june 22nd...i need (fill in the blank)

i need (fill in the blank)
Current mood:  frustrated 

I saw my therapist yesterday and we discussed several topics, which is usually the case. The thing that came up time and time again is my lack of direction. I’m not talking about lack of motivation or lack of long and short term goals, just simply direction.

I’ll give you an example. Over the past several weekends I have had more time to myself than usual. Instead of putting that time to use, whether to be productive or to just relax and have some me time, I sit idle. Best way to describe it. It’s not lazy, it’s not a mile a minute (which is my usual temperament) but instead I become simply idle. Unable to do things but my motor is running the entire time. It makes for a very stressful internal struggle. It’s beginning to take its toll on me and I am not my usual self.

For whatever reason, whether it is that the last year has been non-stop or because the stress involved in such has been overwhelming, I have not had a lot of down time. Now, suddenly, things are beginning to level out just a smidge. The kids are doing some summer camps here and there, there is a visitation schedule in place, both kids will be in elementary school in august which frees up an enormous amount of time for me to pursue my own interests, the divorce seems to be coming to an inevitable end instead of a looming one and I am finally feeling a little freedom.

That’s it. It’s the freedom. What the fuck am I suppose to do with that? I have longed for it and now I’m beginning to see it come to fruition. But what the hell do I do with it? Huh? I have made it out of a toxic environment with the help of so many great people. I am surrounding myself with nothing but an incredible support system. I am having fun. I am so deeply in love and loved in return that I feel like I might burst. I am being a good mother and a friend and a daughter and a human being. But when it comes to me deciding what I should do, I’m lost. Completely, utterly, significantly lost!

Sue, the head shrinker extraordinaire, asked me yesterday what I “need” to feel like myself. Do I need more time with the kids, less time, more support, more accountability, more structure, more face time with the man who has stolen my heart, what is it that I need to feel comfortable? Great fucking question except that I can’t answer it to save my life!

What the hell do I need anyway? I have a pretty good idea of what I want. I want to live a full life surrounded by people who love and appreciate me. I want to make a difference in my children’s lives and set an example of what it means to enjoy your life, not just live it. I want to be creative and expressive. I want something that resembles health and vitality restored to this body. I want freedom from this goddamn fucking eating disorder. I want his love. I want to be able to make my own way and my own decisions. I want my life.

All of that is well and good but how the hell do I get there? How do I figure out what I need? This one might be a tougher nut to crack than the “I want” list but I have a feeling that if I don’t get the “I need” sorted out, the “I want” becomes unattainable. I’ve made it too far to give up now but this balancing act that I’m trying to find is elusive and some days seems out of reach.

Too far to give up now….too far.

june 18th...shhhhhhh

Shhhhhhh......
Current mood:desperate 

 

 

yesterday was yesterday, thank god, and today is a new day. i've made it a better one but felt like i needed to post this as a reminder of how low it got yesterday. how low i felt and how desperately i wanted some clarity. i did finally get some clarity, although it still didn't come during that silence. it came during another period of stillness....sleep. but that's another blog entirely.

..............

Do you ever just sit in silence? I use to do it all the time. I was especially fond of the quiet time when I was a child. Sounds odd but I loved being with my own thoughts, and mine alone, even at a young age. Over the past several years, I have all but forgotten what that silence feels like.

The quiet is more powerful than any words can hold for me. I find great comfort in the deafening nothing. It is and always has been the one way to get down to the heart of an issue, whether it’s good or bad. It has no choice but to spring forward and reveal the truth. Today was an especially quiet day. I had time to myself, too much time I’m afraid, and now I’m mentally and emotionally exhausted.

The old adage that silence is deafening couldn’t be truer than it is right now. I am quiet, I am still and yet nothing is coming forward. Perhaps I’m not being quiet enough? That must be the problem. Or maybe the chaos is drowning out the sound of nothing. I thought the quiet was just a noise all its own but now it is meshing with my sacred silence. Damn noise…who got peanut butter on my chocolate? Who got chocolate on my peanut butter?

