sueeeus

A recap for 2011.  So many emotions.  So many things.  So much drama.  So much stress. So. Much. Stress.

My dad died in May.

The pursuit of happily ever after.

Too much Gadget drama.

Off and on and on and off of various anti-depressants/anti-anxiety meds.

Falling in LOVE!  Oh!  So amazing!  Sadly that heady wave was quickly quashed or tarnished by all manner of things –  judgments, misunderstandings, misconceptions…  So. Many. Things.

The test of time will show all things.  I have that knowledge for comfort and peace.

Going back to church.  Getting back into more focused and formal prayer and worship.  My heart welcomes that kind of fellowship with a warm yearning.

Establishing structure with my kids.

So much work.

So little time.

No time for me.  No. Time. For. Me.

It seems that all I can do is go full steam ahead, just to stay alive and hold things together, but no time to breathe.  For the most part, I appear calm and together on the outside.  But I’m just going, going, going.

This year my defining word was “Be”.  I hardly feel as though I’ve lived that at all.  Instead, all it seems I’ve done is just survive.  Just kept breathing.  Just kept moving.  Just kept going.  No time to think of much of anything at all.  Just holding it all together.

I’m not on anti-depressants or anti-anxiety meds.  I’ve normalized and decided that I really don’t need them.  Sometimes I feel like I’m hanging by a thread.  What kind of mother am I being?  Do they see me strong and together, or do they see me hanging by that thread?

So sensitive to the thoughts and feelings of those around me.  Oh how I need to guard myself better, so that I don’t react, but remain clear and calm and unhurt.  Oh. Lord.  The hurt.  I’ve cried gallons of tears. Ached to the depths of my heart, been tried to the very limits of my abilities and strength.

How am I doing?  Am I being a good mother?  Am I being a good friend?  Am I being a good partner?  Am I being a good sister?  Am I being a good daughter?  Am. I. Being. A. Good. Christian?

Every day my prayer is this:  I beg of the Lord to give me ears to hear, eyes to see, a heart to know and a mind to understand as GOD hears, sees, knows, and understands.  Sometimes I have no strength, but can only say, “Oh God, Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.”  All the strength I have,mustered into those two words, “Oh God.”

And I keep going.  One more breath. One more day.  One more step.

I’m nearly 47 years old.  It’s time to embrace life and live to live.  Live to love.  Joy and rejoice.  Where is the joy in the midst of all this stress?  Oh how I want to laugh and feel light hearted.  Why so heavy a burden on me?  Do I bring it upon myself?  Surely I do. I must.  All I want is to be my best and do my best.  Am I selfish or selfless?  Who am I?  What am I?

Do I have a defining word for 2012?

My first thought is to choose “Live”, but I think I shall focus on “Gratitude”.  Gratitude is focused outward, not inward.  There is more healing and soul-filling to be had when focused outward over inward. Or I could choose ‘Humility.”  It’s a constant and worthy endeavor, to embrace humility.  Maybe I’ll choose a phrase.  Live graciously.  It takes gratitude and humility to do so.  Yes.  For 2012, I will make a conscious effort to live graciously.

Lost
On a painted sky
Where the clouds are hung
For the poet’s eye
You may find him
If you may find him

There
On a distant shore
By the wings of dreams
Through an open door
You may know him
If you may

Be
As a page that aches for a word
Which speaks on a theme that is timeless
While the sun God will make for your day

Sing
As a song in search of a voice that is silent
And the one God will make for your way

And we dance
To a whispered voice
Overheard by the soul
Undertook by the heart
And you may know it
If you may know it

While the sand
Would become the stone
Which begat the spark
Turned to living bone
Holy, holy
Sanctus, sanctus

Be…

(Neil Diamond, from the Jonathan Livingston Seagull soundtrack)

~*~*~

Be.  It was my defining word for this year, and this year is nearly over.  I’m finding myself struggling again.  I’m over-extended and overwhelmed.  It takes all the strength that I can muster to hold it all together.  I’m suffering from the people pleasing blues.  And it’s not all that easy to be a full time working single mom. Blah blah blah. I know, I’m preaching to the choir (just let me have my pity party, please?)

People think that I am smarter than I am.  I can’t seem to fathom why people don’t just choose to be open and trusting and kind and loving.  How foolish is that?  It’s my default state and it leaves me wide open for all manner of attack.  The thing is, I don’t expect attack, and very seldom do I experience attack.  It seems ironic that the attack I perceive is not from those without, but from those within.  My own people.

“Only in his hometown, among his relatives and in his own house is a prophet without honor.”

That would be Mark 6:4.  Yep.  There’s nothing new under the sun.

I exhaust myself.  This reactionary emotional hair trigger is a beast that I have yet to master.  I’m looking for that quiet, calm place where I can have some clarity.

Sueeeus Maximus.  What does she want?  What are the desires of her heart?  What is she all about?

Guess what?  It’s so simple, really. She just wants to live joyfully.  To love and be loved.  To laugh, to smile.  To understand and be understood.  To listen and to hear.  To give and to serve.  So why all the scrutiny and judgement?

I just want to be.

And to be free to love the one I love.

Good grief.

What is it they say?  If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen?

Things of late are resolving, bit by bit.

Sometimes when you belong to a big, strong, loving family, and you want to bring someone into that family fold, the family will guard the fortress and bar the gate until it’s understood what it means to enter that gate.  It can be formidable to an outsider; it’s basically running the gauntlet, and not one bit of fun.  Once in, though, it’s a pretty great place to be.

If you survive, that is.

Oy.

~*~*~*~

Separating the men from the boys…   …I found this circulating on the internet…

Boys play house, Men build homes.  Boys shack up, Men get married. Boys make babies, Men raise children.  A boy won’t raise his own children, a man will raise his and someone else’s.  Boys invent excuses for failure, Men produce strategies for success.  Boys look for somebody to take care of them, Men look for someone to take care of.  Boys seek popularity, Men demand respect and know how to give it.  Boys will like you for a month, Men will love you forever.

…It makes me think of this (which comes from the love standard)…

1 Cor 13:11

When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child. But, when I became a man, I put away the things of a child.

~*~*~*~

I’m still shouting from the mountaintops!  I’m in love!  I am saying this carefully, and considering it deeply, measuring it against snippets of wisdom such as these:

Love is NOT…
1. Something you “fall into” – a black hole.
2. Infatuation. Emotional loss of control. “Flipped out..” “Couldn’t help myself.”Romanticism and sentimentalism. “Puppy love.” Boy-crazy; girl-crazy.
3. Evaluating another by external criteria. “She’s a #10”
4. Selfish. Interested in “getting” to satisfy my needs.
5. Taking advantage of another (age, height, weight, looks, intellect, emotional maturity,
spiritual maturity, social standings, social skills, psychological understanding, place of
authority, financial superiority, etc.)
6. Improper need fulfillment. Need for love, acceptance, relating, bonding, belonging, to be
valued, affirmed, excitement, identity, etc.
7. Lust. Hormones. Lasciviousness, sensuality.
8. Sex.
9. Idolatry. “……….is my life.” Totally preoccupied in attention and time.

Love is…
1. Respectful of the other person’s values, standards and opinions.
2. Unselfish and unconditional.
3. A decision to relate to the other person at every level – spiritual, psychological and physical.
4. Giving of oneself to the other.
5. Responsible to seek the highest good of the other person “for better or for worse.”
6. God in action. (Rom. 5:5; I John 4:8,16)

~*~*~*~

The bottom line?  My heart is at peace and it is well with my soul.

I stand in condemnation and read the words on the page that summarize conclusions about my personality, my issues, my mental state.  People who love me have taken it upon themselves to make conclusions about me, and speak authoritatively, as if they know.  As. If. They. Know.

If I rise up in indignation, does that mean there is credence in the accusations?  If I were innocent, I wouldn’t have anything to be angry about, and why would I care what anybody says or thinks?  That’s a bunch of bullshit, though.  I care what people say and think, whether it has credence or not.  THAT is one of my personality flaws.  Whether or not it matters, whether or not it’s true.  I only want goodness for everyone and for myself.  From the time I was a child, I was hyper sensitive to these things.  Always wanting to do the right thing.  To please everyone.  Not to let anyone down.  It’s the core of me.  Do I need therapy to correct that?  I don’t know.  Maybe.  What is wrong with trying to be good?

I actually HAVE had counseling for that very thing.  The bottom line:  if the manifestation of my people pleasing tendencies serve me well, amen.  If they don’t serve me well, then pay attention and be aware.  Case in point.  I kick ass in my professional life.  Kick. Ass.  People pleasing has served me well.  I’m an over-achiever.  I get things done single handedly that take entire departments to do.   Cradle to grave.  Me.  Just me.  Requirements. Design.  Architecture.  Business model.  Business case. Construction. Test. Debug. Release. Communication.  Training. Process definition.  Project management.  Change management.  Documentation.  The business. Analysis.  Diagnosis.  Troubleshooting.  Corrective  action.  Tracking.  Statistics.  Marketing. Support.  Administration. Business focal. Technical focal.  Information Technology focal.  ALL OF IT.  And my reward?  I’m respected in my field, by my peers and my management.  I’ve been promoted as high as I can go.  I’m recognized and esteemed.  It serves me well.

And what of my mental instability?  I’ve blogged ad nauseum for years.  I work through my stuff here.  Openly.

“What you’ve been through since your divorce is kind of making it seem like your marriage to Gadget wasn’t that bad after all.  At least you had some stability.  I envisioned you crusading forth like other single moms, but that’s not the path you’ve taken.”

Now that’s a kicker. The suffocating abyss in which I lived was preferable to the life I live now.  I’ve met a lot of men in the last two years, but I haven’t paraded them through my kids’ lives.  Met, not dated.  Yes, two men have come and gone in that time.  Does that make me unstable?  Of course I would rather have met the right one and stayed with him.  But I didn’t.  How the hell does anyone know whether someone fits unless they try?  So I’ve tried.  God bless me for picking myself back up, brushing off the dust, and starting over again.  So why the condemnation? Mama ain’t no ho. I’m not going to put myself or my children in harm’s way.   And even if I were drunken and delirious and high and completely blind in the moment, it would become evident in very short course, and I would snap out of it and that would be that.  So why drag someone through the dirt and invoke unnecessary pain?

I’m not trying to fill a hole in my life with somebody or some thing.  I stand strong as a complete human being.  I am good.  I am whole.  I am not broken.  I DON’T NEED ANY BODY OR ANY THING.

I want somebody though.  Want!  Not need.  I want to spend the rest of my life with one and only one man.  The rest of my life.  Every breathing moment.  I want to be a devoted and loving wife to a devoted and loving  husband.  I want my kids to grow up with a positive male influence.  I want them to have a step-dad.

Who the hell has the right to tell me I shouldn’t want these things?  It’s MY life.  My decision.

Some might call it a momentary lapse of reason.  But I don’t.  My eyes are wide open.

love monkey

My family is staging an intervention to my ‘love addiction’.  My natural inclination is to bristle with indignation for being accused and placed on trial for, gasp, exhibiting delirium and showing joy.  Of course the look on my face isn’t something they’re used to seeing.  It’s called happiness.  Because I look like a deer who is caught in the headlights, does it mean that I am blind to my surroundings?  Because I’ve been thrilled by the prospects of love at other times in my life, and ventured forth in hopes that it was indeed truth, only to learn that I was once again mistaken, does it mean that I am incapable of discerning anything?  Am I not allowed to make mistakes and learn from them?  Good Lord in heaven above, I put myself through more than enough condemnation for the mistakes I’ve made.  More than enough.  I hold myself to an extremely high standard, and of course I continue to fall short.  Yet I strive, strive, and strive some more to be better, see more clearly, be more wise, be more patient.

I understand their concern, and I stifle my inclination to be angry and hurt for the accusations put forth.  They love me.  Who can possibly ever measure up to be good enough for me?  After all, nobody ever has.  They’re protective, and I understand that.

I took the quiz.  I’m not a love addict.

In the nearly two years since I’ve been divorced, I’ve learned much.  My marriage was a legal agreement and a place of desolation.  The air that we breathed was stifling.  The space in which we moved was thick with tension.  There was no joy, no freedom, no peace, no comfort, no communication, no sharing, no meeting of the minds, no blending of the hearts.  No love.  It was an abyss, and I’m grateful to have had the strength and courage to make it end.

Of course I effervesced in the thrill of new love, when new love is what I thought I had found.  And during that rebound I found that I had compromised myself and my children, to my utmost horror.  Retrospectively, I understand that the thrill of new love was indeed the rush of infatuation, and not love at all.  I learned from that experience.  Truly.

The next time I allowed myself to get involved, the circumstances seemed different.  Two single parents, wanting the best for their child(ren) and wanting a long term, loving, committed relationship.  Again, the thrill of the prospect of happily ever after.  Again, like oil and vinegar briefly mix, it was quickly evident that there was no possible way of amalgamating our lives.

Am I an addict because in my heart of hearts and for all of my life, what I’ve wanted most was to settle down, entrust all of me with one and only one man who entrusts all of himself to me and only me,  and be a whole and loving family?  Must I forfeit that dream, because I failed the marriage that I had?  Do I only get one chance, and that chance is spent because I have children?  Of course I need to protect and shield my children.  Of course I need to edify them, and keep them safe, secure, healthy, and sound.  I am.  I do.

Why is it a character flaw for me to want to love and be loved?

I’m in love, and I want to shout it from the mountaintops!  Am I infatuated?  Of course.  Am I delirious?  Maybe.  Am I blind?  No.

Love that is real bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.  Love, in truth, does not fail.

Does. Not. Fail.

I’m all in.

taking a chance on love

Just this morning I was thinking of you.  Just the other day I was telling a friend about you and your boat.  And now, I learn that you passed away in the night.

Pete's Boat

RIP, Pete.  You shared wondrous stories of holocaust and survival, and there you were, always with a smile on your face and a twinkle in your blue, blue eyes.  You were loved by many, and I hope you weren’t alone when you took your last breath.

Shipwreck Pete

I’m honored to be counted among your friends.

RIP.

He’s the guy who touches the sky. He hangs from cables and works his magic. People stop and stare.  The places he goes and the things he does — oh how he amazes me.   He thrills me!  He works so hard, and he’s so very good at what he does.  I respect that immeasurably.

up, up, up, so high in the sky

He sent me a text message the other day:  “I sprayed your name on the building two stories up.  Everyone can see your name in Pioneer Square, my love bug.”

And so he did.

Spiderman - ready for action

there's this girl...

my name, for all to see

It makes me think, betcha by golly wow — you’re the one that I’ve been dreaming of forever.

And so he is.

There’s something about this guy…  He has a heart of gold.  He is kind.  He is gentle.  He is good.  He smiles and the warmth of his presence lights up the room.  He is tall.  My head fits perfectly in that wonderful place between his shoulder and his neck.  His eyes are the most beautiful blue, and not only beautiful because they are blue, but beautiful because they are the windows to his soul.  He shines, this man.  He is smart.  He is more than competent.  He is confident and enthusiastic.  He is compassionate.  He is responsible.  He is fine and upstanding.  He is strong, mature, educated, thoughtful, playful, sensitive, wise, elegant, savvy, honest, healthy, trustworthy, fun, dependable, interesting, passionate, alive, affectionate, communicative, understanding, and patient.  In a word, excellent.

making music

He sings to me, for me, and with me. He makes my heart pound and takes my breath away.

brightly his light shines

He has a heart for me.
And I am so very blessed to be the woman of his dreams.

Spiderman.

He shines.

We click.

I’m feeling scattered again.  Oh, I don’t like to feel scattered!  I like to know the boundaries of my world, as they constitute my comfort zone.  The perimeter can be very extensive, but I so very much like to be aware of what the perimeter is.

I’ve been house hunting and man hunting — up to my internet mischief.  It’s exhausting!  Add to that the cold that is trying to catch me.  My throat is a battleground.

The house hunting is proving to be very similar to the internet dating experience.  I’ve been to view several houses lately, and what they look like in real life is a far cry from what they look like in their on-line photos.  Rooms look impressively spacious, only to find they are tiny cracker boxes.  Earlier this year I was intent on finding a home with a view, maximizing the tranquility of my sphere –proximity to work, neighborhood safety, proximity to my family, and a view of mountains and salt water were my top priorities.  Frustrated with that, I refocused on vacation properties.  I thought I could buy a weekend home with the view and tranquility, and remain in my current home for the day-to-day living.  I’ve since reconsidered matters again, now that my Brutus is in school, and raised the school ratings above the desire for a view.  It has come to my attention that we don’t live in a particularly good school region, so I would like my boys to have the benefit of better schools and the stability to grow up with the same set of people.  Better views and better schools come at a price, so a similar home to the one I have is far beyond my means.  While there are beautiful and affordable homes available the further one extends from the city, and there are pockets of better schools in the outlying regions, the commute and proximity to family are prohibitive.  I don’t want to add any further stress to the world in which I live, so I have to be mindful of the effects of a difficult commute.

Add to this the pursuit of togetherness.  If only I knew what I wanted, or what would work best for me.  I know much of what I don’t want, but to quantify what I want and what I’m capable of is very difficult.  So far, it’s been an iterative process that has consumed years of my life, because I don’t know how else to approach it.  The current mission statement that best describes what I  think I want is “a respectful, respectable alpha male sex machine who is okay with me having my way when it’s important to me“.  In a nutshell.  Ha!

Meeting men is easy enough (with the online venue).  Determining a definite ‘no’ is easy enough as well.  Encountering a possible ‘maybe’ is very, very rare, and if it happens, I don’t know what to do next, other than tread softly, try not to cast forth too many pearls, and hope to remain clear headed and open minded.  None of which I am particularly good at.  (Oh, how my dad would cringe at my split infinitives and dangling participles, were he alive and reading this.)

It’s all so hard for me!  I just want to be settled down.  To know where home is.  To know with whom my heart is safely entrusted.  I want a simple and beautiful life.  (Yes, I know, I know, I already have a simple and beautiful life.)

Roy Orbison’s Mystery Girl, long shadow, walking.  Lovely shape of arms and hands swaying, fifteen feet tall.  Long and lovely.

~*~*~

Out for a walk in an effort towards fitness.  Looking for ways to appreciate my physical self.  I find the shadow lovely.  It’s a start.