Monthly Archives: November 2012

The Joy of Everything

courtesy of Tony Ludovico

It occurred to me today that there is one thing I value in myself above almost any other thing. It is the ability I have retained since childhood to feel extremely joyful over the most mundane little happenings. The excitement I have about living my life, and where things may go, and what the future holds for me.

Right now, although I am in a sad situation (the end of a long relationship, the feelings of sorrow that I couldn’t pull it off ) I find myself so excited, at the same time, about what is going to happen next. I am scared, yes, that things may be a little harder around here- I won’t have the same income, I won’t have another parent to take over when I am tapped out…but the possibilities of where my life can go are really limitless.

Look, when you are in a bad relationship, when it has gotten to the point where you feel the tension in your body when his car pulls up in front, and every word you exchange with one another is less than charitable or kind, it feels like a weight on your back. That weight has been removed, and, aside from the sadness, I feel incredible.

My dreams have roared to life again. I am making plans and seeing paths I just couldn’t see before, I was so mired in all the negativity and obsession over what was going on with us. Now, I have let go, and all of this beautiful, amazing stuff has rushed in to fill up the enormous space that relationship had taken up. I can breathe freely, now.

Even as I write this, I feel a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes, because I’m so, so sad that this is the truth. I would’ve chosen us over anything, and did, for so long. I wanted it to work. It just couldn’t. I just don’t think that love should be that hard, not all the time.

What I see is that our relationship was like a  tumor (God, this is a really insulting analogy, and I’m sorry, I just can’t think of anything more appropriate right now.) blocking the blood flow to some vital organ. Now that it’s been removed, I feel alive again. I mean, you know, when I’m not sobbing uncontrollably. Jesus. I sound so bipolar right now, I hope my shrink doesn’t get a hold of this.

So, here it is. I am sad. I am so happy. I am scared. I am excited. When I am not crying, I am laughing. I am mourning one thing, while beginning something better. I feel peaceful, all of the time. I am not lonely. I am sleeping soundly. I think all of this means that I am healing.

There are moments tinged with sadness. The rest of the time, I am aware of the joy of everything.

That’s all.

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Gratitude For Heartache

This is a letter of thanks- to the people who yelled at me and mistreated me, when I was still a little girl. To the girls and boys who were so mean and cruel in middles school. To the friends who wound up not being friends at all. To the men I loved so much that threw that love away and broke my heart. To the drugs that almost took me out. To my own stubborn self, for standing in my way so many times…thank you.

I am not a little girl, not anymore.  I have forgiven you, forgotten you, moved on…but I know now how I do not want to be talked to or treated, and I will not allow it. I had to learn that it was not okay to treat other people the way you treated me, but it was good that I could tell that I was wrong, and why, and now I am a better person for it. So thank you. I hope you have a better life today than you did when I was small.

You twelve and thirteen and fourteen year old little heathens of yore…I get it now. You couldn’t have known about my miserable home life, about how terribly your words hurt me. Not that you would have cared, such is the nature of the beast. But kids are cruel, and you (nor I) were any exception. The ones of you that remember and feel bad have grown up and are probably decent people…the ones who have forgotten are normal. But if you look back and still find your antics funny, you probably have an ass the size of a carport and a rotten life. I will pray for you.

To the friends who were not friends at all- I’ve stood where you stand, and it’s a lonely place. Sorry is not just a word, you know. Sometimes it’s a knock at the door. Life has given me a heart full of compassion and a head full of understanding, and you know, maybe I miss you, too.

Oh, and you men. Yikes. You are my Achilles heel, and I can’t blame you for my reprehensible taste, but still…one thing I am good at is loving you, and you have been disappointing. You know who you are. That first one, who got all of the best love I had, and played me like a hand of cards…like, five hands of cards, actually. So many lies, betrayals, dashed hopes and sleepless nights. But it’s okay, because you taught me a lot- about what I want, what I don’t want, and how to tell when I am heading down a bad road.  So, thanks. Don’t call me or anything, just thank you.

Sigh…the drugs. I can’t leave you out, not if I’m being honest. You were the hurdle I almost couldn’t clear, and I am so glad you are gone. You stole me from my family, my children, my dreams and I almost couldn’t escape. I know you are out there, cruising my street sometimes- when I am hurting or fed up or too sad- just waiting for me to stumble, and I know you have all the time in the world. But I have learned to sit on my hands. I have learned to think about the end result, the inevitable conclusion you will lead me to, and I stay inside until you are bored and move on. I have been someone I couldn’t stand, did things I would never do, gone to places I wish I didn’t know about, all with you. But you made me better than I ever could have been without you. You stay away from me, but thank you.

