Crying In the Shower.......A Catharsis

There are days when I feel so overwhelmed with what I have to do to end a nine year relationship.
I am just one person doing all of this on my own. And right now it seems to be taking forever.  Every little step that I accomplish towards that goal just seems like little steps.  But I know deep down that I can not rush this process. 

I have been dealing with this now for over a year.  And this year seems to be as long as the nine years that I was in the relationship.  I've had to put alot on hold due to family responsibilites.  I  have had to do one thing at time due to finances.  I have had to make a deal with the devil himself to survive some of this.

I long ago reached the breaking point.  The point of no return.  The point when I found myself again.  The me that I buried to survive the marriage.  I will not go back there ever again.

If this sounds selfish so be it, but I am, at this point in my life, more important than trying to make something that, now that I look back on, should not have been, work.

I don't want that life.  I don't want that person I was back then.  I don't want that person that I married back then.  I am more than that.  I have more to offer to myself and others.  I am ready and have been ready to step out into the light of a new day.

I rose from that ashes of a marriage that crumbled due to emotional and mental abuse.  I lived through and survived the passing of both parents within 7 months of each other.  I made it through a serious illness this past June (renal failure) with a good prognosis that all should be well as long as I take care.  I finally found a permanent job that pays well.  I have my own place to live.  And I finally have a car of my own.  These are accomplishments.  But there is more to do.

And they won't come fast, but they will come.  I have my car, but I still need to pay taxes and get plates.  I then need to get a lawyer and start divorce proceedings.  More financial strain, but I will make it through this. It's just going to take time.  More time with the devil.  He doesn't get to me any more.  But I am ready for it to end.

So there are days like today....I go to the shower, turn the water on, as hot has I can stand it, and I let it wash over me and I cry.  I cry for the sheer relief of things I've got done.  And I cry for the overwhelming feeling of all that has to be done.

But, I will not let it get me down.  I am ready to, ...no...I have moved on....I am moving forward with my life.......I have been now for more than a year. 

I am me again.  I am ready for the new life that surrounds me.  I do not want to hide from anyone or anything again.  I am ready live and to love again.

Crying in the shower.....good catharsis.......in so many ways........

I am living and loving again.

On My Bucket List.......

I have so many things I want to do or achieve in this very short life and would love to look back one day, when I'm older, and be able to treasure all the amazing things I was able to experience during my life. This list is not nearly everything I want to do before I "kick the bucket", these are just a few of the dreams I've had for a very long time, but have not yet fulfilled....

1.  Visit Cairo - I don't even remember when my obsession with Ancient Egypt started. I grew up wanting to be and Egyptologist. I plan to visit there as soon as possible.

2.  Visit Paris - Nothing more needs to be said here.  Paris says it all.

3.  Create my dream home, with a walk in closet (filled with Chanel).


4.  Write a book.


5.  Fall In Love

6.  See the Aurora borealis – I want to be overwhelmed by beauty. I want to look at the skies and think, “Of course God exists!” I want to capture the starling phenomenon on camera.

Through The Looking Glass

Once upon a time there was girl who found a looking glass.  A very beautiful looking glass.  She treasured this looking glass.  One while admiring this looking glass the glass began to go all soft like gauze.  It was beginning to turn into a mist, the glass was beginning to melt away, just like a bright silvery mist.

And then all of sudden, she tumbled through the glass.  And was falling.  No, not really falling, floating down. Downward through a kaleidoscope of colors.  Beautiful colors.  Deep, rich colors.  She had never seen anything  like it before.

But then, then the colors began to fade.  They began to fade to a gray mist.  And still she floated downward.  And the gray mist turned to a more darker shade of gray, not quite black but gray.

And then with a gentle thud, she landed at the bottom.  Not sure where she was, she stood and looked around for something, anything familiar.  Nothing.  Nothng was familiar.  It was all shades of gray and gloomy.

Where should she go.  What should she do.  She had no clue.  She was lost.  Unable to move.  And then in the distance she heard a noise.  It did not frighten her.  It wasn't that kind of noise.  It was somethine, no, someone talking.  Talking to who.  She could just barely hear them.  They were definitely talking.  Were they talking to her. 

