sueeeus

Okay. New server, compliments of new uber geek friends. No more crashes! I think I have it all sorted out. Blogging may resume.

Awesome.

I’m a happy camper.

And while I’m at it, let’s see how many men I can manage to piss off in one day.  There is always Gadget.  That’s a given.  There are the inevitable communication faux pas that occur whilst traversing the slippery slope of defining boundaries and parameters in budding friendships slash relationships.  There are misunderstandings and mis-matched senses of humor. There are offenses taken.  It’s exhausting.  It’s humbling.  It’s perplexing.  Especially because I’ve always tried very diligently to be a good communicator.  It’s my thing.  So if I suck at the thing that is supposedly my strongsuit… …well, that’s just dandy for the self-esteem and self-confidence, now isn’t it?

And of course I’m Miss UltraSensitive, so it wrecks me to the core when I think that I’ve upset someone.

Stupid stupid stupidy server that keeps choking, how am I supposed to blog with you being so fickle?

Gadget’s MO is to play his passive aggressive games and not give me the courtesy of any advance notice with regard to when he will take the boys. While it appears there may be a light at the end of this tunnel, since he’s expressed interest in synchronizing the visitation with his new woman’s visitation schedule such that all children can be together for the same weekend, there is no guarantee that he will follow through with any level of consistency.

Anyhow. He called at 8 a.m. Saturday morning and said he’d take the kids, and to meet him at 9 a.m. Nice. Does this give me time to make any sort of weekend plans?

I prefer to be able to make plans. I still sort of fall apart when the boys aren’t here. As much as I yearn for some down time or me time, I still haven’t learned how not to fall apart when they’re not here. A cloud of anguish descends — the grief that we aren’t a family, and I so, so, so want to be a family. Not with Gadget. That ship has sailed. It’s just grief that we aren’t a family, or rather, I’m not a family when my boys are gone. So I fall apart. Because, truly, that’s all I want. Family. Sigh. Therefore, knowing this is how things tend to go, I like to be able to book up my alone time so that I don’t have much time to fall under the spell of that cloud that so deftly and swiftly descends upon me.

Luckily, I’ve been able to schedule very short notice massage appointments each time I’ve come upon a free weekend. If nothing else, this indulgence does much to improve my overall well being. Man hands on me, this time for two full hours, working deep, deep, deep into the bound up muscles of my body. Wow, that almost sounds saucy. I could put a little more effort into that prose and come up with something racy! Massage doesn’t have to be man-hands. I’ve been trying different practitioners, but lately am pleased with this particular therapist. He’s got a little familiarity now with what I need, and because we went for two hours yesterday, he really made some progress and was able to loosen up the upper back and shoulders. I’ve been having chronic headaches, so this is a step in the right direction. And besides, I’ll take two hours of man hands on me any day, even if I have to pay for it!

So this free time can become very expensive. Shopping is one thing that gets me out of the house and that can be done on the spur of the moment. And what struck my fancy this weekend? I stumbled upon this iPod speaker contraption called an iHome, that claims to produce excellent sound. It’s kind of odd looking, and more expensive than the other options, but I figured, what the heck. I can return it if I don’t like it. Oh, I love Costco. Love. Costco is my crack. There, I said it.

Of course I can rationalize any mad spending. See, a speaker solution for the iPod allows me to listen to music without having to wear headphones and carry the iPod around. I seldom have pockets, so have to stuff the thing in my bra. And if I’m dancing around, well, it gets sweaty. Gross! Not to mention potentially limiting the lifespan of my iPod. Electronics and moisture don’t play well together. That’s just plain irresponsible, and we can’t have that!  And singing and dancing to music, reliving memories and experiences that the music evokes, is very therapeutic. Therefore it’s good for my soul. Good for my well being. And something that is good for my well being is worth spending mad money on. Yes? Yes!

I’m good. What can I say.

I tried to wrangle together a date or two within my minuscule window, but it’s just as well that I wasn’t successful. I could get myself into trouble if I acted on spontaneity like that! Instead, I stayed in, drank some wine, bombarded everyone’s FaceBook walls, and cyber flirted. So entertaining. This week I’ve had a sugar daddy offer, a few boy toy prospects, a heap of not-at-all-my-type-please-leave-me-alone pursuers, messages from a small handful of actually nice sounding men, including one or two I might agree to actually meet in person. Maybe. Or maybe not.

It’s fun, but wearying. I don’t really want to look around, troll about, or anything like that. I just want Mister Right-For-Me to show up in front of me, and I want to recognize him, say, “Hello there cutie pie, how are you, where have you been all my life?”, to which he says, “Looking for you, Sweetheart”, and that’s that. We live happily ever after. We don’t have to figure out if we’re ready to meet or even be with someone. We don’t have to figure out if we’re compatible. We don’t have to figure out if we’ll get along until we’re a hundred and one. We don’t have to wonder if the love and honor and respect and compassion and communication and understanding and interest and attraction and affection and everything or anything else will ever fade. We don’t have to wonder if the other will help raise our kids the way we want them to be raised. We don’t have to wonder if they’ll be true and honest. We don’t have to wonder if they’ll always have our back.  We don’t have to wonder if they’ll be responsible and trustworthy. We just jump into forever together.

