Roadblocks, Detours & Reactions

I’m a planner. It’s that simple. EVERYTHING great I’ve ever achieved in my life came from envisioning what I wanted, making up my mind that I was going to have it, counting the costs to get it, and then constructing a plan of execution.  EVERYTHING.

But, like all of life – things don’t always go as planned. We find ourselves headed toward our destination only to come across roadblocks and detours. They are always unwanted, but are they really unexpected?  They usually are, but it shouldn’t be a surprise. We should always have a plan B, or C, or D, before we ever take a step with plan A. 

I don’t like roadblocks and detours. My destination is clear, and I want my path to be clear. It never is. Roadblocks and detours are one of my triggers. Not because I can’t handle the change in the plan. Quite the opposite, I thrive in change, in uncertainty, and in chaos. It’s how I’ve lived my whole life. I’m OCD and organizing chaos is one of my gifts. But, it doesn’t mean I don’t react negatively when chaos comes and disorganizes what I’ve already put in place. It’s like spending a lot of time setting up dominos to fall just right and have something come in before the setup is complete and knocks them all down. I don’t like it and it causes me to grieve the work I’ve already invested, the dream I already dared to dream, and disappointment at the expectations I’ve already developed. It triggers my anxiety.  Not because of fear, but from the residual pain of 48 years of disappointments.  In the same measure my anticipation for residual joy is just as great, my hope for a deep love is real, because I’ve had it and have experienced it before.

I learned a long time ago that I can’t control everything around me (believe me – I try), or always what happens to me, or what happens in the world around me. The world has Murphy, Free Will, and Intent (whether good or evil), Natural Law, Cause & Effect, Good and Bad, and Chaos. All those things have the power to cause good or bad things to come into my life, cross my path, or affect me whether directly or indirectly – completely out of my control. I can always speculate why something happens to one of us, and not another, etc. That only drives me to frustration trying to figure it out.  I accepted a long time ago that sometimes bad shit happens to good people, and good shit happens to bad people, and bad shit happens to bad people, and good shit happens to good people. Good and bad shit happens, period.

But, what I do have control is how I respond to the shit that happens to and around me, to the roadblocks and detours that come along my road to the goals I want to achieve. I don’t like them. I don’t want them. I try to avoid them. BUT, I don’t let them stop me.  I just find another way, take a less traveled path, a harder path, one that requires more skill or sacrifice, but I keep moving toward my goal, never taking my eyes off my destination. 

I had a major roadblock pop yesterday and it triggered me, and there were a few moments where the anxiety overwhelmed me and I found myself in a panic.  Not because I couldn’t handle the situation – because the situation has been handled. I have taken care of myself my whole life. I have faced every adversity or problem on my own. I always have, it’s actually one of my greatest strengths, but it’s also one of my greatest weaknesses. While it has sharpened my survival skills (something I think a majority of our millennials sorely lack), it’s also built a wall of self-reliance that keeps people on the outside. My anxiety doesn’t come from having a problem to face. A problem is just an opportunity to discover a solution, to use my mind, skill and creativity to achieve something. No, the problem wasn’t the problem, the true problem was that I felt completely alone. That isn’t the truth, but it’s what I felt and it’s what triggered my anxiety.

I don’t fear failure. I don’t fear adversity. I don’t fear struggle. I don’t fear pain. I fear – shutting down emotionally, hiding behind my walls, being so fucking stubborn and independent to not let anyone in, to not trust that someone would be there for me. I fear it because I’ve been there behind that wall, in that numb state of shutting down my emotions so I don’t feel, for a very, very, very long time.  It protected me at different times in my life – and I’m grateful I was able to disconnect - to survive. But, I don’t want that anymore. I’m so scared to not feel, to not trust, to not love, because that’s not the life I want. I want to feel EVERYTHING. My Anxiety and Fear practically screamed at me that nobody cared and nobody would be there for me, making me realize I’m still that defensive little girl that won’t let anyone touch her.

I don’t NEED anyone. I handle my own shit – always have – always will. I WANT someone. I want to be able to turn around and somebody be right there beside me AS I face my roadblocks and detours, not for them to remove them for me – but be there beside me as I remove them.  But, in that moment - I felt completely alone and that familiar wall slammed hard against me. I cried sitting in my car for a good ten minutes.  My true roadblock wasn’t my car troubles, but my trust troubles. But, I face what I fear.  My hands literally trembled so hard it took me a few times to dial the number and call the people that are important to me, the people who I would stand with and support in their times of need, trouble, or pain, people who I love and would fight to the ends of the world to protect, to help, and sacrifice everything I have to make sure they get what they need. I just don’t expect it in return – ever – from anyone. That’s a bitter pill to swallow.