They were coming closer, she could hear them.  Not sure where they were.  But she could hear them.  And then...there he was.  Bursting forth from the gray...the Mad Hatter.  Chattering away, he definitely was talking to her.  Wanting her to follow him.  "Come" he said,  "come to the party.  You are invited.  We shall have such a mad time there." 

He was like no other she had seen or met before.  Full of words, and stories.  He was charming and sweet and funny.  He was completely mad!  And she followed.  What else could she do?  The maddness was catching.

And so she went to the party.  A beautiful party it was too.  Full of laughter, playfulness and maddness.  The kaleidoscope of colors returned too.  Dancing around them, creating a magical feel to whole thing.

And then, just as quickly as he came, the Mad Hatter left the party.  She was having such a good time, that she did not see him leave.  It saddened her that he left.  But really it was only the Mad Hatter that left.  Not the laughter, nor the playfulness, nor the maddness.  They were still there to delight her.  And delight her they did.

But out of the corner of her eye, something caught her attention.  A flash of white.  A glint of blue eyes.  A hint of silver.  That rarest of all the creatures that she cherishes.  The White Rabbit.

There he was, watching her, wanting to communicatem but unable to.  For many things keep the White Rabbit constantly on the go.  Never truly taking the time to stop.  Always looking at his silver pocket watch.  Never truly letting anyone in to his world.

She beckons to him to come.  Come to the party.  Take just a little time and enjoy all that is laid out before him.  She sees the hesitation, she sees that he wants to come and join her. But then that darn silver pocket watch calls to him and he is off again.  Off in search of.....what?

So she is left there at the Tea Party by herself,  watching the others who are there enjoying the party and all it has to offer.  Hmmm, the party has lost some of its magic.  It's a little tarnished arund the edges.  The delights are no longer delightful. 

As she sits at the table, she catches another glimpse of the White Rabbit as he flashes by.  Off in the distance she can hear the Mad Hatter's laugh.  Oh so weary, she lays her forehead on her arms that folded on the table.  She closes her eyes just to rest for a second or two, before she tries to find a way home.......and she quietly sleeps......and when she wakes up.......she is back home in her own room staring at the beautiful looking glass.

Was it just a dream.......my imagination gone wild.......no, for in my hands are......the White Rabbit's silver pocket watch and the Mad Hatter's Hat.

The Mad Hatter's Hat has a place of honor next to the looking glass.  Every now and then I can hear his laugh come from the looking glass and I smile

And I carry the White Rabbit's watch with me, hoping to catch a glimpse, hoping that he'll stop long enough to.......

There are Days I Wish I Would Not Have to Go Through..........

There are days like today that I wish that I would not have to go through.  They start off nice and easy, my Sunday morning breakfast on the river.  A nice way to start a Sunday.  But then sometimes the feelings deep inside of me that I try to control, try not to let overwhelm me come crashing forth to the surface and all I can do is just let them come.  These feelings of being oh so alone in this world.  Of not being good enough for anyone.  Of not being perfect for anyone.  Of not being the right person for anyone. 

The thought of being alone, with no one to share with, does not really scare me.  It really does not.  If there is no one for me for the rest of my days I really can live with it. But there are days when I would give anything for the companionship of another human to share with. On those days I  just ask the heavens above to let me find someone I can trust in, believe in, share with and love and who will trust in me, believe in me, share with me and love me for who I am, someone to share my life with.

It is these days that bring me to my knees sometimes.  That take the wind from sails.  That make me shed the tears that I hold deep inside.  This is when the loneliness takes hold and won't let go.
And all I can do is hang and let this emotional rollercoastes ride complete it's cycle.  This is when I truly feel like just giving up and giving in to this creature called loneliness.  These are the days that the tears can come from out of nowhere at anytime.  I could be at work, or I could be doing errands, anything, anytime.  They just come and I can't stop them.

