Australia

I've been in Australia for the past week. It feels in some ways like an infusion of new thought, vacations are chances to let go of every day concerns, chances to allow thoughts that are normally in the back of the mind to surface. It's been raining for most of the trip, but Ajey and I have made the most of the time laughing about rediculous things making a "Mockumentary," taking walks, meeting up with friends. We went to play dominoes at some friends house the other night, Heather and Lee. Heather has a great sense of humor, she laughed and teased Lee, pretended to be obsessed with winning... somehow that laughter got into me and the next day I burst out laughing simply recalling something funny that had been said. That was a piece of me that has been missing for many years. I feel sort of like I'm gathering myself up from a puzzle that was scattered all over the world. We also had a chance to meet up with a therapist, this man was brilliant, spot on in the answers he gave to my questions. I really need to find someone like that back home. Why is it though that so many people are lost and confused, hurt or hurtful? Why is it that so much of life is not enjoyed but pushed to the corner of our world until it becomes a point of pressure that builds up until you feel like bursting. TIME goodness if only the things that we do to keep our lives running like working and studying could be condensed... or somehow more fully integrated into our lives so that we are aware of what we are doing each moment, not just turning in our time cards to no one in particular. If only we could simply live a bit more. I see the whys of things, I see that we can't spend all of our time studying, working, relaxing, singing, too much of any one thing creates too little time for anything else. Then how are we to live? Impediments are fatigue, fear, doubt I believe them to be the main impediments. Then we need to be rid of these impediments. For me I get sick/have a reaction to certain foods/spices and that really blocks my ability to enjoy my life, the biggest reaction is a bad headache, plus ringing in the ears, fatigue. It's hard to pin point which food triggers the reactions though, today it all began with cinnamon. It really puts a cramp in life though when you have to give people a list a quarter mile long of things you can't have... actually I think I will do that, make a list, get it laminated, translate it into several languages, make it simpler... I learned from the therapist that to state the truth is the ultimate in importance in relationships, then others can think about what you say, and decide what emotions and behavior they will show. I'm going to think about that on the plane ride home, it's going to be a long one, I'm leaving tomorrow morning. As for now I'm off for some rest. Goodnight

Just Trying, That's All

This Thanksgiving turned out "OK." It seemed that none of us had a whole lot of enthusiasm for it this year. I've been working a bunch of extra hours, well technically not working per say, I've been trying to finish up a bunch of Microsoft Office training modules that I signed up for earlier this year through my Alma Mater UVU, they have a woman's resource center called "Turning Point" which paid for the course, the caveat was that I finish the training modules before the end of the year.

I signed up for them because I wasn't finding any work, but ironically I found a job about a month after signing up and I was never able to put the time into finishing them up (they take about 177 hours).

I have been able to finish up the Excel sessions, and I found my notes on Access, all except the first session that is. I will need to review the Access sessions because I completed them several months ago.

I will be so relieved to get them done...

It feels like my life has been one big push to put things into order, to just get to a point where I am able to live. I put so much time into school, every day that I was in school was a push, while having my babies and having my miscarriages all jammed into tests and lectures and cleaning on the weekends.

Since I've been divorced every day has been about pulling together my world, trying to become relevant in the workplace.  Trying to become relevant to my children. I'm afraid to face them sometimes, too many things that I can't do for them. So much that I'm trying to do... I know I do a lot but Mom's always tend to feel there should be more that they can do.

All of this, and the overriding feeling at night is that I want to be held. Sitting at work I just want to go home and be held... just held. How stupid this longing has made me, how stupid I've acted trying to fill the ache inside. 

Bluegrass

I feel like building a "Bluegrass" Playlist... :)

I'm listening to Pandora and building it as I come across new songs and artists.

Take a listen...

Lately I've run through a whole heap of issues that I never foresaw as possibilities in my realm of possible situations that I might enter into.

The difficult marriage, that's understandable, people have difficult marriages all the time. I knew the procedure there, at least I thought I did. You try to make things work, try to talk to your spouse about the important issues, try to bring up the kids right. However I found myself running into a whole lot of impotency in my ability to bring things around to what I thought the right thing and way to be was. I had a clear vision, it's the vision promulgated through the media, through my church, through cultural beliefs, for a time it looked as though the realization of those ideals was within my grasp. It was right there, right there on the edge of the next step, and then a series of unthinkable events smashed it to pieces.

Still, I felt like I had tried. I made mistakes, one of the biggest being that I got desperate and looked to someone else to take me away from my marriage before I resolved my problems. It was absolutely clear that I couldn't make the marriage work, and yet not forcing myself through the crucible of relying solely on deep spiritual guidance cut me off from intuitive lessons that I needed to learn. Part of me is dying, hiding in the corner of well intended help. I believe it is a piece of my integrity, I don't feel whole.

So absolutely my marriage had to end. I knew this, I knew it 10 years before I reached the turning point. I sat outside of my tiny apartment, diary in hand and wrote it down. I could look down that tunnel and see the point that I was headed towards, but I also knew that I had to travel that road, that if I didn't put all of the effort that I could into making my marriage work that I wouldn't respect myself. I wanted to run, at some level I didn't want to face it, but I pulled from that deep spiritual well and resolved to move forward.

