Reality Hits Home ...

I had written the most beautiful post, and it’s all gone—yet another hour of wasted thoughts lost to the oblivion of the internet. Well, I guess I shall try it again---no promises that it will be as good the second time around.

This blog is currently untitled because I don’t know how to put a title on it. I guess I don’t know how to feel. It has taken some weeks to put this into words—to put it all down on paper—and my head is swimming with emotions.

Before I get ahead of myself, I need to go back a few months.

It might have been the end of July that I first noticed that J started to come to my office more. It seemed odd somehow, and he almost reminded me of how things used to be between us—before there were so many things left unsaid. There was a sort of lightness in the air, but a sadness too—one I couldn’t place.

At some point, he asked me to go to a movie with him—it had really been the third time we really talked about it. But I blew him off, because he often says things and doesn’t follow through on them or doesn’t mean them (this is ironically going to come into play later).

I didn’t take the “offer” seriously for a couple of reasons. The first one being the fact that the entire ugly scene played itself in my mind—would we go to the movie alone? What would his girlfriend have to say about that? ( I knew she didn’t like me probably for completely irrational reasons ). What if she accompanied him? Would we exchange awkward and meaningless pleasantries and then sit in uncomfortable silence throughout the movie and then go on our own way? And why did I get the feeling that he wanted something from me?

The other reason I didn’t really want to go is because I knew it wasn’t fair to A (the guy I was currently dating). He had no idea of the turmoil of emotions that were playing themselves in my heart. The truth was, he was about to move in. I can’t believe I’m admitting this. He was about to move in and I’m not sure I was ready for that yet. How many times has someone moved in with me only to have it end miserably when the time came for me to walk away? I’ve gotten so tired of breaking so many hearts … one thing I knew about him, was that he deserved better. His last girlfriend cheated on him right under his nose and yet … I think in the back of my heart, I was still hoping that J would come back to me.

I finally gave in and agreed to see a movie with him and agreed to meet him at his house—he moved back to the place he and I had shared a few years ago. My anxiety mounted when he didn’t mention his girlfriend or whether or not she would be joining us. My plan was to make the best of it. So I approached his door and waited for her to answer—but she didn’t. And when I saw the house mysteriously quiet and dark behind him, I admit I was relieved. There were signs of his daughter everywhere-scribbled chalk on the pavement and toys left abandoned on the front patio.

He closed the door quickly behind him, and I was left to wonder about the whereabouts of his girlfriend and baby.

We made small, uncomfortable small talk as we approached the theater. Why was I so guarded around him? Then again, didn’t I have the right to be? I wanted to ask about his girlfriend, but I was still taking it all in and—I guess a part of me didn’t want to ask about her either. Why pretend to care about someone who disliked me? No need to be fake…

When we got to the theater, he made some comment about “visiting” with his daughter, and when I turned to him with a look of surprise, he told me that he and his girlfriend had broken up and had been separated for a few months.

Wow! I think that was my exact response to him. Perhaps that explained the sadness? We watched the movie and I sat silently in shock. The thing I had asked for, prayed for, finally was happening. The movie ended and I drove him home; he invited me inside.

Signs of his daughter were everywhere—a little chair, toys strewn on the couch, random colorful stickers stuck to the coffee table. There was a picture too, a picture of the three of them, on the mantle of the open kitchen. It almost felt like I was trespassing in a world that didn’t belong to me anymore, in a life that wasn’t mine. Suddenly, it felt like the world was closing in on me—the room felt suffocating. This was not exactly how I pictured it would be.

As I looked at J, I could see the beginnings of gray starting to form on his perfectly beautiful dark black hair; the signs of age creeping up on him. I suddenly wondered where the years had gone and how, just for a moment, I could have pretended that things weren’t the way they were?

He seemed to be the same person I remembered, and yet much different—gray was not the only sign that he was getting older. There was a sadness in his eyes as he described how he had no plans to return to his girlfriend after the things she had said to him. He refused to tell me what those things were, but I didn’t press for details. Did I want to know? Yes. Would it hurt me or suck me back in? Yes. I was determined to stay neutral, to see if this was real or just a dream.

I kept questioning him about whether he was going back, and he said he would never go back after the things that were said, supposedly getting “ugly” in Court over the custody rights of their daughter. I couldn’t figure it out. Why would a girl with no real future or means of having a future leave her paycheck? I knew she didn’t have a job and while I don’t mean to speak badly of her, I’m sure she’s very bright, I doubted that she would get a decent job anytime soon given the state of the economy and her lack of education. So then why would she, as he had said, abandon such a good life? Oh sure, J didn’t make the money he appeared to make—he probably appeared to her to have it made with his previously large house. But I knew the truth, knew that he probably over-extended himself to maintain appearances. But I didn’t care—I didn’t want him for his money. I loved who he was. Apparently, she did not feel the same.
Once we got to his house, it was as if he didn’t know what to do with me, and I quickly left. But through several more conversations, I definitely got the feeling that he wanted something from me. Did he want to regain old times? Be my friend? Did he even realize what such a friendship would cost? Would she be pissed if she knew we were friends again? Or was there more on his mind than friendship? One thing that stuck in my head was how many times he assured me he wasn’t going back to her—how he almost became angry with me at one point telling me that it was over and how he’d missed our friendship.

I wasn’t the only one who had noticed his more frequent visits to the office. Several of our “mutual” friends noticed also—and questioned me about it almost to the point of annoyance. One person in particular noted the smile on my face when they brought up his name. Yes, I wanted to believe the things he said … but then there were my other friends talking as well as the voice of reason in my head.

Some friends suggested we should try to make things work this time—try to see where things went after the dust of his custody battle settled. See how it went. I wanted to be guarded so that he didn’t see my thinly veiled hopefulness and my faith in him.

But all that came with a price—because A had moved in and I couldn’t very well have J over during the small amount of time that A would be living with me (we had agreed he would stay with me a couple of months until he got on his feet again).

There was only one RIGHT thing to do—and it was difficult. I told A the truth and I told him everything; I didn’t want to hurt him, but at the same time, I needed him to understand how difficult this was for me. It was as if, I don’t know, maybe I was getting a second chance.

But other friends discouraged it-were vehemently against the idea. They told me that even thinking about it was a bad idea because exes are always exes for a reason. If they haven’t “fixed” whatever made them an ex in the first place, then nothing will change. My friend reminded me that he probably hadn’t changed, and the reality was, I wanted children and he had carefully built up his life to avoid them. He even talked about how he felt he was “too old” for children. He even felt the need to resort to being condescending to me, telling me “You don’t know what it’s like because you don’t have children.” While that may be true, that does not stop my wanting to have a child. I realize the heartache, the work, the struggle, the everything, and giving J a second chance probably meant abandoning my hope of raising one (or two?) of my own.

All of these things and more ran through my head. I wasn’t the only one who was guarded; he invited me to his place once, then pretended to be tired so that I would leave just a little over an hour and a half of getting there. He tells me how he’s exhausted and plans to go straight to bed. I go home, frankly surprised, that he would have me drive half and hour to see him only to be too “tired” to hang out with me. When I get home, I discover he is online, playing a game. When I catch him at it, he makes some excuse to me. How old is he that he feels the need to continue to lie to me after all this time? He wasn’t man enough to tell me that he wanted to do other things, he would rather lie than be honest. Was this a sign of the man he’d become or the man he always was and I just never saw it before?

Meanwhile, there was A, as wonderful as ever. Trying to make me dinner and failing miserably at it, encouraging me to foster a good friendship with J. What in the world was I doing?

Perhaps the best thing for me would be to develop a friendship with J again and see how it all played out. So I did what was best for me, I backed away. I’m 31 years old and I am tired of playing games; I don’t need to be lied to.

So fast forward a few weeks and Christmas is coming up. I make J some fudge and we chat in my office at some point about random things. There is no mention of anything serious—until a few days before Christmas. He ends up telling me that he and his girlfriend have gotten back together again and she is going to be moving back in.

Wait… what? Did I miss something? Didn’t he just tell me that he was done? Didn’t he just spend hours convincing me that he was never going back? And now he’s changed his mind?

The incredulousness of this and it hit me all at once and I found myself for the LAST time stunned. In essence, he lied to me. What would have happened if I had let him back into my good graces? Would he have gotten back together with her anyway? And would he have been honest with me about it?

Suddenly, I could look at the situation with perfect clarity and realized that he’s a liar and that’s the plain and simple –and ironic truth. He lies to me, he lies to his friends and family, and worse, he lies to himself.

I sneakingly suspect that he’s only getting back with her for convenience, to have a warm body for the holidays, to make it easier on the pocketbook, or whatever reason he’s invented in his head. Perhaps being a single dad-the harsh reality of parenthood too much responsibility for him to handle alone.

I found myself shocked, possibly because I actually believed his lies yet again. I believe that he is like two people—one conflicted with his real life, and one that lives in the other world—the one he wants. But until the two worlds come together, I don’t feel he’ll ever be truly happy. I guess if I had been with him, I would have been happy for a while—until he lied to me, or until something else happened to shatter my hopefulness.

Meanwhile, this has taught me a valuable lesson about life and about how sometimes it takes trying something new to realize what you do and don’t want.

I want to be the girl who raises a family and takes care of my husband. I don’t mind being the girl who goes to soccer practice or baseball games or anything because it will put a smile on my child’s face. I will fight the sleep off my face to comfort a crying baby. I will fight to be a good and strong parent who loves and encourages my children.
But I can’t live in a world where I am lied to, or a world where having someone to love means sacrificing myself for their needs and wants just so that I can be a “servant girl” to make their life easier. I don’t mind doing the work if I get rewarded in some way. I realized that J would never put in the work it takes for a successful and lasting relationship. My love for him would not be enough to carry us through all of the tough times we’d face or the challenges and obstacles that life would bring us.