I am simply not able to peel away this mask of discontent. What do I do now? Eat? Shop? Pray? Talk? Is giving up on the silence running away or is it simply giving up on something that’s not working properly? One way or another, the quiet seems lonely and hollow. It isn’t bringing me pleasure. It isn’t bringing me clarity. It isn’t restoring me and I need it desperately. Instead it’s washing through me, not over me. I just want that blanket of silence to cover me and clean me.

Don’t let me down stillness. I need you now more than ever!

june 16th...restoration

restoration
Current mood:  exhausted 

 

can i open my eyes yet? is it over finally? please just let me know when it's safe to look again?

THAT'S HOW IT FEELS!!!! i just want to fall into a deep sleep, unaware of anything that's happening around me and be woken by my prince charming with a passionate kiss. when i awake, all i want to hear is that i'm loved and that everything is safe again. i want it restored. i want to BE restored.

my tank is on empty, i'm running on reserves and today i hit a wall. an enormous, gigantic, hard wall and the funny part is that i didn't even see it coming. it literally jumped out in front of me and instead of putting on the brakes, i sped up to meet the fucker! the wall, as it turns out, was a compound of four elements. 1. not enough sleep 2. lack of focus 3. air conditioning out 4. food

let's start at the first item...sleep. so there have been a few nights here and there that have provided me with a restful night sleep but honestly, i can count them on my digits. additionally, they likely involved some intoxication and passionate sex, neither of which i have had this week. thankfully it's only wednesday so i won't count it out just yet. so i'm exhausted, physically and mentally, and as hard as i try to get to sleep on time, i find it impossible to sleep.

part two of my demise...focus. i couldn't focus on one task today. not even for a few minutes. it was as if i were on fire the entire day. bouncing here to there to here to there to god knows where. and i was in such a rush. not my usual scattered about, running around kind of rush but there was a sense of urgency in everything today yet i got nothing "finished". fuck!

the third part has me pissed....air conditioning. it's fucking 100F out and my A/C can't make up it's mind as to what it wants to do. one minute it's working beautifully, cooling us all off so nicely and the next minute it's spewing hot air. not exactly a great combo when there's a heat index of 107F. add to that two small children on summer break in a cozy apartment and we were all at our wits end. we thought it was resolved, after the A/C guy was here, but alas, it's decided to act up again. oh joy!!!

part four is just sad....food. i fucking hate food. i hate having to make decisions about what goes in my mouth - keep the dirty jokes, folks. i have no problem deciding what to put in my mouth as far as that's concerned. what i do find frustrating is picking nourishment. instead i go for the comfort, as usual, and end up making poor choices. they don't even feel like choices. it's a drug and right now i can't stop being a junkie. meanwhile i'm working out and getting in shape but i can't beat this demon called my eating disorder. makes everything else just seem magnified. the frustration is insurmountable!

around 5 o'clock today the wall went up. and when it did, i hit the floor hard. i couldn't help but cry. and when i cried, i kept on crying. and then i cried some more. two hours later i finally stopped. thankfully my wonderful mother lives a few blocks away, whisked my children to dinner and some play time with grandma. she saved my ass. i didn't want the kids to see me like this. granted, they've seen this old broad cry before and i have no shame in that but this took me over.

we all know i'm under an enormous amount of stress and pressure. we all know that there is no one who could do it all. so i'm not delusional thinking that there is a woman, or man for that matter, out there who wouldn't crack at one point or another given the same environment but FUCK THIS!!! i'm exhausted with being exhausted. i'm frustrated with being frustrated. i'm angry that i'm angry. and most of all i'm disappointed in being disappointed. can't i just fall into that deep sleep already and wake to a fairy tale. i just want the disney moving ending, is that too much to ask?

it is entirely too much to ask and it's not even what i really want. what would i learn from all of that time asleep anyway? i'll tell you what. nothing. absolutely nothing and unless i'm delving into some new part of me, then i'm bound to what i am right now. and right now, i ain't too happy. you know what i really want? i really just want to have a moment of clarity, a moment of silence, a moment where i can reconnect with the person underneath all this mess. just a moment so i can get my center back, so i can feel my purpose again. so i can feel something hopeful again. i need to be restored.

june 13th...welcome home, iris

Welcome Home, Iris
Current mood:  enlightened

..............

