I had a conversation last night with a very good friend,
where I made the statement that while I was very empty in romance, I was very
rich in friendship. I am.I am very
lucky that I have such wonderful friends in my life.The meaning of friendship has been on my mind
a lot lately.I’ve made some new friends
because I’ve opened myself to allow new people into my life, and I’ve cut out some
toxic because of the way they’ve treated me.
I have to fight very hard not to lose myself in someone
else, not to allow their wants, needs, and desires to override my own. I’ve
done that all my life, gave up the things I wanted to accommodate others,
sacrificed my own needs to make sure those I love were never in need or
without.Oh, boy… I’ve made some HUGE
strides in this area over the past few years.I’ve learned to say “no”.
However, I still find myself at times putting up with the
bullshit, keeping quiet when I’m disrespected, letting others place their
needs, their issues, their wants, their devices, their additions, and their bullshit
at a personal cost to myself.
But that’s okay, because I’m back on my journey to self-love
and self-respect.The stronger I grow,
the less I put up with the bullshit. No matter how much I love my friends, I WILL
walk away from those who continuously abuse, neglect or take advantage of me. I put up with a lot, because I know none of us
are perfect, we all make mistakes, we all have weaknesses and failures, and I’m
no judge.I hope for the best for those
I love, and I’ll do anything for them to help them achieve their dreams, dig
out of their problems, and fight for what they need. But I don’t have to put up
with the disrespect and the abuse.
Ignore me, lie to me, use me, always come to me with your
hand out, but NEVER bother to ask how my day may have went or if “I” needed
anything, I’ll start to put my wall up.Push me away when you’re going through something, and because I love you
I’ll keep coming back. Keep pushing me away, one day I’ll eventually keep
walking. I’ve been there, where I’ve pushed
everyone away in my life.My real
friends didn’t let me completely block them out, and I love them for not giving
up on me.But, there will come a time
when I will give up, because I’ve made a vow to myself that I will never remain
where I’m not wanted, where I’m not respected, where I’m neglected and abused.
My greatest hope is that one day I will be happy and deeply
in love with my soul mate, my best friend, my greatest companion… and he will
be just as much in love with me.I will
never doubt his love, I will experience the beauty of his respect, I will taste
the fruit of his passion, and I will give him my everything because he will be
my everything.He will not abuse me or
neglect me.He will honor me, love me,
cherish me, respect me, desire me, care about my hopes, dreams, fears, and
passions.He will sometimes piss me off
and disappoint me, but he will make me confident in his love so I’ll be
unafraid to just be myself. He will not make me feel small or a fool.I will be his crown, his closest companion,
his biggest cheerleader, and his greatest fan, his best friend.
At least that’s my hope and fantasy. I'm not yet ready to meet him or jump immediately into a serious situation. I still can't breathe. I'm still a mangled mess. But I will be ready, someday, and I hope that day comes soon.
What is a friend?Friendship is love, about love, and requires love on some level to be
experienced, to be shared, or to be real between two people.There are different levels of friendship,
just like there are different levels of love, and like love, we can get very
hurt or disappointed when we set expectations and a level of devotion that isn’t
met by our partner.Also like love, we
throw the word “friend” around so freely and misuse it on a grand scale.
Someone always coming to you with their hands out, with dramatic problems for
you to solve, or with an emptiness they’re trying to fill with drugs, drama, or
sex but never give back, those are not friends… those are vampires who will
never be there when/if you ever need them. Yet some of us give so much of
ourselves to these vampires and often neglect our real friends as we get caught
up in the drama.
I’ve been hurt recently by someone I considered a very
close, intimate friend.The pain I feel
isn’t all their fault, it’s half mine. Their level of devotion wasn’t in the
same place as mine, therefore I set expectations they could not meet, and I got
hurt at the realization I wasn’t valued at the same level I valued them. We’ve
all been there.We’ve all been at that
place where we’ve invested our hearts into someone, to discover they haven’t in
turn invested their heart back into you. The first thing we usually do is wonder what’s
wrong with us that the love we gave wasn’t enough, or wasn’t returned, but that’s
the wrong mindset to have and often leads to depression and issues of
self-esteem. Half, 50% is not about you, or about them, but about both. As with love, it takes TWO people to make a
successful relationship or friendship work, or fail.