And stubborn little me…well. I forgive you, and will continue to do so, when necessary. Despite the worst decisions you have made, the repeated wrong turns and backslides, your heart remains good. I wouldn’t change a minute of it.

So, thank you, thank you, thank you- all the heartache life has dropped at my door has made me stronger. I value real love like the treasure it is. I am a fierce and loyal protector of those I love- whether children, lover or friend. I am not afraid. Because of all the bad times, I know I can survive just about anything you throw at me. Because of the good times, I know it’s all worth it.

I am still learning. When to give up, when to let go, when it is not for me to decide.  But I have learned, because of past mistakes, to listen closely to my instincts, to pay attention to what my body is telling me in its own quiet way.  I know that facing the truth now is better than pretending things aren’t what they are indefinitely- you can’t always avoid heartache, but you don’t have to prolong it. I know that actions really do speak louder than words. I know that time really does tell.

I have been let down, let go, locked out, beat up, messed with and leveled along the way. I have cried, a lot. I have had moments where I was pretty sure life as I knew it was over- and you know what? I wasn’t wrong. Because every single time I got back up, pulled it together, sucked it up and decided to persevere, I was better than before. That life had ended and something better began.

Now, here I sit, at 37, and my life is what it is because of all the challenges, the failures, the successes, that shaped me. I know who I am, and I know what I want. I am stronger and better, deeper and more compassionate than I ever thought I could be. I am more capable and less afraid, more certain and more open minded than I believed possible. I am a better mother than I was, more tender, more patient, more aware. I am a better friend than I was, more able to listen, more loyal, more honest, more practical. I am a better woman.

I am not who I thought I would be, but everything I need to be today. And better than I’d hoped, so long ago. So thank you for the lessons that you taught me, that led me here. I am more grateful than you could ever know.

Inevitable Sadness

I guess it was stupid of me to think that I could feel ONLY good about what is happening here, within the walls of this house. The fact of the matter is, a long and important relationship that I cherished and worked at and tried my very hardest to salvage is ending, and it would be weird as hell if it didn’t hurt  to let it go.

I thought Thanksgiving would be hard without him. I left on Thursday morning and drove, just me and the girls, to my late grandparents home up in Oakhurst. My family was all there- my mom and stepdad, my cousin Heidi whom I adore and look up to, and her husband Tom, who I also adore, her kids…my two uncles and various other folks. Thanksgiving was WONDERFUL. I didn’t have one moment where it felt weird or bad or lonely or anything. It was the first time I’d been home for the holiday in five years- all the time Devon and I had been together- and I can’t believe I missed it.

As a matter of fact, the entire time I was gone was like that- I spent the night with my sister in Fresno, and for the first time ever, we got to hang out, just her and I, with our kids, and do NOTHING. All of that pressure that comes with worrying that your significant other is okay, not bored, wanting to leave- it was gone, and it was wonderful. I am pretty sure that it doesn’t have to be that way, but in this relationship, it was always that way. if it wasn’t him wanting to leave my family, it was me wanting to leave his. Not that I don’t love his family, because I really, really do. I think it always had more to do with us not wanting to keep up the charade of happiness and harmony that made it hard…I don’t know.

To be honest, I sort of dreaded coming home to him and that familiar hostility more than anything. He hasn’t said much to me since the break up. I mostly have just left him alone, knowing there is nothing I can say that he wants to hear.

Yesterday, I left the baby with him and took the kids up to San Francisco for the day because I promised them (Aisley and her boyfriend) that I would. At the last second, and old friend of mine asked if I’d meet him for breakfast, and since it was on the way, I said yes. He ended up riding along with us for the day, and I had a fantastic time. I was so glad he came, since the kids didn’t want me tagging along with them, making gagging sounds every time they kissed (which is WAY more than necessary, in my opinion.) He just recently ended a ten year relationship, and is still trying to figure it all out- he’s dating a lot, or rather, he was, and now he’s sort of started seeing only one girl that he really likes, but you can tell he’s still a little wobbly- trying to get his land legs, as it were.