Now at this point, I am in a conundrum. For the past three years I have been rather confused and disconnected from my true being. This because I stopped listening to that well of intuition that I drew upon in the past. Why? Because I have been trying to avoid hurting people that I care about. Pouring so much into trying to establish a life that has been hard for me to grasp, because it's out of reach and so far out of the realm of possibilities that I've settled into this uneasy life. Not able to say for sure about one thing or the other because I don't feel the way that I should while trying to establish this new life. All this vagueness... I'm not happy with this. I should have sorted out things on my own before trying to sort it out with someone else. That's why my blogging has been rather silent, I have simply not wanted to share how I'm really feeling because how I'm really feeling is dead inside. A lot of admiration and respect, care and concern, love... is there for those I'm trying not to hurt... but a lot of uncertainty about relationships in general still lingers and I would really just like to be on my own, if only that wouldn't hurt others so much... yes I know you're going to say I should just do what makes me happy, well it's not hurting others that's for certain, and that's the unforeseen reality that I'm facing... I really hate it.

I've been hiding away from hurt for a long time. One of the reasons why I didn't break off my marriage is that I didn't want to be to blame for the divorce. He cheated on me from the beginning and I thought that I could forgive him and move forward, but the trust never came back, he continually did things that broke my heart and I couldn't trust him. So part of me was looking for the final straw, the last thing that I would allow him to do before I broke it off, and I allowed so much! That was an unhealthy situation though, I should have broke it off simply because it wasn't working, I had tried so much and was still not able to trust him and I was hurting. But I stayed and stayed, too afraid to face what life would have looked like without someone to provide, and I uneducated (as of yet) and part of the staying was so that I could get an education, in some ways that was dishonest, in some ways I was giving him time to change...

I used to love so simply, I was so devoted (infatuated) with those little boyfriends that I had when I was younger. I never had a chance to develop a relationship with Sam, I made the decision to put myself in a compromising situation and from then on continued on that path.

Right now I'm developing a relationship with Ajey, but it's so strange. Usually when you date someone you see each other, there is attraction... the other half of the coin is not there. I'm uncomfortable with the way the relationship has been established. I felt a strong impression from that deep intuitive spirit that I should not pursue a relationship with him and when I tried to break it off I was unable to do so, my words were impotent, his pain over-rode the truths that I was speaking. Part of the reason I didn't want to be with him was that he wasn't a member of the church, he couldn't understand where I was coming from, I didn't want that in a relationship or for my kids.

A few thoughts on the human condition

Sometimes I wonder about the human condition, why some people have so much and some so little. I used to explain things to myself (as a sort of crutch) that perhaps people who are beautiful and rich are not really so happy as they seem, that they to have hidden difficulties and sadness's. But do the rich and the poor really have the same understanding about life? Do they go through the same trials?

No

and yes.

If you have no concern for money do you have a true understanding of frugality? Frugality in a sense is the careful stewardship of your resources in order that you might be able to obtain the things that you need, or to save more for future expenses. The rich might, out of good habit, decide to buy only what they need, perhaps a bit more (to "treat" themselves) but when they need something they have the resources to draw on to buy it. They buy the best carpeting (the stuff that doesn't wear out in a couple of years), the best rated cars (which are fuel efficient and well built, thus saving money on both types of car expenses). Upper class folks buy better food and live in better neighborhoods. In fact I recall a documentary/60 min. piece about this subject the rich had less stress in many respects, lived longer (because of the better quality of their nutrition and access to health care), and had fewer children (who they helped to get an education, thus allowing the continuation of wealth).

Just a few thoughts

SG

Update - Little Fellow's Neck

The bump on my little fellows neck is going down! :D

Reticence

Sometimes the truth jumps out at you in unexpected moments and you're left breathless at the implication of it. What does it mean? That I am afraid to look somewhere else for the kind of love that I see quite plainly in the picture of my friend and his wife?

That I feel special being loved by someone but am having a hard time returning the feeling as he knows it?

That I can't live with the consequence of a half life, a half love if I never even try to bring true love to fruition? Can true love be born out of constant e-mail communication, through phone and association?

Does awkwardness indicate reticence, does it mean the love isn't there? Does comfort mean it exists? Does it matter if one person wants to love and care for the other if both are not equally matched? Are we not equally matched?

I've got to come to a conclusion soon, I can't go on and on for years and years, I will end up marrying just for the sake of my word, for the sake of living out the moment. Will I regret it later on?

Or is he simply the one for me? Am I over thinking this, making an issue where there shouldn't be an issue?

He is moving, functioning in his world, the world of Australia and he's comfortable with having an overseas girlfriend/fiance that he calls his wife.

He's in this relationship because he hasn't found someone like me over there, but in fact he's stated that he found girls similar to me at church over there. But he's staying true to me because he's loyal, or because he doesn't believe that he would have a chance with these other girls.

When I was with him I felt awkward walking next to him, he's too short for me, I felt awkward kissing him while standing up, again too short. His head is small and round, I find this odd. These are the things on the main that I don't like. As well, I don't like that he's childish in some ways, that he really reminds me of a kid... all men have some aspects of the child still left in them but the way that he's childish is awkward for me. Plus I don't like the way he talks babyish to me, it disturbs my sense of self. Plus the over dramatic way he answers my posts makes me cringe.

I don't like the way he buys me stuff that I don't like, the comic books that he sent creeped me out because they were about a white guy who was a complete idiot in the midst of Indian guy's, the obvious racial slurs bothered me.

I'm not happy that he talked me into being in a relationship with him, even though I told him that I didn't want to be in a relationship with him. He did this through guilt inference, by making me feel guilty that I had told him at one point that I loved him, so therefore if I loved him then I should want to be in a relationship with him.

I'm feeling cornered, I'm feeling overwhelmed with his attention.