Today’s date is June 13^th. It comes around every year, guaran-damn-teed but this year is different. No real surprise there since I’ve voluntarily turned my entire life inside out.

12 years ago today I got married.

That’s right folks. It is my wedding anniversary. Not sure that a card would be appropriate at this time, you think? I swear I want to make a whole line of greetings cards specifically for divorce. Can you imagine walking into Target and going to the Divorce section? There could be sub-categories including “What the hell happened”, “I’m sorry I called you a Dickhole” and “Here’s your support check, you Fucking Bitch”. I think I might be on to something here.

So let’s get back to my anniversary. I have been thinking about it today. I didn’t care for the whole big wedding process and when I say big wedding I mean big “southern” wedding including bridesmaids, multiple showers, formal china, stemware and monogrammed linens. My wedding was a traditional, country club shindig with more guests than I care to remember. There was a full sit down dinner complete with complimentary wines, an open bar, music, family and friends and it was a pretty big deal.

It’s funny though because everyone, and I mean everyone, remembers my wedding fondly…my family knows how to throw a party and participate in one as well yet I was the only person who didn’t enjoy it. Instead I felt incredibly out of place. You know those weddings where the bride and groom dance and have a great time with their guests? You see this couple in love and being themselves and it is all about them? Well, that wasn’t me. Shithead was on the dance floor having a ball, my friends and family were having a great time but I have memories of just wandering around, trying to figure out what to do.

I remember one moment in particular. It was about halfway through the reception. I was standing in the “parlor” aka the bar area where there were long silk drapes, big couches, several seating areas and the large cherry wood bar. The area opens into an adjoining ballroom where the dinner tables and entertainment were located.  There are two sets of large wooden doors that separate the two spaces. Between those doors is an equally large framed mirror. So there I was, wandering around trying to figure out where I was supposed to be. It certainly wasn’t on the dance floor and it wasn’t at the bar and I didn’t dare try to sit down in my enormous dress. Instead I was just sort of standing there, holding a glass of wine.

I saw my reflection and it stopped me dead in my tracks. Most of the guests were in the ballroom but here I stood, alone, in a dress that I didn’t love, wearing too much makeup and toting overdone hair. Is that me? Is that really me? For a moment I lost my breath. I was looking at a stranger. I had just married a man that had no respect, no genuine appreciation for the person underneath this white smock of fabric. In fact, he wanted to change everything about me. He wanted someone else but then again, so did I. I will never, ever forget that moment. It was as if the entire world was moving in a blur of speed and here I was, standing, very still and very much alone.

I quickly realized there were people around and I excused myself to a private room. There I sat and cried for a while. I wasn’t sure what had just happened. Was I sad because I was making a mistake? Was I sad because this wasn’t the small, intimate wedding of my dreams? Was I sad because I would have been a mother at this exact time if not for the abortion? I couldn’t put my finger on it at the time. To this day I’m not sure what the tears were for specifically. But they were there and I knew that on this day, of all days, that there shouldn’t be anything but tears of joy. And yet I wasn’t joyful.

My mother recently asked me, after her best friend asked the question of her, why did I marry him? What was it about him in particular that made me wake up one day and say “this is the man I want to marry”? Good question and I wasn’t 100 percent sure of my answer when initially asked. After giving it some real thought and going through the past several months I now realize why I married him, or at least what I believe is the underlying reason.