I spent a lot of time talking about my situation, which is how you could tell it wasn’t a date- we both talked pretty constantly about our big, significant, failed relationships. But we had a great time, and being with him, who paid for my breakfast and had an all-day conversation with me, full of actual WORDS…well, it gave me hope. And it reminded me of how much I like to laugh, and flirt (innocently), and be heard. I came home thinking I would be okay. Better than okay. Better than ever before, maybe.

Then I got a letter from Devon, via Facebook (?), late, late at night. I read it twice, and then I replied, and that’s when the tears started. Just writing about it is starting them up again. He told me that he is hurting, and I could tell that he is angry and resentful and scared. I think it is finally sinking in that I am not bluffing this time.

The idea that he is hurting and feeling afraid, and that I am the source of this, it’s pretty unbearable for me. I understand that it’s a lot more complicated than that, but in a nutshell, in it’s simplest form, I am hurting him. I HATE that. I’ve said it here before, that I still love him, so it makes sense that it hurts me terribly to cause him pain. So many times I’ve felt like I could see the little kid in him, right beneath his grown up face, and a part of me is fiercely protective of that, even now.

But the fact remains that I want out. The truth I can see, through all of the heartache, is that there is nothing left of our relationship to save. It’s gone. And I am just not going to pretend. The letter I wrote back to him is not what he was wanting from me, which is going to cause him more pain, and I am really, really sad and sorry about that. At the bottom of it all, I feel like I am really making the best decision, not only for me but for both of us- that he deserves to be happy just as much as I do, and we can’t be happy together. Hopefully, he will see this eventually, too.

I am only responsible for myself, though, really, and trying to be in charge of his happiness is part of the reason we wound up here. I think if I would have let things run their course naturally, we would have broken up the first year.

Ah, I don’t know where to go from there. I guess I will just end here by saying this- I will let the tears come when they need to, and I will be enormously loving and gentle with myself, knowing that continued joy is ahead. I will pray for him, myself, and our children, and practice turning it back over to God when I start wanting to fix it.

Have a great day.

The Heart of a Mommy

courtesy of Gail Nogle Photography

I would like to dedicate this post to all the moms I know, but especially to Amanda Davis, and her one month old baby girl, Maxine. I love you with all my heart.

The day that each of us got the news, either from a doctor, or, more commonly, from the stick we just peed on that had the nerve to turn pink, our lives began to change. I cannot speak for everyone, but I know for me, the first few months were a mixture of fear (is everything alright in there? What the hell will I do with a baby!?), excitement, and that weird, buoyant radiance that feels different from any other thing apart from pregnancy. We become so in tune with our bodies, and every day we wake up with a new sense of purpose- to carry this life within us carefully, safely, to it’s fruition. Not everyone of us gets to do this perfectly- I have friends who have lost babies, friends whose babies were born so, so early that they spent months in the hospital keeping vigil at their tiny infants bedside. For many of us, as mothers, this is the first time our lives are every truly hard or scary- it’s like everything before this pain is NOTHING in comparison.

From the time we feel their movement inside of us for the very first time, like a butterfly’s wings fluttering or a flurry of tiny bubbles brushing against us, to the alien rolls and elbow jabs of late pregnancy, we begin to develop a relationship with this little person. Then the moment arrives when they are ready to come out into the world, and time stands still the first time you see this marvelous, beautiful human being for the first time, or hear their tiny, gorgeous voice. There is nothing in the world like this.

You have expectations. What you think they will look like, what you think they will be like. Then, here they are, so different than you imagined- and yet perfect, better in every way than you could ever dream up on your own. A lot of times, we are so busy and caught up in them, these little miracles we get to claim as our own, that we don’t see what is becoming of us. The  biggest miracle of all, for me, was what happened to my heart the day that I began to love my first daughter.

Before she came along, I was very, very self- possessed ( I”m not saying I’m so damned perfect now, I’m just saying you should have seen me before!) and it was incredibly hard for me to be empathetic for others. But the love that came to me with her was so profound, so incredibly pure and perfect, there was no way I could accept that love and not be fundamentally changed. My heart was just laid open, and it changed who I was. It was really the best day of my life.

I was very, very young, and messed up countless times with that child. I will go so far as to admit that she got a bad deal with me. I wish I could go back and change it all, I really do, but you know how useless that is.  But I will tell you this- because of my love for her, I had the good sense to feel guilty about the way I was living, and the desire to change grew from that. Because of my oldest girl, and my love for her, I found my way out of the mess I was living in, and became someone better.