The mutual friendship that I have with him has been overshadowed by the hope that he has of an everlasting relationship. The mutual friendship and interests are what has kept me tied to him. Then I don't want to cause him pain. Plus all of the relatives that I have met, his family, he claims loves me and I am intrigued in some ways by the idea of going to India, meeting these people, being a part of an old ancestry with old traditions and a royal blood line. Intrigued about the mystery and power of his family. Fascinated by the friendships that he seems to command, the respect that he has in Puttar, his family's home and elsewhere in India.

I just realized something else, we all tend to comply with people that we feel obligated to. I kind of feel that perhaps Meaghan today didn't want a hug, but she's hurt and playing out a role of being hurt and when offered a hug she took it, though somewhat reluctantly and awkwardly. What this means for me is that I am playing out a role, I am being offered love and I have accepted help and support from Ajey and thus feel obligated to continue playing the role. Even though a part of me doesn't want to continue. The question is, is the part of me that doesn't want to continue bigger than the part that wants to keep going? What does this mean for me? I felt like this for years and years with Sam but could never break things off, I just couldn't and it tore me apart, it ate at my sanity, I felt stuck, obliged, drained. Not part of an ideal reality for me. Plus I am afraid of losing friendship, I am afraid of losing respect, I am afraid of hatred aimed towards me.

That's why I kept trying to appease Gabriel, I didn't want him to hate me. But I wanted him to back down, I wanted time and he wouldn't give it to me. I was so deeply emotional with him. He hit all the right notes at the right time. I felt so much romance in that relationship. The feelings I felt there overshadow what I feel with Ajey, though with Ajey I felt a brilliant sense of enlightenment, of love, and a blush. Those were under false assumptions though, I wouldn't have felt the same if I would have met him in person at the time.

Gabriel is a dangerous man, is it only for me? I'm not sure but the attraction is enormous. Like a moth to the flame.

Delicious Strawberries :)

I've acquired a new favorite habit... berries and Greek yogurt! Ah soooo delicious!!

This combination started out as a desire to counteract in part the extreme void of perceived nutrition in Roxies lunch menu, thus I picked up a treat for her (along with other yummy treats) and had a bit of the treat myself.

Oh raptures!

The delight was at first a simple combination of Organic Blueberries and Raspberries, Greek Yogurt and a bit of Stevia sprinkled on top. Yummy!

The pièce de résistance though is Greek Yogurt (sprinkled with Stevia), walnuts, and fresh sliced organic strawberries!!

Try it out ;)

Patience

It's interesting to realize the amount of patience that you've developed for circumstances and people while in the crux of exercising that patience. 

My Ex-Husband has volunteered to paint around the house and to fix things up, it is a continual effort to try to win me back I know (because he all but says this to me), but I'm letting him do it or else do it myself.

I know I could move, I know I could call on members of the church to come over to fix things, but how much of peoples time can you really count on?

So I bought the plywood, vinyl and other such materials for the project, a long process because I want it to look nice without paying too much for the job, and Sam tells me that I should call the landlord and let them know of the hideous state of the flooring that was under the vinyl. It turns out that what was there when we moved in was rather nice, the stuff under it, 3 layers of vinyl under a 1/2 # plywood was wretched.

In order to get a hold of the landlord I have to go through the manager. So I called her up and told her that I needed to speak with the landlord. She (the manager) went off on me, told me that I should have told her that it (presumably the bathroom) was leaking, that she asked me every time I handed her the rent if anything was leaking. This rant because the sub-floor beneath the vinyl was rotting away. I never told her that it was leaking because it wasn't leaking and she saw the state of the floor before. The deal with this lady though is that she likes to build up a repertoire of  things that she deems to be the fault of the tenets so that she can complain to the landlord about the problems and throw everyone into a bad light. She did this to Christina (my once neighbor) and I knew she was doing it to me so I pointed it out to her. She seemed to think I was raising my voice to her but in reality I was simply calling her out. So she started ranting about this being the Landlords property, that we shouldn't fix anything, that she would have sued me if it were her and had us evicted, but it's not her property... blah blah blah. I finally got her to calm down, call the landlord who gave me a call back and in a calm and pleasant voice asked what the issue was. I told her, she asked me to submit receipts for the job (I can deduct the cost from my rent), and asked that I make a list of what needs to be fixed to give to the manager with my rent for next month and that was that.

Goodness, heaven above.

Today's been full of opportunities to exercise patience. Patience while my Dad explains to me about good driving habits (on our way to the hardware store), while he hems and haws about the types of wrenches I should buy (I just wanted a simple set, but he thought perhaps I should buy the deluxe set...), while he goes off to find a candy bar and picks through a bunch of discounted tools. Dad's amusing sometimes if you don't let his comments about stuff get to you.

Patience... now I get to exercise a bit more of it as the toilet (reset after being moved out of the way so the floor could be replaced) is leaking from the top part (the bolts holding the top part down are rusty), so we have to flush the toilet with water from a bucket...

But all of this shall be worth it! When I can step into my bathroom and not cringe, when I can take a bath and not worry about the water leaking over the side (well not as much anyway). When it is clean and easier to clean it will all be worth it!

Now it's time for bed.

Today Was a Triumph! However other worries are on the horizon...

My family has a tradition to go up to my parents house for dinner. This a tradition that has grown out of comfortable habit, going back for 10+ years.

One of the best parts of going to my parents house for dinner is the fun and sometimes strange conversations that we all have. Today's topic, my Dad's adventures with "Cousin Eddy," which brought up "Annie and Daniel" stories, "Daniel" stories, and my kids own stories.

