Milk Bottle Happiness

My heart is as full as a milk bottle sitting in the sink

Standing upright under an open faucet

The water running up and over the lip

And falling over the sides

Cleaning the bottle from the inside out.

I always thought this kind of happiness

Was only for those I saw on the other side of my sadness

But never for me.

Now I know. It is for me, too.

Bowling

I went bowling this past Sunday with some very special people. It had been a very long time (Ummm.....probably close to 30 years???) since I last laced up a pair of rental shoes. They were iridescent green and orange. Pretty, in fact, and so unlike the ones I remember. They also fit reasonably well. Again, very much unlike the ones I remember. As it turns out, that isn't the only thing that has changed about bowling.

I remember red vinyl covered tubular bumpers that were placed in the gutters to help novice bowlers feel better about their yet unrealised mastery of the game. Now there is a fence-like structure that pops up from the floor on each side of the alley. An ill aimed ball will bounce from side to side as it hits the metal fence and careen wildly down the alley, depending upon the force of the throw, and I do mean throw, of the bowling ball. These fences not only keep the ball out of the gutter but also act as a pinball machine directing it towards the pins. Our vinyl tubes didn't do that.

My fraternal grandmother, Nana Anna, loved bowling so much she belonged to a league. She took me out one afternoon, just her and me, to teach me how to bowl. Allow me to rephrase. She tried to teach me how to bowl. As you take three steps forward you swing the ball back and then forward while keeping your eyes on the arrows on the floor your wrist straight bending at your knees at the last step with perfect timing as you let go of the ball as your back leg shoots out helping with balance and aim.

Nana Anna was very patient with me up until the point where she could see that there weren't any words of advice that could help me to not twist my wrist at the last second sending the ball on a crooked journey. I think that is the only time my much beloved grandmother gave up on my success. I think she figured it wasn't worth the worry and concentration on my part so why keep pressing?
I thought a lot about Nana while I was bowling. My heart still misses her. On the other hand my heart was also made happy by the fun I had with Jim, Jaime, Sierra, and Jax.

Lastly, my left butt cheek is in pain! I thought I would be feeling it in my right arm not my butt! I am not looking forward to what it will be like in the morning. I'll take it, though, as I wouldn't want to give up the fun I had today.

Rose and Jeff prologue

She could either stay curled up in a ball on her bed or start her day. One would lead to catharsis and the other to more wallowing in the pain she already felt. She looked out the window and saw the sun and blue sky. The cat, which was perched on the end of her bed, got up, stretched, meowed, and jumped down. She watched the feline haughtily walk out the bedroom door. If the cat could do it, so could she.

Today was going to be the start of the end. She unfurled herself and laid her head back on the pillows. As she looked up at the ceiling, she claimed this day the end of guilt, the end of remorse, and the end of anger. Her eyes quickly filled with tears that overflowed onto her cheeks, ran down the sides of her face, and tickled her ears as their descent slowed and pooled. She made no sounds. She stopped sobbing so long ago. Somehow someway she was going to make this pain stop. She was going to find a way.

She wiped her face with her hands and sat up. She had lost weight because she just hadn't had the energy to eat let alone cook anything nourishing. She felt weak and her long brown hair was a tangled mess. Her t-shirt hung off of her shoulders. She lifted her arm, smelled her armpit and said out-loud to herself, “Gross.”

The cat ran back into the bedroom and flew onto the bed coming to a quick stop in front of her. She couldn't help but laugh. She reached over and petted her. She loved the sound of her cat's purr. It was like a little motor boat and the rumble of it represented happiness.

As she swung her legs over the side of the bed the picture of him on the dresser seemed to jump out at her. With a sharp intake of breath she refused to again be consumed by her emotions. She forced her eyes from the photograph over to the mirror and this time gasped with disgust. “Oh my God,” she said as she turned to the cat. “Lovey.....how can you even look at me?” Lovey answered by rubbing against Marcia's arm.

She walked to the bathroom and peeled off her t-shirt and underwear balling them up as she threw them into the already overflowing hamper. One arm of her t-shirt peeked out from under the lid as if it wasn't ready to say that final goodbye. The tiled floor felt cool under her feet. It felt solid and sure. Lovey jumped onto the lid of the toilet and watched as Marcia turned on the shower and tested the water temperature. She reached over and tickled Lovey's head prior to entering the stall.