So on these days the melancholy slips in the door and I am in  a gloomy state of mind for awhile. 
And many think that when you are gloomy, or in a mood like this, the best thing is to give you room or space.  Wrong.  At least for me.  Sometimes I want to be left alone, but I would prefer that people engage me in some for conversation.  Because the reason I am in a melancholy funk is that I am alone most of the time.  Being alone is what put me in this state......

Ah well, the mystery of life and emotions, a challenge to be sure, but one I think that we all go through at some time or other in our lives.  We work through it, we live with it, we get to the other side.  Until the next time.........

Geese and Journal Pages

I was out this eveningg watering and weeding, a quiet time with only the sound of birds, a dog now and then, and the neighbors rooster in the distance. I heard a chorus of honking in the distance and looked up to see a flock of Canadian geese approaching. As they flew over the sound of their wings was almost palpable, I felt like I could almost feel the breeze they created as they flew by. It's always a joy to see a flock of birds...

And working in my journal, I'm realizing more and more, is such a powerful circuit into myself. I tap into what's on the surface but the surprises come when I let myself go, directionless, and am often surprised by the outcome....

drawing on photo of cedar

Twenty years from now

You will be more disappointed by the things

That you didn't do

Than by the ones you did do ~

So throw off the bowlines

Sail away from the safe harbor

Catch the trade winds in your sails...

Explore ~ Dream ~ Discover

~ Mark Twain ~

My Secret

I knew if I wrote belly dancing, my secret would be out: I like to belly dance. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not ashamed. It’s just that some people still have the wrong idea about belly dancers. They think they dress up in skimpy outfits to gyrate and jiggle solely for the attention of men, and that belly dancing is nothing more than a form of foreplay.

Unfortunately, it’s nothing new. Women who like to belly dance have faced that stereotype since the Middle Eastern dance form made its first big splash in America at the 1893 Chicago World’s Fair.

It’s also not fair. Although there are dancers who exploit the stereotype, there is a far greater number attracted to belly dance for the same reasons I am: it’s a great source for friendship, fitness and fun.

I know – it’s not nearly as compelling as the seductive stereotype, but it’s the truth. Although I signed up for my first belly dance lesson to get a different form of exercise, a big reason I’ve been hooked for nearly twenty years is because of the people I’ve met and the friends I’ve made. You’ll meet all kinds of women in a belly dance class, from college-age students to corporate executives, and everything in between. And what you quickly find is that those outside roles mean little. Everyone comes to the class or workshop for the same reason – to dance. Having that in common has a tremendous equalizing effect, and it’s truly surprising how quickly bonds form between fellow dancers.

Belly dance is also great exercise. Anyone who has attempted a shimmy, serpent arms or a camel walk knows how much muscle control, flexibility, endurance and core strength they require to do well. And unlike gyms, where many of us feel self-conscious if we aren’t already in great shape, belly dance welcomes all ages and body types. It’s usually just a room full of women, so you needn’t worry about your makeup, hair or what you wear – as long as you’re comfortable and you can move. (Sounds good, doesn’t it? )

The biggest reason I’ve stuck with belly dancing all these years is it’s simply a lot of fun. Of course I love the music and movement – I even like the chance to feel a little sexy now and then – but mostly I love being in an environment with so many women helping, supporting and entertaining each other. After all, belly dance didn’t start out as a performance art, or even an art of seduction. It evolved in the home as a social dance by women for women. Friends and family members gathered and danced for each other as an expression of joy and camaraderie.

Unfortunately, that’s not what comes to mind these days when you tell people you belly dance. So for the longest time I didn’t tell co-workers or casual acquaintances about my pastime – but now I smile and say, “Yes, I belly dance.” Sometimes that’s met with an awkward smile or a stifled giggle, and I wonder if they’re envisioning something like a Salome, an “I Dream of Jeannie” genie or worse. Other times, though, they want to know more and I have the opportunity to tell them about its great qualities. Then, on a few rare and happy occasions, something I never would’ve expected happens: they tell me later they became more curious about belly dancing and signed up for a class themselves. And it never fails, I can see that familiar gleam in their eye and I know they’re hooked, too.