He didn’t love me for me and that was perfect because I didn’t love me for me. Why in the world would I be with a man who expected something more? It makes sense and although it wasn’t an intentional thought at the time, I was very aware of his lack of faith in me. You see, he didn’t think I was capable of achieving much so guess what, I didn’t. And because he didn’t expect much from me, I didn’t expect much from myself. What it boils down to is that every time I started to see my own worth, I became scared. I was so scared that I ended a relationship with a good man who did believe in me. I broke off that relationship so that I could begin dating what would be my husband, just so I didn't have to face myself. Talk about denial!

I was scared of my own potential, of my own power and of my own genuine voice. Instead of being with a man who believed in me, I wanted to hide away and fade into being nothing. It’s all I believed that I could be and he provided a perfect hiding place. A man who didn’t believe in me was precisely what I wanted, but not at all what I needed.

The silver lining is made up of three very real things for me and the first part being my children. If I had never walked down that aisle with him, I would not have become a mother to my beautiful. They are worth every minute of this marriage and every minute of this divorce. For them alone I wouldn’t change a minute of the past 12 years. They have made that part of my life complete and I am a better person because of them.

The second part of the silver lining lies with the wonderful man that has made it this leap of faith with me. It's a much sweeter journey because of him. I believe that I had to love the wrong man in order to find the right man and he is the right one. Having him in my life, well, there aren’t enough words. Only one thing comes to mind and that is joy. He is my joy.

The final piece of the puzzle is yours truly. I am no longer in hiding. I’m here, unapologetic, determined for something better, determined for something more and loving who I am is the first step. And I do love who I am....wait, did I just say that? Man, my therapist is gonna shit a brick. I've been trying to get to this point for so long and I feel like I'm making real progress. I’m not perfect. I make mistakes. But I’m done hiding and I’m done not being myself. All these years I was in hiding, they weren’t a waste. They were precisely what I needed. I needed the escape from who I really am to appreciate just how much I like who I really am. I missed her. I missed Iris.

June 13^th will no longer be my wedding anniversary. It won’t be the day I remember getting married. Nope. Today I’ll celebrate the fact that I am here, that I am living my life as a mother, a lover, a woman, and a perfectly fallible person. It’s who I am and I love it. I love the genuine, nutty, scattered, artistic woman that I have become and that I’ve always been. Nope. No more hiding it. After all, the world seems to be responding quite nicely to “Iris”. I know I like her!

june 9th...pussy galore

Pussy Galore
Current mood:  aroused

..............

I’ve had something on my mind recently…sex. That’s right, one of the three taboos that people just “shouldn’t” talk about, with the other two being religion and politics. I’m sure I’ll get to those subjects sooner rather than later though since I like to stir the pot.

I’ve been thinking about how there are so many different levels of sexual consciousness and the fluctuations of the sexual experience as it relates to what’s happening around you. Then again we all have uniquely individual experiences with sex and I think that likely plays a role in our desires as well. But I do believe that sex is part of the integral experience of life. Just as life changes, so do our desires. I’ve found that often our own sexual wants are left last on the list. Somehow we make time to do mundane things and yet we don’t share ourselves with each other. I find the rewards of the human body and its capacity for sexual satisfaction are remarkable!

When it comes to my own experience, well, I am a sexual being. Plain and simple. I’ve tried for many years now to deny that part of me but it’s just simply not the case. From the time I can remember, my libido was that of a teenage boy, not a teenage girl. But I didn’t make it a habit of simply picking some random guy who was packing. I had my standards after all so I never really considered myself a slut or a girl who “got around”. In the same regard, I was in no way depriving myself from exploration and the opportunity for pleasure. As most women would agree, the early experience of sex was not exactly the fireworks show I had expected. In fact it wasn’t until I hit 20 or maybe 21 that I was lucky enough to find a man who could really, truly satisfy a women.  That’s when I realized that sex could be all that and a bag o’chips given the right tools and the right man….or the right man with the right tools.