So, what do I do when the friend that I’ve loved so much,
gave so much, invested so much, and tried so hard and no matter what I did,
they just couldn’t love me back, didn’t give me the time of day, or doesn’t
even care whether I’m dead or alive? Do I turn to the dramatic antics to get
their attention? No, I just remember the beautiful qualities of the friend I
fell in love with in the first place, and simply walk away.And I don’t do that for them, but for me
because of who I am as a person.I can
let my hurt turn into anger and try to hurt them back, and believe me there’s a
part of me that wants to do exactly that, but the love I have for them is real
and hurting them back is not an act of love. I remember the person I am, the
person I look at in the mirror every day, the person I love most and am very
proud of their growth and maturity. I
love that woman that looks back at me in the mirror, whether she’s looking at
me with a huge smile on her face or with tears in her eyes. In all truth – THAT
is my best friend.
This morning, with tears in my eyes, I look at that
beautiful woman in the mirror and I tell her how much “I” love her, how proud
of her “I” am, how much “I” appreciate her, how much “I” value her, how
beautiful I think she is as a person.Then, as any best friend would do when they see their friend in pain, I
tell her, ‘Fuck that asshole! They’re the dumbest mother-fucker in the world if
they can’t value you, because I know you, and I know you gave your best, and
they won’t find anyone more devoted, more honest, or more giving than you. They
don’t deserve you. You deserve to be treated better. They are the one that lost
something beautiful today. You keep your head up, Chica, because you gave your
whole heart.You walk away with your
integrity intact.Wish them well,
because you love them, but you keep walking because you love yourself too and
you deserve friends that love you back, that value you, that care about you,
and that deserve you.
No, this isn’t a post about the famous George Harrison song,
but I think I’m beginning to understand his meaning.I wish I could take you on a journey into my
mind, into my heart, and through my fingers with every pluck, strum, and chord
change on my guitar.I know I could
record the sound, but just hearing it won’t guarantee you’ll go on the journey
with me. You must have ears to hear to get there.It seems this is a journey I must take alone,
but man, oh, man, I wish I could take you with me.
For the last several years I’ve been working on one song,
and sometimes I stay on the same chord progressions for months before adding something
new or changing a rhythm in that progression. Yet, when I begin to play,
sometimes all it takes is a few chords, a few strums, a few plucks to transport
me somewhere else, somewhere deep, somewhere that feels like a river of so many
emotions, so many feelings, so much that it’s often too much to even try and
explain.
This morning while playing, I placed my ear on the top of
the body of my acoustic guitar and started the familiar progression, first with
a soft individual strum of each string, giving them their own moment, their own
sound, in their own time.From the
initial vibration of the sixth E string, I felt my soul stir and it wept.There was a sadness, a loneliness found in
that single note. It moved with the fullness of the vibration as I just let it
sit there.It needed to be
released.I felt part of what’s been
bottled inside me, move through my fingers, the ones on the Em chord, and then
through my thumb as it started at the 6th E and moved slowly down over
the next four stings.
Over and over I just slowly strummed each string, and with
each new vibration I felt my soul moving with all five strings, making sure to
never touch that first E string, because I knew, I felt something else waiting
there.Just the Em over and over and
over and over.The hair prickled on the
back of my neck, and my stomach pitched, and a huge knot formed in my throat,
but I kept playing, I kept pouring my soul into those strings over and over and
over and over.I begin to slowly rock as
I play, because I can feel it coming, the release, the energy in the universe
about to move through me and then back into me.
That’s the thing about playing music.It’s not just about pouring out from me into
the notes I play, but to open my soul and allow the music to pour back into me,
through the vibration, through the sounds, through the waves, emitting their
healing, their message, their love back into my soul. It’s like a filter, the
way a body’s heart, kidneys and liver filters our systems.
After a while of just playing that Em, I finally move to
this progression that only involves the top four strings… 6th
through 3rd , with alterations of just using the top 2 and 3.I don’t want to put the chords here, because
this is an original song I’ve composed and don’t want someone else to steal it.
But, moving through this progression,
the strums become a little harder with each repeat.I feel something moving inside and it’s sad,
and it’s dark, and it’s painful… and the more I play, the more it moves through
me, bubbling to the surface.This
movement starts deep in the pit of my stomach, behind my belly button, and
travels to my spine, up over my shoulders, and then down my arms and into my
fingertips, all the while the other end of the tendrils are weaving deep into
the chambers of my heart and into the hidden places of my mind.