When I contacted those important people, I passed on some of those frustrations– but not on the truth – I masked them behind the car situation.  Will I ever trust anyone? I want to, I really do, more than anything in this world.  I want to know for sure that someone out there in this universe really loves and cares for me. Is there any hope? I keep saying I don’t need anyone to save me – and I don’t in a physical, financial, or intellectual way.  But, emotionally – I need a fucking hero.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Hidden and Visible Scars

We are a visual society; no doubt.  We are bombarded every day with visual images that appeal to our desires and even our dislikes.  I’m a part of the ‘we’.  I love pretty things. I love art, nature, the wonder of the universe, the shape of a man, and colorful food makes me hungry.  But beneath, in the making, in the growing, and often in places we can’t see - there is a mixture of hidden and visible scars that led to the beautiful image in front of us. Many of us never notice these scars, because it takes a different kind of eyes to see them.

I was blessed in the aspect that I was raised by a blind man.  I learned before I could I walk to “see” differently. It’s like a native language, and not really something that one can fully learn as an adult with the same degree.  While a new language can be easily obtained, that natural fluidity is something else entirely. I lend this ability to see differently to one of the main foundations in my writing as well.

My eyes are drawn to the hidden and visible scars of the human soul, and it’s often very painful.  The feelings sometimes are so overwhelming I just crumble inside, yet also inspiring that I can’t help but smile. I see people differently, I see beauty and cruelty, I see depth and shallowness, I see love and indifference when I meet a person, especially when I’m simply talking to them face to face. I try to avoid their eyes, because that’s when I see them most clearly. Their scars don’t scare me away, but intrigue me.  Their imperfections I find the most beautiful. 

None of us are perfect.  I think I’m an amazing person.  I would be intrigued by me. I love that woman I see in the mirror, because even though she has accomplished many things, and has an energy that is almost uncontrollable – I see her visible and hidden scars.  I see that small white scar on her left breast where once death dared to attack. I see those huge, long white lines that run down the length of her stomach and remember the years of suffering and freedom that followed. I see the small white scar from the blade that wanted to kill me.  I see the little burn marks and remember that scared little girl that once thought her world would always be filled with darkness. I see the Cesarean and stretch marks that were gained bringing the three most important people into my life – lives that was created within me and that I brought into this world. I also see the scar of the child I never got to hold.  I see the loose skin, the graying hairs, the beginning wrinkles, the cottage-cheese thighs and other signs of getting older.  I see the limp hair and weak teeth due to chemo and vitamin deficiencies.  I see all those things – yet when I look at myself I see a beautiful soul.

Some will never see beyond a pretty face. Many will never able to get passed a fat ass, a broken tooth, flabby skin, or something else very shallow.  We are a visual world.  We want the world to accept us and all our hidden and visible scars, but we are not willing to do the same for others.  We want everyone to understand our pain, our hopes, our dreams, but often unwilling to listen and be a support for someone else’s pain, hopes and dreams. That’s why I love pets.  Pets don’t give a damn how you look – they care about how you treat them. If you love and feed them, you are the most beautiful thing in the world to them.

I know I’m weird, and odd, and definitely not typical – because I’m drawn to the deep.  I’m drawn to what I can feel when I close my eyes, more than what I can see when I have them open. I’m attracted to souls, not faces, not even if they look like Jason Mamoa.  I’m drawn to a presence that allows me to feel safe, to feel free to be myself, to feel unafraid to show my scars. But the world is superficial. It’s one of the reasons I’m often afraid to meet new people. In my experience it doesn’t go so well.  It’s human nature to put our best foot forward and greet the world with a smile.  Because of who I am, the energy I express, how I speak, or how I’m open, or what I’ve accomplished - I am often placed on a pedestal, loved by an ideology that was created in their minds, and desired by an imagination of who they want me to be – and in reality they meet a simple woman riddled with hidden and visible scars.  I am still all they imagined, just their vision changed. The fall hurts, no matter how big or small.  With this vision of mine, I always see it when it happens – and it happens a lot. 