As I mentioned, I realized that he’s not what I want anymore. A takes care of me, and is willing to go to the store for me even at 10:00 at night when he’s in his “comfy pants” because I am sick and need medicine. I have to beg him not to go. He proudly shows me pictures of his nephews and how he can’t wait to have children of his own. He did the dishes while I lay on the couch feeling miserable. That’s the kind of person I want, and that’s the kind of person I am not sure I deserve-but have waited my whole life to find.

He may not understand me on an intrinsic instinctive level, but we are going in the same direction, and our mutual respect and adoration for one another will help us make it through.

Meanwhile, I can’t help but feel betrayed a little. Should I even bother to work on a friendship with J? Will it be based on lies? Ironically, when he told me they had gotten back together, I questioned him and he told me that “she was all right with [our friendship].” Really? Truly? Had he asked her? Would it still be the same way or would it be as I had originally pictured it, an uncomfortable silence? I decided then, that my hope in him had been shattered—even for a basic friendship, I would hope he had the strength to be honest with me.

For now, nothing is solved and thankfully, so many questions have been answered in my heart. Am I going in the right direction? At long last, I can proceed without someone holding a secret grip on my heart …

Finding Yourself

Many people have heard about my past and have judged me negatively because of it. Most of the time, I choose not to reveal my past to anyone for that very reason. Some might claim that I am a closed person who doesn't delve too much into personal history and while that is true, I think I do it mostly to protect myself. But the main question most people ask when they find out is, "How did you come out so normal?"

The answer to that question is a difficult one, but I think the secret lies in a basic fundamental idea, the idea of finding yourself.

The truth is, when I was younger, even though I had two brothers and two sisters, I didn't really have anyone to play with. But even thought no one was around, no one told me what choices I had to make, no one ever told me WHO I had to be.

We conform because society tells us to, because we want--and often need-the acceptance of others. So we often form our likes and dislikes based on what others like and don't like. It's this idea of "modeling" that we learn from a very young age. You often see toddlers imitating the actions or vocalizations of those around them-thus form the basic foundations for speech and this behavior of copying others' actions allows children to learn faster.

Eventually, however, the child develops a sense of "autonomy" (independence or freedom, as of the will or one's actions) and eventually will discern one item over another--a blue crayon over a purple crayon and thus will begin the pattern of preference and like versus dislike. Perhaps they form a negative association after eating badly cooked broccoli and thus decide that they'd rather eat another green vegetable.

Ultimately, the search for self goes deeper than that. It's about knowing who you are and liking that person. It's not being afraid to have an opinion even if you know it differs from others, it's accepting where you come from, your past (such as the case may be) whether or not those around you can accept and or appreciate it.

I think that one of the biggest challenge of the teenage years is the transition between being a child and being an adult--and part of that is about finding onself--figuring out where one wants to go in life--figuring out what direction to take, what path to go down. When you're a child, you think that there are limitless possibilites--but as you progress through your teenage years, you begin to see that you have to make a decision, several in fact, about where to go after college, what to do with your life, who you want to be "when you grow up." Suddenly the future of limitless possibilities is limited by all of your previous choices and previous progress including grades, social standing, etc.

The issue always becomes how do people miss that point in their lives when the start discerning what they like versus what they dislike and making that transition to discovering themselves. Some people figure out who they are earlier than others: they dream of being an astronaut at age five and grow up to be just that. Others, figure out after going through high school and picking a path in college. However, there are millions of countless others who wander aimlessly through life waiting for that strike of lightning, that stroke of inspiration, to tell them who they are.

Who are you? How do you find yourself? As an adult, figuring out who you are is impossible if you're not ready to understand and grasp a basic fundamental acceptance of what you're not. If you can accept what you're not, if you can decide what you *don't* like, then finding out what you do like is part of the joy of living.

Let me give an example. Let's pretend that you have three kinds of lunch meat in front of you: salami, bologne, and turkey. You know for a fact that you don't like bologne, so you won't ever eat it. But turkey isn't available, so you choose salami. You like salami, it tastes good, but you prefer turkey. But you don't have turkey so you accept the salami and forget about how you previously thought that salami was only okay. But what would happen if all of a sudden someone introduced you to ham? Suddenly it becomes your favorite lunch meat. Now the question is, would you be influenced by your friends who all seem to prefer turkey? Or would you stand firm in your knowledge that you like ham? Would you question yourself as to what you really like?

In finding yourself, you know what meat you like and you don't care what others like. You take their interests into consideration, but ultimately, you settle on ham because it's what YOU like. There's nothing wrong with salami, bologne, or any of the others. But you like ham. That's what knowing yourself is all about.

For me, the secret to my growing up and becoming "normal" is because I refused to accept that I was a victim. I refused to play that part, and blame issues on my past and therefore refuse to work on them. But ultimately, I became who I was supposed to be because I found myself and discovered that I am in a race with myself and whether or not anyone else understands or appreciates that, it has transformed me into the person I am today.

When you find yourself, you are happy, no matter what is going on around you; you find happiness in even the smallest of things. True happiness starts within yourself. When that happens, you stop letting people walk all over you, you take control of your own life. You know in your heart what you want, and you're not afraid to get it. You set standards for yourself and you keep them. Other people's opinions of you only act as a guidebook for improvement, but don't dictate the direction you are going.

This is in finding yourself. Those who are lost aimlessly wander about, flounder in the water and waffle in their decisions, but they forget the ultimate secret is that the truth of who they are lies within themselves.
They only need to listen to their hearts and let go of what others think and what they think others want.

Knowing yourself isn't being selfish, it's about figuring out your own likes and dislikes. If you don't know yourself, how can you share yourself with another? If you don't know who you are, how can you expect another to know the answer to that question?

Find yourself, so that you can open yourself up and share yourself with another. You will never be able to give 100% if you don't know yourself 100%.

A Project

So I guess I am going to start taking all my blogs from Myspace and moving them over here, not only because Myspace is sort of dying (and I don't even go there anymore) but also because it's time to put all my thoughts and information in one place.

Hopefully all my fans and people who read my thoughts will come here and subscribe ...

So tonight I start the project of transferring all my stuff over.

Before I leave, I just wanted to leave you all with a tidbit. I ran across my ex-boyfriend's website again--and I say again, because I knew it was there all along. I'd recently heard that he is now pursuing his dream of being a professional photographer. His work has come a long way and I hope he finds what he is looking for--even if he could look through all the lenses in the world and yet never saw me for me.

The Emotional Rollercoaster

I thought we had a good conversation tonight; she's taking her meds again. Well, actually, she said she's got meds that are actually working for her for the first time in several years. The meds always work at first, until she drinks.
That's probably what happened tonight. I'm so glad I didn't have to hear the sound of the ice cubes in her glass. Would I have said the same things? Should I have picked up the phone when she called me back merely a couple of hours later? Am I in for another sleepless night? …

I realize that I am going to sound like a bad person when I say that … I will never be comfortable around her. Because I never know when she's going to snap. That being said, tonight was another classic example. I am the one who's not healing here. I can never truly heal or move beyond the past as long as I have to worry about the kind of relationship we have. Because the problem is, when she's nice, when she tells me that she's different, I want to believe her. I slowly get used to the idea of her being different; I soak it up because a part of me really does believe it's possible.

So I gradually start to think that it's true. I start to invest more of my time and my heart into helping her be that different person she is so desperate to be. But then, she suddenly reverts back to the same old routine and I'm left regretting even talking to her.

She called me to ask my advice on something and I wish she hadn't. I've been her personal counselor for my whole life. She's taught me more things about myself than I've ever probably helped her discover about herself. She's never really treated me like a daughter, more like the person who's around for her own person amusement and to make herself feel better when she messes up. She always makes it mostly about herself.

I gave her my advice—leave it alone—especially with a person with whom she's already got a strained relationship. Leave it alone. Be the bigger person and just walk away. Don't respond to someone's outburst of anger. Just let it go. We talked for over two hours about life, past issues, and depression. Her self-actualized statements almost had me fooled into believing that this medicine was getting her somewhere. She agreed that being the bigger, better person, and ending what really could be considered a lame petty disagreement, was the best option.

We talked and laughed and joked about things that happened in my past and I really got to confront her with some of the behavior I'm glad she's changed-at least on the surface. But underneath, she is still just as fragile and unpredictable as she ever was.

After hanging up the phone with her, I felt pretty good. We had an awesome conversation that lasted over two hours. It was the first time in probably … well over 10 months where I didn't end the conversation frustrated or upset let alone spent so much time on the phone.

I felt good. Now THIS was a person I wanted to believe in. This was the person I wanted to call my Mom. This was the person I was proud of, the one who took a disease and flipped it upside down.

So she called me back just as I was about to slip into bed tonight, hoping to catch up on my sleep. When I heard her voice, I knew something was wrong. Had she been crying? Or was it merely that her words were slurring together? I used to be so good at telling the difference …

She had e-mailed the person and put a whole bunch of unknowing (or uncaring?) accusatory statements all pointing to a past she can't let go of. She didn't walk away, she escalated the problem and I could foresee it blowing up in her face. Where was the person I'd talked to earlier? The one who agreed to just walk away, to leave things alone, to write a letter and then WAIT before she sent it just in case of this very scenario?

