Recovery and Hope

Good morning, world. We are a different place today than we were just a few weeks ago. It’s a worrisome time, and not one death is unimportant. Not ONE.  All lives matter.   Life is precious.  Life is not guaranteed.  There is no rule that states that if we do this – or do that – our life is guaranteed.  There is no promise for a tomorrow. BUT – there is hope.

If we’ve learned anything from this COVID-19 virus is that’s we are all connected, we do not live on our own island and the world around us can’t or don’t affect us.  Yes, it does.  We are all part of the societal machine – we all effect the world around us in either in a negative or positive way, but we are all ‘essential’. 

In my recovery from this nasty virus, I can’t help but worry about the world around me.  Yes, I’m stressed like everyone else. Yes, I’m worried about the financial, social, and environmental effect this nasty virus is having on me, my family, and my neighbors.  Yes, I’m worried about the ultimate cost - not just of the direct effects of this virus – all the needless deaths, but of the emotional damage.  Those numbers are not just numbers – those are our neighbors, friends, mothers, fathers, grandmothers, grandfathers, aunts, uncles, sisters, brothers, daughters and sons that are dying.  This virus isn’t racist or prejudiced and attacks everyone, so it will require everyone in order to combat and kill it.

I am in recovery. My body is strong and it was the only weapon I had against this virus.  There is no antiviral, there are no antibiotics, and there is no cure.  All I could do was treat symptoms and help my body fight as hard as it could from this horrible enemy inside me.  My body is winning and my amazing and miraculous machine is producing its own natural antibodies destroying the enemy within and building up a protective immunity that will help me stay strong as this nasty bug continues to circulate through our world.

My heart breaks for those who had family and loved ones who did not overcome their battle.  All of them were precious lives.  I’ve been in a very strict quarantine, not just to protect myself as I fight this virus, but to protect others around me. There is hope. We will recover …from this virus.  Now, I must have hope we as a society will recover from the grief and pain of our loss.

Let us all love each other, be considerate of each other, and remember that we are all essential in our roles as neighbors. 

~T.L. Gray

Being a Parent

What is being a parent? Donating sperm or giving birth doesn’t make you a parent.  Not donating sperm or giving birth, also doesn’t make you NOT a parent. Love, kindness, discipline, sacrifice, giving into the well-being of another human being – that’s what makes you a parent.

God has given me many gifts.  Most of all, he has given me the opportunity on several occasions to be a parent. I haven’t always been a good parent. I haven’t always made all the right decisions. I have made some really bad choices and made some really bad mistakes.  There’s no ‘but’ in that, either.  I’ve learned some things along the way, mostly from my mistakes.  I suffer still some of the consequences of those choices and mistakes.

I’ve come a long way.  I’ve come a very long way from being that scared young girl facing the decision of becoming a teen mother.  I was terrified.  I lived in hell and felt I had no one in this world I could trust.  I had no one to take care of me. Yet, there was this life growing inside of me – a defenseless child that I would be responsible to care for, to protect, and to provide simple everyday things. I couldn’t even provide those things for myself.  I had dreams. I had an escape plan to run off to the military that was going to take me away from the abuse I lived under and secure me a future – but if I chose her – I couldn’t escape – not yet.  There were days I hated the choices I had. There were times I wanted to give up, to die, especially when I was ridiculed and called names at school (Yes, I was that popular high-school slut wobbling down the halls everyone felt sorry for, or made fun of, or called names, or glared at with their disapproving eyes.) Yet, every time I felt my daughter move within my stomach, my hands would cradle my big belly and hope would grow – hope for a great life, a good future, a little bit of love in my dark gray world.  I would pay the price to make it happen – no matter what it cost me. I was young (16), scared, and didn’t know ANYTHING about being a parent. Hell, I didn’t even know how to be an adult. So, I made some mistakes.  But, everything I did – I did in love – love for her – love for the hope that she was going to one day bring into this world.  I don’t care how she was made – I’m the one that made the decision to bring her into this world.  EVERYONE I knew wanted me to give her up or abort her.  The religious didn’t want me to have an abortion, but they didn’t want me to raise her either.  The rest told me on a regular basis I was wasting my life, sacrificing my future, giving up my freedom when I had another choice.  I didn’t know much, but I already loved her and I wanted her – so I chose her.  It kills me that as an adult she doesn’t choose me, but I still have hope, and not for a millisecond regret my choice. She’s a beautiful, loving, kind woman and I am so proud of her.

