

Ok, I’ll come right out and say it. 

I want to date again. I want to feel desirable and wanted, and I want someone to look in my eyes and see me again. I want someone to hold my hand, to push my hair back behind my ear as they lean in for a kiss, and to cuddle with me on cold evenings.

I want to walk through the park in the brisk fall air, crunching the leaves beneath my boots & breathing in the autumn scents. I want to sit & listen to another person talk about their day, tell me all about it. 

I want to feel them lying next to me in bed, heartbeat under my hand…falling asleep together, and waking up the next day to tangled limbs & avoiding each other’s morning breath.

I want the disagreements, because they’re fucking normal, and to be able to work through them and talk them out like the grownups we are, even if we both have to throw mini hissy-fits first. 

I want the long days where it seems like nothing’s gone right, and the long nights that you never want to end. I want the passion and the friendship and the affection and the laughter and the tears, yes, even the tears, as long as we can overcome them. 

I want to be normal, and be like those couples I see out at restaurants & in stores, laughing with each other, telling inside jokes – I want to have inside jokes with someone again. 

I want all of these things, but then…my heart stutters, my eyes well up, & I remember that everyone leaves me.

I don’t get to have normal.

I don’t know why…

But it’s something I’ve never been.

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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…

In Between One Heartbeat

In between one heartbeat and the next, everything can change.

Las Vegas has taught us that.

The hurricanes that have been wreaking such devastation this year have taught us that.

All of the tragedies, the deaths of beloved musicians, actors, have taught us that.

I am not going to preach about gun laws, or about politics at all, because that’s not my way. 

What I’m going to say is this.

When my Youngerdaughter was born, she was as blue as a smurf, and lucky to take her first breath.

She came into this world with her umbilical cord wrapped around her neck twice, with a granny knot tied in it.

When she was a year & a half old, she fell from her crib & cracked her skull. Again, she was lucky to draw breath through the following night, & to survive.

In college, she survived a car wreck that the police don’t understand how she escaped with only a couple of small scrapes. The car was crushed, she was not.

She graduated from college magna cum laude.

Three times this young woman’s life hung in the balance, and could’ve swung either way. 

Everything could’ve changed – between one heartbeat and the next.

I cherish every breath she takes.

Just as I do for each of my children, & each member of my family, both blood & chosen.

I take nothing for granted.

And this is what I say to everyone out there, lighting up the media, both news and social.  Instead of screaming opinions (which, let’s be honest, you can’t change someone’s opinion when they’re really set on it, anyway), try to be a part of the change you wish to see.

Here is what I am going to do:

Pray for Peace

Give help where I can, to those I am able.

Vote my conscience

Hope for the best

Work for the rest

Love Hard

Take nothing for granted

Cherish the heartbeats.

Spices and Wind

Autumn is here.

I know, the Autumnal Equinox is still technically 2 days away…but, this happened today:

I was driving home, down 16th, which is a 40mph street, & had my window half open to catch the breeze, when this happy, little wanderer floated in and landed on the back of my hand.

I picked it up, & held it like a touchstone all the way home, reveling in the leathery feel of the leaf’s skin, the crisp, sharpened edges, the slightly cupped curl it created as it rested between my fingers.

I love fall…

I love the way the air feels like a lover’s caress on my skin, gentle & warm most of the time, but with the occasional swipe of a rough briskness.

I love how rich all the colors seem to get. The deep golds, the burnt oranges, the bloody reds, the almost-black purples. Even the crunchy brown after the leaves have fallen, & lie dead on the lawn, waiting for the rake to sweep them into piles for bagging. 

I love the smells that permeate the air, the sharp smell of burning fireplaces in the evening, the fresh earthy smell of wet dirt after it rains, and the air is cold enough to bite, so you have to bundle into a hoodie, the spicy scent of the fall’s leaves as I crunch through them when out on a walk. 
Those leaves remind me of my favorite flowers – carnations, & how they smell like spices & sex to me. Such an innocuous, and seemingly innocent little flower, so normal and unassuming, and yet they entice me to stick my nose deep into them, dragging the scent within my lungs from their lacy petals, so reminiscent of lingerie it almost seems indecent to have them just sitting out in the open where everyone can see. 

Next time you get around a bouquet of carnations…close your eyes, don’t look at their plain-jane faces…close your eyes & use your other senses. Get your nose up close, smell the sweet cloves, the spicy wash of something almost exotic, run your fingertips over the petals, feel the lace edges…and you’ll see what I mean. It can be a sensual rush.

