QUACK!

As I look back over the posts from the last few weeks I see reoccurring themes. If you read them and think, "Gee can't she write about anything else?" The answer is yes, yes I could. If I was writing for anyone else I probably would. But I'm not. I'm writing for me. And I'm going to write what I need to as often as I need to. Because it helps. And that is reason enough.

Tonight I sat on a concrete bench and watched the river pass by. There were birds, people, pets and the occasional skeeter. You wouldn't think a simple activity like that would be so soothing but it was. I sat and took it all in. Smelled the water, felt the breeze and thought. Watched the geese with their fuzzy goslings, getting huffy if anyone came too close. Listened to a few indignant duck quacks. For just awhile I immersed myself in the experience. And thought some more. Came up with a few thoughts on this day.

The good: a positive therapy appointment. Progress is being made.
Shared some good news and saw that who I shared it with was happy just because I was. Amazing.
The bad: feeling the pain of others. It is tough, especially when it just has to be.
The ugly: Guess what? There was none. Like I said progress is being made.

To get what I want I have to be more myself not less.  I'm not always sure what "more" looks like. But that's ok I'll figure it out. QUACK!

"Kirk to Enterprise, Two To Beam Up"

I know full well my mind cannot be read. As much as I enjoy sci fi and fantasy I understand
they are just entertainments. Why then am I so disappointed when someone can't? It doesn't make sense to hold anyone accountable for what they can not know. I believe I write plainly. I try to speak plainly as well. But it is definitely the things I am not saying lately that are on my mind. Distance sure doesn't help. It's so frustrating and it takes all I have at times not to just give up. Maybe I need a universal translator like the crew in Star Trek carried?
Nope, fiction. How about The Great Communicator Ronald Regan? Nope, dead. Seance? Nope, not dead. Mind meld? Nope, not from Vulcan. (I know fiction!)
Giving up? Possible. Growing up? Unlikely.

Listening til the Whistle Fades Away

I was 16 or 17 one night in late spring as I laid in bed under my open window. I remember the cool breeze blowing in and the sound of a train whistle in the distance mixed with the sounds of a graduation party being held a couple of blocks away. I listened to the train until I could no longer hear it and just the voices remained.
That night comes to mind now as I am doing a very similar thing to what I was doing all those years ago.  The train made me think of other places. Places very different than my home, family, school and work. And I lay there wondering where I'd be going and what I'd be doing in the years ahead. I felt curious but also a bit apprehensive because home was what I knew.

Here I am again. My day job as Mom for the most part complete. My youngest son will be spending the next school year in Germany, my oldest stepping out into the world having just graduated from college. I am content with the job I did with them (along with their father). They are good young men.

I have come to understand that a person is not what they do. If all you want to know about me is what I do, it might be a short conversation. The question itself, though, will tell me a lot about you.
Who I am is not always clear even to myself. I have always felt different. And I am not sure why. It was as if  I was living my life but watching myself live my life at the same time. I know I have an open mind. I am quite a bit more introspective then most would imagine. I think a lot. Too much probably. I tweeted about being stressed when a fellow driver shares a friendly wave. Forcing me to think if I know the person and where from etc. A nice lady responded, "Just wave back Babe."
What? You can do that?

Where I am today is not where I thought I'd be. There are good things about it and some that just really suck. There are days where some happiness touches me and others where death beckons.
There are days when hope lightens the load and days where I wish I could scream out at the unfairness of it.

Like the teenager that I was, I sometimes feel misunderstood and put upon. Therapist says we have all the freedom we could want. That a person just has to choose and keep choosing. That where the pain is is that uncomfortable place on the proverbial fence. 

But you know what? Sometimes it is all just too much. To consider, grasp and choose. So for today, I'm just going to choose to wave back.

Blessings True

I was given some information last Friday. It was about myself. Now, being that it was about me, you'd think I'd have some idea what to do with it. But no. Don't have a clue. I'm seeing a theme here are you?

I've about decided that not having a clue is what life is all about. At least mine. But I doubt I am alone in this.
Used to be when I had small children I did not have the luxury of wondering what life was all about. I had diapers to change, fights to break up and tears to dry up. I'm still doing at least one of those three but not for my children. Having the time now to ponder is both a blessing and a curse.