The spray of water hit the top of her head as she bowed under its stream leaning with both hands on the shower wall. A flash of memory assaulted her. “You bitch!” He was slurring his words as spittle sprayed from his lips. Shit. Breath. Breath through it. Let it happen and then let it pass. And so she did.

She walked back into the bedroom naked and wet from the shower. She no longer felt dirty but she knew the memories would still cause her to feel unclean. For how long was anyone's guess. What did the therapist say? Everyone grieves at his or her own pace. What a crock of shit. Well, maybe it wasn't but she figured she was partly still in the denial stage slowly crawling into the anger stage. She would rather slide directly into the acceptance stage as if she were a baseball player sliding into home base. This was hard work talking oneself off of the ledge.

As she picked up her dirty clothes from the floor and tore the 3-week old sheets off of her bed, Lovey sat in the chair by the window watching Marcia's progress. She was an easy taskmistress and only cracked the whip when hungry.

Marcia flung everything into the laundry hamper. This time the lid stayed open like a huge yawn. Laundry will be the next thing she does. Right after getting dressed. And eating. And then blow drying her hair. Whatever.

She walked to her dresser to grab a pair of underwear out of the top drawer and his picture assaulted her again. “Dammit!” She assaulted his picture back by picking it up and deep sixing it into the trash can with such force that the wooden frame flew apart and the glass cracked. “Fuck you!” Yep. She definitely was moving into the anger phase.

She was breathing hard from the exertion when the next memory lit up her brain like a grenade's blast. “Oh my God. Oh my God,” kept repeating over and over in her head as she wiped the spittle off of her face. His gait was unsteady as he weaved his way towards the back door grabbing the car keys nearly ripping the hook out of the wall. She ran up to him and demanded them back. He was in no shape to drive. All at once he was upon her choking her with his free hand. “I am not drunk!”

Her heart pounded in her chest and sweat dripped from her forehead into her eyes. She realized she was sitting on the floor with no clear memory of how she got there. Lovey walked over and meowed as she rubbed against Marcia's hip. Jeez, she still hadn't gotten dressed. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is what the therapist had called it. Panic attacks. She was learning all kinds of psychological lingo now. This is not the education she wanted but she definitely had paid for it.

At the breakfast table she drank her first cup of coffee for the day. As the coffee hit her empty stomach she almost threw-up. Toast would work. She ended up eating 4 pieces loaded with strawberry jam and butter. Mmmmmmm....sugary sweetness.

A Poem

You

You are the soft breeze that moves gently through the air
In the cool of the evening after the sun has set
Creating music as you wind around the hanging chimes.

 

You are the pillow that holds my head at night

Surrounding me with comfort

Caressing me with support.

 

You are the brook winding through the willows

Gurgling as you move forward

Hypnotizing me with your actions so that I have no choice but to follow.

 

You are the lightening in a storm

Temporarily blinding me with your brightness

Causing me to drop to my knees because of your power.

 

You are a man so I am a woman.

Your hands hold my heart.

Let go. I said let go!

Learning to let go is proving to be a lesson I keep circling back to and each time I do so I want to kick my own ass for forgetting that I need to do it!  Life is so much simpler when one lets go.  I don't need to control everything.  Life does not fall apart if I don't orchestrate it.  

There is a horseback riding term called "giving the horse his/her head".  When a rider does this, the rider loosens the reigns so that the horse, instead of being directed by the rider, directs itself.  In sticky situations a rider will allow the horse to guide them through.  The rider recognizes when this is necessary and at the appropriate time takes the reigns back.  I need to learn to recognize under what circumstances it is right to loosen or tighten my grip.

Letting go doesn't mean not taking responsibility.  It doesn't mean I don't have to do anything or make any decisions.  It does mean that I don't always have to be the band leader coordinating the instruments so that they are playing the same tune that is echoing inside my head.  I don't always have to be right.  Letting go isn't hard when I remind myself that when I do it I am less burdened, less stressed, more at peace, and the sound of gears grinding ceases. 

Letting go means acknowledging that the other person is right.....and I am not.  Oh, how that bruises my ego but on the other hand why would I think I should always be right?  Who is always right?  That's another burden from which I need to be released.  Why did I create all of these obnoxiously impossible rules for me to follow?  I don't need them anymore.