"Please tell me you didn't send that …" I could only choke out halfway through. She had. Well, she asked my opinion right? What had happened in two hours? Had the drink gotten to her sensibility?

All of a sudden, our difference in opinion, suddenly became out me. Suddenly, I'm not supportive enough of her, I'm not giving her what she wants. But the thing is, I'm not her peer; I'm not her counselor; I'm not her mother. I'm her daughter. But she wants me to be her friend. She wants more than that. She wants me to support her in any endeavor, even if I disagree. But we are different people, and this is a game I don't want to play.

But it's too late to get off the roller coaster. She starts raising her voice and yelling at me in that all too-familiar tone, reminiscent of nights during her depression-induced rants. Here were are, over ten years later, doing the same dance. Hasn't she changed? Maybe not.

We have to end the conversation with me hanging up. Like a kid throwing a temper tantrum, I have to resort to such … pathetic means of telling her I'm done. She talked about killing herself … again, so I picked up the phone and called her right back. All she needed was a break in the conversation to calm her down a bit. That's when she started using things I told her when I believed her "changed" against me. Persona things I had told her were now suddenly being thrown in my face.

Suddenly, I was on the roller coaster again, and there was only one way to get off. I hung up again. I waited a few minutes, took a few deep breaths, and then called her back. "Don't EVER do that to me again." I tell her in a voice she knows not to mess with. Wow, where's that voice during other times when I need it? "You will not speak to me that way." I insist. Clearly, she has crossed the invisible boundaries I have had to put on our relationship.

The conversation proceeds and I know she feels guilty. That's why she is telling me nice things now like "I'm so sorry." And "You're really wonderful …" and blah blah blah. I've heard it all before. I want to believe she's really sorry, but I've been burnt too many times and now all the "I'm sorry's" don't really affect me anymore.

I get off the phone, following her insistence that I try and give her a hug over the phone (she needs the hug?) and was finally able to let her go. She had calmed down. Good. Maybe she won't kill herself tonight. Finally I can get off this roller coaster ride because I'm starting to feel sick. Sick in my heart extending to my soul.

But I wonder where that person went? Was it my imagination or was she ever there to begin with? In order to reach out to someone, to get close to them, you have to reveal things about yourself, open yourself up and be real, and risk getting hurt. It's the same with a mom who can't control herself. But the truth is, I think a part of me dies every time this happens. I am afraid for the day when it won't hurt me anymore because then I may hang up on her, walk away, and never look back.

Modern Day Miracles--Are They Possible?

I do not know how long my internet will last (I am "sharing" with a neighbor) but I wanted to take a moment to write down a couple of things that happened in the process of this move that ... I don't know, shocked me. If there was a message to be told, I think it came across loud and clear.
A few roommates ago (one of the "bad ones") I remember we discussed the idea of God. I am constantly struggling with the strength of my faith. I have beliefs that are constantly tested and challenged by the day to day of real life and the painfulness of reality.
I remember my roommate said something thar really stuck with me. He said he didn't believe in God because he'd never witnessed a miracle. It was the tone in his voice that caught my attention. It wasn't the sort of smug self-important tone he usually had, but one of genuine longing and disappointment. I got the distinct feeling that perhaps he might change his mind if ever he had the chance to see a true miracle.But what is a miracle? Is it as the Bible would have you believe, those who can't see suddenly regain their sight? A person who cannot stand or walk can suddenly dance out of their chair, forever healed by the power of God? Or are miracles something that, if you look closely enough, you see every day?
It's difficult for me to think that we are somehow all connected or that everything means something. It's difficult because I don't understand why in all the universe, I have yet to find someone who is willing to go the distance with me, someone who wants real love and a lifetime to explore it in. It's difficult for me to imagine that all those times I was beaten as a child, and lay awake in fear and silent resentment, that there was a bigger purpose for it all, a deeper meaning that only God himself understands or plans for us.
What if we do witness miracles every day but don't notice them when they happen? What if we were cognicent, even for just a moment, of the bigger picture?
I say all this not to confuse the issue or pontificate on the idea of God's bigger plan or even to be so bold as to say that I myself understand the purposes we serve here on this planet. But I do know, that for some reason, I have been allowed to see a few things lately that gladden my soul.
After leasing my apartment, I had to get renter's insurance-yet another hidden cost to renting I'd forgotten all about. I'd never gotten insurance before and didn't know the first thing about it. I said a few quick prayers and made my way to the local AAA office to inquire about it.
It wasn't a busy day and I went in the middle of the week. I sat on a chair and waited, almost as if one would wait for an interview, until I was greeted by the agent who was planning to sell me the insurance.
I was expecting the usual sales pitch and customary attempt to sell me more than I needed. I hoped that I could wade through the BS and walk away with the cheapest plan possible. But in the end, I got more than I bargained for ...
Long story short, at some point, as is usual, he had to ask me what I did for a living. We started talking about my job and I hadn't even gotten to the part where I was going to tell him that I worked with juveniles. But we fell into this sort of easy conversation that I felt was necessary on a level I didn't understand. My feeling of this was confirmed a few minutes later when, after a few questions from me, he told me that he and his wife had considered becoming foster parents but weren't sure they should do it. Having come from a similar background, I found the voice inside of me rise up and tell him that not every foster care comes out of the system broken. Some of us make something of ourselves. I encouraged him that it was a good thing to do ... and at the end of our conversation, he only sold me the insurance I needed, and told me the complete truth about what I needed and what I didn't. In exchange, I think I managed to encourage him that being a foster parent was a rewarding experience and it is my belief that he and his wife would make wonderful surrogate parents to those unfortunate enough to find themselves in less than ideal houses where abuse and mental illness can sometimes capsize a family.
As I left the building, I was overcome with a sense of pride and joy. For the first time in a really long time, I felt as though I had done a truly good deed. It was as if I was supposed to be there that day to answer his questions and alieve his fears ...
Could that not be called a miracle? The child he takes in and saves today is the person who saves your life tomorrow. The heart that's rescued at its most vulnerable moment is the soul that breathes love into relationships in the future.
But that is not the only miracle that I have may had inadvertently been a part of.
It also has to do with leasing this apartment itself and the guy who showed it to me. He showed me the apartment and, I don't know how to explain this but, there was a sort of energy between us (not a romantic one---I later found out he had a girlfriend anyway) but a sort of energy that tells me that something else is yet to come. It's as if we have known each other before, without a formal introduction. I found myself asking him questions I would never have the couarage to ask someone, let alone someone I just barely met-questions about his life and how he came to be living in California. I should mention that I detected his slight accent and somehow we just fell into easy conversation.
Anyways, after I leased my place, part of the requirements was for me to tell him what I did for a living. I didn't actually write it down, but rather faxed over my pay stubs as was required.
When I came in to see him, to sign the paperwork, there was a knowing gleam in his eye. "I really want to talk to you." he said to me. Well, it turns out that he has wanted to get a job like mine for years. He has wanted to make a diffierence in people's lives and has never had anyone tell him how to do it or encourage him to go for it. He got stuck in the leasing business because he feels he's a good salesman, but something else has been tugging at his heart ...
We are supposed to go to coffee on Friday and I find myself so excited. Rarely do you get the opportunity to tell someone (knock on wood) what a great job you have and how much it means to you to be a part of something bigger than yourself.
Even if we don't end up meeting, it's as if a giant seed was planted there in his heart-a seed that has encouraged him to grow and perhaps seek out that job where he is helping people. Perhaps it will be where I work, and perhaps it will be somewhere else. But it was like watching the sun as it lights up the darkness. It was like watching that moment when the genius discovers some universal secret they have forever been trying to grasp.
Anyways, I am not sure if these things I have witnessed count as miracles. Perhaps they are nothing more than my being in the right place at the right time. But seeds have been sown and thoughts taking root within open hearts and that is something that will have a positive impact on another human being for years to come.
It was almost as if I was supposed to move so that I could run into these people so I could help plant these seeds so that they could go on to fulfill whatever plan God has for them. Wow. I don't know if it's even as grandiose as that, or even if it's as meaningful as I seem to make it. I don't know if that was part of God's master plan or I don't even know ...
All I know is that, if you asked me, I would tell you that miracles are possible. We just have to open our hearts to their endless posibilities and wait for that magical moment when they appear and change not just someone else's life, but our own lives as well.
I don't know what the master plan is and I do admit I continue to struggle with faith and loneliness and a million other things ... but these miracles, even in their smallest measure, convince me that there has to be something out there in the cosmos even if we don't always see it for ourselves.
Perhaps we don't just walk the path to witness a miracle, perhaps in many ways, we are the miracle.