I have two other children, who are also now adults, who make me smile every time I hear their voice, or see their texts, or video chat, or am able to wrap my arms around and hug them.  I also have the most beautiful grand-daughter. I love them with a love that is indescribable.  Not because I gave birth to them or genetically related to them.  Not because they’re good human beings.  But, for love.  The love I feel from them and for them. That love isn’t granted just because of genetics.  I never had that love for or from my parents.  Not ONCE, not EVER did they ever hug me – and if they had, I would have not felt that love.  My parents gave birth to me, but they were not parents – they were manipulative abusers that took a long time for me to escape. 

I now have another child, another chance to be a mother to someone who needs a mother.  I look at this kid and see the manipulation and emotional abuse he’s been through and I remember that lost, scared, angry little girl I used to be – and I try to be the mother I needed, the friend I could have used, and the love that was desperately missing in my life.  Maybe he won’t have to face the same hard choices I had to face – and he will make better decisions, and his life will reach even greater opportunities.  Most of all – he is loved. Every day.  I am hard on him, I don’t let him get away with anything, and every day is a constant learning lesson – because I want him to be a good man. I want to teach him the things of this world that is going to make him a descent, caring, productive, and good man.  I find it ironic - He now has the opportunity to escape his abusers and run off to the military and secure himself a future.

Being a parent is hard.  It’s sacrifice. It’s constant love, constant worry, constant energy, constant demand, constant giving of your time, your focus, your life, your space, your money, your peace, and your choices. It’s about providing what is NEEDED, not wanted. It’s providing a place of understanding, communication, and learning – constantly.  I can’t give up.  I want to give up at least once a day – but he’s worth it.  He is worth every little inconsequential sacrifice. Just like my daughter was worth it. Just like my other two children were worth it. Just like my grandbaby was worth it.  Love is worth it. Hope is worth it. 

Being a parent is a privilege, not a right.  There are some really shitty parents out there. I’ve been one at times, but I wouldn’t change one single solitary moment, not even the bad moments – because it was from those moments I learned most.  I didn’t give birth to Anthony, but I am his parent, I am his mother – because I love him and he’s worth everything I do for him. I get the best part of this relationship – his love in return. That is being a parent.  Those who pour love into him …are his mothers and fathers, not genetics. This young man is lucky – because he is now being surrounded by people pouring love, life lessons, instruction, and encouragement into him (thank you Scott).  When he gets into the Navy he is going to be surrounded by new brothers and a new family …and once again I am filled with hope.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Never Quit Never Surrender

I’d love to say that I’ve never quit anything, succeeded at everything I’ve set my mind to accomplish, but that would be a lie. I have quit. I have ran away. I’ve turned my back on a dream, on people, and even on life at times. I know how to quit. But, I also know the cost of quitting and it’s a lot more than what have cost me to dig in and keep going. I’m not just talking about the good things I’ve quit, but the bad as well.  I’ve quit smoking, I’ve quit bad relationships, and I’ve quit bad eating and exercising habits. Those choices may have been for my good, but they are under the category of quit.

So, to say “Never Quit” is to set a false expectation, a false reality, because there are times I will need to quit, there are things I will need to quit in order to succeed, in order to move forward, in order to protect and thrive. But what do I replace it with, because the sentiment is the same for those things I do want to achieve, I do want to succeed, and I want to conquer, because in order to do so I have to have this ‘never quit’ attitude or else I fail when it gets hard. Anything of value is going to get hard, guaranteed. What is the true war cry, what is the true sentiment, what truth can I grab hold of with both hands to be my strength and my shield as I go through my challenge?

Perhaps, “Never Surrender” is the better sentiment.  To surrender, means to concede, yield, capitulate, give in or give up, to relinquish control, to cease resistance to an enemy or opponent and submit to their authority.  

I have goals, dreams, and objectives to complete in this life – and they’re hard. My workout this morning is hard. My job is hard. Survival is hard. Trying to maintain a healthy balance of everything is hard.  Each of those goals and objectives has an opponent, an adversary, an enemy, and I must maintain control of my objective despite those difficulties. I cannot surrender or else I will lose everything I’ve worked for so far.

I made a meme this morning that hit my soul – that gave me that little extra boost to stay faithful and strong to my dreams. It says, “If you quit now …you’ll end up right back where you first began. And when you first began, you were desperate to be right where you are now.  See how far you’ve come? Keep going. Don’t Stop. Don’t Surrender. It’s in this moment, with this decision, that will determine if you fail or succeed …until the next moment when you must face the decision all over again.”