I can’t control how the world sees me, or loves me, or doesn’t.  I love me JUST the way I am.  I am enough. I am beautiful regardless of my imperfections and my scars. I am a good woman. I have a good heart. I can hold my head high because I am filled with integrity. I have been through hell so many times, yet refuse to let it embitter me, or break me, or use it as an excuse to become a mean, cruel, and selfish person.  I’m not perfect, but I possess a perfect love.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Melancholic Optimist

My emotions are all over the place today.  Perhaps it’s because my hormones are running rampant - my baby girl turned twenty, a budding relationship seems to have withered, I work all the time and it doesn’t seem I get anywhere, yet at the same time appreciated and admired for my abilities, talent, inspiration, and professionalism. I miss my kids like crazy. So many things have changed, yet some things still remain the same.  At the same time I’m excited and energetic this morning.  I had a GREAT workout, pushed myself a little further, a little harder (having gained over 2 lbs this week – I’m thinking because of the crepes), one of my writers are about to launch their first book, got a lot of editing done on another writer’s manuscript, my collaboration on my own current WIP is still going strong, and my prospects for the future are wide-open.

I suppose this emotional roller coaster has been coming on for the last few days.  It always happens when I’ve been with the “family”.  Friday night, I helped my daughter celebrate her upcoming 20th birthday with my ‘former’ family.  I’m beginning to hate those gatherings, because they remind me of what I left behind, what I left to pursue, and what I’ve not yet obtained.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t regret for one second my decision to leave, but there are some things my decision cost me that hurts me to the deepest part of my soul.  For a brief moment in time, I had my family back. Then as we all climbed in our cars and went our separate ways, I’m reminded I don’t have a family anymore.

My children love me and I will always have a relationship with them, and they will always be my family.  But when I decided to separate from my husband, I lost something that was very precious to me – all the rest of the family I had. Having been estranged from my parents and siblings, my husband’s family became mine.  So, when I left him, I lost them too.  Their lives continue on without me.  They still all gather together to celebrate every birthday, holiday, and special event.  I wasn’t invited to the last two – because they didn’t involve my children.  That’s okay, I know I’m not part of the family anymore, and that was my choice.  They have their Thursday night dinners and their Sunday brunches.  They’re there for each other, see each other almost on a daily basis, take vacations together, their lives keep moving forward, without skipping a beat, not falling apart without me, not even missing me for that matter.  I go home alone, eat alone, sleep alone, work out alone, vacation alone, go on my adventures alone, celebrate my victories alone, and mourn my failures alone.

I’m not feeling sorry for myself or even sad that I do everything alone. I’m actually growing fond of being alone.  It was new for me, having never been alone in my whole life.  It’s taken some getting used to, but I am, and there are lots of things about it that I’m learning to enjoy, especially the part where other people’s decisions no longer keep me from doing things I truly enjoy.  But, I’m angry that I haven’t reached many of the emotional goals I’ve set for myself.  I’ve accomplished a lot in these last few years – done some amazing things that I’m so proud for accomplishing.  I know, without any doubt, there’s nothing I can’t do.  It doesn’t matter what it is, I’ll find a way.  It’s those things that I can’t obtain by sheer determination and hard work that continue to allude me. Those things that depend on someone else.  Will I ever trust someone else again? I don’t know if I can.

I want what everyone wants – to matter, to be loved.  Being with my former family is a reminder that I didn’t matter.  I’m not needed, not wanted, and their lives continue on without me.  Even to my close friends I have now, who happen to all live in separate parts of the world very far away from me, I essentially don’t matter.  Should I disappear tomorrow, they may miss my drama, but their lives will continue on without missing a step, because I’m not an integral part of their world.  I couldn’t have made it these last couple of years without them, but they in turn have never needed me.  So, what happens when I don’t need them as much anymore?  Will they just disappear from my lives too? It’s what I feel happening all the time.  I hear from them less and less every day. That’s what I fear. Yet, at the same time, know that if they do – I will survive.

I had a friend ask me lately why I let people so easily walk out of my life, why I don’t fight to keep them in it?  It’s simple really.  Holding onto someone that doesn’t love you and want to stay in your life doesn’t help you – it only hurts worse.  The pain of losing someone breaks your heart, but it’s not as destructive as much as loving someone that doesn’t love you back.  That destroys your soul.  I’ve already had to restore my soul from death a few times before – I don’t want to do it again.

So, on this Monday morning filled with emotional madness, I smile, and I cry, and I breathe.  I tell myself it’ll get better.  I take a moment to be thankful for all that I have been given.  I wish my daughter a happy birthday and try to impart a few words of wisdom. I exercise.  I go to work, and I live one moment at a time – and I choose to live the best I know how.  It’s all I can do. Who knows what will happen in the next moment.

Till next time,

~The Melancholic Optimist

Good Morning, Good Night

I’m one of those annoying people who always say “good morning” and “good night” even to strangers.  It is part of my Southern hospitality right along with saying, “hi, how are ya?”, “bless you”, “please” and “thank you”.  However, that’s not how I was raised.  We never said these things in my family, nor did we say “I’m sorry” or “I love you.”