A Puzzle

So I can't think of a title to this blog. But have you ever had one of those days where you make all kinds of mistakes and you look back over your day and were like, "Oh my goodness, did I actually do that?"
This was one of those embarassing days where I want to run and hide in my cave and not come out for a really long time.
It was a friend's birthday last week, and today was his birthday party. I was a little nervous going to this since I probably would be one of the only single people there and always have a difficult time talking to strangers. It used to be so simple when I was with S or J. S would go with me and mope about until we left (he hated parties and groups of people) and J would make up some reason not to go. So it was always easier for me to make excuses for coming by myself. "S wasn't feeling well." or "J couldn't make it." Both of those sound better than showing up alone especially when children of all ages are clinging to their parents and they are all exchanging funny tidbits about their children while I can only smile and nod at what they are saying.
My friend Denise ended up rescuing me, and doing a fantastic job of it. Her quick wit and easy-going personality is always a welcome addition to what might have otherwise been a disaster for me going alone. Of course we were met with the usual "couple" jokes, but in the end, it proved better than me showing up by myself.
But here's where I got stupid. First of all, I'd been packing all morning, then ran to Ikea (a cool place to get home decorating ideas) and my wardrobe is lacking at the moment because practically all of my clothes are packed tightly into boxes stacked in the living room.
Anyways, I didn't really have anything decent to wear, didn't really have a chance to put makeup on or look cute, and my hair--well let's just say that it looked like I walked through a wind tunnel. That's what happens to curly hair when you try to straighten it without an actual straightener. Trust me on this.
So I'm sitting across the table from a co-worker whom I actually respect and think is cool, and he brought his girlfriend. She seemed as shy as he was and didn't even seem to acknowledge my existence. Of course she didn't introduce herself so I guess I shouldn't feel too terribly bad (but I do) because I didn't even say a word to her ...
Okay, so a little history here ... normally speaking, this guy and I work together. He's a great, intelligent, nice guy. But the thing is, it seems as though we can barely come up with two words to say to one another and I can't figure out why! When we're in a group, it doesn't seem to be a problem. But when we're alone, it's like there's this strange awkwardness and I am not sure what it is. We have a ton of things in common, so you'd think that it would be easy to communicate... as easy as talking about the things we're both interested in technology, computers, whatever. But it wasn't until today that I realized what element was completely missing from our little ... "friendship."
So we're sitting there, and he starts talking to me about "work" stuff... and is asking me questions and for the first time ... EVER, I didn't want to answer him. Actually, I didn't want to talk about work at all. Work was the last thing I wanted to think about let alone talk about. I wanted to talk to him about life, ask him questions about what his plans were for Father's day, whatever--anything--but all I could do was choke out some lame reply back to him and then we sat there in silence. When I leave work, I try to literally leave it at work. So when I'm home, or when I'm in a social situation, it's strange to then talk about work again. Yeah, it's fun to relive stuff and reminisce on funny stories, but at that exact moment, I drew a complete blank. I'm sure I sounded like a dumbass. Why didn't I introduce myself to his girlfriend and ask her questions about her?
Anyways, so I've spent weeks (months actually) trying to be friendly to this person because I don't want to feel awkward when we meet one another. I don't know why it feels that way. I get the feeling that I'm the last person he wants to talk to and yet ... we have so much in common it doesn't make sense. I put myself on a one person mission to befriend him and convince him that I wasn't too scary to talk to ... I was hoping that strangeness that seems to prevent us from having a normal comfortable conversation would just melt away and the barrier would be broken.
But I figured out today that ... despite all of this time I have been trying to befriend him, it hasn't worked. He's kept me at a clear distance and perhaps I should chalk it up to the fact that maybe he just doesn't like me. But what does it hurt to be personable?
That's when I figured it out! I share personal details with him (I'm moving, I'm doing this, I feel that--blah blah blah) in the hopes that he would open up and give me SOMETHING I could talk to him about. Something I could relate to and could ask him about. There's only so much work stuff you can talk about and beyond that, it comes down to what makes up who you are. At least his partner will tell me things about his family, his friends, projects he's doing, etc. and it gives me something to ask him about later, "How are you projects going?" "How's baseball?" "How are the kids?"
But if I don't know anything personal about the other person, I am only able to have a superficial and therefore superficial relationship with that person. So in the end, it's no wonder that we stare at each other when we're alone. He won't let me in, for whatever reason. What's strange is, I have worked with him for ... almost a year now and he knows plenty of things about me. I would hope that in knowing things about me, he would understand me better, and therefore wouldn't be hesitant to talk to me or ask me things. But in the end, there's this strangeness there and it still isn't going away ...
I guess this is one of those situations where I'm not going to win. I'm going to walk away from this one and throw in the towel and admit defeat. I feel like I really tried; then again, I wish I wasn't so shy in large groups. Perhaps I could have gotten to know his girlfriend a little bit and so then I could have at least asked him about her and how she's doing.
So anyways, the whole situation is a puzzle to me. I'm not sure I should blame myself and my lack of social etiquette today or just realize that it's clear he doesn't want anything to do with me and leave it alone ...
But that's the funny thing too-we seem to communicate through e-mail just fine. But I still never learn anything new about him. It's like he just answers my questions and that's it. Nothing personal, nothing real. Nothing real. Interesting... Anyways, so it's all a mystery.
I feel bad because I am finding myself starting to purposely avoid him or actually slightly relieved when he doesn't come along to certain events. But at the same time, I am bummed when he's not there. Since we do have so much in common, there's so much stuff I want to talk to him about. But I'm just not sure how to bring it up, if that makes any sense.
Well, I guess it doesn't matter. It's just strange and I've never encountered a situation like this before. What do you think? Am I doing something wrong?

Thoughts

Packing things when it's time to move always presents several challenges. For those of you blessed to have only moved a couple of times, you're lucky. For me, I have always felt as though I have always been at the mercy of the winds-always waiting for another to tell me where and when to go.
Anyways, as I was packing up my things, I was forced to go through all the old things that I stowed away-some needlessly, and some with good reason. Among other things, I found a letter I had written to J. It was a letter I never had the courage to give him, words that have been left unspoken for years, merely thoughts on paper. I should have just put it back in the box I got it and turned away. Or perhaps I shouldn't keep these things that haunt me and should throw them away altogether, but something prevents me from doing so.
When the other boxes were packed, I picked up those pages I had set aside and began to read it. It was a beautiful letter, and memories of our time together flooded back into my heart, memories I have long since wanted to forget.
It's a funny thing-I always tell people not to live in the past; it's not healthy for you. If you're always thinking about the past, you'll never live in the present, never look forward to the future. Yet there's something about everything that happened that I just can't seem to let go.

I think I know what it is, and I am hoping that talking about it will allow me to make sense of it all, to gather the courage to move forward and pray that true love is again possible.

Although I've spoken about this before, I want to give you a little picture of something. Have you ever truly loved someone? Truly? It's a feeling that poems and sonnets and cheesy songs and the romantic movie empire have all attempted to capture. Love is like the adrenaline rush after finishing first in a race or climbing the tallest mountain in the world. Actually, it makes you feel as though you could do anything-even climb that impossible mountain. You'd do it too; you'd brave every single step even if it meant loss of life and limb just to hold that person in your arms one more time or be held, or feel the gentle brush of their lips as they meet yours. That's love.

I cannot even do it justice, or try to describe what so many who have come before me have done ever so gracefully. All I can say is that, for a brief moment in time, it truly was like a dream. It was like everything I always imagined love can be. Nothing before and nothing since has even managed to touch it even for a moment.

As I go out on dates these days, and listen to the guys drone on and on about themselves, I want to laugh because all I can think about is the guy who asked me how I felt, what I liked, who I was.

I can still remember the soft touch of his hand as he touched my shoulder to ask me something. When I touch someone else on the shoulder, with not even so half a similar feeling or meaning, the guy shrinks away, or leans in closer because he thinks it means I want to sleep with him. It has no longer become a gesture of acceptance and notice.

People confuse my open, genuine nature with desperation. But I wouldn't settle for them; they wouldn't even come close to the love I've known especially as they criticize me or cut me off mid-sentence to talk about themselves some more.

Reading that letter today, I was reminded of the person he was, and
the person I was when I was with him. When things were good, they were really good. People who know him don't understand, but always remarked on our closeness, even after we were no longer together.
There was just something there and always will be.

I sit and ponder these things these days because I am only left with those lingering feelings of the past inside my heart. I am torn between letting those feelings go and keeping them safe in my heart, where no one will ever be able to touch them.

The only problem is, I can't seem to find anyone who touches my heart in the same place or even come close. I don't want to have to compare; I want the guy to blow my idea of something great out of the water, but it never happens. I guess in writing this, every guy who likes me and has access to this blog may be discouraged (and I realize this) … but the truth is, we should all want a love that is going to last. We should all want that bond that holds us together. We should all strive to love someone the way J and I did, even if it was just for a moment.

When I hear of people in real life (every day!) who are with people they don't love, or people they've settled for, or people they're unhappy with, I get really upset. I get upset because I know what real love is and I know that every person who's with the wrong person, is just making it more difficult for someone like me to find the right person.

Maybe my person is in a dead-end relationship and won't admit it to themselves. Perhaps they don't have the courage to get out of it or perhaps they won't ever have the courage to give me a try. Perhaps my person lives in another country or perhaps is married to the wrong person, constantly convincing themselves to give it "another try." Perhaps he has just been burned one too many times and is unwilling to take a chance … but perhaps when the time is right, he'll give me a chance to change his world forever.

I also want to admit something I've never told anyone before. People often ask me what initially attracted me to J. He's got an ego the size of NYC and though he is universally handsome, he continues to hold himself as his 1 priority. Well, the truth is, we had so much in common … he would read what I was thinking without me having to say anything. It's such a rare thing when you are truly understood. It was almost as if he'd finish my sentences for me because he knew what I was going to say. Even more importantly, he'd remember little things that I'd say months later. Even S, whom I lived with, didn't seem to remember the things I said or even what was important to me. But somehow, J did.

The thing I was going to admit is that … I remember him talking about his last girlfriend whom I actually knew pretty well. She was high maintenance and came from money, if you know what I mean. Our worlds couldn't have been more different. When he talked about their relationship, or talked about the things he wanted out of life, he had the saddest look of wistful longing on his face. Just as he'd understood me, I understood him. I understood that look. I could see the sadness in his eyes, even when he didn't say anything; he didn't need to. I always thought, in the back of my mind, that I wished for just a moment he would notice me (this was before we got together of course) because I wished that I could show him what he was missing out on in a relationship.