I think that hearing stories about me and my brother humanized me a bit for my daughter, she's loosened up for the day and it makes me feel good to be comfortable talking with her and all of my kids. :)

My worry is this:

He's had a lump on his neck for quite some time, a smaller one that you an see a little below this large one. I'm not sure how long this one's been there, he's passed most of the summer with his Dad's family and his cousins. I just noticed how large it was last week and got him a doctors appointment. The doctors got him on antibiotics (saying it's possibly strep) and I'm hoping that the antibiotics make it go away!

Otherwise... I fear to think what could cause this.

Surviving

I feel like a whole decade of my life vanished, I blinked and it was gone, and with it the hopes that I once had of raising my children to be happy, healthy and teaching them to work hard and be wise (yes, they are good kids, but I could have imbued so many good habits into them and so much practical knowledge, I can't get them to listen now).

I feel this way because I've been fighting to stay afloat by trying to get a good education, trying to be smart enough to get a good job, to earn enough money, to stay alive. During this time, so much of the time, I've had to let certain things slide like doing things with my kids, especially teaching them. I'm really seeing the wisdom of delaying having children until you've gotten an education at this point... jumping in without being ready isn't fair to the kids or yourself.

September 11 brings back the memories of my little ones being little, my fears for them, what I wanted to give them at that point, how much I loved those little ones. I remember feeling the passage of their age from little baby to small child, from small child to older child, older child to young adult...

I remember picking them up once, right as they were passing from small children to older kids (my two oldest), I carried them to their beds side by side. I held each one in turn crying, those little angels ignorant of their mothers tears. It pains me that I cannot seem to reach my daughter, that my son though easier to reach is so disinterested in his mom... he used to bring me flowers, oh how much I treasured them.

I judged my parents harshly when I was my daughters age. How I felt that they failed me, how I wished they were different. I didn't know how hard it is to live! To work, to get by, to survive! I didn't think of that! Only my mothers seeming indifference to me, my fathers cruel anger. I compounded hurts upon myself not understanding life, and darned if that's not what my daughter is doing to me.

How I wish she could know how much I love her and how much she means to me! How I wish I could give her knowledge and talent, all of the skills she needs to survive.

How I love my children, how I wish I could be scout den mother and help my boys earn their Eagles, PTA parent, baking cookies for fundraisers, volunteering to read to their class, or just here to make a wholesome dinner for them every day.

I am so tired

I spend my days at work, come home and clean, cook, and study... before I know it it's past bedtime, and I'm still trying to do something or other to catch up, to get life to make sense.

My kids are true latch key kids

I want life to be about living again, I want to feel free again, I want to dream again

For all that is dear and wonderful I don't want those who love me to hurt

Almost 2 am... time to sleep

Draggin around, But Getting Things Done

Today has dragged. I dragged myself out of bed, I dragged myself to work, and then back home again. I successfully managed to stay sane, or partially so, under the gaze of the meeting attendants in the glass bowl conference room (walls made of glass) while suffering from stomach upset and general malaise. I also successfully kept working though the software that I was using to upload my files had encountered some sort of glitch (I opened a file on our server and had the other members of the team grab the files to load them). I've been trying to work longer shifts in order to make up for the lost day on Monday, but unfortunately don't get to work early enough and haven't felt up to staying much later than a general 8 hours, today only 6.5.

Enough on these general complaints.

I've been feeding my mind as I efficiently sort out company records, a simple and mindless task. So far I've studied several musical genres and found my favorite musical styles and artists (thus far) something I haven't been able to do previous to now because I've been preoccupied with schooling and raising children. Some day I'll make a nice playlist to listen to and get the songs for my ipod.

At the moment, I've just completed listening to lectures on critical thinking and now I'm listening to Les Miserable, a work much larger than I originally thought it to be.

A word to sum up the work, Lugubrious, it is Victor Hugo's style and most often heard (out of the ordinary) word in the book. I'm struck by the dual treatment that he gives to religion, at once esteeming it by the many themes of ascetic and good followers of faith, yet also renouncing it as part of a society which follows blind ascriptions such as the strict upholding of the law without regard to circumstance.

In fact the main character Jean Val Jean is at the moment interred in a convict with his little adopted daughter Cosette and is reflecting upon the similarities between the life of the prisoner with the life of a nun.

As for now, I'm at home, feeling slightly better and at the computer writing this post and then I'm going to watch an "Online Expert" Training video on Excel (one that I've already watched but need to review since I have access to these videos through the generous grant of the UVU Womens center who paid for the training and which I will have to pay back if I don't watch them and take the tests... ).

Jumping in the Ocean

I watched "A Home of Their Own" with Kathy Bates on Sunday, it made me cry. Why? Because of the purity of her intent, her moral uprightness and scruples, her intense desire to raise her children right.

She's a widow, she has 5 kids, they are very poor. She takes them on a journey from LA to find a place to live in the countryside. They come across a house that is partially built and she makes a deal with the owner of the house. She doesn't want charity, goes to work, is honest and upright. She makes mistakes, but then pours enough love into her kids that it makes up for them quite a bit. She goes out on a date and gets beaten because she doesn't like the idea of having sex "just to get it out of the way" before the dance. No one (but my ex in some ways) has ever treated me like that, what I admire is the absoluteness of her reply to that offer (no indecision).

I remember watching this right before I had my 3rd child Sione. My husband was working in Seattle, I was alone and happy that he was gone because he complicated things so much for me. I identified so much with the characters and the story and still do.