Our voices are just another note, another vibration to mix
with the sound of the strings being played on the guitar. I find myself humming
and then open my mouth to release a high, yet sad note.It’s a haunting sound, full of pain, full of
heartache, full of feeling… and it’s soft, and it’s beautiful.It complements the low sound of the guitar,
and together it melts into a new melody, a new sound, evoking a new
emotion.I continue to play, I continue
to sing.My strums become harder and
louder, as my song grows in intensity.
Then, like a climax, I feel myself reach the precipice and
my song turns into a wail, and my fingers take over on their own and play the
last few notes, and I feel all that pain, all that hurt, all that emotion
release from me, release into the universe, release into the world and I stop singing,
and then I stop playing. My heart is racing, my hands are shaking, and my mind
is swimming as the last note fades into the ether.I
smile, and with wet lashes, I open my eyes. I look down at my guitar and just
sit in awe and wonder at the power it possesses to soothe my soul.
I wish I could take you on that journey with me. I wish you
could experience how music is capable to move soul as it does, but I can’t.That was a great journey this morning.
Self-Motivation.I
can’t express how much this is essential to any source of success in my
life.If I’m waiting on the world to
motivate me to achieve or reach my goals, I’m going to be sorely
disappointed.The world is essentially
lazy and inherently selfish.It doesn’t
give a shit about me or cares whether I reach my goals or not.I may be lucky and have a friend that will be
there to cheer me on, but they’re not going to hold my hand or carry me to my
finish line, and I shouldn’t be so damned co-dependent or lazy to expect them
to do just that. But, alas, we live in a very, very, very lazy world, or else I’m
just surrounded by a bunch of lazy enablers with an excuse and diagnosis for
everything.
I understand depression. I have been suffering with it most
of my life, yet as with anything and everything else, I don’t let it control
me.I learned a long time ago that if I wanted
anything in this world, I was just going to have to get it on my own. I suppose
that’s the bright side to having parents that didn’t take care of or give a
shit about me, it forced me to learn to take care of and give a shit about myself.To have no one to depend on, taught me to
depend on myself.To have no one to
trust, I’ve learned to trust myself.As
for motivation, I’ve also learned to be my own cheerleader.
Someone made a comment to me this weekend, one that at first
really, really pissed me off. I know they didn’t say what they said to hurt me,
but I don’t they understood the gravity of what they said because they come
from a different life, a different experience, and a different generation.What am I talking about, I’m still pissed.
I’ve enjoyed some great successes in my life, and I’m very
proud of them. But, I want to make one thing very, very, very clear. NONE of it
was handed to me, and NONE of it just fell in my lap by luck, birth,
circumstances, etc.NONE of it.
The comment that set me off was, “You’ve had a very lucky
life. What I wouldn’t do to have one-tenth of the opportunities you’ve had; you’ve
received many of the things I only dream about.Some people have all the luck.”It was clear this person doesn’t know shit about me.YES, I’ve accomplished a lot of things, and
some of those things are huge accomplishments, but not one of them just “fell
in my lap”.I have fought like hell and
sacrificed more than I can ever give account to receive each and every one of
them.
My degree?My stomach
pitches when I think of how many days I practically starved to death because
the two jobs I worked paying for every book, every class, daycare for my kids,
diapers, rent to the dumpy trailer I lived, gas and repairs to piece of shit
car I had at the time, sleeping only 2-3 hours a day, splitting a box of
macaroni with my babies because that’s all I could afford to eat often forgoing
a bite for myself to make sure they had enough, juggling to pay either the
rent, lights, water or gas for that month, crying myself to sleep feeling like
the worst mother in the world because daycare or babysitters or terrible family
members were raising my kids instead because I was so busy just trying to
survive. But, yeah… that degree just fell in my lap because I’m a privileged
white girl that just had the world handed to her. I didn’t have student loans
or parents to fall back on.I had ME.
Only ME.
My publications?No
one saw the years of writing stories late in the night because it was an inconvenience
for everyone else, it wasn’t practical, just years and years and years writing
stories that no one ever read.No one
saw the hours and hours and hours spent helping others with their work,
editing, critiquing, encouraging, watching them one by one go off to gain
success and then forget I ever existed.The years of ghost-writing for other people, never being able to take credit
for the hard work I’ve done. The marketing, the networking, spending many,
many, many late nights barely able to keep my eyes open going over my work,
editing, editing, editing, writing, writing, writing, and busting my ass making
sure that everyone I met, everywhere I went, everything I did would bring
attention to my work.Submitting and
submitting, receiving rejection after rejection.Getting one little writing job after the
next, after the next, after the next.No
one saw the shit ton of money I spent out of my own pocket on bookmarks,
websites, entrance fees into festivals, marketing materials, ads, etc,
etc.No, my success just fell in my lap
because I’m lucky.I sure as fuck didn’t
earn any of the nominations or awards.