Of course, I ended up getting to do that, since we later got together. I was convinced that I could change J's life … and I think I did. Just as he changed mine…

Honestly, I'm glad that J and I didn't work out. I didn't really know who he was before I fell in love with him. Of course I probably wouldn't have fallen in love with him had I known. But it was a great experience because I learned so much from him. I feel as though we had our moment, and we taught each other the things we needed to. I taught him how to love another person, and opened the way for his new life now. He taught me how to appreciate myself and what to look for in another person, and to wait, even if it takes a lifetime, to find it again.

Ultimately, I don't know where my person is. I want to believe that he's out there, and his heart will be as loving as a deep and endless ocean. He'll wrap his arms around me, and on those moments when I am unsure what direction to go next or what decision to make, he'll pull me closer and tell me, "everything is going to be all right."

No Life is Insignificant

As I was driving today, making my way up the hill toward the place I call home, I nodded toward a tree on my right, as I always do as a way to pay my respects. It is the only tree on the drive whose trunk has been colored a shade of red. On the ground, surrounding the trunk, I have seen bouquet after bouquet of fresh flowers. Sometimes, there is a ribbon placed around the tree, a reminder that the person whose life was ended at that particular spot, is still remembered.
I can still remember when my friend Crystal called me one day and told me in an anxious tone, that there was a stand-off at the bottom of the hill. There were police cars everywhere and they were trying to convince a man who had apparently barricaded himself in his car, to give up his weapon. Apparently, at some point, for whatever reason known only to him, the man decided to take his own life.
I didn't know him, know anything about him, know how old he was, or know who he left behind. All I noticed is the amount of cards, gifts, and flowers that were left when he passed from this world to the next. What saddened me was that this man, this stranger to me, had probably felt that way about everyone else. He felt he had no way out, no place to go, no reason to live. But if only he had seen all of the love and all of the people who loved him, whom he left behind.
What strikes me about that particular place is that, when you look out at that particular spot, you can see so much beauty. If you turn and look down the hill, you can't help but see the most amazing view of Saddleback Valley. It was as if he could not see the beauty, because he was trapped in his own prison of pain. If only he could see how much he must have meant to someone here that was perhaps waiting for him to return home, waiting for the man who would never arrive.
So I remind myself, each time I pass that spot, that each person is significant. Each life matters. Each person important in some way. Every life is important; he was important, even if he couldn't see it.
I don't know this person, or what he looked like, or what kind of life he led, but somehow, in some small measure, he has changed my life, and changed the way I look at things. Sometimes it's easy to become bitter and angry and tell yourself that things aren't that great. But one breath of life is always better (in my opinion) than death. The smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, the sound of the rain as it falls on the rooftops, the feel of warm clothes upon my skin, the feel of someone's arms around you, giving you a real hug ... There are so many little things to be thankful for, and so many people who would miss you if you were gone.
Every person touches someone else's life in some way, whether or not we realize it. Each thing we do has an impact on another living thing. Don't for even a moment, underestimate yourself or the ultimate power you have in this life. Enjoy every single minute of it. Enjoy your time with other people, for one day they will be gone. Enjoy your life, because it is never insignificant.

Celebrity: Gossip, Insight, or Crap?

This isn't a trick question. How much money do you think gets made every single day from selling celbrity gossip? You probably guessed it--millions, billions ... a lot. I read a statistic somewhere, but can't find it now. My point is simply that people like to gossip! They like celebrities and like to follow their lives because something about that celebrity sparks their interest. Perhaps they are intrigued by their looks, their attitudes, or whatever. Whatever it is that compels millions of Americans (I'm strictly speaking USA for the moment) to follow along with their favorite celebrity ends up reaping millions of dollars in profits. Even though I'm stressing the money part, it's not really the fact that we are dumping money down the drain that I want to talk about.
It's the celebrity (celeb) that I want to talk about. What is beginning to bother me is how much press time we actually give these so-called "stars" whenever something happens in their life that we consider "newsworthy." Lately, newsworthy items seem to be bad news tidbits or gossip about their sad, sorry lives. And I admit, I get sucked into it when I hear my friends say, "Oh did you hear about so-and-so" or "who is dating whom?" Because it's fascinating to see from one moment to the next who these people run to.
While it's fascinating, I'm really concerned with the fact that these are celebrities. These are people who are acting (or singing) or whatever. They are putting on a performance or projecting only the characters of themselves! They aren't showing us who they really are. They are people whose real personas sometimes get buried underneath the pressure and expectations of being a star. They always have to appear "happy" or like they own the world or else they are focused in even more by the press (take for example the reaction by the press when Russell Crowe threw a telephone at someone) ... And pretty soon, they are being picked apart piece by piece. So in all reality, they aren't allowed to have a bad day.
Ultimately, it also concerns me that we (inadvertently) encourage children and other people not only to look up to these people, but that by emulating their behaivor, we will be more like them, or at the very least, more famous. But we should really be asking ourselves why it is we put these people on a pedestal when they are real people like you and me.
These people get airbrushed to improve their skin (Cameron Diaz has notoriously bad skin / acne scars) and their photos "improved" with editing software to make them look tanner, more attractive, and thinner. So why is it that we make ourselves try and look like something that's not real to begin with? Why are we, as a culture, so fascinated by pretending to be someone we're not?
I've especially noticed this behavior, this significant change relative to the location in which you live. This behavior and attitude is especially prevalaent here in California. People seem to think that you're not beautiful if you're not super thin, super dark skinned, or super rich. Funny thing is, I'm none of those things. I clearly give the word "white" a whole new meaning, I watch what I eat, but I still need to lose some pounds, and to describe me as "rich" would be a giant stretch of the imagination.
But the truth is, I'm okay with that. What is so disappointing is that other people aren't. They talk about getting a "boob job" (or ask me if I've ever considered getting one), etc. etc. because they aren't happy with themselves.
But my ultimate question always comes down to ... How many people are actually, truly happy? How many of those celebrities, who have to hide behind masks, fake personalities, and character-based personas, are happy? Because if happiness leads to drinking, drugs, and rehab then I don't want *that* kind of happiness. Count me out.
I am still happy to watch the sun as it dips below the hills, shedding its last bit of light on my part of the world. I'm still content to take a walk with my dog and watch as he discovers something new. It's still the simple things that make me happy-not the money, or the things, or even my reputation that propels how I feel about living. Truth be told, I feel bad for people who rely on things or money to make them happy. I feel bad because it's those people who think that having "things" at least makes you enjoy life more while you're here. While an argument could certainly made for that idea, one thing I've consistently noticed is that things only make you happy for a little while.
You get something you're really happy with. You love it, appreciate it, and value it. But pretty soon, there's something new out there that you become fixated on, and the next thing you know, you want something new or different. Suddenly, you look around yourself, and your world is filled with things.
I think that we should take a look at these stars and not emulate them, but take it as a thing of what not to do, how not to live our lives. We shouldn't think that going to rehab is okay. We shouldn't think that making ourselves thinner to make ourselves look better is okay. What we should be focusing on is how to make our lives happier, how to make the world a better place, how to appreciate each other and love ourselves. Those are the things we should be encouraging our children.
Give me a role model who can do those things, and I will be happy to follow their example. One thing I've noticed as a sad final note is that ... it seems as though people now look at broken as normal. Don't get me wrong, I think that each of us struggles with something and we are all (in some way) broken. We all struggle with inner demons and obstacles in our lives. However, it's a sad commentary on the way of society to see people who view going to rehab as a normal event. They have become so desensitized to it that they just accept it- "because the stars do it." And we have started to think "It's okay to have a drug problem-because this person has it." I've noticed that we want to make "broken" normal and yet we don't really even have a "normal" to compare things to! You can't say that airbrushing photos to make a celeb's appearance better or making them look thinner is normal!
Anyways, I just thought I would share ... Maybe it's time we started finding real people to look up to, real people to respect, and real people to base our lives on.
Stars are supposed to be (as defined at Dictionary.com) as a "heavenly body." Despite all the bad press that Oprah gets (eve the good press is so sweet it sometimes makes me sick)... I've noticed that she really tries to do good in the world. She tries to be a positive role model and lead by example. How many people whom we call a "star" can say the same thing?
Before we start changing our lives, getting the lipo, changing how we look, etc. maybe it's time to start looking looking to a different direction to find the things that make us happy-maybe it's time we start encouraging ourselves to be ourselves. No one seems to like a cookie-cutter house. Greatness isn't defined by looking and acting just like everyone else. Sometimes the most beautiful (and extremely valuable) pieces of art are those that are unique ...
Just a thought.