I like to help people to the extent I'm able. But I notice this too is both a blessing and a curse. For even with the best of intentions you can screw up to an amazing degree. Part of it is the arrogance that is the foundation of offering the help. The arrogance of thinking people need it. The truth is most people do not need help. They are doing just fine even when they aren't if you know what I mean. I have written about an experience I had helping a young woman attend a photography conference by going to the destination with her allowing her to afford to go. It turned into a pretty sad ordeal, at least it was for me. For the longest time I struggled with this experience. Trying to let go, forgive (myself and her) and move on.

I learned about the nature of forgiveness from this. The foolhardiness of traveling with someone you don't know well and that intentions don't always amount to much when hurt feelings are involved. 
But I also met a really amazing person who wrote to me after seeing the blog post. And told me my words were helpful to her. It meant so much to know that through the hurt the help still existed even if in a form I could not have anticipated. I was fortunate to have the support of a man I call brother and the comfort of an email full of cussing and fussing on my behalf. I still smile at the thought of it.

Part of my response to the lady who wrote me after seeing my post was this: "It would be so easy to hole up and close my heart to other friendships but I'm hoping that despite my imperfections there are other folks who would welcome me in their lives." I am so very happy to share that this hope has been fulfilled. Over and over.

So I have this information. Don't know what to do with it. But I do know this. The answer is not to close my heart. To this information, to life's experiences and most of all to other people who are the truest blessings.

Where is AAA When I Need Them?

I write a lot about figuring things out. I want to know. To see the road ahead. But I've hit a curve in my path around which I'm not privileged to see. I say 'I don't know' more than I could have ever anticipated.

I know someone who has a lot of certainty in her life now. I'd be lying if I said I did not envy her her certainty. Because if you don't have certainty you must muster up the faith to keep going around that curve, blind.

Faith: belief without proof.
What am I to believe? That is another difficult question because it suggests prior knowledge of that in which you have faith. So I keep living, getting up every morning, putting one foot in front of the other, hopefully achieving the necessary distance to get around the curve. And then what? I don't know.

Is there a AAA for life? I don't know.

Being

Just be. These are words my therapist has said to me on many an occasion. Usually while observing me like a bug under a magnifying glass. Apparently I have a problem just being.
Doing, thinking, agonizing, worrying, doubting, hurting, jonesing, plotting, crying, sniveling, questioning, questioning, questioning, demanding, shaking, belly aching.
Those things? Not a problem.

Here is the deal though, while I'm busy doing all those things I am not listening or waiting expectantly, with faith, that answers will come. Except that once in awhile the universe slips a quick answer in between the cracks of the doing, despite me. One such answer I really did not expect to ever get. It is on my mind today as it's been a month since I had the most difficult/painful therapy session I have ever had. I had had a bad month prior and this about did me in. He had asked me a question the week before, that I did not answer at the time. But I thought about it. A lot.
So I delivered the answer to him and we continued onto other things.

A few days passed and I was getting ready in the morning zoning out as we tend to do. When all of the sudden it hit me that the answer I had given the therapist earlier in the week was also the answer to a question that had vexed me for a year!

I had been in a pretty bad mental place for weeks and had just about decided to add additional antidepressants to what I already took. I try to avoid this as they all have their side effects with the one I take being one I tolerate best of all I've tried. Still, it would be better than some alternatives.

So along comes this answer I had not expected. Ever. And it occurred to me that if one answer had been given others could come as well. A bit of hope. And the more I focused on this seemingly miraculous happening my load seemed lightened. Just enough. Enough to grab hold of and be carried for just a while. Long enough to just be.

Hootin' and Hollerin'

There is a fairly recent song in which these lyrics appear 'why do you have to make things so complicated?'

Guilty. Don't know why. Is it that life is more interesting with bumps, curve balls, hootin' an hollerin? Or maybe I'm partial to the wrinkles that appear as I'm squinting trying to figure it all out? Wasn't crazy about math in school. Liked literature with it's foibles, fracases and fancy. Which is a very good thing as this so perfectly describes life and sex.

Sex. What could be more awkward, messy, wild or wonderful? Wouldn't it be easier to kick back with a brewsky? (and discussing this makes me wish for a brewsky-or ten) Yet most indulge. Though some do not. I'm not sure I've met too many of the latter.
Sex is a motivation, an aggravation, complex and basic. It is humanity expressed physically.

If Tarzan swings for you and neatly lands on the anticipated branch-I'm happy for you. When he swings for me, as likely as not, he'll smack right into the trunk.