Emotional Punching Bag

Yep it is one of those days. Despite the sunshine, my heart is gray, battered, and bruised.

How do I harden my heart against the few who delight in hurting me with out cementing it all together? Is it possible to be open and vulnerable with select trustworthy souls, but not allow in the sharpened spears of condemnation?

I am tired of ducking and weaving, the blows continue to rain upon me.

Does anyone have my back?

Writing on the Wall

The past few weeks have been a muddied mess with stunning moments of clarity. I am feeling the well-known restlessness of imminent change. My brain starts to itch, sending brief images of what is to be. I feel the distance building, the subtle pulling away from comfort zones.

This time is far different from any other. The risk is exponentially greater, but so is the possible reward.

Walking off into the familiar unknown.

Challenge

So I have been challenge to radically change my life by the fall. As in six months from now. It seems like a long time from now, but really isn't. So do I accept the gauntlet thrown at my feet? Or do I continue in the stagnant life I have now?

I am going to take that leap and see where I land.

2010 is shaping up to be one very interesting year.

Rampant confusion

I am confused today. Trying to figure out who gets to decide the pace of a relationship. How much do you push out of the comfort zone? How vulnerable are you supposed to be?

New territory for me. I think I am trying to take this person where they are, and yet what are safe expectations? Am I giving more than I am getting?

No clue and no tech manual for me to follow.

Protector

There are people in every child's life who are supposed to be protectors. They are steady and steadfast; got-your-back-no-matter-what people. Parents would be a natural choice.

But there are those who are parents just because they carried the requisite anatomy. Guys who are sperm donors; chicks who don't understand birth control. They create a life and then don't follow through.

Worse yet are those who take the trust of a child and decimate it.

Abuse is such an ugly word, but not ugly enough to describe the after effects. Trauma with life altering, mind searing results. Eternal damnation is too easy for these predators.

Reasons to Smile

Some days it takes very little to make me smile. An early morning phone call from one special person. Editorial cartoons. A marriage proposal from a three year old.

It feels really good to stretch those muscles.

After years of dormancy - real smiles.

Black Boots

I own black boots with magical, mystical powers.

What special phenomena can surround ordinary footwear? Just this - each time I zip them on, wonderful things happen to me. I get noticed. And not just noticed, the checked out and chatted up kind of noticed.

Were they infused with pheromones during the manufacturing process? Did some mystic cast a spell over them? Probably not. I think it is how I am transformed in the wearing. Cause it isn't only the boots. Its the attitude and swishy walk I take on.

Its the feeling of sexy power that flashes "NOTICE ME".

I love those boots.

Friends Forever

I was looking through some ancient history today. Reading some predictions of the future made by teens on the cusp of adulthood, but in actuality, children really. Professions of "friends forever" written in girlish script. "Stay close" & "Good Luck in the Future!" were also popular.

Funny thing is three of us former teens got together today and laughed like school girls. We talked of the paths not taken way back then. Of how we would do things very differently with the knowledge we now carry.

We don't get second chances at life.

Live today the best way you know how.

Reality

My brain is trying to find a bridge between what may just be a wonderful fantasy and reality. I go back and forth, lengthening the rope and adding slats. Am I imagining this person or do they exist in actuality?

Will I soon be able to reach out and feel their tangibility? Will they want to touch back?

A very strange place to exist.

Thelma and Louise

I have a fabulous friend. She is funny, snarky, amazingly intelligent, and best of all she gets me. We have an adventure planned. Well, not so much planned as greatly imagined in all its glorious detail.

A vintage Mustang convertible traveling to warmer weather and the pot at the end of the rainbow. No crime spree, no driving off a cliff. Just us taking a break from the monotony of everyday. Stopping to see what ever catches our fancy, discovering good local coffee shops, and sampling all the native cuisines.

A good dream to have.

Cheers Snick!

This one's for you.

Missing You

Is it possible to miss someone you've never met? Can a person who lived 99% of their life before you were born influence you in ways yet unknown? A family matriarch whose story is largely untold and yet is inexplicably embedded in the mind.

My paternal grandmother, so I have been told, lived until she held me. Exactly one month after my birth, she died. This woman predicted my gender and felt so strongly sure of my life, she was compelled to defy her death time line.

I wish I could have known her. Really known her. I am her only grandchild with no personal memories of her. Stories tell of a propensity for fun and a heart full of love. Fiercely protective and a sharp wit.

Some days I feel her loss so profoundly my heart physically aches.

The ring on my left hand was her wedding ring.

I wear it everyday.

Don't Try to Change Me

Who I am. On the surface I look like most other 40 something women. I married far too young, raised three amazing kids to young adulthood, got my degree, and now work long hours. But, hidden inside the shell is a complex, complicated human being. A soul and psyche shaped by searing trials.

I am a survivor. I walked through hell a long time and have emerged on the other side. Maybe you wonder what kind of awful things could a small town girl have endured to make that claim? The stark truth is:

I survived years of emotional and verbal abuse by a parent - crushing, warping ideas about my body and my worth.

I survived being molested by a brother at a time when my body was changing from girl to woman.

I survived being raped by someone I knew and trusted.

The battle scars I carry aren't raw and bleeding anymore. The anger and bitterness of my past are not definitions of my present. I choose to love and care for many people.

I choose.