But this particular form of ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ I’m talking about in this blog post is something of a different caliber. It’s not a typical greeting or salutation, but has a special meaning – for me. 

I have issues. Mostly insecurities when it comes to trusting people and believing they’ll be there for me. I’ve watched so many people walk right out of my life, people who promised to love me forever. I just don’t trust they’ll be there even in the next moment. I’ve had a good friend go off to war and promise me they’d come home, but never did. I’ve had a young love promise to be with me forever, but forever didn’t last very long. 

I’ve had a teenage daughter run away from home.  For a very long time I didn’t know whether she was dead or alive, hurt or scared. I would have given anything during those dark years to hear ‘good morning’ or ‘good night’, but I was helpless and powerless to say or hear anything.   

The last couple of years I’ve gone through some major changes.  I’m the one that’s walked away this time – away from a 20 year marriage, away from all the friends I’ve known for the last 17 years, away from the only real family I’ve ever had. I can’t even begin to express the heartache when none of them (other than my children) followed me or cared enough to love and accept me for the woman I’ve become.

I’m proud of me. I’m proud of standing up for myself and chasing my dreams and striking out on my own. But, I’m a broken woman and couldn’t have made it through these last couple of years without my best friends. There were so many days I was so scared I couldn’t literally breathe, but they were there for me.  I started telling them ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ for the simple reason it gave me reassurance.  I could go to sleep in peace because I knew no matter how bad my nightmares scared me I wasn’t alone.  I could go through the day with courage when I received their good morning, because I knew if I needed them they would be there.    

To some it may be a stupid or simple greeting, but to me it means everything. To me it means I need you, I love you, I care about you, or you’re important to me. Perhaps one day I won’t need those words, because I’ll be whole. But that day isn’t today. I’m so much stronger today than I was yesterday, and I’ll be even stronger tomorrow. Until then … ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Fool

Today is April Fool’s day.  Why the first day of such a glorious month was chosen as a day to celebrate foolishness, I don’t know, and I really don’t want to know.  I enjoy a good laugh, a good prank, and seeing the creative mind being exercised.  Have fun, you little pranksters.

The bigger question for me today is: What is really foolishness and being a fool?

At times I see it as a positive thing, something admirable, full of strength and courage.  Other times I see it as being weak and stupid, something to be avoided at all costs.  There are times I love being a fool and chasing foolish pursuits because it brings me alive, it stirs my soul, and refreshes my heart.  Other times it tears me apart and makes me feel stupid, unworthy and unlovable.

One of the things I try to do is not judge a thing on its possible outcome, because what may seem impossible can turn into the possible, and none of us has the power to really control what happens in our lives.  We can do our best to reach certain goals, achieve certain outcomes, but only God knows the end.  Instead, I try to look at the results of a thing and judge it by those merits, because every decision we ever make leaves a mark, has an effect, creates a truth – a fact of what is or what has been.

Looking at things from that perspective, perhaps some of my foolish decisions haven’t been very smart ones. Things I took huge chances for haven’t happened.  Other things I’d hoped for haven’t become reality.  Even more things I dreamed for have remained out of my reach.  On the flip side of that, I’ve accomplished some really great things in my life I thought were impossible and have experienced some beautiful things that I will treasure for as long as I live.  I’m a walking contradiction… so happy with so many things, strong and healthy and doing amazingly, yet so empty, hurt and scared at the same time. I’m so proud of myself for the courage to do the things I’ve done, but also so ashamed of those things I’ve not been able to complete.  Never felt more love, yet unloved. Never felt more beautiful and desirable, yet unwanted. I once asked for my eyes to be open, now I wish more than anything they would close.

Am I a fool to continue to tightly grasp those hopes and dreams?  Or am I a fool for not letting them go? How does one let go of their soul?  How do they let go of their heart’s desire?  I know it’s possible, I’ve seen the emptiness behind the smiles.  I’ve seen the shells behind drunken stares and indifferent glances, tucked neatly behind middle-class banners, dangling from the end of a needle, or in the gooey center of a jelly donut.  I’ve wore its clothing and hid behind its smile.  It’s comfortable there, because it’s also dead.  I’m so afraid I’ll go back and give up. I’m terrified I’ll choose to be the wrong kind of fool.  I’m petrified I won’t go forward. The uncertainty kills me, yet the idea of the possibilities thrills me. I’m sick, I tell ya.  Sick. 

Is there a cure for this big fool? Or at least a cute little hat?

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray