Tag Archives: loss

Kindness

kindness

Something happened at work a few weeks ago that I still can’t seem to shake from my mind.  It wasn’t anything earth-shattering.  It wasn’t something that would normally make any kind of long-lasting impression.  And yet – for some reason – it has stuck with me.  And for a writer like myself, that means I probably better sit down and let my fingers and the keyboard figure it out for me.  So here goes.

First of all, I’m a real estate paralegal.  Not sure if I’ve ever mentioned that in this blog before, but there ya go.  That’s what I do in my real life.  You know, so I won’t starve.  Basically, I do the legal paperwork for people as they buy, sell, or refinance their homes.  Now, I’ve always worked for attorneys, but I haven’t always specialized in real estate.  My first job right out of the gate was for an attorney who handled a variety of practices, including domestic relations.  That was the department I worked in.  I would sit in and listen to the depositions of people who were going through divorces.  I would field the phone calls of irate exes who wanted this, that and the other and wanted it no later than yesterday.  I would see tears fall as people came by to pick up their final divorce decrees.

In other words, it was depressing as crap.

So, as soon as I started working more in real estate, I decided that was the way I wanted to go.  There were MUCH less tears shed over the transfer of ownership of a building than there was over the transfer of people’s children and marital statuses.  So, a real estate paralegal I became.

Now, for the most part, I made the right decision.  There was definitely less drama here in this side of the legal field.   People selling a house were usually happy.  They got money.  People buying a house were usually happy.  They got a house.  People refinancing a house were usually happy.  They lowered their payments and got a better rate.  So yes, the real estate field was a relatively calm and happy place to be.

But then?  *sigh*  Then, there was the real estate crash a few years ago.  And things just aren’t quite so black and white anymore.

Refinances?  A nightmare.  To get a loan to go through, people have to give everything shy of a pint of blood from their oldest offspring.  I’m not exaggerating much, trust me.  And sales?  A lot of times we have sellers who are actually bringing money to closing in order to get their property sold.  Yep, you read that right – they have to pay to sell their house.  We see that way more often than you’d think.  And don’t even get me started on the foreclosures…  Just take my word for it, this real estate stuff is not all sunshine and lollipops anymore.

Why am I telling you this?  Well, here’s why.

In the course of a normal business day, I try my absolute best to maintain a friendly demeanor.  I really do.  (Well, with clients, that is.  Not with my co-workers…I’m not that good of an actress…)  But sometimes?  Well, sometimes it’s just hard not to slightly snap back when I’m on the phone with people who are getting snippy with me.  Especially when the person on the other end of the line happens to not even be our client.  When doing a purchase transaction, oftentimes the buyers and sellers will retain separate attorneys to represent their interests in the sale.  Most of the time, I’m handling the buyer’s side of things since I’m doing the closing paperwork (the buyer’s attorney is the settlement agent – meaning we conduct the closing).  Now, I’m telling you all this boring mumbo jumbo because it’s important info for you to know in order to understand this particular incident that won’t leave my mind.

So, here I am, in the midst of working on a closing that is scheduled for later the same day.  As is par for the course these days, I’m down to the last minute working on the stressful details to try to wrap things up so the closing can be completed.  I’m waiting on a signed document from a seller who, like I explained above, is not our client, when an email pops up from the realtor representing said seller.  The email states:  “Melissa, there may be a delay in receiving the settlement statement from the seller today.  Her husband just passed away this morning.  She will get you what you need as quickly as she can.”

Wow.  Her husband just died?  What a tragedy.  Knowing the circumstances now, of course, we are very understanding and will accommodate in anyway possible.  A delay in receiving her signature?  No problem at all.  Totally understandable.

And then, the phone rings.

No sooner had I clicked off of the email than I heard the seller’s voice on the on the other end of the line asking for me.  Now, although she introduced herself, she did not once mention what had happened to her this morning, and probably didn’t realize I knew.  She just immediately started…how do I put this?…complaining.  Every single thing on the settlement statement that she needed to sign was wrong.  I didn’t do this right.  I didn’t do that right.  Her property taxes were already paid and I was showing that they weren’t.  (FYI – They weren’t paid.)  She went on a tirade about all the things that was wrong and that I needed to fix IMMEDIATELY.

Whoa.

So, let me tell you how the Melissa who had not just received that email might have responded.

“Ma’am.  Your taxes are NOT paid.  I called the county tax office to confirm and they told me so themselves.  Would you like their number?  I’ll be glad to give it to you.  Any and all other concerns will need to go directly through your realtor or your attorney – we do not represent you.”

The end.  (And you can rest assured that there would probably be a little snip to my tone of voice as well.)

But the Melissa who had just read that email?  The Melissa who now knows that this poor woman has just lost her husband this very morning?  Well, here’s how she responded.

Ma’am, I’m sorry there are so many problems.  Let’s deal with them one at a time.  As for your property taxes, I understand you’re from Florida and the way Florida and North Carolina pay their taxes differs and may be what is causing the confusion….”  And so on, and so forth.

Because I knew what she was going through, I softened my tone (and my attitude) and helped her to understand what was wrong.  Together, we went through each issue item by item and came to an understanding and an agreement.  By the time we hung up the phone, she sounded much more pleasant and even somewhat relieved to now understand what she had perceived as issues.  She never told me what had happened to her that morning.  Not once.  She provided no explanation whatsoever.  She was just a somewhat frantic, understandably distraught woman trying to take care of necessary business that had to be attended to in the midst of unthinkable sorrow.  And I knew that because I had received that email just prior to her call.

But what if I hadn’t?

And how many times have I spoken to people just like her without receiving an explanatory email beforehand?

Yep.  Makes you stop and think, doesn’t it?

Now, believe me, I’m preaching to the choir with this one.  I need this lesson as much as you do, probably more.  But I’m asking you to do what I’m going to try to do from now on…treat everyone as if they’re fragile.  You know?  Sure, maybe the hateful person you’re dealing with has no excuse whatsoever to be acting the way they’re acting.  Maybe they’re just a jerk.  Maybe there’s no sad, heartbreaking explanation for their horrible attitude.