I've been carrying around a whole bunch of unnecessary tools in my tool belt and with each step they were either banging into one of my thighs, pressing into my waist, or tripping me up.  I'm working towards detaching each troublesome tool and tossing it behind me as I go so that as I move forward it is forever in my past.

It's Official - I'm Divorced! And so is the cat.

June 21st, ladies and gentlemen.  That's the date of my divorce.  I am happy to be free.  Happy that that time of my life is finally over.  Sad that it came to that.  Drinking ruined the man and the marriage.  It rots a person from the inside out and then pushes out from the drinker's pores to drip and fall all over those within close proximity poisoning on contact.  It eats through the skin as effectively as acid burning and eroding the tender flesh leaving exposed that which should be protected.

Each day the reality of it becomes more real to me and I have to smile and do a happy dance...on the inside.  I don't want to scare people by doing my own improvisational interpretation of joy in public.

As I'm sitting here at the dining room table writing I look up and see my other cat, Senator, lounging on the back of the living room couch.  I got him back from the ex about 2 weeks ago.  Having Senator back is just another thing to add to my list of happy.  I have a wonderful friend/classmate that did me the biggest favor by negotiating the details with the ex while she was up in Maryland for a wedding.  She got the cat, bought him the proper carrier in which to fly him, took care of him, made him feel safe through the process, and then at 12:30 in the morning coordinated with me to hand him off.  She and her mom gave me something that cannot be given a monetary value.

Senator came back to me overweight, shedding, his coat shabby and sprinkled with dandruff, and without the personality that prompted me to name him Senator.  His beauty was marred.  I am glad to report that his coat is getting back its sheen and elegance.  He has already lost 1.5 pounds and not because I have limited his food intake - he has done that himself.  Eating is no longer a substitute for what was missing.  The most glorious part is that his personality has resurfaced and he is back to walking around like a pompous fool.  He also came back to me with a very bad habit of yowling incessantly in the middle of the night.  That has stopped, too. No need for it.

So, Senator and I are both now free from what haunted us.  He and I are content now.  Come to think of it, I'm not yowling in the middle of the night anymore, either.

Itchy Hives

I've got a 5-page paper I need to write, create an eye-catching poster board, and then ready myself for a mini presentation in front of the class for school.  I am over a week behind at work.  I am crossing my fingers and toes and anything else that will comfortably cross that my June 18th divorce hearing will not only stay as scheduled but go off without a hitch.  I am gritting my teeth hoping that the husband I am crossing everything for so that the divorce on June 18th happens will mow the lawn and allow potential buyers into the house so that it can be viewed and sold.  A couple of weeks ago I had to take $10K out of my IRA to save it from foreclosure because my hopefully ex as of June 18th has decided that even though he is the only one living in the house he shouldn't have to help pay the mortgage.  I am living with my mother who never stops creating sound.  She is either humming, singing, or talking and not necessarily to anyone in particular or for any reason.  You know those dog owners that silence their dogs from barking?  Yes, I do appreciate all she has done for me so don't get your feathers all flustered.  My mother has also given me multiple opportunities to learn how to politely yet firmly set and reset boundaries that keep getting crossed.  At first I wasn't so polite.  Hopefully I am better at ti now.  I have decided I have to figure out my finances to see if I can safely move out.  As a matter of fact as I am writing this she is talking to me.  A week ago my son-in-law was shot and murdered by a woman off of her meds.  Now my daughter, at 29, is a widow with a 2.5 year old.

I am getting over a yeast infection (TMI?) and have been battling hives ever since I got the news about my son-in-law.  My body is talking to me.  Well, I think it is yelling at me.  I've got too much stress.  I do walk as often as possible.  At least 3 times a week.  I have a fantastic boyfriend that does what he can to help me take it down a notch whether it is affection or just talking me off the ledge.  At the age of 51 I never thought I would be using the word "boyfriend" to describe a part of my life. 

Stress sneaks up on me.  This time it was in the middle of the night and that is why I woke up with hives.  My brain stays awake while my body sleeps.  Hold on.  I have to take a scratch break.

Ok, I'm back.  I normally try to wrap these up somehow.  Draw a conclusion.  Say something humorous.  I don't have any answers and that is why I'm writing.  So.......I'll see you soon.

P.S.  My mother is still talking.

Sandbar

Yesterday in the later part of the afternoon Jim and I went to the beach. It was low tide and we walked out into the Gulf to the first sandbar. It had taken us a trip first down the shoreline and then back up until we found a section of water that was calm enough for us to traverse without being pulled or pushed by the chaotic turbulence and strong undertow.

There were other sandbars further out but I had to stop at the first one. It was glorious. I knelt down into the sandy bottom that I could see through the water. I looked upward and saw the sun lowering in the sky reflecting in the waves as they continued to smash against each other tumultuously. I was in awe.

A forest holds its own beauty. I grew up loving, playing in, and seeking and finding solace in the woods. Their scent, the sound of the forest floor as one walks, the enchanting way the sun dapples it as it peeks around the branches high up. The trees talk. My heart finds peace in the forest.

But the wilds of the Gulf hold a different kind of allure. It is power without mercy or humility that produces tranquility within my soul. What words does language hold that can come close to describing such a deep down inner core emotional reaction? I could have sat there forever and just watched as Jim's arms kept me anchored. Even as we got up to go back to shore, I had to turn around, stop, and look just one more time.

Changing

I've been doing quite a bit of work on myself lately.  That's one reason I have been so quiet for so long.  I have had to take more than a few steps back and honestly come to grips with who I am, who I want to be in the future, and what I believe in. 

Who I am.  I always thought of myself as this dominant kind of woman that knew what she wanted and actively pursued her interests.  Well, the joke was on me!  While my intelligence, creativity, and mindfulness are cornerstones of my personality, I have come to realize that I have lied to myself for a very long time about what my core is.  I have been forcing myself, even as a young child, to try to fit into the mold that those around me wanted for me, needed me to be for themselves, instead of listening to myself and allowing me to just be, well, me.  As I make the adjustments I am like one tweaking the old fashioned radio dial where one had to carefully and slowly twist the dial left and right until the incoming signal was as clear as possible.  Sometimes I overcompensate and sometimes I under compensate but for all of the travail I am more at peace than I ever can remember feeling.  I no longer experience the undercurrent of anxiety of round hole square peg.

Who I want to be in the future.  I think I now have a pretty good idea of who I really am.  It's tough being honest with oneself.  It's also tough turning off those old autopilots and scripts.  Reacting instead of stopping, thinking, and assessing is much easier but it will only keep one on the merry-go-round.  Up and down and up and down.  I wanted off.  I needed off.  It's scary out here but the scenery is much more interesting.

What I believe in.  I always believed in God.  I was born a Jew, freshman year in college I learned about Jesus and believed in Him, and am now reading up on Buddhism.  I am leaning more towards a Higher Power and/or Creator of the Universe than what some call God, some call Jesus, others call Allah......I could go on and on with the names humanity has given to this Power.  I believe it exists, I'm just not sure what and/or who it is exactly.  I'm not all that worried about labeling it.  I'm just learning.  Once again, I am at peace.

So, I guess I'll be writing more about this journey as I walk it.  It can be painful at times but it has also brought me much joy and freedom.

Playing Cards

She drew a card from the deck and turned over the queen of hearts. It was supposed to be a game but in the end the joke was on her. She looked into the mirror and saw herself for the first time. He held it in his hands.

He drew a card from the deck and turned over the king of hearts. It was supposed to be a game but in the end the joke was on him. He looked into the mirror and saw himself more clearly than before. She held it in her hands.

They peeked from around the mirrors and their eyes met. They knew each other from a long time ago and ago and have met again. This time, as they held their mirrors, they saw the truth and it was good. They were home. They were safe.

The mirrors were set aside as they now reflected each other in their eyes. Blood mixed with blood. Soul mixed with soul. Blessings intertwined.

They walked into each other and became one.

As You Open the Door

As you open the door to me
I tentatively walk over the threshold
Into your house
Hoping that I will not have regrets

I have tasted your flesh
And seen a piece of your heart
Your body has mixed with mine
I hope I will not have regrets

For surely this is the answer
This is the man
That was waiting for me
That was calling for me
From when I was far away

Now that I am close
Now that I have walked through his door
I want to feel safe; I need to feel safe
Hoping that I will not have regrets

I have shared so much of my soul
I have given so much of my body
My bruised heart is beating anew
I hope I will not have regrets

For surely this is the answer
This is the man
That was waiting for me
That was calling for me
From when I was far away