It got me thinking about myself, my own moral life. That's a hard territory to define and navigate sometimes. I've never felt like a mean or malicious person, never had really bad intentions, yet sometimes I've had to fight certain tendencies or I've found myself walking along in shady territory more on the dark side of the line than the light.

This tends to be a more prevalent problem for me when I'm under a lot of stress and pressure, or when I'm just plain depressed.

I've tried to refocus this past week or so. Decided that a large part of the problem that I've been having with my apartment is that I've just gotten too frustrated with the situation, the fact that I'm stuck here, that the carpet is just trashed (the upstairs carpet hasn't been replaced since the 70's and the downstairs carpet is a lovely shade of cheap beige carpet full of holes and stains that couldn't help but show up since I've got 4 kids and a cat who all love digging at the carpet). I haven't had the carpet cleaned for 3 years now, mostly because it costs $70 bucks to do it and I didn't have the money or desire to spend it.

Last week (and the week before) my ex-husband pushed the couches and stuff together in the living room, took the stuff off the walls and started the process of painting. Two of the walls in the living room were finished on Saturday (the other two have large objects in front of them thus difficult to get at to paint). That being done I stayed up until 12:30 cleaning my house and putting things back into order. Monday was the same way, I wanted to go into work but couldn't stop cleaning and putting things back into order. My ex came over and started prepping the stairwell to be painted, I wanted to pick up some things at Home Depot so asked him if he needed anything over there and decided to go with him. I couldn't help running around the house looking for little things I could fix that would make things better for us. Light fixtures, outlet covers, etc. Plus I asked my ex to measure the bathroom floor to see if it would be feasible to replace the flooring in there. I ended up going back about an hour before they closed and bought a bunch of tile and stuff, it ended up costing over $300 dollars! When I got everything home I started thinking about the disparity between having a tile floor and the broken down vanity in the bathroom and it occurred to me that when I move the Landlord could easily replace the vanity (and carpet, etc) and then rent out the apartment for more than what I'm paying, so the next day I brought back the tile and bought vinyl ... now I want to bring back the vinyl and get a different pattern somewhere else (as they didn't have a very nice pattern at Home Depot).

Anyway, I stayed up so late on Monday and poured so much effort into cleaning and ordering that I'm starting to feel a bit sick... but it's worth it, both of my kids rooms are more organized than they've been for several years and so is most of my home. It is such a relief to me!

When I get that aspect of my life in order I can focus on being with my kids when I get home and studying to improve my skills at work. How I wish I really knew more about the computer, how the different programs worked together, how to keep it maintained. I've had a few problems at work today and I hate feeling ignorant when it comes to the computer.

Walking that line, I have so much to focus on... I'm trying to sort out the emotions that I haven't been dealing with in-between all that I'm responsible for doing. I'm not insincere, I really love who I love. But should I really allow myself to get pulled away from my main focus, my kids, my employment, to walk in mires of emotion? Dr. Laura Schlessinger advocates (and has advocated for many years) not dating after you get a divorce. In the midst of the dark and difficult marriage that I was in before I always hated that advice, I thought it so unfair, but now I understand the reasoning. It's not that marrying a nice guy isn't desirable, it's that not having my life and my kids lives in order before dating is like jumping in a stormy ocean.

I'm finding my voice, a little bit at a time, and at some point I will know what I want. Right now, I just want things to be better.

Wishing for Simplicity

I thought when I was young that adults knew things in a straightforward black and white way, however life isn't like that, black and white are both admixtures of many different colors, swirled around to make the illusion of a solid. They are just reflecting things differently.

Sometimes having a lack of answers is very disconcerting, personally it makes me question myself.

I have been very foolish. I really, really wanted to have a simple loving relationship, with someone, and yet refused to choose. I was tied up in knots, I hated myself. The worst thing is not being able to trust your own heart because it seems to love more than one person. Ironically I thought being honest with both of them would be enough, it wasn't. My dilemmas have been legitimate, my choices have not been.

The end result is the breaking off of a sweet friendship, one in which I found quite a bit of joy. Plus hurting many, many people.

Yet how can you choose who to hurt and who not to? It's difficult, I tend to make choices that hurt myself and my integrity simply because I am trying to avoid hurting other people.

Plus the truth. I hate stating the truth sometimes because it looks ugly, sometimes shallow, sometimes mean. Kids state whatever they think. Is that better? They point and say, she is fat, he is weird looking, you talk funny, you laugh weird. They are blunt.

I wish things were that simple. How can I make them to be so?

Would it be better to be blunt instead of dancing around the truth?  Is there a way to be blunt without being hurtful? Is there a way to make up your mind about your course of action when it involves many peoples feelings and considerations of many different factors?

Considerations, when I was young I thought it was simple to choose who I wanted to be with, someone I loved, my best friend, someone who made me smile and laugh. Tall, dark and handsome. Prince Charming. 

Last week I made a terrible choice. This week has been a torment, but I feel I deserve it. I want to be happy again but am made miserable by my choice and the consequences. In that moment the choice felt right and good, later on it did not. I didn't choose what I did out of capriciousness, but that's how it feels to me and that's probably how it feels to those who this choice affects. That is what is so utterly hard about this situation.

It makes me not want to say "I Love You" to anyone though, because those words are like a contract, they tie the person who utters them to the other. No matter how true, saying "I Love You" seems meaningless to someone else if you don't want to be with them, whatever the reason. That's how it seems anyway, it's terrible.

What are the reasons that you wouldn't want to marry/be with someone you love? Well, it's just doesn't feel right, or it logically doesn't pan out in your mind.