But, then again. Maybe there is.

Maybe there’s more to the story than you know.  Maybe they’re under a stress that you can’t even begin to imagine.  Maybe they’re hanging on by a thread.

Maybe they just lost a loved one right before speaking to you.

We just never know, do we?

Something to think about.

***

If we knew each others secrets, what comforts we should find.”
– John Churton Collins

 

Vanessa

“I have never felt more beautiful in a dress and I was denied the opportunity to wear it. Instead of leaving it to hang alone and dejected in my closet, I took it out and wore it. I wore the hell out of it.”
– Vanessa Schilling

I spend a lot of time using this blog to tell my stories.  Today, with her permission, I want to tell you someone else’s.

As some of you may remember from a previous blog, I got an awesome opportunity a few months back to play Glinda the Good Witch at a weekend festival in Beech Mountain, North Carolina.  I could fill this blog for a year with stories from that experience.  It was just so friggin cool.  And, truth be told, I will probably reference various tidbits about it for the rest of my life. Therefore, allow me to go ahead and issue my formal apology right now for that and just get it over with.  In fact, may I suggest a drinking game?  Every time I say the word “Oz” or “Glinda” or “good witch” or “Darn it, I miss being a pretty pretty princess!!!,” just go ahead and chug. Hey, everybody wins!  I get to talk about Oz [DRINK!] and you get to put yourself in the mindset to put up with reading the rest of my blog.  Ok, wait.  Maybe I’m the only that wins?  Eh.  Either way…drink up!

Whew.  This blog girl sure knows how to digress….

So, back to the point.  One of the first experiences I had after just arriving at Oz [you paying attention?  DRINK!] was meeting a lady named Vanessa.  In fact, I have a photo from about 5 seconds after meeting her.  Wanna see it?

mevan

There you have it folks.  I kid you not.  It went pretty much like this, “Hi, I’m Vanessa, and I seriously have to get under that dress.  Hold still….”  Now, granted, that might not be the first time I’ve ever heard that in my life after just meeting someone, but I can honestly say it was the first time I’d ever heard it from a woman…

But in all seriousness, that story right there pretty much described Vanessa –  a funny, charming, risk-taking breath of fresh air who quickly became my friend.  She ended up being one of my roomies for the weekend and I found myself looking forward to just being around her.  No pretension, no formalities – you could just be yourself around Vanessa because she brought that out in you.  She was ‘real.’  And I liked that.

And along with being real, you wanna know what else she was?  About 8 months pregnant.  Yep, there were actually two people under that dress in that picture up there.  (And room for plenty more, to be quite honest…)  Vanessa, who usually played the wicked witch for this Oz weekend, was just along for the ride this time since it might look a little odd to have the wicked witch of the west with child.  Didn’t want to confuse the kiddies, ya know.

So, Oz weekend came and went and we all discarded our costumes (Darn it! I miss being a pretty pretty princess…[DRINK!]) and went back to our lives.  Thanks to good ole Facebook, however, we were all able to keep in touch.  I eagerly awaited the updates from my new friend Vanessa’s pregnancy and was excited to see that bouncing baby boy bundle of joy arrive a few weeks later.  Her military husband had just arrived from his tour in Afghanistan and her happy little family was complete.  

And boy do I wish this story could end here.

Unfortunately, however, as often is the case, Life has a way of stepping in and not letting stories end all tied up in the pretty red bow like we wish they would.  And this time is no exception to that sucky rule.  Just a few short weeks after Vanessa’s baby was born, her husband dropped the bomb.  He told her he wanted to end their marriage.

I sat and watched, helpless, as my friend’s world was falling apart.  I watched her go through the motions.  Sadness.  Defeat.  Confusion.  Fear.  Anger.  Anguish.  I could list vocabulary words for days and none of them could adequately describe the pain.  And I, like so many of her other friends, had no idea what to do to help her.  So, we watched helplessly from afar, hoping that our empathy could somehow reach through the technology waves to let her know that she wasn’t alone.  What else could we do?

I found myself thinking of Vanessa so often throughout the day.  This vibrant ball of energy had lost her spark.  And though I had only known her for a short time, it truly affected me to know that her spirit had been crushed.  And one of the posts in particular that she had on Facebook especially tugged at my heartstrings.

Vanessa had just gone shopping for  a new dress to wear to her husband’s formal military ball.  And, as a lot of us who have been mommies know, your body is barely your own after you’ve just given birth. We can all imagine just how thrilled she was when she found the perfect dress, post-baby body and all.  A sweet little red number that accentuated her curves to a tee.  She had found THE dress.  The one that was going to make her the belle of the ball.

Well.  There went that.

All dressed up, and no place to go.

As the date for the military ball drew closer, Vanessa’s hurt and pain increased.  This was supposed to have been her night.  Much like the feeling I had as Glinda during our Oz weekend – now it was Vanessa’s turn to be the princess.  To don the dress and watch the heads turn as she walked arm-in-arm with her prince.  She was supposed to feel beautiful again.  This was going to be night that fairy tales were made of.

Only the prince didn’t hold up his end of the deal.

And there you have it.  This sad story could have ended right there.  No ball, no dress, no fairy tale.  The end.

But no way.  Not a chance.

This was Vanessa.

Vanessa had a decision to make.  Now, most of us would understand if that decision involved sitting around the house eating a large tub of ice cream and staring at the beautiful dress hanging on a hanger in the closet, right?  Of course we would.  Heck, that’s probably exactly where I would have been if I was her.  But oh no.

Not her.

Tucked underneath all that hurt and pain and anguish was the same girl that had climbed underneath all that tulle only seconds after meeting me.  That risk-taker.  That fun-loving breath of fresh air.  That beautiful tower of strength.  And for a few hours, Vanessa made a decision that took the last bit of courage she could muster.