So in my early 20’s I played the field. I had sex with a few different men (all very safely mind you….i’m no dummy) and even added a woman in there to boot. Hey, I had to see what all the fuss was about. Besides, it was a good, kinky memory and I think ultimately it helped me feel more comfortable asking a man for what I really wanted sexually. Anyway, after all was said and done, I started to feel like settling in. I had my share of dirty nights of pleasure. I was ready to settle down with the picket fence and the once a week obligatory nookie. That’s when I met my husband. Sex was not a priority. It simply wasn’t discussed and in no way, shape or form a part of our daily life. I basically married a roommate who would occasionally want to take on the task but couldn’t perform the job. I’ll leave it at that.

Granted, I was bringing some serious baggage into the relationship after having been raped at 21 and never fully dealing with the repercussions. I was looking for someone “safe”. I was looking for someone who didn’t have a lot of need for physical intimacy and he fit the bill. Ding. Check please. So off I went, married, libido in check and put away nicely for another day. I was in wife/mommy/superhuman mode instead. Having babies, thinking of the future, wondering how to be a better parent, creating a perfect little home life and all the while little miss Pussy Galore was sitting quietly in the closet, waiting for her turn. What I didn’t realize was that I put an enormous part of myself in that closet with her and essentially was denying my human nature. It’s who I am and a part of me. A part of me I enjoy.

Well, I’m not ashamed of her anymore. I knew eventually she would wake up and stretch her legs. I just didn’t realize she would be so damn hungry when it happened. My libido is now in overdrive. I could chalk it up to locking her up for so long and ignoring that part of me. Or it could be my middle age female hormones peaking. Then again it could have something to do with my incredibly skilled partner in crime who has awakened my sexual prowess.  One way or another, I’m back to enjoying the gratification and find myself completely unapologetic about my wants. I talk about it with my friends, I research new “products” for when my sweet gentlemen caller isn’t available and it has even become fodder for dinner conversation…which generally speeds up the dinner quite nicely.

I have been reawakened and I don’t ever want to go back to sleep…Pussy Galore agrees.

june 8th...order of the color wheel

order of the color wheel
Current mood:  uncomfortable

..............

My life is a jumbled mess right now. Plain and simple.  I can think of about a dozen different euphemisms to help describe just how chaotic and twisted my day to day existence has become. Instead I will liken it to something I find familiar.

The color wheel.

That’s right. The wheel o’color is a symbol, at least to me, of what order might look like. The order, the simplicity, the beauty of this lovely little chart lies in the primary colors next to the secondary, the tertiary and the complimentary, the clear values and hues all waiting to be mixed just so. That simple circle of pie shaped goodness holds the key to every color imaginable. The possibilities of hues and variations are endless yet they remain individually contained. I like it!

Unfortunately, my color wheel looks a bit like a child’s play thing. My reds have been invaded with green and I now have a putrid shade of shithead brown. My blacks and blues have meshed and I can no longer tell where one color begins and the other ends. It’s like paint by numbers. The painting calls for color #2 but when you look in your palette it’s empty. What’s an artist to do? Improvise. So I reach for the cadmium blue instead. This will do nicely. But then I squeeze it from the tube and it’s a shade of puce instead. Who fucked with my paint!

Now riddle me this…How am I suppose to paint a masterpiece when nothing, absolutely nothing is what it should be? Everything I reach for is taken away or switch out for something less. The very product is compromised when you don’t have the proper tools to do the job. Now what the fuck do you expect me to do with this fucked up non-color? Is the entire canvas to look like this and be considered a masterpiece? Now what?  

Chaotic, messy, out of order, out of sorts and all around muddy is how it feels right now. I constantly have to change my environment, my attitude, my schedule, my expectations. I am being asked on a regular basis to live with no order or grounding. I feel like so much of this is transient. I don’t fair well with temporary situations. I like to know where I stand. There are days when I feel like my very own well being is compromised. I’m tired, I’m overworked, I’m struggling, I’m fed up, I’m filled with angst, I'm happy yet dreading what might take that happiness away at any moment, without warning. The bottom line is that I am being forced to compromise who I am for what I want. How do you make a deal with the devil and not end up in hell?