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

I Remember You

I’m the type of person that gives all herself to whatever she sets her heart upon. When I love, I love with everything within me. When I make a decision, I throw all my heart, soul, and energy into the task I’ve accepted.  If I’ve accepted the task, believe me when I tell you this over-thinker has already thought about every conclusion, every outcome, every risk, and every possibility – and yet I chose.  The Word tells us to consider the cost of something before we set our hands to it. Before we build something, know the plans, know the cost, and know the materials and foundation that will be required to complete the task.  Don’t make plans just to start a task, be determined and make the plans to finish it.  While it’s a ‘nice’ philosophy to live by the seat of your pants and make responsive choices as needs and wants arrive, it’s irresponsible and in the long run costs many times more than what was ever needed or required.  It’s a thief – come to steal any progress or profit.  It leads to destruction because the foundation wasn’t solid, the materials weren’t right, shortcuts were made, and essential lode-bearing beams were never placed properly. I believe my previous world crumbled because of this practice.  My foundation was set on hopes and dreams.  My choices were reactive to emotion and need.  I knew better. No one is blame but myself. I knew better and I chose anyway.

In the middle of this current phase of my life, I’m again beginning to recognize myself.  I’m beginning to see that diligent, hard-working, responsible, frugal, driven, goal-oriented, organized, over-thinking, button-downed, cost-counting, careful, blessed, planning, creative artist that I once was, that I worked hard to develop, and that I fought hard to shape.  I see her plain and clear.  I’ve missed her. I whispered to her in the mirror last night, “I remember you.”

I do not regret my past choices – to love and give everything to the family I chose.  I do not regret the choices I made - because they were my choices. I own my choices, my mistakes, and my failures. I wasn’t forced into making those choices, I wasn’t deceived, and I wasn’t manipulated. I didn’t make a choice because of sympathy or need. I simply loved – and I chose love. That choice came with a high cost - and I paid it, I’m paying it now with every tear, every moment I miss them, and every moment I miss not being with them as our lives go separate ways.  But, I’ve also gained, or more accurately re-gained something just as precious – me. 

I’m building a new life now, and believe me – I’m counting every cost.  Every step I make I take into consideration – everything.  I’m not meant to build something small in this world.  I knew that at a very early age.  I’m meant for greatness.  I’m meant to build something spectacular.  I’m not an average person. I never was, and I never will be. I’ve tried to be average. I’ve tried to be what the world or people I loved wanted or needed me to be, but I’m not meant to be any of those things.  I am created for a greater purpose. I don’t know what that is, but I do know the kind of person I need to be in order to step into that role. She’s been baptized in fire. She’s been shaped and molded in flame.  She’s been kindled in water.  She’s been sculpted by the hands of the Maker of the Universe. I remember her.  He whispers, “I remember you, too.”

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

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What Do I Want?

Being single, I get asked the question of what I want, ALL the time now. My answer changes depending on my mood, my experiences of that day, or my expectations at that moment.  Right now, I would like my cable company to answer the damned phone, not put me on hold for nearly an hour, fix their website and stop the bullshit.  Will that happen?  It better happen soon or else I will be taking a long lunch to return all my equipment to their local office and giving them a stern rebuke for their shitty online and phone service.  So, see …depending on the question, the circumstances, and the content – my answer will change. 

I know the question isn’t aimed at what I want for my cable service, but what I want in life, in love, and in my future relationships. But, honestly … how can I answer that question?  When I was five, I wanted to be safe and free of violence.  Well, that didn’t happen until I left home as a teenager.  When I was fifteen, I thought I wanted Herbie Shiflett. Well, I got Herbie, then I got cheated on and my heart broken for the first time. At twenty-one I found a determined and deep love from a loving soldier that promised me a loving future.  Well, that dream was taken away in an instant by a Somalian bullet. At twenty-three I wanted security, kindness, stability and that picket-fence dream for my family. Well, I got it, don’t regret it, but it came at the high cost of no passion or romance. At thirty-nine, I thought I wanted to find a deep love and soul mate. Well, I got that and the devastating heartache that followed when that deep love wasn’t returned.  So, what do I want next? I’m forty-seven, and while I try to think about the positive and exciting things that could possibly be waiting for me around the corner, I can’t help but wonder what horrible pain is waiting to follow.