She pried open the heavy door of pain, and let the real Vanessa run free.

vanessa2

Armed with the combination of her incredibly talented photographer friend, Van Roldan, a gorgeous white horse, a sexy red dress, and an enormous well of strength that I don’t think she even knew she had, my friend Vanessa decided that she didn’t need the prince in order to be a princess.

Channeling all of that pain into something beautiful, Vanessa got that dress out of the closet and created her own memories. And then she decided to share the result with the rest of us.

vanessa3 vanessa4 vanessa5 vanessa1

I looked through these pictures this morning with tears streaming down my face.  This was it.  That display of human strength and resilience that I am constantly striving to put into words in this blog?  These pictures did it.  Vanessa did it.

vanessa6This girl is a survivor.  We are all survivors.  No matter what life throws our way – no matter how many times we are left sobbing on the floor feeling the world crash in around us – we always, always find a way to drag our sorry selves up off the ground, brush the dust off, and put one foot right back in front of the other and keep moving forward.  Even when we think the world should stop spinning, by God, it just doesn’t.  It just doesn’t.

So, we might as well just do what my friend Vanessa just did.  Hop right back on that horse and see what’s waiting around the next bend.  And hey – why not look sexy as hell while we’re doing it?

Thank you for letting me tell your story, Vanessa.  I am certain that someone out there somewhere needed to hear it.  I know I did.

Welcome to your new role as an inspiration.

vanessa7

***

Four things greater than all things are, –
Women and Horses and Power and War.
– Rudyard Kipling, “The Ballad of the King’s Jest”

Seasons

“No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.”
– Hal Borland

Ahh. ‘Tis the season.

The holidays. The time for joy. The time for sharing. The time to look around and appreciate the ones you love – hold them close to you and thank your lucky stars that they are in your life. You know, all that warm fuzzy stuff. Awwww.

christmasAnd boy, it sure would be nice if that were all the holidays were about.  But unfortunately, it’s not.  Because, you know what else this time is?

It’s the time of year that makes it painfully obvious when one of those “people that you love”…is missing. And you know what especially stings?  When that person who is missing during this happy holiday season, is missing by choice.

I talk about my happy relationship a lot on this blog. And it is very much that…a happy relationship.  Yes, we have our ‘down’ times just like any relationship does. But, even during those times, we both know how very lucky we are to have each other. We are in a loving, committed, and most importantly, an equal relationship that makes us both feel fulfilled and excited and hopeful for a long future together.  And I wonder sometimes how other people see these things I say about our life together, especially those who are recently single or who are just generally ‘unattached’ for whatever the reason.  I’m sure they look at what I say the same way I used to look at it when other people would say it.  Which was, “Well yeah, that’s great that this happening for you, lady, but it’s not like that for all of us.  You’re just one of the lucky ones.  Every story doesn’t have a cute little ending, Miss Happy Pants.”

Well, guess what?  I’m with ya, sista. (Or brotha, as the case may be.)  I am – I completely hear what you’re saying.  And you know why?

Because it certainly hasn’t always been this way.

christmas09I was just looking through some old pictures from Christmases in the not-so-distant past, and I came across this picture of my kids and me from the Christmas season of 2009, just four short years ago.  We sure do look happy, don’t we?  But I’m gonna tell you a secret.  See that smile on my face?

It’s fake.

Yep.  It sure is.  It’s about as fake as a smile can get.  Now, I’m not saying being there with my kids didn’t make me happy.  It did.  But as you can tell from the way I have my hands placed on them, I was holding on to them for dear life.  They were my anchors in the storm that my life was going through.  Behind that smile, there was so much hurt.  So much pain.  So much uncertainty and confusion.  And most of all, so much sadness.  I was going through a time that I sometimes thought I was not going to make it through.

What was happening, you ask?  Well, it’s simple.

My heart was broken.

In one of my previous blogs, I referenced what I like to call my “breakup bible.”  It’s the book, It’s Called A Breakup Because It’s Broken by Greg Behrendt and his wife Amiira.  (If you’re hurting over the end of a relationship, go read it.  Like, now.  Trust me on this.)  So, in this breakup bible of mine, there is the following quote:

“Being brokenhearted is like having broken ribs.  On the outside, it looks like nothing is wrong, but every breath hurts.”

Holy crap, is there so much truth to that.  It’s hard to function in any of your day-to-day activities when you can’t even take a breath without pain.  And that’s how I felt.  People can minimalize the pain of a breakup all day long, but I’ll be the first to call “BS” on that nonsense.  Heartbreak friggin hurts.  Bad.  And that’s how I was feeling during the Christmas of 2009.  I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this on this blog before, but I’ve been divorced twice.  Yep, you read that right.  Twice.  My first marriage was to my children’s father, and that ended years ago, back when my babies were just little.  We were both young and got swept up in the family life before we were ready.  That kind of thing happens, ya know.

But my second marriage?  Yeah, I can’t blame youth on that one.  And I can’t blame getting married out of some sort of ‘necessity.’  No baby was on the way or anything along those lines.  Nothing was ‘forcing’ us to get married.  I also can’t blame it on poor planning.  We dated for over three years before finally deciding to get married.  To be honest, I can’t blame my choice to get married to him on anything other than the fact that I loved him.  I did.  I loved him, he loved me, and we thought we were going to build a life together, regardless of the statistical odds that we were facing.

Well.  We were wrong.

After all that planning, after those years of dating, and after all of the conversations about how we weren’t going to be one of the statistics, we became just that.  Another statistic.  And it hurt.

No, that’s putting it too mildly.  It didn’t just hurt.  It was excruciating.  This wasn’t just your run-of-the-mill relationship breakup.  This was the breakup of a marriage.  The breakup of a newly-formed family (we both had kids from our previous marriages).  This was a decision that affected us all to the core of our beings.  And that picture up there that I showed you?  That picture was taken about a month after I had moved out of the home we shared and into my own little trailer.  It was the only thing I could find that I could afford.  I was starting from scratch.  Again.  I sure didn’t see that coming on the day I took those vows.  (Do we ever?)