And to me, carnations are such an Autumn type of flower because of that spiciness…reminding me of the leaves as they fling themselves from their trees. 

Wild little things with plain faces and beauty inside, if only you look… throwing themselves out into the world, searching for a place to land…

The Guilt of No

I used to take “No” lessons from one of my coworkers years ago.

Back when I was still married to Ex-husband #2, and working for a different company, one of my coworkers used to tell me often that I needed to learn how to say “NO” and mean it.

This was usually in reference to something my ex wanted to spend money on that we really didn’t need, and I was being coerced into going along with it. He would manipulate me with guilt, and I would cave, because it was easier to just go along and get along than deal with the pouting and temper tantrum when he didn’t get his way.

The “NO” lessons didn’t work very well back then.

Of course, the guilt had had years of training by then, as my Mom and Grandma were the Queens of Guilt, wielding it like fierce bullwhips crackling in the air whenever us kids would step outside of their imagined “acceptable” boundaries.

It’s damn hard to say No when you’ve been trained most of your life that you don’t have the right to that word…

And yet, here I am again, trying to learn how to do just that.

I’ve done it, successfully, a few times over the years. Sometimes even in big ways, that have benefitted me greatly. 

And yet, there are times, recently, when I still feel guilty about setting personal boundaries and saying No.

I have a personal fb account. 

It’s very private, and I have very few people in it. Less than 20, actually. A handful of family members (some blood, some Chosen), some friends from the blogging world that I never get to see in person, a couple of friends who live out of state, who, again, I don’t get to see in person, & a couple of friends from here in town.

But, these are all people who I am actually CLOSE to, in one way or another. We share a connection, we talk, we text, we vent, we laugh, we mourn, we gripe & share war stories together – the friends here in town? Occasionally we get together & actually GEOGRAPHICALLY hang out with one another. We go to dinner, or grab drinks, or walk in the park, or get coffee/tea. We do things together.

So, when I received a “friend” request the other day from someone who I’m not close with, but just a friendly acquaintance…

Ahh…there’s that guilt again.

There was a blow-up a few years ago at work over my fb account. Because I’d deleted a bunch of people from my page who I wasn’t actually really friends with, but just friendly, and when they wanted to play around on my page…they couldn’t get on it anymore, because I’d deleted them.

It got brought into the office, of all the inappropriate places, and made a big stink about, so I blocked pretty much everyone, & said I’d deleted my page altogether.

Problem solved ~Poof. 

But no.

Now it’s rearing its ugly head again.

Well, whatever.

I’m done explaining.

My personal page is private.

I don’t see what the big deal is, anyway. 

It’s not like any of the juicy shit gets put there, anyway.

All the raw, personal ME is RIGHT HERE.

Stop being butthurt about not being able to snoop on my social media page where I post memes about Paganism and GOT, FFS.

If you’re reading this, you know more about me than those who only see fb.

And if you want to know what’s going on in my life, but haven’t seen it here? Maybe you should FUCKING ASK ME INSTEAD OF TALKING BEHIND MY BACK.


To Dream or Not…

I hate to sleep anymore.

And yet, I crave the black, unconscious depths.

The problem is… The dreaming.

I can’t stand the dreams.

Falling into slumber, I dream of happy times, with someone to love, someone who cares for me, and revels in being with me. 

You’d think this would make me happy, right?

But, it doesn’t.

Because…I wake, knowing it’s false.

And I have to go through my day, knowing it’s fake, only imaginary, and the crushing reality of that aches in my chest, drags in my bones, and clogs my throat with tears I can’t allow to pass.

Love passes me by in the night, teasing, mocking, showing me what I long for, but can never grasp.

So, I force myself to exhaustion each night, punishing my body and mind, pushing myself to my limits of endurance, hoping that by the time I hit the bed, I’ll be too worn to dream, too tired to see those visions behind my eyelids.

I walk on my treadmill each night till my legs scream & sweat rolls down my face. Shower, eat the bare minimum to tide myself over til morning, then read til my eyes cross & I can no longer focus on the page.

The last two nights I’ve sat up til 2am…just to push myself to that brink where I knew I would tip over the edge into the abyss, falling into black unconsciousness…not dreaming, just existing in a dreamless hover until the alarm rang 5 hours later.

I don’t remember my dreams from those nights…what a blessing.

I don’t know how long I’ll have to continue this cycle…

But I can’t let myself dream.

I can’t continue to be tormented with things I will never have…