Fortunately, or unfortunately, I don’t have the down time to feel too sorry for myself...minus this hear blogosphere, which is becoming redundantly filled with the woe-is-me syndrome. Perhaps it is that lack of time that is keeping me from being sucked into the vortex of self pity. It also seems to be keeping me from getting a restful night sleep too…but I can sleep when I’m dead, right?

Alas, tomorrow I will pull myself up by my bootstraps and try to clean up this palette. The orange simply can’t touch the blue anymore or there will just be no hope of pulling out a nice shade of robins’ egg when it comes time to paint the sky. I’m tired of everything being gray and drab. I want my fucking colors back, in order, where they belong, the way I want them.

 Sometime you just need that clear delineation between black and white. Now is one of those times.

june 6th...define "grown up"?

define "grown up"?
Current mood:  awake 

 

 

define "grown up"? seems like an easy enough thing to do.

until you have to look in the mirror and see something unexpected. that's right. i am a grown up. i don't feel like it most of the time but the fact of the matter is that by definition that is a precise depiction of the person looking back at me. i am a fucking grown up. yes, i still laugh at farts....they are funny. and i still love to color with crayons. i still love to run in the rain and dance around like a goof and i still love to snuggle with a favorite stuffed animal or pillow. okay, that's just a little strange but still, does that make me a child? i don't think so.

but what makes me a grown up? that's the question i've been asking myself for the past few days. i had a conversation last weekend with switch that asked a similar question and it really got my wheels turning. is it the chronological aging process? or maybe it's the fact that i'm a parent? perhaps it hinges on taking responsibility for your actions?

chronologically i think of myself as very young in this life. i also believe that there is a good chance that my soul will carry on long after i'm gone so this sort of dismisses any real aging process. however, i am a young 37 and feel like my life is just really beginning to blossom. i feel childlike, free, wild and inspired.

which leads me to the next question. am i an adult because i am a parent? well, there's no doubt that becoming a parent for me personally was life altering and was reality slapping me in the face. honestly, i do think that being a parent causes you to grow up quickly but i don't think it defines you as an "adult".

responsibility making you a grown up? nah. i don't buy it. i was a responsible child. responsible for my actions, took the blame when blame was due and wasn't afraid of consequences. nope, i don't think a ten year old can be called a grown up. just a responsible kid.

for me it's not about owning a house, having a highly successful job, packing my savings account to the brim for a "rainy day". it's not about getting married. it's not about becoming a parent. it's not about giving up childish interests for more adult hobbies. it's not about the successes and failures in my short life. nope. i think it's more about becoming aware. aware of your life. aware and awake and alive in the way that you live. stay with me here....let's see if i can make sense of that statement.

being a grown up is not about responsibility or duty. it's not about what you have but about what you don't need. i don't need bullshit. i don't need drama. i don't need people in my life who make me feel like less of a person to make themselves feel like something more. i have self respect (okay maybe not so much but i'm working on it). i make decisions. some good, some bad. but they are my decisions to make. this is my life to live. my parents can't live it for me, my children can't live it for me. hell, the love of my life can't live it for me. it's mine. all mine. for the taking, for the abusing, for the living.

i am aware of this life i live. i'm aware that with every breath i get just a little closer to the end of this existence. and that awareness, the fact that i acknowledge that my time is limited is what makes me feel alive. it makes it real. it makes it grown up. and that's precisely what i have become. i have grown. i will keep growing. i will keep moving forward. i will keep moving up. until one day there is no where else to go. and those will be my final breaths.

what is this life without questioning, without giving, without wonder, without exploration and discovery? i don't call that a life at all. certainly not one that is growing. or one that is grown up.