My dedication? I once had these two authors I was trying to
help become published and successful, because I believed in them and thought
they were very talented.I believe both
blame me today for their lack of success.For a very long time I spent so much of MY time, MY money, and MY effort
trying to promote them, ignoring my own work, but I couldn’t get them to
promote themselves. They had some fucking
lame-brained idea that they were so talented that success was just going to
fall in their lap without any effort on their part.They were too good to even make any personal
appearances; they were gifted artists, after all, akin to the Cormac McCarthy’s
and Charles Bukowski’s of the world.They
obviously believed I didn’t work for my success either or else riding on my
coat-tails would grant them the success the easy way. I fought for them until I found out I had
cancer, and then I didn’t give a shit anymore.I don’t think either of them have done anything still to promote
themselves, but I really don’t care. I can’t believe for them, and bottom line,
they have to have their own self-motivation.I had this other writer that I spent more than a year helping her write
her auto-biography, but when a better opportunity came along, none of the work
I had done mattered.
Healthy Living? Beautiful Face? Oh, yeah… I’m lucky.The one-hundred and thirty pounds I’ve lost, and
maintained for nearly 10 years, that was lucky too.It sure hell doesn’t require a regular
workout routine, a regular diet of healthy living, having to say no to
temptations, being disciplined, getting myself up at 5am every morning, pushing
through the pain, or learning how to say no to the donuts.Nah, it’s my genetics.I just wake up this beautiful on my own
because I’m lucky.My muscles don’t
hurt, my back doesn’t ache, my joints don’t scream at me, and my eyes just
automatically pop open on their own.Hell,
my workout outfit dresses me every morning, not the other way around.There are lots of excuses I can use to stay
in bed longer, to avoid the treadmill, and feed my pity, or pop a pill for
every little ache and pain.For those
mother-fuckers who think a surgery lost this weight and maintained the loss for
me, you keep telling your fat-asses that.It shows your ignorance and your dependency on excuses.My surgery saved my life, but it had nothing
to do with my weight loss or the maintenance of my health… which is all
self-motivation and sheer determination.Surgery doesn’t make someone walk
away from the doughnuts, no more than an insulin shot keeps someone from eating
sugar. But, hey… we are an excuse generation.There’s a million and one reasons WHY we CAN’T do something.
So, here I am this morning.I still have 10-20 holiday pounds to shed, still got a blog to write,
still got dreams to chase, still got a job to work, still got a life to live.Who’s going to open those doors for me?
Nobody. But, that’s okay because you know what? I know how to open my own
fucking doors.What a
concept!!!!!!!You know what? I am
lucky.I’m lucky that I have a mind of
my own, a will of my own, and self-determination all of my own.I know so many depraved mother-fuckers out
there that can’t even get their asses out of bed because they’re too busy
feeling sorry for themselves, and they blame the world for their lack of
success.God, I’m so lucky I’m not one
of them.
I’ll get into the lyrics of this
song in a minute.I haven’t heard it in
a couple years, but listening to it on my way home from work today brought me
right back to a place in time when I was fighting for my life.I can almost remember the very moment this
song came alive to me.I had heard it
several times on the radio, and while I thought it had a catchy tune, it didn’t
really mean anything. Yet, one afternoon I found myself sitting by the lake at
my apartment on Alvin Street, watching the sun glisten on the water’s surface, ducks
flying overhead, a cool breeze in the air, when a soft thought popped into my
mind, whispering to me that nobody cared, that all the sacrifices I’d made in
my life were for nothing, that all the love I gave was never returned, that I
didn’t matter.I’d just been invited to
be part of an anthology with some of the writers I admired, had no one with
which to celebrate my achievement. I thought I could easily slip into that
cold, frigid lake and no one would even notice this selfish, rebellious,
unlovable woman was gone. I felt the
pressure and judgment of the world on my shoulders.All the voices of the people who told me I was
making a mistake by getting a divorce, that I was disobeying and disappointing
my god, that I was being rebellious and selfish because I wanted to be in love,
that what I wanted was stupid, a fairy tale. I had the world.I had a good career. I had a good marriage. I
had a good family. I had a good inheritance. I had a good reputation. I had a
picture-picture resume life. My writing
career was taking off, and I was beloved and respected by my community; a
pillar they called me, a monument of strength of character. I had everything a good Christian woman
desired in her life. Someone told me once that I was selfish for not being
content with the life I had, that my desire to want more, was an insult to the
god I claimed I loved.How could God
love me for being so selfish? To want more was to distrust God.