But I still feel sick inside and want things to be better, I want to heal the hearts that I've broken, but cannot. Through all my trying I've made things worse. So all I can say is I'm sorry and then all I can do is deal with the irony of those words...

The Pure The Bright The Beautiful

1.

The pure, the bright, the beautiful,

That stirred our hearts in youth;

The impulse to a worldless pray’r,

The dreams of love and truth;

The longings after something lost;

The spirits yearning cry;

Revivings of our better hopes;

These things can never die.

4.

Let nothing pass, for every hand

Must find some work to do;

Lose not a chance to waken love--

Be firm, and just, and true,

So shall a light that cannot fade

Beam on thee from on high,

And angel voices say to thee--

These things shall never die.

~Horace Waters

Intense Dream

My dream last night

On the main it is about a baby that has been hurt badly that we are waiting for the paramedics to bring to my parents house. Which is in my dream more like my Aunt and Uncles house, at least it is in a different neighborhood from where they live now. In a way it is also my home. At least that is how I treat it when someone comes knocking in the middle of the night and a very respected musician enters with his prodigy, I remember feeling relieved that Angie had cleaned just before they arrived. The child prodigy is a little girl, she is an excellent singer and is there to sing while Koli plays the piano. We have to wait for Koli to come downstairs and Angie sits on the couch asking questions of the little girl while we do. I fuss around in the kitchen until he comes downstairs. Then he comes down and starts to play, there are little formalities like warming up, he can’t get the note on the piano to play loudly enough for her to hear clearly so I grab the keyboard and set it close within his reach for him to play. Then my parents come in, it is a cold winter night, the snow is just barely coming in little drifts. My mom comes down with a worried expression on her face and explains to me about the baby who the paramedics are bringing. I become concerned, but wait patiently until the baby arrives. The scene changes and I am being left in charge of a baby who is sitting in a very dirty diaper, the diaper is spilling out onto its clothing, my children are pulling on my sleeve asking if they can play with the baby, I’m too distracted to address them, I pick up the baby who all the time is getting dirtier and put him in a bathtub washing away the detiris,the water keeps running and running, overflowing and I cannot control it. Then the baby’s mother steps in thanks me for taking care of the baby while she went to get diapers, turns off the water and I am relieved and wash my arms off. Then the paramedics arrive with a baby so weak and feeble that they are not sure if it will live. They set the baby down on the floor and ask that people be careful as they walk around him. I become concerned about feeding the baby. I contemplate breast feeding but realize that I no longer produce milk, so I volunteer to go to the store to buy formula. My mother looks relieved as she didn’t seem to know what to do. So I head out and start walking down the side walk. I’m heading towards what used to be Albertsons and then have this thought that nothing has been right in my life since Albertsons became Ridleys. I start to cry copious amounts of tears, they are pouring down his face as I walk. I encounter a bus that pulls up in front of me which is full of old people and I hide my tears from them. The next bus is full of young people, they see the tears and laugh at me. I notice chalk drawings on the side walk, intense, full of odd themes and I step around them into the street. I recall that the Yukon is parked up ahead and keep walking towards it. The chalk drawings continue and I am somewhat fascinated and somewhat repulsed at them. I remember wondering who could create such atrocities, then I look down a side street and there is a person crouching next to the sidewalk, almost laying on it, covered in rags and they furtively cover their face as I pass. Then I turn into a house which is sort of my parents house, again, and start looking around for something for the baby to eat. I found myself shifting through stacks of books, and picking off of the shelf organic cleaning chemicals that I had left at my parents house and placing them together on the top shelf. I recall in my mind the baby and feel some desperation to find something for it to eat but feel an urgent need to gather these useful cleaning chemicals together. I’m just lifting a stack of books to place elsewhere when my brother Evan comes and stands near me. He asks if he could have an hour of my time sometime and I agree to this. Then I come to the formulas and I am contemplating the ingredients, repulsed at them, I feel a longing to breast feed the baby again because I feel that would be the only true nourishment for it, at the same time I feel a sense of oddness about the idea because it’s not my own baby. I think about taking an herbal supplement to start milk in woman who have previously breastfed babies but who no longer do. Then I wake up.

What Has Lain Dying

As I delve deeper into self reflection I am starting to identify what has lain dying, what has been draining me psychologically.

Somehow my creative instincts have lain dying, I've no longer felt like writing, photographing, drawing.
My mothering instincts have been dying, I've felt disconnected from my kids, unable to guide and direct them.
My dreams have been dying, my goals
I've not had the energy to face them
My libido has been stagnate
My sense of direction
Self preservation
My thoughts
My spirituality, I've been disconnected from the Lord, the inner spirit
It's very draining to face this

Time to sleep for another day, and more reading...

Blue Beards Tale

I've heard of Blue Beard before but always assumed him to be a famous pirate that I had no interest in learning about. Imagine my surprise to find out that he is in fact a nobleman, the mythical crux upon which a very old story revolves. A story which in general is taken to point out the follies of a women's curiosity, but as explained in the book "Women Who Run With the Wolves," Estes points out many things that women must learn to overcome their naivety.

This is how it is told in the book.

There is an intriguing and somewhat frightening man who's nicknamed "Bluebeard." He is courting three sisters all at once, however they are frightened of his beard with its "odd blue cast," so they hid when he called.
He decides to take them on a trip into the woods with their mother to charm them with stories, food and fun, and they start to decide that he's not so bad, however the older two sisters fears return.
The younger sister convinces herself that his beard is not all that blue, and decides to go ahead and marry him, he brings her off to his castle in the woods.
Then one day he goes on a trip and leaves his young wife with his key's telling her that she can use all of them but the tiniest key, which he tells her not to use. He urges her to invite her family and friends over, to roam the castle freely, and grounds, and to have the cooks make wonderful feasts for her and her guests.
She invites her sisters to come and they were very curious souls and wanted to see which keys fit to which doors and what was in each room.
So they started to explore the castle and found stores of food, money, and many wonderful things. Until they came to the cellar at the end of which was a blank wall.
They were wondering about the last key and one of them said "Maybe this key doesn't fit anything at all." When they said this a door appeared in the once blank wall that was closing and when they tried to open it again it was firmly locked. One cried "Sister, sister bring your key. Surely this is the door for that mysterious little key."
She quickly opened the door with the key, and found that the room was so dark that they couldn't see inside of it. So they brought a candle, and when it was lit they all screamed at once, because the room was filled with blood and blackened bones of corpses.
They slammed the door shut, took the key out of the lock and when the wife looked down at the key she saw it was stained with blood. She tried to clean it with the hem of her gown, but the blood would not be stopped.
The wife hid the tiny key in her pocket and ran to the cook's kitchen, when she got there her dress was stained in blood because the key was weeping drops of dark red blood. She asked the cook for some horsehair and tried to scour the key clean but it wouldn't stop bleeding. "Drop after drop of pure red blood issued from the tiny key."
She then tried to press ashes onto it, to scrub it, then heat to sear it and cobweb over it to staunch the flow, but couldn't get the key to stop bleeding.
She didn't know what to do so she hid it in her wardrobe.
Her husband came home the next day and asked "Well? How was it while I was away?" she replied "It was very fine, sir." "And how are my storerooms?" he rumbled. "Very fine, sir." "How are my money rooms?" he growled. "The money rooms are very fine also, sir." "So everything is good, wife?" "Yes, everything is good." "Well," he whispered, "then you'd best return my keys."
He saw quickly that the smallest key was missing and upon inquiry the wife thought to lie to cover up how it came to be missing. He told her "Don't lie to me! Tell me what you did with that key!" He put his hand to her face as if to caress her cheek, but instead seized her hair." "You infidel!" he snarled, and threw her to the floor. "You've been into the room, haven't you?"
He threw open her wardrobe and the little key on the top shelf had bled blood red down all the beautiful silks of her gowns hanging there.
"Now it's your turn, my lady," he screamed, and dragged her down the hall and into the cellar till they were before the terrible door. Bluebeard merely looked at the door with his fiery eyes and the door opened for him. There lay the skeletons of all his previous wives.
"And now!!!" he roared, but she caught hold of the door frame and would not let go. She pleaded for her life, "Please! Please, allow me to compose myself and prepare for my death. Give me but a quarter hour before you take my life so I can make peace with God."
"All right," he snarled, "you have but a quarter of an hour, but be ready."
The wife raced up the stairs to her chamber and posted her sisters on the castle ramparts. Knelt to pray, but instead called out to her sisters.
"Sisters, sisters! Do you see our brothers coming?"
"We see nothing, nothing on the open plains."
Every few moments she cried up to the ramparts, "Sisters, sisters! Do you see our brothers coming?"
"We see a whirlwind, perhaps a dust devil in the distance."
In the meantime Bluebeard grew more and more impatient and called for his wife to come to the cellar.
Again she called to her sisters, "Sisters, sisters! Do you see our brothers coming?"
Bluebeard shouted for his wife again and began to clomp up the stone steps.
Her sisters cried out, "Yes! We see them! Our brothers are here and they have just entered the castle."
Bluebeard stomped down the hall towards his wife's chamber. "I am coming to get you," he bellowed.
Just as Bluebeard came into his wife's chamber her brothers galloped down the hall on horseback and charged towards Bluebeard, chasing him down the hall and out onto the parapet. There and then, they advanced upon him, striking and slashing, cutting and whipping, with their swords beating Bluebeard down to the ground, killing him at last and leaving for the buzzards his blood and gristle.

One thing that I realized after reading this story is that I was chastising the young wife in my mind, how could she disobey her word? How foolish of her to look in the room she was told to not look in! I felt guilt at the same time that I was curious myself to know what was in the room. Guilt that I would have done the same thing and I felt the embarrassment and shame that she might have been feeling from her betrayal.

Then I read on and find that there is legitimacy to the feelings that I was having, that it points out very clearly the naivety that I have had in the past and at times still have.

Estes points out that at some level a woman recognizes that something is wrong, that she feels something out of place and will begin a process over and over again trying to find out what that something is but lacking guidance and support will not be able to finish it.

Another thing that Estes points out is that a naive young woman can often does agree to "become the prize of a vicious man because her instincts to notice and do otherwise are not intact." I never realized that that is what I had done when I was 16 years old agreeing to marry the father of my child.

She mentions that "young girls and boys are as though asleep about the fact that they themselves are prey." That we are all born "analgen, like the potential at the center of a cell: in biology the anlage is the part of a cell characterized as 'that which will become.' Within the anlage is the primal substance which in time will develop, causing us to become a complete someone."

"So our lives as women are ones of quickening the anlage. The Blue-Beard tale speaks to the awakening and education of this psychic center, this glowing cell. In service of this education, the youngest sister agrees to marry a force which she believes to be very elegant. The fairy-tale marriage represents a new status being sought, a new layer of the psyche about to be unfurled. However, the young wife has fooled herself. Initially she felt fearful of Bluebeard. She was wary. However, a little pleasure out in the woods causes her to overrule her intuition...." she discounts her instincts.