I know. I’m bat crazy.

hello cutie pie, it's me, bat-girl

I don’t want that sugar daddy, though. That much I do know.

Oh, and that iHome thingy?  Sounds pretty darn good.  Whodathunkit?

...one of the last of the innocents and she keeps fooling herself...

I’m learning.  At a glacial pace.  Or even a plate tectonics pace.

It’s beginning to dawn on me that my body and heart and soul are all speaking to me at times, and that I should listen.  They may actually know what they’re saying.

When I recall all the nights I would cry myself to sleep, curled up in fetal position, in complete and utter anguish, I should have listened.  Instead, I assumed I was somehow at fault, that I really was that insecure, or that my hormones were to blame.  I have pages and pages of blog posts and journal entries to that effect.  Pages and pages which constitute hours upon hours of rationalization.  It’s not you it’s me.  Guess what?  It was you.  It was me too.  I should have given myself credit and honored my body, heart and soul, instead of allowing myself to be duped by my head.  What my head couldn’t see, everything else about me could.

I wasn’t then and am not now an overindulgent mother who lets her kids walk all over her.  Yes, I have a particular parenting style that is gentle, but also strict.  I believe that discipline can be accomplished without a  heavy hand.

I wasn’t then and am not now insecure and needy.  I’ve always been open and loving.  Not grasping, in order to receive or validate my existence, but simply giving. I give my all, with innocence, pure, simple,  open and complete.  If it’s met with scorn, ambivalence, or rejection, of course I wince.  How can I not, when all I’m doing is pouring out love?

Yes, I am definitely ultra sensitive.  Absolutely and most definitely.  Positively and completely.

I should do a better job of giving myself the benefit of the doubt.  At least I recognize that now.  I hope I can pay better attention from here on out.  I probably won’t, but I can at least make an attempt to try now and then.  Or at least recognize it more quickly in retrospect.

Eventually…

My blog, or rather, my full web server, which means all of my web sites and my email accounts have been down for days.  Days!  Oh, the forced separation from blogland was rough.  I had to post my drivel to FaceBook.  And people, I have to restrain myself there, because it’s like business and pleasure or religion and politics.  They just don’t mix well.  And I need a place to release my innermost stuff!

Like my adventures in cyber flirting.  I can’t exactly post anything juicy on FaceBook, where coworkers and extended family members nose about.

Not that it’s all that juicy, but it certainly is entertaining.

sizzle me this

I send text messages with flirty pictures like this.  Oh the fun.  Saucy me.  Such a tart.

I’m being a good girl, though.  Truly.  It’s all in good fun.  I seldom actually meet anyone in person.  A few, though.  Have I met anybody neato bandito?  It’s interesting, how you just never know with people.  They may seem interesting on line, but not at all interesting in real life, and vice versa.   …no keepers, and not many second dates.  But I am currently entertained by and with one man whom I’ve just met in real life, and I do think we will actually see each other again.  He’s made it clear that he’s not ready for a relationship and that he wants to pursue friendship(s), and that’s fine by me.  A relief, actually.  Maybe we’ll have some fun making out, though.  Wheeeee!

It’s nice to have at least a little diversion, anyway.

Something is dawning on me, as the heap of discarded men grows.  All the time and effort trying to peer earnestly into their minds, their hearts, their souls.  All the reaching out, the opening up, the attempted sharing.  All the striving to see that of which they are made.  How long have I spent under the mistaken assumption that I am a reflection of the man I choose?  Or that he can or should be a reflection of me?

I’m not going to find myself in or with another man.

I don’t need to find myself.

I’ve been here all along.

me

I am smart, competent, confident, enthusiastic, kind, compassionate, responsible, witty, gentle, strong, mature, educated, thoughtful, playful, sensitive, wise, elegant, savvy, honest, healthy, trustworthy, fun, dependable, interesting, passionate, alive, affectionate, communicative, understanding, patient, excellent.

Me.

Me!

Where oh where are those four agreements when I need them?  Specifically, the one about not taking things personally.  I think I have a natural inclination to be impeccable with my word and to do my best, but when it comes to making assumptions and taking things personally, I stumble.  And stumble quickly.

I can only be accountable for my own feelings, and how I feel is a choice, so truly, I should never (or seldom) allow myself to feel hurt.  I need much more practice!  Or a frontal lobotomy.

I suppose I shouldn’t be so surprised or caught off guard when I am misunderstood.  Another person’s reception has much to do with their own reality and perceptions and predispositions, so it’s up to them to sort our their own agreements.  Yes, I can strive to be clear, but apart from that, what can I do?

Am I confused?  Of course!  Who isn’t?  Does anybody have all the answers in life?

I try very hard to do no harm, and I apply that philosophy to all living things.  I try, anyway.  My choices sometimes confound others.  I don’t have any desire to be vindictive or spiteful.  I won’t take advantage of some one or some thing, just because I can.

I seek harmony.  I seek peace.