I didn’t want riches. I didn’t
want fame. I had opportunity to have both and walked away. I just wanted to be
loved, to be wanted, to be desired… to be heard, to matter, to make a
difference in this cold world, for humanity to love each other, not hate each
other proving who was right. I wanted fathers not to hurt their little girls,
and mothers not to be ashamed and hide behind pills, and brothers that didn’t
steal and lie to each other, or sisters who supported each other and not be in competition,
and kids who didn’t take the strength of their parents as a sign of not caring,
and parents who remembered their kids were not their property but individual
human beings with their own thoughts, ideas, plans and dreams. I felt at odds
with the universe.
I closed my eyes, felt the warm
sun on my face, slipped my feet out of my shoes and edged by toes toward the
cold water of the lake’s edge when this song suddenly came on my iPod and
filled my ears, and the tears spilled down my face.This was a song from me, to me, in that
moment.My inner-self called out to my
spiritual-self, and the words never meant something more beautiful than what
they did that cold, cold autumn afternoon.
Lately I been, I been losing sleep
Dreaming about the things that we could be
But baby I been, I been prayin' hard
Said no more counting dollars
We'll be counting stars
Yeah, we'll be counting stars
Counting stars… wow! One of my
favorite quotes in the world, something that gave me strength through the years
was from A Knights Tale when a declaration was made to change a person’s stars,
to change the destiny the world had given them, to be more than what society
deemed as acceptable. Before that movie even came out, my best friend in the
world – who became the love of my life, made a promise that we would rise above
our stations in life and change our stars. I fought my whole life to be more than what I
was born into, more than what society dictated, and I worked hard my whole life
to rise above my beginning, my inheritance, and my lot in life.No one was going to tell me my limits.I pushed them, and I soared well above them. When
my drug-dealing father was arrested, I was deemed a miscreant, told by a
bigshot D.A. at the age of sixteen I was going to grow up and be nothing more
than one of my father’s whore drug runners, a high-school dropout, and in
prison before twenty.I changed my stars and proved them wrong,
living a clean life, a vanilla life free of drugs, gangs, cartels, and
miscreants.When I lost a college scholarship because I
became a teen mother, and chose to keep and raise my baby, I changed my stars
by paying my own way through college, and working three jobs at the same time
supporting myself. When the love of my life died in combat and left me alone in
this world, I still remember the promises we made to change our stars. I never forgot.
I will never forget. I’m not counting
one star… I’m counting on changing many, many, many, many, many more stars. I have,
and I will change even more. I’m still counting them, baby.
I see this life
Like a swinging vine
Swing my heart across the line
In my faces flashing signs
Seek it out and ye shall find
Life isn’t about what comes at
you or is presented to you.You have to
chase it down.You have to go after what
you want. You have to take a chance.Yes, you can fall. Hell, you will probably fall a lot more than you’ll
ever fly. Yes, you can grab hold of a weak vine and it causes you to crash to
the ground, but that doesn’t mean you stop swinging.It means you get back up and grab the next
one and see where it takes you.
The old, but I'm not that old
Young, but I'm not that bold
And I don't think the world is sold
I'm just doing what we're told
Excuses.The world if full of them, but we have to be
willing to argue back with it, set our own limits, tell ourselves what we are
going to do and how we’re going to do it.We can’t be afraid.We can’t
think inside the box.Don’t allow ourselves
to be put in a box… too old, too young, too weak, too strong, too fat, too
skinny, too uneducated, too educated, too smart, too dumb, too experienced, too
inexperienced.Tell the world to go fuck
itself, and stop doing what it tells you.
I, feel something so right
Doing the wrong thing
I, feel something so wrong
But doing the right thing
I could lie, could lie, could lie
Everything that kills me makes me feel alive
You can’t change or count your
stars if you’re too busy living under everyone else’s judgements, ideas, and
limits.You determine what’s right and
what’s wrong for YOU and tell everyone else to go fuck themselves.Am I disappointing my god?That’s between me and my god and nobody else’s
business. Live your own dream.Find someone that supports that dream, and
made damned sure that if you’re supporting someone else’s dream, that it’s
their dream and not yours for them. You’ve got no right to dream for someone
else.