The Filters in Our Lives

So lately, I've become much more interested in photography. There's something about taking images and making them look great that intrigues me. I think it has something to do with the fact that, with the right shot, you can not only capture a moment in time, you can almost capture a sense of being there, in that moment.
Have you ever looked at a photo and even though you've never been there, you can feel as though you could have been? The textures seem so real, so alive, they just grab you from its two-dimensional plane?
Anyways, I'm fascinated by it and recently bought a really nice although not professional quality, digital SLR. It's the kind of camera I'd say an experienced hobbiest would use or the amateur perfecting his / her craft on the path to becoming professional. But hey, it allows me to use different lenses and try different effects (before I have fun with it in Photoshop) so I'm completely happy with it so far.
There are several kits that you can buy to enhance your camera-one of which, or a few of which, are filters. There are all kinds of filters, but I'd say that UV filters, polarizing filters, and possibly flourescent filters are probably most common. Each has its purpose in the field of photography.
But specifically, the polarizing filter operates much the same way our sunglasses do. In a way, it helps provide much stronger contrast to the things we see-for example, it will help darken a blue sky or make the shadows stand out a bit more.
As I was thinking about this, I was reminded about the filters that we often place on our lives. We assign "filters" those things that we want to see, and those things we refuse to see, all in the course of our journey through life.
What's especially interesting is that it is these filters that color our perspectives and provide contrast to how we view life in general. For example, Someone who is racist uses a biased filter over the camera of their life to judge other people based on those things they believe. These beliefs, or filters, are rarely if every challenged because it requires the person (just like the camera user) to remove the filter in order to see a "normal" picture.
I often wonder what lenses and what filters, I have unknowingly applied in my life. Worse, I wonder how to break them down and make them clearer. But then, I see other people's filters, and it convinces me that mine aren't so bad.
There's a guy I know who always gets into the bad relationship. His latest "mistake" continues to treat him poorly. But because he's only been in destructive, unhealthy relationships, he somehow seems to think that this one is good for him. Or perhaps he even sees that it's unhealthy, but doesn't know another "filter" to use for his life, so he sticks with her. So he goes through day after miserable day wondering if there's someone better out there ... and there is. To quote a friend, you can't find the right someone if you're with the wrong someone.
A girl friend of mine always lets men walk all over her. Oh and ... she sleeps with them right away and always tells me, "But I thought he was going to be a nice guy." She is a super attractive Hispanic woman who could probably have anyone she really wanted. But the filter she is using has somehow caused her to view herself as someone not good enough or strong enough or whatever enough to find someone great. And so she let's herself get sucked into these situations where she feels that sex is the only way she can make them interested in her and then can't figure out why they don't stick around.
But then there's me. I think I have the "strong" "tough" filter on right now. But I've had to be that way. I'm starting to wonder if I'm too outspoken (remind me later to tell you how my boss sort of implied that I have that tendency) too independent, too stubborn perhaps? I'm not just talking about relationships, either. It seems like when I get "comfortable" in my job, I start speaking my mind when I don't know if I have the "right" to do that, if that makes any sense.
Well anyways, these filters continue to color our lives and we let them. As for my guy friend, his friends keep telling him to "dump" his girlfriend (I don't dare tell him that). But still, he keeps on trying. I am not sure that he would even recognize something or someone good if he saw them (remind me to tell you later about how he probably thinks I'm crazy). He might not even know how to have a healthy relationship or even what it means to be in one! So in putting on a "broken" or "different" filter, he in essence changed a part of his chemical makeup thus forever altering how he views the world.
I guess I am wondering at this point, if it is possible to change back--is there a magical answer for these filters we place over our lives? My girl friend claims she wants to find someone wonderful, but time after time after time, she ends up with the same kind of guy. As the friend who provides the "advice" I don't know what to do. I don't know how to remove that "filter" or even if it's possible.
What do you think?

Scary but Going For It Anyway ...

You know, when I was a young girl, we lived in the middle of about one hundred acres of woods and forest. Believe me, when you live in Oregon, that’s possible. At night, not only was it extremely quiet ... but you could often hear things crashing around in the forest.
It was those sounds that terrified me. Of course, I always ended up getting the chore of taking out the garbage. I would run as fast as I could across the driveway to where the garbage cans were. Then I would sift through the trash (a strange thing my mother would insist upon to ensure nothing important had been thrown away) and make my way back as quickly as possible to the house.
Things that scared and terrified me also made me eager to overcome them. A famous story (that my mother always tells at parties-so embarassing) is that when I was four, I saw the curtains moving on the door outside (due to the breeze) and I asked what made the curtains moved. "Ghosts." My brothers insisted. "They are trying to scare you." Well, while the thought scared me, I marched over to the door, opened it, and shouted, "BOO GHOST!"
If you fast forward, this approach to life actually is true just as much today as it was then. Things that terrify me only bolden my resolve to conquer them (with the exception of scary rides and death-defying stunts of madness)... even the idea of my current job scared the crap out of me, but I did it because I wanted to prove to everyone else (and especially to myself) that I could do it. I could be strong enough, tough enough, brave enough.
I did it. Six years later, I am still here ... having conquered many fears and shortomings within myself to be able to do it. But the truth is, underneath it all, I think I’m still afraid on some level.
Fear is a natural part of life. Some of us are constantly running from it, and others take the time to face our fears-we just do it a little bit more slowly than most people. We don’t run from them, but we don’t jump in either ...
I think I need to take my relationships slowly, one day at a time with someone patient, kind, and romantic. :)
Those are my thoughts.

Do The Math

Haley needed help with her homework. It was just numbers. Black and white formulas on lined paper. Her small hands writing with a large pencil. Remind me to create smaller pencils for smaller hands. Her faced lined in concentration as she carefully drew the rounded numbers.
She is brilliant. Her brown eyes take in everything. She’s not my daughter, but sometimes I wish she was. Her room was a mess and we made a game of cleaning it up. I forgot what it was like to be in a place where it is possible to feel like you’re in a different world. A child’s world-a world of butterflies, fairies, puppies, and happy adventures.
Every day is a new experience, a new feeling, a brand new day. Her backpack sat in the corner, already covered by discarded clothes.
She needs me to help her with her homework, but I need her to help me forget that I don’t have any children and yet remember the sweet joy of youth all at the same time.
Her dad looks on us from time to time, offering a knowing, happy smile. He hasn’t been the same since he got divorced last year. It’s as if a part of him died with his marriage.
When I’m done with Haley, I listen to him talk while he makes me hot chocolate. He tells me about work, life, and always asks my advice. I don’t want to tell him the truth, but I do anyway. I want to assure him that everything is going to be all right, but I can’t because I don’t know that to be true even for myself. Instead, I offer him words of comfort, words of encouragement. He doesn’t have much confidence these days, and it shows on his face and in his voice when he talks to me. But that is another story for another time. If only I could help him remember how amazing he really is ...
I promise him the next time I come over, I’ll cook dinner for him and Haley. They don’t get to see many home cooked meals anymore, since he can’t (or rather shouldn’t) cook. Cooking them dinner always seems to make them just a little bit happier somehow. Haley’s always asking for more ...
Then the night is over, and I make my way home, grateful for the experience, and wondering what it all means. Is it merely just another good deed, something that happens in my head? Or does it mean I’m not crazy? Of course I’m not crazy. I’m just out there, waiting for my life to begin ... and hoping to help a few people along the way. I can’t help but wonder when my time will come. What is wrong with wanting a family of my own and hoping to get that chance to make it happen? That doesn’t make me crazy ... it just makes me human.
Life is more than black and white numbers on paper or smiles or bunny rabbits, it’s the experience of getting to make a difference in someone’s life. And if you do the math, a life filled with love is a life better than just white empty paper.

I'm Ready

Have you ever had completely random conversations with people that somehow correlated? They have no idea that you've spoken to someone else and yet somehow it all fits together ... It's almost as if the cosmos is spitting out a message. Call it God, the higher power, whatever.
Everyone is talking about the power of positive thinking--you know, the idea that if you think about something you want, you're supposed to be able to get it.
Now I don't know about you, but I've thought that I could win the lottery for a long time-and not once (Not ONCE) has it ever happened.
So I wonder if there's anything to this positive thinking stuff. I mean, I'm a pretty optimistic "glass if half full" kind of person. But does that have any effect on anything that might happen in life?
It is said that happy people live longer, more fulfilled lives. So wouldn't it stand to reason that if you're happy, things naturally go your way? Because if things happen that don't go your way, I imagine you'd disregard them or get over them faster than someone with say depression would. Therefore, the negative things that happen to an optimistic person don't affect them the same way. Thus, they are able to stay happier longer. When a person is happy, then tend to forget about the negative.
I was also thinking about how people in domestic violence relationships have the tendency to establish patterns where they constantly return to people time after time that have personalities similar to their parents and statistically, that means over-bearing and domineering control freaks. So with the idea that if you think something, it will come true-this might just be the same thing if you think negative thoughts, they might just come true. Because you subconsciously put out the energy that you are afraid of this very scenario coming true. How is it that it then comes true? It might be because subconsciously you made it happen ...
Anyways, everyone is talking about the book, "The Secret." I haven't read it, but I'm sure it's something along the lines of what I am talking about.
I almost neglected to mention the idea of finding a good relationship. If you think you can find a good relationship, will you find one? Or if you secretly fear you are going to have a crappy relationship, will you subconsciously undermine it? How does that work when you don't like the relationship someone else is in? Because your thoughts don't seem to have any effect on that ... =P
Seriously, is it possible to find everything you're looking for in a relationship just by the power of positive thinking? Okay, so here goes: I'm waiting for you whomever you are. You're going to be funny, intelligent, nerdy, and perfect. Oh, and romantic too. You like to cuddle. You don't play games. You're going to figure out I'm amazing any day now and ask me out. You're not married or otherwise taken. You're kind and like children. Oh, and dogs too. There, I just sent a message out into the cosmos ... let's see what happens.
What do you think?