My second daughter knocked out every barrier I had left, allowing light in all of the places I had hidden away for myself. There was no place left in me now that was safe from emotion. My second daughters birth obliterated me with that love, and I was so ready and receptive to it. My heart expanded, making room for both of my girls and so, so much more. You think you know about love before you have kids, and I hope I don’t offend you when I say, with all sincerity, you don’t. You can’t, it’s not possible, it’s different, it’s rare and perfect and amazing. I know you love your dog, you love your parents, you love your husband. But this love, while absolutely worthwhile and good and necessary, is not the wrecking ball love you get with your babies. It destroys you and resurrects you into someone so much better than you were before- softer and stronger, deeper and…just better.

As our children grow, and the time flies by, there comes a moment when you realize that there is a distance growing between you. Then you come to understand that this was always the purpose of all of these years- to raise them and to let them go. It happens so fast. So, so much faster than you would have believed fifteen or so years ago…it breaks your heart. No matter how rotten and selfish and foul mouthed they have become, they are the same big-eyed, sweet smelling, little miracles who latched onto your heart with their sticky hands and kissed you with their runny noses underneath all that teenage loathing, and it hurts to let them go. But that is all you can do.

My advice to you, just starting out, is to relish every minute of it. Every time you start to feel fussier than the baby making you climb the walls, look down into that tiny face, and memorize it, because in five minutes they will be someone else. It goes by in a heartbeat. You cannot love too much, listen too much, be too affectionate, be too present …when they are small. But you can  do and be too little of all of these things, and you will carry that pain with you for the rest of your life-so do yourself a favor, and be the kind of parent you can be proud to be. You will not regret it. Welcome to the mommy club. May the force be with you.

So, This Girl Walks Into a Ballroom…

I’m just going to stop right here and congratulate myself on the title of today’s blog. Pat-pat-pat, okay, that’s better.

This is the actual ballroom I was in!

I want to tell you guys a little bit about the adventure I have been on lately- I think it started with that nervous breakdown I had a few months ago that landed me on leave from work, pinging around my house like a rogue pinball for weeks. After I had burned up all that crazy energy and finally took a nap, I started to feel better. I started to do a lot of important work on myself. I thought I was just trying to get back to “normal”, but God had some other stuff in mind for me. He let me believe whatever I wanted to, of course, because it kept me out of the way of all the important stuff he was putting in place in my life. Then, when it was time for me to go back to work, to rejoin the “real” world, he let me have it.

“Voila!” He said, like a chef revealing the gorgeous meal he’s prepared, whipping the big, shiny, metal dome off the whole thing. But, of course, instead of food, it was my purpose that I found…though I suppose it was more of a re-discovery, than an actual revelation. See, I have known about my love affair with words since I was three-that’s right, THREE- when I started to read. If you would have asked me at age seven what I loved more than anything in the world, aside from my mom and my stuffed monkey, Jo-Jo (shut up), I would have told you “Books.”. In the fourth grade, I was reading at a college level. This is one of my favorite things to brag about, besides the whole reading at three thing.

Because of my love of reading, of words, and being given an imagination of epic proportions, the next natural step for me was writing. Had my life followed some other course than the one it had, I may have published my first novel in my early twenties and been outrageously wealthy by now. But my life took the course it did, into drugs and disarray and sorrow. I never stopped writing, but it was only my love for it that propelled me- there was no hope for publication, no dreams of success in a career, a craft, that I loved desperately.

Fast forward many years, to now. Okay, now rewind a couple of days…yep, right there. See that girl, well…that woman, really. The one over by the door, in the lobby of an enormous building in downtown San Francisco, waiting to ride up to a party full of other writers just like her? Does she look a little nervous to you? Heck, no.  If she does, you are looking at the wrong girl!

So I went to this party thingy called the “Night of Writing Dangerously” in SF on Sunday night. It was amazing. It was Noir themed, so everyone was dressed up in these beautiful outfits, and, being that it was a writing event, we all had our lap tops. There was an open bar, and waiters walking around with giant trays of bacon wrapped shrimp, and skewers with all kinds of things on them. Then, they let us in the ballroom, and let me tell you…it was really the most elegant, amazing, fun, NOT boring thing I have ever been to.

My point is this- it stuns me, my reality now. How did I get from where I was, to where I am? I have said it before, and I will say it again- there is no logical path here. There is no freeway from the depravity and sickness of drug addiction to a girl in a ballroom, surrounded by everything that she loves in the world. Except, there is a way…there must be, because there I was. Here I am. Do you know how radical that is? Do you know what that means? That anyone, at any time, can change course, can start over, can get back to where they belong. ANYONE.

You know what else? Had my life not taken the path it did, I don’t know if my appreciation for where I am right now would be nearly as deep, nor would I be nearly as grateful. I have seen the other side of life, and THIS is sweet. Do you see how this is all connected? My past, my present, my future? My dreams and my reality? My mental state, my spirituality, the shape of my life? The necessity of all of this, all along? Every minute of it makes sense to me, right now. I am on the right path, on my way.

So, this girl walks into a ballroom…and she walks out, and she knows that this is where she was supposed to be, all along…but she could never have been here before now. I hope that makes sense to you. It makes perfect sense to me. Have an amazing day!

Keeping My Hands Off!

Today, the second day of my solo stab at life (it’s super hard to feel single when the guy you’ve been with for the past five years is, like, in the living room.) I have had to have several stern talks with myself about flip-flopping, minding my own business, leaving things alone and keeping my grubby little hands OFF OF IT.

You see, I am a resolver. I have been steering the ship of our relationship with all of my might since just about the beginning…and all of my best efforts still got us right here, on the rocks, falling apart. It is incredibly hard for me to say my piece, then walk away. But I understand, somehow, that all of my fixing of everything kind of brought us here. All of my forgiveness and hoping and trying to smooth things over set a precedent that no person, no matter how foolish, would walk away from. In short, I lay right down and said- “Yes, please, wipe your feet on me, man. I LOVE it. To prove to you how much I love it, I will let you do it again and again and again.”

Now listen, I am not blaming him, not at all. As the disgraceful human beings we all are, it’s very hard to resist what is given so freely to us. Sometimes we don’t even know that we are hurting someone else (especially if they allow it) and sometimes we can’t even see what is happening, or that it’s fucked up.

So right now, my job is to leave it alone. Yes, it breaks my heart to think of him alone on Thanksgiving while I am off with my family. Yes, it kills me that his car LITERALLY caught on fire today, and now he is just totally screwed. I want to comfort him, tell him, of course, that I still love him, figure out a way to fix it all. But my job right now is to let him sweat it out, hurt, feel shitty, suffer- whatever he has to do to GET IT. And it is awful.

But he is a grown man, and it’s not my job to fix him. It’s not even my job to decide if he is broken. I am giving all of this back to him, and back to God, because I am TIRED. If he can’t be who I need, and get there on his own, then he just isn’t the right guy for me. It’s incredibly sad, and scary and upsetting because I have never, ever stopped loving him. I love him more now than I did when it was all crazy and lustful and frantic all the time. I love him because I see how he tends to our daughter, how tender he is, and how perfectly he knows how to listen to her- in a way that I have  never mastered. I love him for a million little reasons I couldn’t even explain right now.

But I hate the way WE are. I hate the silence, the nit-picking, the distance between us that I, for the life of me, don’t know how to bridge. I hate the lies and the meanness, the absence, the inconsideration. And I can’t be happy this way. Simple as that.

So I figured this- if I end it all, just pull the plug on this thing, one of two things will happen. Either I will realize that I should have done this a million years ago and I’ll be fine, or he’ll suddenly realize that I am serious as hell, use his time alone to get it together, and we’ll work it out down the road. I’m not holding my breath on that last one, but stranger things have happened.

In the meantime, I am surrounded by people who love me, support me, want nothing but the best for me. I will be busy and happy and go to bed at night knowing I did the very best I could, here. My conscious, and my hands, are clean.

Seeing Beyond The Separation

I don’t know the right words to describe what I am going to attempt to describe here, anyway, so bear with me. You know how there are moments in your life where you are aware that it’s all different now? Like, something happens, and it may not even be a big thing, or at least it may be way in the aftermath of a whole bunch of big things, and you have settled down, and you are driving your car down the same old road and this feeling of…change, I guess, just sets itself down upon you?

Well, I am in such a place right now. I have been trying to deny the urge to write about it all morning, hoping it would just go away, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. So, here I sit.

Last night, the switch got tripped. It wasn’t my fault, let me assure you. I was in bed at eight thirty, fast asleep. Then I was awake again at ten, and the person who is SUPPOSED to be sleeping in bed beside me was nowhere to be found. Nowhere in the house, either. This went on for most of the night and into the morning. Was he out cheating on me again, or getting high with his friends? I don’t know. But the worst part is that I didn’t even feel like wasting my time worrying about it. I mean, been there, done that, you know. To me, the most troubling thing of all was my weariness of it all- like, I’m not mad, but fuck you, buddy. I’m tired, I need my rest. Go live this life of yours elsewhere.

Remember when I said ( I think it may have been my last post) that I wasn’t leaving? Well, that part remains true- I am not going anywhere. But he can’t live here anymore. I just need and deserve so much more. I feel so bad for Camryn, because she loves her daddy so much, but you know what? If  he really is as devoted to her as he seems, he will continue to be that no matter where he is living.

The funny thing is, normally, I can’t imagine myself beyond the pain of the separation- I get all caught up in the idea of loneliness, financial ruin, fear of being incapable of doing all this alone. But this time, I saw beyond it, in my head, and it was just like anything else- a situation you get accustomed to, that becomes better, with time, than anything that we could accomplish together. I saw my way into the peace that lies on the other side of what has become a long, sad train wreck.

Because the truth is, I don’t think we’ve really been together in a long, long time. Our lives have been steadily more separate despite all our half hearted  efforts to pull them back together. And when there is this much indifference, what, really, is there left to do?

There’s a life out there to be lived that is more than just us getting by, going through the motions. Today, I’m going to start easing back into it. It’s the next right thing to do.

Lying to Oneself

I pride myself on being a really honest person. As a matter of fact, if you asked me, I would tell you- without even thinking- that I am probably honest above almost everything else.

But you know what? I don’t know that I would be telling you the whole truth. I think, yes, I will tell you the truth if your haircut sucks really bad, or if the dress you are wearing is just awful (if you ask, of course. I am NOT in the habit of getting my face punched out.). If I were to, say, see your boyfriend at the gas station sucking face with another girl when I knew for a fact that he told you he was out of town on business- you can bet your sweet ass I would let you know. I would also make sure that he saw me, and that whoever the other girl was knew what a pig he was. I would hope that you would do the same thing for me.

And when I am in the wrong and I know it, I will almost always come to my senses, swallow my pride, and admit it, apologizing for any name calling that may have happened along the way. I try to stay aware of my shortcomings and take them into account when I am getting into it with someone.

The truth of the matter is, I think I treat others with a measure of honesty and fairness that I don’t always show myself.  The problem is, I can’t always see the big picture in my own life because I am too busy LIVING it, being right in the thick of it, you know?

I didn’t see a lot of the stuff that was going on with my older daughter because I am her mom, and I can only see her through my own, flawed, mommy-goggles. I brushed off some things that were important because I thought I knew her well enough that I could safely dismiss real feelings for attempts at getting attention. I refused to believe some crappy things about her because she is my daughter, my baby, and I KNOW her, how DARE you try to say that about MY daughter…you know?

And then there is this relationship I have. Sometimes I think it is a lot better than it is ( not often) and sometimes I think it is just a whole hell of a lot worse than it is. I blow stuff out of proportion. I convince myself, every other day, that it is OVER, that that was the last straw, that I cannot do it anymore…and here we are, five years later, stumbling along.  I am kind of starting to think that we are normal.

I don’t think anyone gets a free pass to happy-land when it comes to love. To be honest with you, I don’t even think that love is the thing we grow up thinking and expecting that it is, or that it will be. The truth is, it’s a lot of f*****g work.  It’s work I don’t always feel willing or able to do.  I think that fairy tale malarkey we grow up hearing and dreaming about is poison to real life love. Because that little tingle you may be lucky enough to feel for the first two years is there for a reason- to keep you sufficiently tolerant of one another for long enough so that you may sign a lease, exchange a set of rings, or have a baby. After that stuff happens, you are in it, WAY in it, and the point becomes about keeping yourself in it without drowning or killing someone else. Or, the point CAN be about making the best of what you have and trying to find a way to stay in it that works for everyone. Sometimes you can. Sometimes you can’t, but you have to be able to throw the towel in knowing you really did everything you could to make it work.