I feel the love
And I feel it burn
Down this river every turn
Hope is a four letter word
Make that money
Watch it burn
Looking for the world’s
definition of love or success, it’ll never work, it’ll never satisfy, and it’ll
always burn.It’s fire, it’s poison, it’s
shallow, and it stings.Too many people
fall in love with the idea, the dream, the image of what they believe is love,
instead of falling in love with the real person right in front of them. When they
get disappointment because the person doesn’t live up to the perfect image that
was created in their minds, they blame the person instead of themselves for
building impossible standards anyone could ever hope to reach. It’s not
fair.We have to come to a maturity in
our lives so that when we look at someone we are not naïve to their flaws, but
embrace them, and love them just as they are in spite of them, not only loving
the truth of who they are, but for the potential of who they’re capable of
being because they too hold the power to change their own stars. The first step
to counting stars is seeing the truth, exactly as it is in all its ugliness.
But when we can’t even see the truth of the stars in front of us, how can we expect
to change anything?We change nothing
and then we live our lives chasing THINGS… things that will burn or turn to
rust, things we cannot control, cannot contain, things that slip right through
our fingers and burn in front of us. We exchange our stars for temporary
things, for temporary love, for temporary people… ideals instead of reality,
fantasies instead of truths, we lose out on real love for infatuation and lust.
Can’t you feel it?This song reminded me of the promise I made
as a hopeful fourteen-year old girl, sitting with her back against her locker
next to this dorky, long-legged awkward boy named James, dreaming with our
young, naïve hearts of how we were going to change our stars. I felt that
promise that day by the cold lake through this song, and it stirred something
deep within me, and it’s stirring something else within me today.I heard that familiar whisper during my flu
delirium, reminding me that my love hasn’t found me, that though I’m loved, I’m
never chosen, I’m never fought for, and that if I want anything in this world I’m
going to have to fight for it on my own or provide it for myself. I understand
now, I need a star counter, because I’m a star counter.I could never be content with someone that
can’t even recognize their own stars, much less who isn’t constantly counting new ones.I won’t ever be silent. I won’t
ever be content. I am bigger than this life, much more than the boxes
offer.I am at odds with the universe, because
I too am expanding, seeking, and counting stars… and it’s time I got back to
it.
I too am a star.My own sun, shining brightly, soaring in this
universe, But I’m not one to be caught so easily. If you can’t even see me, the
real me, then maybe I’m just a little too bright or a little too hot for you,
or you just don’t belong in my universe.
Ever read something, and the moment you read it, your
universe moved? You’re not quite sure how, but there’s a definite paradigm
shift deep in the center of your soul? I read a comment recently, that the
moment my eyes processed the tiny font on my phone, my mind filled with a
thousand strings of thoughts, flashed a thousand images, and like an electric
current surging through my body, sparked a thousand feelings all at once.
Goosebumps popped up on my arm. The hair on the back of my neck prickled.Tears welled in my eyes. A knot didn’t just
form, but augmented in my throat.
Someone messaged me, “I believe I’m an answer to something
you’ve asked for.”
Seeing those words, something inside shifted.
Something I asked for?I don’t remember asking for anything, not anything consciously. In fact,
I’ve spent so much of my time, love, and energy on everyone and everything else
around me, concerned about their needs and wants, I’ve had no time to think
about what I want. Seeing those words, reminded me of my promise. They also
reminded me of other words I’ve been given not too long ago, “I can’t give you
what you want.”
Right before I asked for a divorce I made a vow, a promise
to myself. I wrote it down on a magnetic memo and posted it to the refrigerator,
to remind myself every day of that promise. I still have that memo posted in my
bedroom right now.It states, “I will
never again waste my time, love, or energy into that which does not first
invest those things into me.” I broke my promise.
So, I ask myself, what do I want? My soul whispers, Ask.