All I’ve ever really wanted was to be loved and wanted for who I am, just like I am, to be someone’s partner, best friend, lover … balance. I want to belong somewhere and to someone. I want to be accepted and appreciated for who I am, not who they need or want me to be.  So, how does someone go about finding that in a superficial world? I guess what I really want is faith, and hope, and love – and the greatest of these is love.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

http://tlgray.blogspot.com/

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Rise

Everyone desires to succeed in …everything. No one faces their hopes, dreams, or responsibilities in life with the expectation of failure. That is one way that makes us all similar to one another.  Even from the depths of drug addiction, to the height of financial, educational or titled climb, to being surrounded and well loved by family, to invention, to achievement, to taking our first steps, to beating disease, to finding love – we all desire to succeed. Not one of us wakes up every day seeking ways to fail. Our differences come from our ideas of ‘how’ to succeed.

I’ve met many people throughout my life that have obtained great success, and I’ve met many more who have known nothing but one failure after the next.  One is no greater of a human being than the other.  In what we succeed or fail doesn’t shape our character or define our moral center, but “how” we go about succeeding or failing, makes ALL the difference and is the DNA of our character. You can tell me a million ways, until you’re blue in the face, until the cows come home, or any other metaphor you want to use, that you’re a good and kind person with good intentions, yet your actions are selfish and cruel, you are NOT a good person. If you blame others for your failures, or tear others down, you are NOT a good person. If in order for you to rise you must step on someone else, you are NOT a good person. I may not be perfect, and I may not always be to blame for everything that goes wrong in my life, but one thing I will never do is tear someone else down in order for me to rise. I will not do it to family, loved ones, co-workers, friends or even ex-lovers.  My God has taught me a deeper lesson than the one the world shows on a constant basis. 

I am currently at my lowest depths when it comes to failure and success.  I recently lost my step-kids, my soul mate, my dogs, a life and a family I had chosen, and the only father I had ever respected and loved. I sacrificed many successful things in my life to choose them, but I would sacrifice those things all over again for them. I have no regrets of anything I laid down for them, because “they” were my success.  Loving them was my goal and my choice.  I failed.  Yes, I understand it takes two to make a relationship work. It was just as much their responsibility to love and choose me back. I can’t take responsibility for their choices, I can only take responsibility for my own. I made mistakes, but loving them and choosing them was not one of them.  They were far from perfect, but I will never tear them down in order to justify the failure of our relationship.  I’ve already lost them, what good would come from dwelling on their faults or failures? What good would come from tearing them down? What good would come from blaming them or hating them? How can I rise if my focus is to tear them down? I can’t.  I rise by looking up.  I rise by focusing on the love we had and shared.  I rise remembering the good.  That doesn’t mean I deny the pain, the truth, or the issues we all had. No – by no means.  There were issues, really major issues and I believe more than anything in this world that only facing the truth of an issue can anyone ever defeat and overcome them.  There’s a lot of denial of some major issues, and that denial caused a lot of damage and a lot of pain. I can’t change that – I couldn’t change it – I failed – we failed.  But, what I can change is how I let the pain affect ME. I want to rise.  I want to breathe, I want to hope for a better day a better tomorrow, and I know I can’t find that success if I’m too busy trying to tear someone else down. 

I will not speak of EX negatively.  Yes, he has his faults, many faults, but it’s not my job to inform the world of them. I won’t deny the truth, even the ugly parts of the truth, but I will not tear anyone else down in order to justify myself. I will not blame HIM for OUR failure.  I love him. I will always love him. I love them and I will always love them. I don’t want them to fail just because I am not with them anymore. I want them to succeed in life. I want them to be happy. I want them to be healthy, and free, and loved, and be good people.  I want to be happy and successful and free.  So, maybe I’m odd and don’t swim like the rest of the world, but I want to rise out of this pain. I want to rise off this floor and fly once again.  My flight doesn’t require climbing over someone else, it only requires spreading my wings and looking up.  Spreading your wings makes you vulnerable, but it’s the only way to catch the wind and rise.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

http://tlgray.blogspot.com/

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Monday Morning Coffee

Most people are not morning people, and even more so not Monday morning people.  I'm one of those irritating happy morning people, especially on a Monday.  Why?  I have a theory. 

Shit happens, but I’m still going to hope for a better day.  As Shakespeare said, "All the world's a stage and all the people are merely players." All life is drama.  The differences are the types of dramas we find ourselves and how they affect us.  I hear people say all the time they don't want any 'drama' in their lives.  Well, too damned bad, because as long as we live and breathe there is drama.  We can't escape it.  We can try, but it won't work.  I've tried many times. I've told myself on many occasions that my life would be better if I could stop feeling and the drama would leave me alone. Yeah, but that's bullshit.  I knew it was bullshit when I said it, and knew that saying it wasn't going to change anything.