But now, let’s skip to Christmas 2013.  Four years later.

fampicHere we are.  Richard and I and our kids.  All together.  All healed and happy and ready to face the future.  Here I am doing exactly what I swore I’d never do.  Not only was I not going to fall in love again, but I sure as heck wasn’t going to fall in love with a man with kids.  You can read all the self-help books in the world about how it feels to lose a relationship or a marriage, but I can guarantee you that there isn’t much out there to help you through the pain of losing step-kids.  Once my marriage ended, so did my ties to his children.  And I was going to make certain I would never fall in love with a man’s kids again like I fell in love with them.

But I was wrong.

I think I fell in love with Richard’s kids before I fell in love with him, to tell you the truth.  And I’m not so sure it didn’t happen the same way for Richard with my kids.  And Richard had the same reservations I did.  He was hurting from a previous loss as well.  Even if he hadn’t told me, I could see it on his face.  He was just like me…he had made all the same promises to himself that I had made.  No more relationships.  No more commitments.  No more love.  It’s just too darn painful.

Ha!  Well, look how that turned out.

I don’t know you, and I don’t know your specific situation.  My readers are as diverse as any set group of individuals always are.  But if you’re one of the ones who is getting ready to face this holiday season alone after the end of a relationship, this blog is for you.  All I want you to know is this.

Pain ends.

It really truly does.  The future that you think you won’t have with anyone else?  You’re wrong.  It’s there.  That relationship bliss that you think is reserved for big-mouth redheads with their own blog?  You’re wrong there too.  It’s waiting for YOU.  Yes, you.  Maybe not today.  Maybe not tomorrow.  But one day down the line, it’s going to be your turn.  If someone would have told me that back during the Christmas of 2009, I would have said the same thing to them that you’re thinking right now.  That kind of thing is for other people, not for me.  And I would have been just as wrong as you are.

Just as wrong.

I am writing this blog with one particular person in mind, but as I have seen from many of the other things that I have written, we are never ever alone in our struggles.  For this one person’s pain, there are millions more who are feeling it too.  We are all connected and that pain that you feel is reserved for only you, isn’t.  The pain isn’t yours alone, and the happiness isn’t mine alone.  These are just seasons.  We all get a turn.  The world keeps spinning, even when you feel like it shouldn’t.

So keep on keepin’ on, my friends.  Your happy may be just around the corner.

Merry Christmas.

***

“Nothing lasts forever – not even your troubles.”
– Arnold H. Glasow

Chasm

splitpaths1

Chasm

And then, just like that,
It happens.
Up ahead, you see it.
The path is splitting.
Your companion takes no notice.
They follow on their path as if nothing has changed.
As if nothing looms ahead.
But you.
No.  You’re different.
You’ve always been different.
You see what others do not.
What they will not.
Your paths are not the same.
You know the other path is not the one for you.
The things that please others do not please you.
You find your contentment among books, words,
Children, footsteps on pavement.
But not there.
Not where that path leads.
The loudness, the chaos, the fake laughter, the mornings after.
No.  No, those aren’t for you.
You have stepped over to that path in the past,
This is true.
But it was fake.  Not the real you.
You hurriedly made your way back to the path where you belong.
Where you felt safe.
Where you are content.
Where your footsteps make sense.
Where your smiles are genuine
And there is no pretending.
But now.
The distance between the paths is getting wide.
The chasm is no longer traversable.
Reaching out to hold the hand of your companion
No longer seems possible.
The path is splitting.
You hold on for as long as you can.
Until fingertips are all that connect you.
You stretch.  You reach.  You strain.
It’s no use.
The distance is too evident.
Too much.

Someone must step across.

Or let go.

***

“Look at every path closely and deliberately, then ask yourself this crucial question:  Does this path have a heart?  If it does, then the path is good.  If it doesn’t, it is of no use.”
– Carlos Castaneda

The Kiss

“Love is when you like someone so much that when you look at them, you just want to kiss their face.”
Riley, age 12

kiss

My boyfriend’s son and I were having a conversation a while back (we do that a lot actually – there’s just something about that kid…) and the topic of “love” came up.  I can’t really remember the details of what was said, but I remember asking him what his definition was, and his answer was what I quoted above.  You just want to kiss their face.  I jotted it down (that’s what we writers do) and knew that I wanted to use it one day, but just wasn’t sure how.  I mean, it wasn’t exactly “deep” or “meaningful” or anything – but there was just something about it that struck a chord in me and I didn’t really know why.

Until now.

I think I may have just figured it out.

In the past few weeks, I have seen two of my friends go through heartbreaks.  And in both of these circumstances, the men that were supposed to have loved them, have hurt them.  Deeply.  As I have listened to their stories (feeling my own heart break right along with them), I have come to realize something.  Something that humbles and moves me with a feeling that it is hard to even put into words.

I will truly never know what that feels like, ever again.

I mean, I’m the chick that blogs about hurt and pain all the time.  About rising from your circumstances and about forgiveness and about moving on, and blah, blah, blah. But as I have listened to what has happened to them at the hands of the men they loved, I know, deep in my heart, that I will never be using that kind of pain as my motivation for future writings.  Why is that?  Because I know, without a doubt, that Richard will never hurt me like they’ve been hurt.

I know what you’re thinking...yeah, right.  We ALL think that about the person we love, and then we find out something later on that shatters our illusions.  Everyone is going to hurt you, no one is perfect.  Get your head out of the clouds, stupid blogger girl.  

Ok, I get that.  Richard and I are going to hurt each other at times, there’s no doubt about that.  I hear what you’re saying.  But here’s the difference.

Richard would never intentionally hurt me.  Nor I him.

That’s the difference.