In Memory

I have been rejoicing in my last few hours of being 20-something. I came across a journal I wrote on January 3, 2005 as follows:
"I was shocked to learn of his condition. Co-workers had heard he would probably not make it through the night. He had gone into cardiac arrest either on Christmas or the day after. He was in a coma. The family had requested that no one visit. His legs and arms were turning black because of lack of blood circulation. Still in a coma, his family had made the heartbreaking decision to take him off the ventilator.
The told me about his condition on January 1rst and it was to happen later that evening. What's sad is that I just saw his smiling face a couple of weeks ago. I remember thinking how sick-how unwell-he looked. He was wearing shorts and his legs were thin and pale.
The last time we worked together, he told me, "Nice guys finish last," as he nervously adjusted his beanie he always wore. I knew he was talking about himself. Now, during Christmas, a time supposed to be filled with light and joy, a very good man was fighting for his life.
All that night I could barely sleep. My mind saddened with the news and my heart hoping for the miracle I knew would not come. To my dismay, I heard that he had passed sometime around 9:30 p.m. that night.
And so, cancer has taken yet another life tonight. I didn't know him very well and yet something feels different-I feel different.
The world suddenly seems colder without him. As I drove to work today, the same routine I follow every day, I was reminded that the world was still pushing forward whether or not I was ready for it to. The parking lot was full as it always was, as if nothing had ever happened. And it has been raining.
So here I am, carrying on. I don't think it has quite sunk in yet, and I'm not sure I want it to. Every time I think of him, I see his smiling face and his quiet, gentle kindness. He will be missed."
I wrote that post over two years ago and it still affects me deeply. It seems like such a sad thing when the world lets wonderful, kind, and seemingly amazing people pass on from us to go wherever they go when they die. His words, "nice guys finish last" has continued to stick in my heart because a part of me feels he was right.
Death is a part of life and growing another year older is a part of that too. But it just makes me remember how precious life is and how we can't waste one single moment of it. Yet we do. We waste it with the wrong person, with the wrong ideas, with the wrong job, with the wrong outlook on life.
You know, Victor (that's his name) worked almost up to the end. He had to have suspected he was getting sick again. Yet he came, day after day, shift after shift, and put in his time and his heart into his job. He was one of those guys who had this presence about him that was always stronger in a silent way. He never yelled at the kids and I never once saw him get upset to the point of frustration. It was as if he knew a secret that everyone else didn't. Of course, he was struggling with things most of us don't have to deal with in a lifetime.
As a strange side note, I filled in for his shift the day of his funeral service. I couldn't bring myself to go. So it seems fitting that I should fill in for him as a sort of last tribute and payment of respect. All throughout the shift, I said small silent prayers that he would find peace in his final resting place.
The only regret that I have is that I never really took the time to get to know him. How many great people do we work with and we never really take the time to get to know? How many people are in our lives that we never know who they really are? I wish I would have asked him what he liked to do for fun or what kind of movies he liked. I wish I could have found out his story or how he came to work with me.
I am going to make an effort to listen more and talk less; I've said that before. I want to be less selfish. I want to know about people. I want to find out who they are and what makes their world go round. Anyways, this is in memory of Victor and all those who have come before in my life who have passed away and I never got the opportunity to know as well as I'd like.
Joey-You were always kind to me. I'm sorry the last words I spoke were unkind. You were a great friend. (Joey and his family all died in a fire)
Paula-I wish I would have helped you in your garden. If only I would have knocked on your door just one more time ... (Paula fell in her kitchen and was there for two days and died. No one came to rescue her)
Gary-You were always great to me as my partner in drama. You always made me laugh. (Gary was killed in a hunting accident)
Sharon-Your stories, your crazy cats, your love of the Angels, and your heart will always be missed.
This is to remember all the good people who were part of someone's life and will always be remembered in mine.

Things I Am Thankful For

Hello again everyone! I am really dealing with some difficult stuff lately and I've been super busy ... so I haven't been updating you like I should.
So many terrible things have happened recently, both in my personal life and at work. Putting it all behind me, wearing a smile even when I'd like to scream, has been difficult. But I've risen up to the challenge and I know that when the dust settles, I will still have my integrity intact.But throughout all this, I learned a very valuable lesson -- several actually. But I thought I would take a few minutes to list things I am thankful for. This time of year brings about memories (some bad, mostly good) of all the things that have come before. Instead of wishing for what we don't have, we need to celebrate the small moments, the precious gifts we are given every day.
I am thankful for ...
My friends who always know how to make me laugh.My friend Gina always knows how to change the subject at just the right moment ...My friend Crystal always knows the right thing to say in every situation.My friend Sarah always has the brightest smile.My friend Liz moved away to Texas and took the biggest heart I've ever known with her. :) Miss you buddy ...
I am thankful for life; air; freedom; and justice-when the system works the way it's supposed to.
I am thankful for my co-workers for always making my life a little more colorful and give me something to look forward to each day at work.
I am thankful for my health. A few of you know that I was seriously ill in March and could have died. I am thankful for medicine and good dental care. :)
I am thankful for my dog Brinkley. Whenever I am upset, he will put his head in my lap to comfort me and will look at me with his big doggy eyes as if to say, "don't worry, Mommy. I'm right here so everything's gonna be all right."
I am thankful for my roommate and friend, Hazel. She has listened to me and been there for me during some of the most difficult times in my life...
I am thankful to have have a job; thankful to have a house with warm, comfortable blankets to crawl under when the weather gets cold.
I am thankful for Starbucks, coffee, hot tea and hot chocolate. I am especially thankful for those mini little marshmallows you put on top.
I am thankful for love. Even though it has not blessed my life, I am thankful to see that love still exists and it still makes people strive to be their best and still captures the hearts of the young. Love still makes the world go round ... even if we sometimes give love to the wrong people. Love still is Love ...
I am thankful to be blessed with people like you in my life. Each of you has touched my life in some way-either we grew up together or we met somehow along this journey. I am so thankful to have been blessed to know you.
I wish you all the best Thanksgiving ever this year ... I hope that you remember what you have to be thankful for.

What I Want!

Everyone has been asking me this question lately. So I thought I would take a moment out and put this to rest once and for all. Yes, I am still single ... still searching for that person who is going to add something wonderful to my life.

I am happy being alone. I don't need someone to make my life complete. My life is complete. However, there are so many things I would like to share with someone, so many things I could offer and bring to a relationship.

It seems like there are so many things that you can't do alone... or you can do them alone, but the experience just isn't the same. Like going to the movies. Sure, you can sit in the air conditioned room all by yourself, but it's much more fun when shared with another person. That's how I feel about life and relationships. It's okay by itself, but it's so much more enjoyable with someone else.

With that in mind ... here's an estimate of what I want. No one is going to fit in a little box of my expectations. That's why you won't see me talking about looks or any of that. I don't care what you look like. I care who you are. When we die ... no one is going to care what you look like. All you are going to leave behind is the memory of the person you were and the legacy of the things you did.

So here we go: I want someone who can make me laugh. Someone who will laugh at my silly jokes and someone with a good sense of humor. I don't mean someone who likes to make fun of other people. I don't find that kind of humor funny. It's different if you point out absurdities in people in general, but I don't like putting down people. It's not fun.

I want someone who is nice to me, who acts like a gentleman. They open doors because they want to, because it's in their nature, not because they know it will score points with me.
It would be nice to have someone who takes care of me the way I take care of them. If they've had a long day, I have been known to whip up a great dinner and finish it with a day of pampering him. I would love the same in return.

I would love to find someone who understands me, who I could talk to, who takes the time out to get to know the things I like and what I'm interested in. I'd appreciate the person who could help me work out problems I have without passing judgement or telling me how many ways I did it wrong. I want someone who's solution-oriented and not blame-oriented.

I want someone with confidence --someone who knows what they want and isn't afraid to go after it. Someone who is happy with themselves but always striving to be a better person. Someone who isn't afraid to tell you they're sorry or that they've made a mistake.

I want someone who doesn't give in to everything I want, and someone who has an opinion of their own. It is so refreshing to meet a guy on a date who already knows where he plans to take you. I can find something to eat at any restaurant-just pick a place, and let's check it out together.

I want someone who is kind to others and who is kind to me. I don't want someone who puts me down-even if we are disagreeing with each other. I want to know I can tell him anything and he will still love and respect me.

I want someone who likes animals-especially dogs. I want someone who isn't afraid to do a little cleaning once in a while and knows how to clean up after himself.

I want someone who's honest, who can tell me the truth, and someone who is loyal. Trust is important. I need someone as commited to me as I will be to them. I don't ever want to have to question my faith or my trust in the other person.

I'd really like to have someone I could talk to about things; someone who is interesting, who actually knows what's going on in the world or has something to say. It's always amazing to me when I meet someone who's intelliegent and pays attention to issues and likes to talk about them, or even someone who likes to ponder "what ifs".

Finally, I need someone who isn't stupidly superficial. We're all superficial to a point. Someone down to earth, easy to talk to, who knows that there is more to life than "things" and "money."
I'm sure I have more stuff... but that's all I'll say for now. Perhaps I'll add more to it as I think about it.

Meanwhile, I figure it's only fair to tell you what I have to offer. I mean, life is short, right? Sometimes we don't give each other the opportunities we need to show each other how great we are.

So here goes: I'm the kind of girl who would drive 100 miles to bring you soup if you were sick. I'm the kind of girl who would listen to you talk for hours if you were having a problem.
I'm the kind of girl that would wake up early to drive you to the airport, without complaint. I'm the kind of girl who would jump in the car with you and go on an overnight adventure to just about anywhere.
I'm the kind of girl who likes the cheesy walks on the beach and looking at sunsets. I have been known to stare up into the constellations a time or two looking for that falling star ... I am the kind of girl who loves romance and loves everything that comes along with that (yes, even sex)...
I love sweet things, but not necessarily chocolate. I love animals, but not cats. I drive a fast car, but try to stay safe all the same ... I love to laugh, love to have fun, and love to be silly a time or two.