While we may not be able to control the presence of drama in our lives, we do have control on the kind of drama we allow, we run toward, we desire, and to which we choose to run away. My choice would be the hero’s tale, but I often myself wrapped up in a tragedy.  I desire the epic romance, but often find myself in a myopic comedy.  I have been hurt deeply many times, but even still I have ‘hope’ for a better day, a better tomorrow. My trust may be broken, my faith may be weak, and my expectation may be so vapid that it disappears with the slightest breeze, but I still cling to hope for a better story, MY story.  Why, because I love myself.  I love the woman I am. I don’t deny my mistakes. I don’t ignore my faults. I don’t pretend.  I love with all that I have, all that I am, because I know what it’s like to be unloved and unwanted.  I know how rejection cuts so deeply it leaves a scar that burns.  I know what it’s like to look into the eyes of someone you love so deeply, to see no love staring back.  I know that pain.  I know what it feels like to cling to that dying hope that things will change, that love will overcome, or that the story doesn’t have to end the way feared.  But, I can only hold onto that false hope for so long, because there’s another hope that is seeded deeper within my soul I won’t allow to be sacrificed in its place.  And it is THAT hope that gets me up every morning, especially on a Monday morning.  

Regardless of how the day ends, I lift my warm cup of coffee to this glorious Monday morning, holding fast to the hope that this day will be the day that leads me down the road of MY story, that it be filled with MY drama, and that I feel all the love and beauty I’ve been searching for my whole life.  I already walk in my story, and I already have all that I desire, because it’s wrapped up in that woman I see in the mirror every morning.  The only difference is my ability to see her – and that is my hope – that I see her more clearly every day and don’t allow the drama and hurts of the world to hide her from me.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Faith, Hope and Love

Life is hard.  One of the sad realities is that we are often lonely souls, even when we are surrounded by other people.  We are born alone, unless we are a twin, or a triplet, or a quadruplet.  We also die alone, unless we are part of a multiple catastrophe like a plane crash, natural disaster, etc., that takes a lot of people at the same time.   But, you get the point. We are individuals.  Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes… I’ve heard all this bullshit before.  What I’ve learned in my nearly 46 years on this rotating ball of iron is that we are social beings and we need interaction with other humans, with other souls, and no matter what we achieve in this life, gain or lose, it’s our faith, hope and love that matter most.  The rest are the non-essential details.

Sex, money, fame, success, the American dream, etc., all of it is bullshit if we don’t have faith, hope, and love.  Sex alone is fucking boring (pun intended). Sex with someone without love, is even worse, it’s empty and does nothing to abate the loneliness inside the soul and attacks the love we have for ourselves.  Money and all the things it can buy is powerless because it can’t buy love, respect, or faith.  I love having money, for the purpose that I can spend it making the people I love happy, or providing what they need, or being there for them if they need me. If there’s no one to spend my money on, it has no value.  Yes, I need a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and clothes on my body to keep me warm or covered.  Basic essentials are important and it takes money to supply those needs.  But, possessing those things isn’t living, it’s surviving.  Surviving is natural, and some of us do it better than others. Some of us are lazy, stupid, and immature and surviving becomes a major importance in life – but what do we strive to survive for?  I’m not living so that I have somewhere to sleep, food to eat, or somewhere to lay my head.  I don’t want to eat to live, I want live to eat.  I want to see the world, but I want to see it with someone who will enjoy all the places we go.  Like Whitney said, I want to dance – with somebody. I want to laugh – with somebody.  I want to cry – with somebody.  I want to dream – with somebody.  I want be someone’s cheerleader and share in their successes.  I want to be a shoulder they can cry on when their world starts closing in on them and squeezing their hope.  I want to have someone I can come home to and share all the exciting or boring things that happened that day.  Life is meant to be shared.  Love is meant to be shared.

I have been hungry, homeless, and in need, but I’ve never been helpless, or lazy, and I know how to survive.  I have loved with my whole heart, and it’s been broken so many times.  I have many people who love me and care about me, but I’m lonely, my faith is weak, and my hope dies a little more every day.  I have to encourage myself. I often feel unnecessary, lost, and unwanted by this world, most often forgotten.  At times I don’t want to be here anymore because I’ve lost purpose, direction.  I’m not wanted or needed and I know the world would keep turning without me in it.  But inside, deep inside, there is a soul that clings tightly to her faith.  Oh, I get angry and feel betrayed by that faith, but don’t you see – those are all evidence that it’s still there. You don’t get angry at what you don’t believe.  It’s because I believe so deeply that I get so angry.  There’s a soul that holds tightly to hope, a hope for a better tomorrow, a hope for peace, a hope for love, a hope for purpose.   And that same little soul is wrapped in love; love for a hateful and selfish world, love for a beautiful  and kind world, love for those who’ve already gone, those who are right in front of her, and even for those she’s yet to meet.