Sometimes that means recognizing that you aren’t so damned great, after all. That maybe you are a pain in the ass to live with, a slob, and a teensy bit self centered most of the time. Whatever the truth may be, I think it’s important to tell it, even to yourself, about yourself.

My truth today is that I am not leaving. Not today, or next week or anytime in the foreseeable future.  So I may as well stop complaining and start looking for the solution.

Things aren’t always great, but they could be a whole stinking lot worse- and perhaps, if we weren’t wasting so much time complaining about what is wrong, we could spend a little more time trying to work it out.

That’s where I am today. Hope that made some sense because I am not even going to read it back to myself before I post it.

Voting With Your Pocketbook, Voting With Your Heart

These are two very different things.

Even though I really don’t have time to write this today, I am going to steal a little time from something else, because I think it is important.

I voted for Obama, let’s be clear about that. I did it last time, and I would do it again next time if I could. I have been supporting him since he popped up, because I believe in the things he stands for. Generally speaking, I am a Democrat. But, if the better man for the job was a Republican, I would certainly vote that way ( not that I ever see that happening, I’m just saying that I try to keep an open mind).

Really quickly, I just want to say that the reasons a lot of people I know are angry that Obama was reelected really bother me. They are angry because he hasn’t done “enough”. They are angry because they think it’s unfair that there are so many illegal immigrants in this country that we have to pay extra taxes for.  One, whose name I will not mention, is angry because his health care reform bill hurt her business.

I just want to address those things here.

  1. No one can argue that Obama inherited the biggest, foulest mess in my memory. The fact that he has done as much as he has done, kept as many promises as he has, especially with congress cock blocking him every step of the way (for NO f*****g reason, I might add) tells me something about his tenacity, and his sense of honor. I can still look at Obama with respect. I certainly couldn’t say that about Bush after four years- could you?
  2. There have been illegal immigrants since the time that the Europeans started coming over here with their diseases and guns. Unless you are a native american, you can’t really complain. Are you? I didn’t think so. Check it out, people- California, where I live, BELONGED to Mexico and Spain before it ever belonged  to us. I have great grandparents from Portugal, Ireland and England, Germany and who knows where else, and that was only three generations ago.  America is the land of opportunity for ALL.  Rather than being angry at the paltry few dollars you are “losing” to fund the new and terrifying lives of people who ESCAPE the hell of the place they live for a hope of something better, you ought to be happy that money isn’t going to line the pocket of some rich asshole living it up and getting tax breaks from it. Put yourself in the place of that young man or woman from wherever, and how scared they must be, how bad it must have been to leave everything you know behind to come to a country where you have no one, and everyone looks down their nose at you.
  3. Last but not least, I’m just going to say it- every human being on this planet deserves health care, period. I don’t think I deserve it more because I was lucky enough to be born here, and be white. I think my children and your children, people I hate, people who live lives I don’t agree with, all people, without exception, deserve access to health care. It should be a right and not a privilege.

Once upon a time, I was an irresponsible, drug addicted woman who couldn’t or wouldn’t work and I relied on the “system” for a lot of things that I shouldn’t have had to. But you know what? My daughter had access to healthcare and food that she wouldn’t have otherwise.  That was a long time ago, and I have paid my share back. Not once has that tiny sum of money missing from my check made a difference to me.  I believe with all my heart that everyone of us deserves a shot at a good life. Not all of us know how to get started without help.

That is all I have to say. Have a blessed and wonderful day.

-Court

So Much I Want to Say

If only I had the time.

Hi, kids! I really, really, really don’t want to get out of the habit of checking in here-especially since I just got back into it. But…I am doing nano. I have to write like 1800 words a day now just to stay caught up (thanks to that day in Reno when I opted to play blackjack rather than write). I am really, really serious about my writing career now, for reasons I will reveal to you all in a future blog. I am back to work at my 9 to five- well, 7 to 3:30, actually, but you know what I mean.

I still have kids, and bills and boyfriends. NO! No, I have A boyfriend, that was erroneous info, there. I can barely keep up with one, trust me. Lucy still needs to be walked every day, and I am still going to meetings and trying to force myself to go to kickboxing a few nights a week. As you can see, this leaves me very little time for blogging. Yet, here I sit, doing it anyway.

I just wanted you all to not give up on me just yet- I have a lot to say, most of it frivolous but entertaining. I hope you will remain interested through these lean times. I will work through these glitches and get myself into a routine.
Thanks!

Court