Estes mentions that woman are taught to deny the truth to '"make pretty" all manner of grotesqueness whether they are lovely or not... In the tale, even the mother colludes. She goes on the picnic, "goes along for the ride." She doesn't say a word of caution to any of her daughters. One might say the biological mother or the internal mother is asleep or naive herself, as is often the case in very young girls, or in un-mothered women."

I keep thinking, yes, yes this is true, this is exactly what happened to me!!

The older sisters represent the voice of warning against "romanticizing the predator.The initiated woman pays attention to the older sisters' voices in the psyche; they warn her away from danger. The uninitiated woman does not pay attention; she is as yet too identified with naivete."

So the marriage occurs and a woman who has chosen someone who is destructive to their lives will be determined to "cure that person with love." "They are in some way "playing house." One could say they have spent much time saying, "His beard isn't really so blue."

I've been in this situation, I've loved my heart dry, bleed out my love until I was dead inside. "As long as a woman is forced into believing she is powerless and/or is trained to not consciously register what she knows to be true, the feminine impulses and gifts of her psyche continue to be killed off."

"Instead of living freely, she begins to live falsely... there is a way out of all this, but one must have a key."

THE KEY

"Provides entry to the secret all women know and yet do not know. The key represents permission to know the deepest, darkest secrets of the psyche, in this case the something that mindlessly degrades and destroys a woman's potential."

Bluebeard's destructive plan was to create a farce, to tell the wife that she was free to do what she liked but really she was not free because she was kept from the knowledge of the predator, "even though deep in the psyche she already truly comprehends the issue."

"The naive woman tacitly agrees to remain "not knowing." Women who are gullible or those with injured instincts still, like flowers, turn in the direction of whatever sun is offered."

"Bluebeard forbids the young woman to use the one key that would bring her to consciousness. To forbid a woman to use the key to conscious self knowledge strips away her intuitive nature, her natural instinct for curiosity that leads her to discover "what lies underneath" and beyond the obvious. Without this knowing, the woman is without proper protection. If she attempts to obey Bluebeard's command not to use the key, she chooses death for her spirit. By choosing to open the door to the ghastly secret room, she chooses life."

That is it isn't it!! I identified with obeying Bluebeard's command! I choose all the time to not know, I choose death for my spirit!

Estes mentions that some psychological thinkers, interpret woman's curiosity with a negative connotation but men's curiosity is interpreted in a positive way. Woman are called nosy, whereas men are called inquiring.

The sisters, who were reluctant to marry Bluebeard, Estes mentions as having "the proper wildish instincts for curiosity intact." They nudge the youngest sister to find out what is behind the door.

For me the importance of this section comes in this point that Estes brings up. "Asking the proper question is the central action of transformation-in fairy tales, in analysis, and in individuation. The key question causes germination of consciousness. The properly shaped question always emanates from an essential curiosity about what stands behind. Questions are the keys that cause the secret doors of the psyche to swing open. Though the sisters knew not whether treasure or travesty lies beyond the door, they summon their goodly instincts to ask the  precise psychological question, "Where do you think that door is, and what might lie beyond it?"

"It is at this point that the naive nature begins to mature, to question, "What is behind the visible? What is it which causes that shadow to loom upon the wall?"

In fairy tales and stories the symbolic key is often represented by words such as "Open Sesame," as in Ali Baba, or "Bibbity-bobbity-boo!" as in Cinderella.

"In the Eleusinian mysteries, the key was hidden on the tongue, meaning the crux of the thing, the clue, the trace, could be found in a special set of words, or key questions. And the words women need most in situations similar to the one described in Bluebeard are: What stands behind? What is not as it appears? What do I know deep in my ovarios that I wish I did not know? What of me has been killed or lays dying?"

That is my question, "What of me has been killed or lays dying?"

It's important to remember that this is not a simple tale about men's oppression over women... no it is more complex than that. It is about the "killing aspect of the psyche, part of whose job it is to see that no consciousness occurs, (it) will continue to assert itself from time to time and twist off or poison any new growth. It is its nature. It is its job."

It is a complex battle that each woman must face.

"What of me has been killed or lays dying? and "How has it gotten to be that way?" That is my question, that is the answer that I am seeking to find

"A starved soul can become so filled with pain, a woman can no longer bear it. Because women have a soul-need to express themselves in their own soulful ways, they must develop and blossom in ways that are sensible to them and without molestation from others."

I will talk further about this, it is so late... I find it interesting though to note that I practiced the next point that she makes to a T in my former marriage. "Backtracking and Looping."

Goodnight Internet...

Woman Who Run With the Wolves

Just a tid-bit from this fantastic book for now, the story of The Four Rabbinim...

"One Night four rabbinim were visited by an angel who awakened them and carried them to the Seventh Vault of the Seventh Heaven. There they beheld the sacred Wheel of Ezekiel. Somewhere in the descent from Pardes, Paradise, to Earth, one Rabbi, having seen such splendor, lost his mind and wandered frothing and foaming until the end of his days. The second Rabbi was extremely cynical: "Oh I just dreamed Ezekiel's Wheel, that was all. Nothing really happened." The third Rabbi carried on and on about what he had seen, for he was totally obsessed. He lectured and would not stop with how it was all constructed and what it all meant... and in this way he went astray and betrayed his faith. The fourth Rabbi, who was a poet, took a paper in hand and a reed and sat near the window writing song after song praising the evening dove, his daughter in her cradle, and all the stars in the sky. And he lived his life better than before."

Lovely lessons don't you think?

(Shout out to Ecogrrl who introduced us to this book...)