I love kids and plan to be a great parent someday. But I don't want a "baby's daddy" or a one night stand to get one. I want someone who is as committed, caring, and ready as I am (preferrably after marriage)...

That's who I am. That's what I have to offer. That's what I'm looking for.I hope that I eventually find someone who is interested in continuing this journey with me ... and maybe we can sail together on this silly ocean we call Life.

Cheers and hugs to you all!

Knowing The Real Me

I have a lot to say. For those of you who are afraid by long blogs, beware…
I live in a state I have called my home for nine years now. There is no one in my family nearby, and I have thus far forged my path here alone. But sometimes I picture what it would be like to return home. Somehow, I always imagined the perfect life during the holidays … Of course I'd drive home, from whatever adventure I had just completed. I'd make it home first.
Dad would, of course, be out running errands-getting firewood for the stove or salt for the sidewalk. Mom would be waiting, the soft sounds of Frank Sinatra's Christmas playing in the living room. The kitchen, as always, is a mess. The counter-tops are covered with every type of baking material possible. Her hair's disheveled, her clothes don't match, and she has no makeup on. But her smile that lights up her face when I arrive at the door, makes her beautiful.
It smells like cinnamon and bread and the house is warm and cozy. It has not yet begun to snow, but the air is thick and the ominous clouds foretell a white blanket will soon cover the ground. I stamp my feet to remove the dirt, and Mom ushers me inside.
Pretty soon, Shauna will show up. She'll probably bring her boyfriend with her-a guy I have yet to meet. She met him somewhere in Europe, I think, when she was on the "vacation of a lifetime" as she called it. He's got an accent I hear and has a sort of old-fashioned charm with modern style. I can't wait to meet him, and see if he's good enough for my little sister.
I'm still single, but that's okay. My search has yet to result in any tangible proof that God is working on someone great for me. Of course Mom asks about it again, but dismisses it when she sees that talking about it bothers me. "Don't worry, you'll find him. I'm sure of it." She assures me. Then she asks about my job and I launch into the latest boring dissertation of the latest in law enforcement.
About this time, there's movement at the door. I hear the door close quickly and the unmistakeable sound of cursing. "Someone's damn car is parked the front of our house again." He says annoyed. But then he sees me and realizes that it's mine. He scoops me up in a rough but warm hug, practically lifting me off the ground. Then he sets me down again and says, "Hey Angel. I didn't realize you'd be here so soon." "I couldn't wait to get here." I reply. Pretty soon, Mom and Dad are bickering over something small, but then laugh about it when I give them a strange look that betrays my thoughts that they are a lovely couple despite their shortcomings and petty arguments. Because underneath it all, they are fighting because they care about making everything "just so" for when Shauna and I come every year. Underneath it all, is their love for us.
Not much time passes by before Dad inquires about my financial status and how well I'm doing. I confess that buying presents has left me more worse for wear than I had intended. Dad promises to help me pay for my car insurance at the beginning of the year. "You can't let that lapse, you know honey. It's important." He shakes his newspaper, straightening it, and then launches into his latest stand on recent politics and the state of the economy.
Unfortunately, my real family is nothing like the one I so often picture. A long time ago, I made decisions that were supposed to help my situation, not make it worse. It has taken me years to realize what it is I am doing here in California and why I chose so long ago to run away. When I chose to leave my home at sixteen, I hoped that I would leave behind my old life and everything that came with it. I wanted to abandon my real family and with it, all hopes that the "semi-perfect" family I'd envisioned would one day because at least a small possibility.
But, years later, I continue to struggle with many of the things I purposely left behind. I struggle with decisions I am not sure I am strong enough to make and thoughts in my head that seem to have no escape.
Mom continues to drink, even after all these years-even after the cancer, even after it has driven away countless people from her life. She doesn't think she has a problem. Perhaps she has convinced herself thoroughly, or perhaps her drinking problem is my imagination.
Whatever the case, I will never forget her trips to the bar when I was younger, her "overnights" to whatever boyfriend she chose that month, and her constant torture of me and my sister. She continues to be in my life to this day. We had thus far, established the sort of relationship with clear boundaries. We must set boundaries to avoid the subjects that are like open wounds that may never close. We must have boundaries so that, on some level, I can have the mom I've always wanted.
The only problem with that is, I am me. I am person that Mom doesn't know. She only knows the scared, frightened girl I used to be-the one who always pretended to be what she wanted me to be so she wouldn't hit me. I pretended to agree with her most of the time, I pretended to agree with her when she told me what an awful person I was, and along the way, traded a piece of my soul for a few moments of grace and peace. Because, as long as I pretended, she could never touch me. She could never reach my soul or my heart. She could never touch my optimism, my generosity, or my faith that one day, things would be better.
Today, I think she is still caught between the person I am and the person I pretended to be then. The person I am today does not agree with her lifestyle or the way she chooses to live. If it were anyone else, I would merely stop spending time with her because I know that spending time with people who are a negative influence on you bring you down. The real me wants to do what I always do: fix things, make things better. My natural ability to sense what's wrong and try to make it right has no place in our mother-daughter relationship. She is the person who drowns her sorrow in alcohol, and I'm the girl she doesn't understand.
To her, I am supposed to be supportive. I am supposed to listen to her go on and on about her failed relationships, her bad decisions, and her desperate implorations for money. All the while, I can hear the sound of ice cubes hitting the edge of the glass. I don't have to ask what she's drinking; I already know. Most of the time when we speak, I try my best to keep our conversations superficial. Talk about the weather and my job and how it's always the same: busy. I don't dare talk about the person I really am because the moment I do, it becomes a war zone.
Whenever I try to be myself, and talk about the things that are important to me, she will always steer the conversation back to herself. "It's just like me and …" blah blah blah. Only, it's nothing like what she's going through. Half the time, I get the feeling she just wants to bring the conversation back to her again. Most of the time, I don't fight it. I just let it go wherever she wants to take it. I can't be the daughter I'd like to be because it's unhealthy for me. I can't call her every week or discuss real life issues or even spend large amounts of time with her. Because I feel like an alien in my own family.
The longer I hear about what she does, the more it upsets and frustrates me, the more I want to try and fix things. Sometimes, the real me breaks out and offers suggestions to make things easier. "Get some hobbies." I suggest. "Find some people your age to hang out with." But the moment my real self emerges, it becomes apparent why we are able to spend so little time together. She immediately gets defensive, as if, as her daughter, I have no right to tell her what to do with her life. All this from the parent who begs me for money or asks me what to do when things go wrong.
She seems to have little thought about how I am doing financially. I have never, in all the time I have been on my own, gotten a penny from her. All the times that I couldn't make rent or I didn't have enough money to pay for things, I struggled on my own. And when she told me she couldn't pay her bills, I tried to help her. Because that's what daughters do; that's what family does-they band together and help one another out. But at some point, something's got to give. This unhealthy relationship has got to change. I have recently realized that I have little more to give other than myself, my true self.
The truth of it all is, I should be enough. But if she were to know the real me... she would understand that I continue to struggle here in California. I continue to struggle with things that she will never understand. I continue to struggle every day with the things she didn't teach me, the choices I've had to make as a result of her failures, and a part of my soul died the day I realized she had no idea who I really was. But she will never know those things. She feels it is mine (and now Shauna's) obligation to care for her. But where was she all those years when we needed caring for? How can you care for someone else when you yourself are still picking up the pieces?
Ultimately, I had to choose. I had to choose my health and well being over her. I had to choose to keep myself safe and mentally (and it turns out physically) distance myself from her. I love her because she is my mother, but that doesn't mean that I have to like her lifestyle or support it.
She has chosen to live her life the way she has. If our roles were reversed, she would not –could not—come to my aid to help me. She would be the first to run away at a hint of trouble. And although I would like to be better than that, I've realized that you cannot begin to help another person before you've first helped yourself. It's not about being selfish, but about taking care of yourself. All those years that she never took care of me—never cared enough about who I really was-or perhaps never bothered to find out. And here I am. Because of, or perhaps in spite of her, I am me. I am here in California and I am making it all on my own. I have a great career, a great family (my friends of course), and feel great most of the time. That is something that I am very proud of. And I can't, for even a moment, imagine letting her take that all away from me again.
That's the thing about an addict. They will drag you down with them if you let them. They will take even those with the best intentions and force them to their ruin as long as it results in them getting what they want. Unfortunately, until she realizes this or changes her lifestyle, we will never be friends and we will never have the relationship I've always dreamed about.
How ironic that I should value family so much and yet have to learn to listen to the voice inside me telling me it's okay to walk away when my heart would have me do otherwise. I continue to have faith that one day, she'll find out who I really am and try to get to know that person. I believe that the best gift I can give my mother at this point, is my true self. I can also show my mother how much I love her, by being a better mother to my children than she was to me. But being a better mother, a better sister, a better friend, I will show her that it is possible to love and be loved without wanting or expecting something in return.
If my true self does not always agree with her lifestyle or her mean, hurtful comments, I must remain ever vigilant and continue to be true to myself. I just sometimes wish that the path wasn't so difficult, so long, or so lonely. When sadness tries to tear me down, I push it aside and know that I am happy with who I've become and strive, every day, to be the person that would make my mom—the one who has the potential to see the real me--truly proud.