Let me explain. Any problems that he and I have had over the time we have been together (and there have been plenty) all seem to have this underlying theme to them.  If we took each and every one of our disagreements and misunderstandings and dissected and examined them, you would see that at the heart of each and every single one lies one common denominator: trying not to hurt one another.  In trying not to hurt one another, we have made some stupid mistakes.  We have withheld information, withheld communication, withheld necessary information at times – all just to try to avoid hurting the other.  And then, when this information is unearthed, it causes a problem.  Now, I’m not saying that this is exactly healthy, per se.  We need to work on that, I know.  Hey, we’re just as screwed up as the rest of the couples out there in the world are, I know this.  I’m not trying to say we’re not.  We don’t know what the heck we’re doing either.  But the major difference that exists here is this.  We never ever try to hurt one another.  You know?

And that is what I’ve seen my friends going through.

With both words and actions, these men have shown their women things that have crushed them.  Sure, the men think they have excuses for what they’ve done (don’t we all?), but the cold, hard fact is this – they have done something on purpose that they knew, without a doubt, would break another person’s heart.  And that really, really, sucks.

Which brings me back to where I started this blog.  12-year-old Riley’s quote.

“Love is when you like someone so much that when you look at them, you just want to kiss their face.”

Look at the relationship that you’re in.  Right now – take stock and look around.  Assess your partnership.  Get rid of all the stupid little details that don’t matter at all – throw out the things that just annoy you about him/her, or vice versa.  Throw out anything that has happened in their past before you ever came along.  Throw out any of the daily minutiae of money issues, work stresses, kid struggles…forget all of that for just a minute.  Just look at your partner with the simplicity of that 12-year-old and ask yourself this.

When I look at him/her, do I just want to kiss their face?

And maybe more importantly, do I think that when they look at me, they want to do the same?

There’s something so tender and gentle about kissing someone’s face.  It’s not like a full-fledged kiss on the lips.  For one, you don’t really get anything in return – the kiss is just for them.  It’s not selfish, it’s not passionate, it’s not greedy.  It’s just a simple show of love towards the person that has captured your heart. Whether it be a kiss on the cheek or a kiss on the forehead, either way it’s a kiss that is full of giving, not receiving.  And I think that’s so important to pay attention to.

Ask yourself if you are giving this kind of selfless love to the person in your life.  And then, if you’re in the circumstances that my sweet, heartbroken friends are in, ask yourself this same question as the recipient.  Are you receiving this kind of love?

Are you?

Turns out, this 12-year-old may have known what he was talking about.  Love is selfless.  It’s tender and gentle and would never ever hurt you on purpose.  Love is a gift.

Real love is a kiss on the face.

Do you have it?   Don’t settle for anything else until you do.  Trust me on this one.

***

“A man’s kiss is his signature.” 
– Mae West

Trust

trustblog

I saw the above picture the other day, it made me stop in my tracks.

Wow.

And then shortly after, I saw this quote:

“Learning to trust is one of life’s most difficult tasks.”
Isaac Watts

Putting the two together, I have decided something.  I think the quote needs to be tweaked a little.  I think the word “learning” needs to be replaced with the word “remembering.”  It’s remembering to trust that needs work, wouldn’t you say?

Let me tell ya a little about myself.  I may just possibly be the most suspicious, non-trusting, skeptical person you’ll ever meet on the planet.  Oh, it’s true.  And I don’t just mean about the big stuff (relationships and whatnot).  No, I mean about everything.

My kids tell me they’ve had a good day at school?  I wonder what part they’re not really telling me.

Someone does something nice for me?  I wonder what’s really in it for them.

My coworker says she has a stomach ache?  I think she’s just looking for attention.

Oh yeah, it’s that bad.  Basically, I’m a jerk.

Oh, don’t get me wrong.  Eventually, I believe what I’m told.  Eventually.  But that first, initial gut reaction?  Disbelief.  Non-trust.  Skepticism.  And if it’s like this about something as stupid as a coworker’s stomach ache, then you know it has to be bad with matters of the heart, right?

Now, why am I like this?  Why does that picture above describe me (and probably you too, if you’re honest) to a tee?….

Hell, I don’t know.

What?  You were wanting some deep-seated answer to the burning question of why people are so jaded?  Well, you’re not going to get it from me.  In fact, if you figure it out, please write a blog yourself and I’ll post it on here.  I’d be interested in reading it, along with the millions of other people who are exactly like me (and you know it!).  Oh, now I could come up with a million excuses if you really want me to.  I can tell you about the times I’ve been lied to over the years or the times I’ve been heartbroken over believing something to be true that wasn’t.  Blah, blah, blah.  But you know what else I can tell you?  I can tell you the times that I have lied to others.  The times that I have broken someone’s heart.  If I take the time to start telling you about being jaded because of what was done to me, I need to be fair and tell you about the times that I’ve been the one doing the jading myself.  It’s only fair.  What I’m trying to say is that I can’t sit here and blame others for making me who I am.  I’m just like them.  They are just human, and so am I.

No, I can’t pin this on someone else.  I have to accept the blame.  I have to realize that I have allowed myself to become like the last person in that picture up there.  No one else did this – I did it.  And it’s time to stop.

So, back to the quote.  Like the picture illustrates, we are born with this innocent goodness, or naivety if you will.  We start out filled with unlimited amounts of love and trust for everyone around us, because we just truly just didn’t know any better.  Years ago, I remember standing at the top of the Space Needle in Seattle, Washington with my friend, Nathan.  As we were looking down over the top, we started a conversation about the fear of heights.  About how this fear has to be learned.  We mused about the certain fact that if a newborn baby were held over the edge of this massive structure, it wouldn’t know any better than to coo and sleep or smile or drool or whatever the heck it was already doing before it was suspended 600+ feet above the ground.  It wouldn’t have learned fear at that point.  Until you have fallen, or seen someone else fall, you can’t know that it would hurt to do so.  Right?

Well, we aren’t newborn babies.  And each and every one of us has fallen.

And it hurt.

It’s only natural to be more careful of the fall now, right?  But here’s the deal.  If you never climb up that high again, you’ll never get the opportunity to see all the beautiful sights that can only be seen from that height.  Sure, you are 100% certain to never fall if you never climb, but rather than refusing to climb altogether, how about just taking a look around for a second.  See the guard rails.  The safety nets.  The many, many that have gone before you and haven’t fallen.  Sure, there’s a chance that you could fall anyway. I know that.  But you have to ask yourself – is it really worth it to stand on the ground and miss what everyone else is up there seeing?