“I want to receive what I freely give.I want someone to give a shit about me.I want to be someone’s first thought in the
morning. I want someone to care about the things that make ME happy.I want someone to know about what I’m worried
about, what I’m excited about, what I’m scared of, what I’m determined to do,
how I feel, what I dream.I want someone
to think about me in the middle of the day. I want someone to want to talk to
me, to want to share with me what’s going on their day, in their life. It makes
me happy helping others, nurturing what other’s need, helping them realize and
reach for their dreams, help pick them up and pull them out of their
difficulties. I love and care about the people in my life, and I worry about
them, and I do everything in my power to help, to encourage, to support.I give so much of my heart loving and caring
for them, and I just want someone to love and care about me. I want someone to
give a damn about what had me curled in tight ball for nearly two days, or what
had me so upset I couldn’t eat, or what excited me so much I couldn’t
sleep.I want someone who WANTS to talk
to me, to spend time with me, to offer arms to hold me when I’m scared, to
caress me when I’m feeling frisky, to ravish me when I’m excited, to encourage
me when I’m doubting, to calm me when I’m frustrated.To be there for me, not with their words and
empty promises, but really be there for me. I want someone to love me.”
I don’t think that’s too much to ask for, so why am I so
afraid to speak?Maybe the universe
hears my heart instead of my words.
Yep.I don’t know why
it comes as a surprise for some people, but you really ONLY get ONE life.Yeah, yeah, I know… some of you believe in
reincarnation, life after death, transformation, transcendentalism, etc… all
those other “possible” conclusions.But,
I’m not talking about those right now. I’m talking about the 50-100 meager
years we get to walk on this planet.Well, some of us crawl, some of us run, some of us spend it on our
backs, while others spend it on our knees, but you know what I mean.One life.
So, let me ask you… what are you doing with your life? Are
you even living it, or are you just existing? Do you just go through the
motions, or do take charge and move through the universe experiencing everything
you can while you can?
People, we get one shot at it.Just one.
There have been some low times in my life where I wanted to
end it, when the pain was too much to bear and I just wanted it all to stop. Abuse.
Cancer. Death of a love. Divorce. Break up with a soul mate. Times I’ve felt so
lonely, so lost, so unwanted, so unloved, so rejected, so unnecessary, that I just
ached inside. Of course, my love for myself, for my family, for my friends, and
for life itself always stayed my hand during those low points, but I’ve been
there.
There have been some high times in my life where I never
wanted to end, ones I wished to live over, and over, and over again.A kiss that melted me from the inside out. A
touch that still gives me butterflies today. A hug that felt like it held
together all my broken pieces.A moment
of my hard work being recognized. The birth of my children, holding them for
the first time. Laughing so hard I peed myself. Jumping from 2.5 miles in the
air.Racing down white rapids. Watching
an ant meander through the grass and meeting God. Writing. Playing my guitar.
Kicking alien ass on my Xbox.
Life. A series of moments.Good moments. Bad moments. Loud moments. Quiet moments.I’ve lived a lot of moments. I’m not guaranteed
one more.So, I want to make them
count.Love the people in my life.Live my life being happy. Loving and being
loved. Discovering and being adventurous.
I can’t imagine trying to numb my life with hate, drugs,
alcohol, or behind a thick wall never letting anyone in, or with condescending
judgment.It’s not always going to be
sunshine and roses, and there are still dark days and dark moments ahead, but
there’s always good moments, and bright moments, and life and love.
Be silly. Laugh. Take a chance. Jump. Kiss the girl
(life).Dance. Dream. Sing. Touch. Smell.
Stop hiding. Stop running away. Throw your hands into the air and let it
go.It’s your choice. No one else to
blame but yourself if you’re too coward to embrace life.For fuck’s sake… SMILE!
Wake up! Get up! Move your fucking feet! Kiss the girl!
Look, Life knocks us down. I think the abusive bitch really
enjoys it, because she knocks me out quite a lot.It seems like every time I stand up on my
feet, dust myself off, and start picking up my pace to make a little bit of
forward motion, she’ll drop a damned 747 out of the sky to fall on my head.
But, I’m indestructible, immortal, and a freaking superwoman, because I choose
to be. What’s your excuse?
Listen, I have my moments where I want to lay there on the
ground and just cry because of how unfair life can be, is, or will always
be.But, I’m not five-years old.Add forty years to that, and a whole lot of
responsibility never really having time to be a brat. I’m jealous of you
spoiled mother-fuckers that always had someone else looking after you, cleaning
up your messes, wiping your noses, and patting you on the head telling you what
a good job you’ve done.Take your
participation trophies and wrap them up in your dirty diapers, and go suck on
your binky. I don’t have time for your pity party.Believe me, I’ve been trying to have one for
the last few years, and it isn’t working!