At some point, I suppose I should learn how to better protect myself.  I’m not ready for a frontal lobotomy.  So I’ll just regroup, over and over and over again.  I know my intentions are innocent.  And that’s the extent of my responsibility.

Me.  What comes from me.  Therein is my accountability.

~*~*~*~

lizard tongues

Lizard Tongues!  I absolutely adore BB’s imagination!  He presented them to me on a tray.  Look!  Lizard tongues!  And he picked one up and blew the end to make it extend.  Priceless.

~*~*~*~

hearty bliss

It takes nearly an hour, but I am IN LOVE with steel cut oats!  The secret to their divinity is toasting them first in butter, then cooking them slowly in 1 part milk and 3 parts water to 1 part oats (and a dash of salt).  OMG.  Chop up some dried apricots and cranberries and it’s pure, hearty bliss.

phoenix rising

I don’t know what the future holds.  I want happily ever after, like anybody else does.  If I could have a made-to-order life companion, I could throw out a list of attributes that would be welcome — tall, brown hair, blue eyes, smart, competent, confident, enthusiastic, kind, compassionate, responsible, witty, gentle, strong, mature, educated, thoughtful, playful, sensitive, wise, elegant, savvy, honest, healthy, trustworthy, fun, dependable, interesting, passionate, alive, affectionate, communicative, understanding, patient, excellent.

If.

I don’t even know if I could live with a man again.  I haven’t lived well with the men I shared space with for the past fifteen years.  It’s hard to picture the possibilities.  In a perfect world, with a perfect me, I would be able to live with someone, happily ever after.  I would be able to go to sleep and wake up by his side, and move around in harmony in the space we share.  In a perfect world.

I can’t bring someone into our family fold unless I know beyond all doubt that he is fine and upstanding and will love and honor my children and be a positive influence in their lives.

Meanwhile, I am healing.  I am coming back.  I am re-emerging.  I feel it, and it thrills me.  I am beginning to feel more complete, more beautiful.  I can and will be just fine on my own.  My heart is open.

I’m still susceptible to the jabs* of those who choose to be unkind.  Even so, I am surrounded by so much love, and it quickly assuages any fiery darts that are thrown my way.  My friends and family are so very dear to me, and I am absolutely rich in the love and kindness that we share with each other.

*This photo started a FaceBook flame, but so many fantastic people jumped in with nothing but kindness and support.

adorned

Today I honored myself.

I bought some pretty things to adorn myself.  Pretty things to celebrate me.  Pretty things to make me feel more pretty.  This year I’ve lost 38 lbs, without dieting and without trying.  I think the hot mama in me is re-emerging.  She’s been buried for a very long time.  She’s coming back, because I’m coming back.  I’m finding myself again, rising from the rubble of the past fifteen or twenty years.

Today I had a migraine.  Today I took vicodin.  Today I had a massage.  Today I shopped.  Today I walked.  Today I had ice cream.  Today I walked through a mall with no anxiety.  Today I had the worst Thai food ever.  Today I told my kids I love them.  Today I dreamed.  Today I smiled.  Today I laughed.  Today blue eyes looked into brown eyes.  Today I talked to people I love.  Today I remembered people I lost.  Today I shared precious memories.  Today I learned new things.  Today I embraced.  Today I kissed.  Today I listened.  Today I talked.  Today I heard music.  Today I danced.  Today I stretched.  Today I did yoga.  Today I sang my heart out.  Today I cried my eyes out.

Today I realized that everything is going to be okay.  Today I am ready to let go.  Today I let go.  Today I am at peace.  Today I am ready to rest.

Today was a very good day.

stones

I scheduled a donation truck and left a mountain of things, the remainder of unwanted accumulations from the Gadget years, in front of the garage in the hopes that it would be gone when I returned home.  And so it was!  I can’t even say how delighted I felt, to pull up to my house and see no trace of the mountain.

Finally, my home, all of it, is mine again.  It’s a good feeling.

Closure.

steps

Last night, after a short message transaction, Skills de-friended me on FaceBook.  Apparently keeping the friendship channels open isn’t going to work for him.  I guess it’s understandable.  Regrouping is difficult after being entwined with someone, and it was a lot for me to hope that we could go on with the warmth of friendship.  So he cut all ties.  I wish him the best.

More closure.

It’s okay.

light

And it’s interesting, in the scheme of things, how events transpire.  As though the universe planned it all along.  This day.  This was the prescribed day for closure to happen.

In one sense, closure brings with it a deep sense of decompression, but it’s accompanied with a marked physical reaction.  There is an exhaustion that pulls at my very bones, and I feel as though my body is giving in and collapsing, finally, under the compounded stresses of the past year.  And I think it’s okay.  I think it’s a release that I need to go through.  A cleansing to wash these poisons out of me.  Hopefully forever.

So I’m sipping my echinacea, vitamin C and zinc concoction, bundled up in my jammies and robe, and getting ready to curl up as tight as I can in the safe haven of my pristine new bed, and let what will be, be.

sunset

I am certain the sun will shine brightly, come the dawn, and I will have a deeper sense of peace to anchor me.