Is it?

“You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you don’t trust enough.”
Frank Crane

Yeah.  That.

Stop blaming others.  Ok?  Recognize that the fear exists because you allow it to.  Start making choices today to help undo the damage that you have caused yourself.  Life’s too short for anything else, isn’t it?

Come with me, and let’s climb up there and take a look around, ok?  There is sooo much to see.

Ready?

***

“The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.”
– Ernest Hemingway

Me

me

“What a laugh, though.  To think that one human being could ever really know another.  You could get used to each other, get so habituated that you could speak their words right along with them, but you never know why other people said what they said or did what they did, because they never even know themselves.  Nobody understands anybody.”
– Orson Scott Card

I am going through a very hard time right now.  The reason?  Doesn’t matter.  Just another hard time – you know how it is.  You have them too.  It would be great if life stayed up there on those peaks all the time, but we all know that the trail dips to the valleys every now and then.

And it sucks.

But this time, I’m starting to realize something.  Most problems we have (all of us – not just me), at their very core, exist because people just don’t understand one another.  And like the quote above illustrates, how can we?  We don’t even understand ourselves.

Well, I don’t know if you care or not, but I’m going to use this blog to try to understand myself.  I’m getting ready to describe…me.

And you know what?  Maybe by the end of it, you’ll understand me too.  And hey, who knows?  Maybe this might even help you understand you.  Or at least try.  That’s all we can do, right?

“Walk with me for awhile, my friend—you in my shoes, I in yours—and then let us talk.”  
– Richelle E. Goodrich

I am passionate.

I mean, seriously.  I don’t half-ass anything.  When I feel something, I freakin feel it.  As you can imagine, that can go both ways.  When I love you, I soooo love you.  I’m hopelessly devoted and cannot even imagine being with anyone else.  But when a negative emotion hits?  You’re going to get the same intensity as the positive.  If I’m mad, I’m furious.  If you hurt me, I’m crushed.

I am innocent.

I hate to admit that, but I am.  I’m naïve.  I truly don’t understand this new world that we’re in where relationships have become casual and ‘hooking up’ seems to be the norm.  I don’t desire to go out and drink until the wee hours of the morning.  I have no desire whatsoever to ‘date.’  I am the most happy when I’m in a loving, committed relationship.  Nothing else will do for me. My preferred past-time is hanging out with a bunch of kids and goofing off – not partying.  Does that make me a dud?  I guess.

I am loyal.

Once I am committed to something, I’m in.  You can trust me 150%.  There are no gray areas.

I am obsessive.

I admit it.  I find it so incredibly hard to get my mind off of whatever is bothering me.  I want to fix it.  And a lot of people’s way of ‘fixing’ something is to find something else to temporarily ease the pain.  Not me.  I want to talk it to death; beat it to death; squeeze it until every last drop of life is gone.  I have lost a lot of people I love this way because I tend to love people who are exactly the opposite.  People who need their time and space to deal with things.  I have always hated this about myself.

I am intensely intuitive.

I know when something is not right.  Maybe that stems from my extreme interest in other people.  People fascinate me, so I pay attention to them.  I watch what they do and figure out why they do it.  So, with that being the case, I can usually spot when something is not right. I  know the signs and signals.  The problem with this?  The problem is that while yes, something may be off, my overactive imagination turns what may be a little molehill into Mount Everest.  I picture the absolute worst scenario in my head and assume that is the case until I know otherwise.  Then, when I find out otherwise, it’s hard to put what I’ve found out in place of what I already assumed to be true.  That sucks.

I am honest.

To a fault.  I lay it ALL out there.  Whether you want it or not.  And the problem with that?  I expect others to be that way too.  And then I’m crushed when they’re not.  I wish I were a better liar.  I wish I could be mysterious.  I wish, I wish, I wish.  But it’s not going to happen.  It’s not who I am.  And since it’s not who I am, I am especially sensitive to it in other people.  I don’t understand it, and I am deeply wounded by it.  Once I’ve seen dishonesty, it’s really, really, hard for me to unsee it.

I am forgiving.

I fully understand that this may seem to counteract what I just said.  But it doesn’t.  You’ve heard of forgiving and forgetting?  Well, the forgiving part is easy for me.  I have forgiven so many things over the years.  I understand that people make mistakes.  I hope people understand that I make mistakes too.  Crap happens.  But forgetting?  *Sigh*  Sadly, forgetting is not my specialty.  Can one exist without the other?  I don’t know, you tell me.

And finally, one last thing.

I like myself.

It’s true.  Yes, I’ve just mentioned some things that aren’t so great about my personality.  But I’ve listed some things that I think are pretty honorable too.  I have finally – FINALLY – come to a place in my life where I realize that I’m just really not that bad.  I fully understand that some people cannot accept my blunt, intense nature.  But I just absolutely cannot change who I am.  Just like they can’t change who they are.  We just have to learn to live together, you know?  Flaws, differences, quirks.  We just have to accept ourselves for who we are, and accept others for who they are.  That’s the only choice we have.

Now that I’ve written this, I’m not sure what the point was really.  I guess I’m just hoping to be understood.  That’s all we’re ever hoping for, isn’t it?  Do you see yourself in anything I’ve described?  Are you the complete opposite?  Is someone you love like me?  Do you think understanding them might help?

It’s your turn.

Who are you?

There may be someone that could really benefit from you letting them know.  It could be a start to mending something that is broken.

I sure hope so.  Life is way too short for the alternative.

***

“Before we can forgive one another, we have to understand one another.”
– Emma Goldman

Naked Eyes

“Into every life a little rain must fall
And that’s the way that it will always be
But you seem to think you can keep the hurt away
Just by pretending you don’t see.”
– George Jones lyrics

Morning arrives.  As it always does.

The sunlight shines through the slats in the blinds of her bedroom and, one by one, the rays begin to touch her face like the impatient tiny hands of a small child.  She smiles a sleepy, happy smile and slips out of bed ready to start her day.  As she walks to the bedroom door, she has the sudden sensation that she might have forgotten something, but can’t quite put her finger on what it might be.  After only a slight hesitation, she proceeds to open her bedroom door and step into her life.

Something is wrong.

Immediately, she notices that things look…well, different.  She can’t quite explain what it is.  It’s just different.  Her life is there, the same as it was yesterday.  The people, the surroundings, everything is in its rightful place.  But it’s all shadowed somehow.  The hue is wrong.  Something is off.

She begins to interact with the people in her life, but they are different.  Gone are the halos from yesterday, and in their place are shadows.  Frowns have replaced smiles.  Insults have replaced compliments.  In the span of one night, everyone has become needy.  Selfish.  They pull at her.  Grasp at her. Want from her.

What is happening?

She knows everything is wrong, and yet she still has a role to play.  The world around her has changed, but she still must perform.  She is a mother, a child, a sibling, an employee, a loved one.  She must continue.  She must try to pretend that everything is not different.

The show must go on.

But how?  Everything is different.

And these people – these people she barely even recognizes anymore – they clamour; they pull; they expect.  They get angry when she’s not the same as she was yesterday.  How can she be the same?  Don’t they see?  Don’t they understand that everything she thought her world to be just yesterday suddenly…isn’t?

Have they known this all along?  Was she the only one who hadn’t seen the world this way?  Was there a secret she wasn’t let in on?

And why now?

She just wants to go back to yesterday.

She trudges through her day, trying to love the strangers that have replaced the cast of her life.  She breathes in, she breathes out.  She manages.

Finally, this day in her new life is complete.

She is back home.  She heads to her bedroom; her sanctuary.  Everything will be better there.  She starts towards her bedside…

And stops in her tracks.

There it is.

How could she have forgotten?  She knows this gear is expected of her.  Necessary to her survival.  She learned this lesson long ago.  And yet here she went an entire day without it.  How stupid of her.  How careless.

For there, lying right at her bedside table where she had left them, were her most important accessory.  The item she wore everyday and refused to forget had somehow slipped her mind this morning.  And now, here they were.  Waiting to make everything right.

On her nightstand, lay her pair of rose-colored glasses.

Ahhhh.  Now, she is reminded of why she wears them.  Now she remembers the time before she found them.  Before she knew of their importance.  Usually she only allowed herself to take them off before drifting off to sleep – only allowing her natural sight to escape in her dreams.  The natural sight was too blinding for the daytime.  Too uncomfortable.  Too real.  Her eyes had stung too many times before she found these precious shields.

How could she have forgotten them?

She climbs into bed, and drifts off to sleep.

***

Morning arrives.  As it always does.

Again, the childlike “hands” of sunshine reach through the blinds and caress her into consciousness.  She does as she does every morning, and immediately reaches for her glasses.

And then she remembers.

Yesterday.

Had it been a dream?  Surely she wouldn’t have gone a day without them, right?  Surely what she had seen was not real.  Those people in her life – she hadn’t seen beneath the surfaces, right?

Had she?

No.  Of course not.

No.

She shrugs off the thought, places her glasses back where they belong, and prays that what has been seen can be unseen.

She turns the knob, takes a deep cleansing breath, and steps into her life.

All is well.

***

But these rose-colored glasses
That I’m looking through
Show only the beauty
And hide all the truth.”

– John Conlee lyrics

rose-colored-glasses

Here and Now

“Yes, sometimes it’s tempting to think of what could’ve been. But what you really need to think of is what ‘would’ve‘ been. And that’s when you realize you’re exactly where you need to be.”
Richard Edmondson

For those of you who are my Facebook friends, you probably already saw this quote that I posted over the weekend.  These words were spoken by my boyfriend, Richard.  As soon as I heard them, I knew they were quotable.  And as soon as I quoted him, I knew there was a blog here waiting to happen.

So, I sat down at a computer and I started to write.  I typed the quote at the top of the page and then….well.  Nothing happened.  Nothing.  Not one single sentence popped into my mind.  So much wisdom and meaning lying behind those words he said, and yet I – the one who can type for days about any given subject at any given time – can’t think of a single thing to say?  Not one more thing to add?  What’s up with that?

Hmmm.  Maybe the quote is so profound that it stands alone on its own.

Yep.  I think that’s it.

What else needs to be said really?

I mean, think about it.  How much of what you think you miss about something – whether it be a relationship from the past, an old home or an old job, a lost friendship, whatever the case may be – how much of that is actual memories and not just what you hoped it would become?  I’m betting not too much of it is real.  Be honest with yourself.  Take that thing that you can’t let go of and examine it through honest eyes for a minute.  Would it really be gone if it was as great as you thought it was?

Yes, it could’ve been great.  But would it have been?

Richard and I are not young.  We both had quite a few failed relationships in our past before we ever laid eyes on each other.  We have mountains of memories behind us, and each of us has our own share of regret that we carry along into this relationship from the ones prior.  Sometimes the past sneaks up on us and taps us on the shoulder.  It’s inevitable.  It happens.  It happens to us, and it’s going to happen to you.  It’s just how life works.  The key is knowing what to do when it happens.

Do you let it cause insecurities and chip away at your present situation?  Do you let it cause you doubt and make you second-guess your choices?  Do you let the fantasy steal the reality?

Or…?

Or do you do what my Richard does? Do you take a long, slow look around, see the beauty and the blessing in everything that your path has led you to, and wish the past a silent, thoughtful, heartfelt goodbye as you grab on tight to what you have now, safe in the knowledge that you’re exactly where you are meant to be?

I don’t know about you, but that second choice sure sounds a whole lot better to me.

usaww

This is what it’s all about.  This is where we belong.  Not in all of the many yesterdays before us, and not in the vast span of tomorrows to come.  But right here.  Right now.  Right where we were meant to be.