Hey! Knock it off.Suck it up, Buttercup.It’s time
to get up. It’s time to move, even if you don’t know which way to go, move
anyway.The sad part is not moving,
being stuck in the moment, being mired in the muck of self-pity. Learn this
lesson: Life is NEVER fair. NEVER! Fair has never existed, and it never
will.This is a stupid concept ingrained
into our psyche as children and we carry it with us throughout our lives,
beating ourselves up when LIFE throws us a monkey wrench.We are taught that WE are in control of the
bullshit that happens in our lives.That
if we are good, good will happen to us.That if we are fair, fair will find us.BULLSHIT!You tell that to every
abused child, cancer patient, soldier’s widow, the betrayed, the rejected, and
the good-hearted discarded because keeping up is hard.Life is not fair.She never was. She never has been. She never
will be.So, get up!
Want to know what you control? Nothing, except HOW you
respond.That’s it.That’s all the control you have.You can’t control the universe, you can’t
control the weather, you can’t control the ocean’s tide, you can’t control
someone else’s response, you can’t control God, you can’t control the economy, you
can’t control anything. You can bribe, manipulate, lie, and scheme, but you
can’t control anything in life except how YOU respond to it.That’s who you are.Not who you say. Not who you think. Not what
some piece of paper says, by degree or birth certificate.You are how you respond to every little and
every big decision you make.
Stop being a pussy. Stop being afraid of making a
mistake.Fucking make a mistake, because
you’re at least living, doing, deciding.Stop hiding. Stop wallowing. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stop WAITING
for the right time, the right person, the right circumstance.Stop waiting to win the lottery. Stop WAITING
and start fucking moving. Start making decisions. Start making choices. STOP making
excuses.I’m so fucking tired of hearing
excuses.I hear it at work, I hear it at
home, I hear it in society all around me.I hear it out of my own mouth.The mantra is … “I can’t… because. I won’t… because. I don’t…
because.I hear that bullshit a whole
lot more than I’d like to admit.But,
that’s the problem. Until we admit to ourselves, until we recognize our
reactions, our inaction, and our whiny excuses… we can’t change them. So, as a
society, we keep ourselves distracted with bullshit, nonsense, shit that don’t matter,
so we don’t have to hear our souls
crying out to open our fucking eyes. Because to open our eyes to the truth is
to be faced with the choices that define us.We WANT to be fair. We want life
to be on Easy Street. We want someone to change our diapers for us, to take
away all the shit we’ve produced, and give us a clean diaper so we can soil
that too.Feed us, because we don’t want
to learn to feed ourselves.Hold our
hands, because we don’t want to face the struggle it takes to walk on our own.
Coddle us, because our little feelings are hurt. Rock us, because we’re
sleepy.We bitch about putting on ten
pounds, all the while stuffing our feelings.
Move.Choose.Kiss the girl - life!She’s right in front of you.See her.Stop thinking about whether you’re making a mistake, or will there a
better option tomorrow, or will she love you back because all the girl’s you’ve
kissed before had hurt, abused, and used you?Stop being a fucking coward and kiss the girl. It’s better to have
kissed, than to have missed your opportunity, because guess what… life will
continue without you.All you’ve lost is
the opportunity to really live. To live in the moment.To get out of life ALL that you can in that
moment… whether it ends up being a mistake.Even from our mistakes, we live.I have a life full of mistakes, but not ONE regret.
I lived for nearly twenty years doing the ‘right’ thing, the
practical, the responsible, the ‘good’ thing, and I don’t regret any of it,
because it was to fulfill the dream of being able to provide a certain life for
my kids.That was my dream.However, I didn’t do a whole lot of living in
that era, nor the era before.
I was too busy trying to be good, to be right, to make responsible choices and
so afraid of disappointing everyone else around me, of disappointing God, and
of making a mistake.THAT was the true mistake.Because all that did was steal life from me.
I’ve got some heavy choices before me, and many of those
choices paralyze me because I’m so afraid of making the wrong one.I’ve spent so much time being afraid of the
consequences of those choices, because I know life isn’t fair.I’ve felt the pain and suffering of an unfair
life.Those burn scars still hurt today.But, this is me this morning, puckering my
lips… ‘cause you know what… I want to kiss!I don’t want to just kiss, but I want to rip my clothes off and make
beautiful, passionate love.If it turns
out to be a mistake, at least I had an orgasm, and my toes curled, and my
stomach had butterflies.