Thanks for the reminder, sweetheart.

***

“I thought about one of my favorite Sufi poems, which says that God long ago drew a circle in the sand exactly around the spot where you are standing right now.  I was never not coming here.  This was never not going to happen.”
– Elizabeth Gilbert

Uncertainty

uncertainty blog2

Well, crap.  John Finley, you just ruined my day.

Because you know what I hate?  What I despise?  What I loathe?

Uncertainty.

Holy cow, do I detest uncertainty.  I want to know exactly what is going to happen, when it’s going to happen, how it’s going to happen, and how everyone is going to feel when it happens.  This ‘not knowing’ crap is for the birds.

So, with that being the case – I’m sure you can guess that I don’t handle change very well.  Especially unexpected change.  (Well, that seems kind of redundant.  I guess most all change is unexpected really, isn’t it?)  So, Mr. Finley, with your fancy schmancy quote – I guess I’m immature.

So, here we go.  I’m going to throw caution to the wind and blog about something kind of personal here.  I think it’s important to do that sometimes so that you, my reader, can know that I’m just as crazy as you are.  Yes, I just called you crazy.  I know you’re crazy.  Know how I know?  Two reasons.  1) You’re reading this blog.  And 2) EVERYONE is crazy.  And you’re one of everyone.  So there.

So, fellow crazy person, I’m gonna spill my guts to you.

My relationship is going through another rocky patch.  Hey, it happens.  And I’m going to go ahead and own up to the blame in this one.  Hands down, I admit it.  It’s all me.  But, for the life of me, I just don’t know what to do about it.

My boyfriend just took a second job as a bartender.  I’m going to list the obvious reasons why this worries me first.

  1. Timing.  He’s going to work nights/I’m going to work days (ok, he’s doing both actually).  I’m going to work weekdays/He’s going to work weekends (Again: both for him).  *Sigh*
  2. His life is going to change.  He’s going to be surrounded by tons of new people.  Tons of people that will be there with him when I won’t.  *Sigh*
  3. My life is going to change.  A lot of the time that I had worked into my schedule to spend with him will now be time spent alone.  *Sigh*
  4. He’s a bartender.  A bartender.  I know life is not always like the stereotypes, but Hello?  Being a bartender is sexy.  We all know that.  I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m a little jealous.  Well, jealous isn’t really the right word here.  I think insecure is more like it.  That life is not my life.  But it’s now going to be his.  And it’s going to be the life of the people he’s going to be spending his time with.  We may not have anything in common anymore.  (Have I sighed yet?  If not….*sigh*)
  5. There won’t be time for me anymore.

I could stop here.  That’s a pretty good list and probably doesn’t need anything added to it.  That’s enough to prove my point, right?  You get it?  Understand my worries?  Yep, I could stop here.  Enough said.  I should stop here.

But stopping here would be a lie.  And I don’t do the lying thing very well.

The #1 reason I’m worried isn’t even on that list.

Most people know how to keep their mouths shut and just let things silently hurt them.  But I’m not most people.  Until I have faced and dealt with a problem head on, it won’t go away.  I have to say it out loud.  I have to address it.  When someone has hurt me, I have to approach them and deal with it.  I can’t run from it, it’s just not in my DNA.  I go to them, we talk it out, and then we go our separate ways.  Sometimes healed, sometimes not.  But either way, it’s addressed and I can have peace.

But this time is different.

This time I don’t know who hurt me.  I just know that someone did.

Someone who is involved in my boyfriend’s close-knit group of friends blatantly excluded me a while back.  I won’t get into the specifics of how it happened (they know, and I know – that’s all that matters), but it happened.  And it hasn’t been forgotten.  This close-knit group of friends are always together, and are always at the place my boyfriend is working.  He adores them, and I don’t blame him.  They’re great people.  They’re fun-loving, they live life to the fullest, they’re great conversationalists.  But one of them (maybe more?) doesn’t like me.  And until I know who the one person was, it’s hard to fully let my guard down with any of them.  Does that make sense?  Until I know who not to trust, I can’t trust anyone.  This is a tough situation for our relationship.  Very tough.  For both of us.  And now a big fat spotlight is being shone on it.

So, what it all boils down to is this – I feel excluded.  I have always felt excluded, but with Richard by my side, I was able to temporarily forget it at times.  I knew I belonged with him, and that’s all that matters.  But now?  Now, he’s surrounded by that life that someone doesn’t want me in, and I’m not there.  I’m standing outside of an invisible wall that I can’t seem to break down.

And his taking this job?  Well, in my mind, the wall just got bigger.

I feel the pressure building.  I feel the tension piling up and I’m not sure how to escape it.  In the back of my mind, I keep hearing the faint ‘tick tick tick…’ of an impending explosion.  And frankly, that sound is getting pretty darn annoying.

I’m getting pretty annoying.

“Every day I fight a war against the mirror
I can’t take the person starin’ back at me
I’m a hazard to myself
Don’t let me get me
I’m my own worst enemy
It’s bad when you annoy yourself…”

*sigh*  Pink gets it.

Maybe that’s why I feel the need to write this blog.  Maybe I’m looking for suggestions?  Maybe I’m looking for help?  Maybe I just don’t want to watch something fade away if there was something I could do about it and just didn’t know what it was.  Maybe I just want to know I’m not alone in how I feel?  That people understand?  Sympathize?  That there are more people like me and Pink out here in this world?

Or maybe I just need to hear that I’m selfish and insecure and need to get over myself.  Yeah, that’s a possibility too, I suppose.

Maybe I just needed to vent.

All I know is that I have watched a friend of mine go through a very similar situation over the past ten months in her relationship (daytime job versus nighttime job – different lives, different friends, etc.), and I’m now watching as she adjusts to her new life as a single woman because it didn’t work out.

I don’t want that to be me.  But what do I do?

***

“The one permanent emotion of the inferior man is fear – fear of the unknown, the complex, the inexplicable. What he wants above everything else is safety.”
– H. L. Mencken