Sometimes I lose focus and allow that loneliness to consume me, the pain of it to engulf me, and I make bad decisions, do rash things, put myself in harm’s way, and fight the thoughts of giving in and giving up.  I want to, but I fight back.  I put on my smile - my armor, my shield, my sword.  I focus on the positive. I give thanks for the souls that are in my life and who take their time to listen, to let me know they care.

Yes, one day I will die and leave this place behind.  The ONLY things that will matter when I’m gone is the love I left behind.  That’s it.  NOTHING ELSE matters.  When James died, all he left me was love, and it’s gotten me through so many years, so many tears, so many times.  Just a little bit of love. I’ve done some AMAZING things with that little bit of love.  Imagine what I could do with a little bit more, fired by my faith, and infused with my hope?

Take all the sex, money, fame and success and all those materialistic and vain things people kill, betray, and abuse themselves and each other to obtain… and shove them up the world’s proverbial ass.  Give me faith – faith in myself, faith in God, and faith in my friends.  Give me hope – something to chase, something to strive for, something of value to achieve. And give me love – the binder of all things.  With these three things I will conquer the world and myself, and the devils that whisper in my ear that I’m unnecessary, unwanted, unneeded, and unloved.

Faith, Hope and Love.  1 Corinthians 13 (NIV)
If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, and I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

The Excuses We Tell Ourselves

For every action, there is an opposite and equal reaction. We forget this often in life because our memories are short and selective. We have lied to ourselves for so long about our responsibilities, and have accepted the lies in order to feel good about our decisions, reactions, actions, and choices we have made. It’s a natural defense system. But, we have to fight that nature if we care to see the truth. That’s the heart of the issue. We can’t often handle the truth, that’s why we accept the excuses we tell ourselves.

We are human. We are emotional, spiritual, and physical people. Our nature is to survive, reproduce, and learn. It’s also naturally equipped to lie, to deceive, and to manipulate. We are not born to be good, we are born to survive. Goodness is a choice and hard battle to fight. It’s natural to be selfish, self-centered, and greedy. It’s not natural to be loving, selfless, considerate, and kind. It’s hard as hell. If someone hurts us, our natural instinct is to protect ourselves and hurt them back. If we see something we want, it’s in our nature to take it. It’s not natural to desire to earn it, work for it, and fights for it. Those are characteristic traits we learn, we choose, and we develop.

We didn’t wake up the way we are, how we think, or even how we feel. These are the results of millions of choices we’ve made to this point. It’s the reactions to our actions. We’ve chosen to either learn from our mistakes or to continue making them again and again and again. We can’t control what happens to us, but we have complete control on how we respond. How we respond is what develops and identifies our true characters.

I didn’t wake up one morning and decide who I am. I have awoken many, many, many mornings choosing to become who I am. Some mornings have been easier than others. But, I decided a long time ago to stop making excuses for my behavior. It wasn’t my physical ailments that defined who I am. It wasn’t society who dictated the person I was to become. I take full responsibility for my actions. I don’t allow doctors, psychologists, friends, teachers, bosses, co-workers, or family to tell me who I am, how I should be, what I should accept, or how I should respond. I’m a rebel that way. I choose who I am. I choose how to respond. I choose what to accept.

Yes, this makes me an odd duck, and 100% percent of the time puts me on the outside of the comfort zone that most people are familiar. It’s hard for people to be around me for too long, because it will show them their own mirrors. It’s painful and lonely to be who I am. I’m most often abandoned, left behind, rejected, or misunderstood. How did I become this way? Having died twice and battled death on several other occasions may have played a part. Having a very tragic and violent childhood may have played another. Having lost my first love to war has played another. Having been rejected so many times by those who are supposed to love me most has played another. Having my own children run away from me or forget me altogether has played another. My faith has played another. All of these combined, with a determination to seek the truth, to accept my responsibility, and not accept the excuses have played another. I am responsible for me.

So, choose to use me, abuse me, neglect me, or reject me – I am going to continue being who I am. Someday someone is going to choose to love me and I want to be able to give that person the best woman possible. I don’t want to give them a broken, damaged, angry, hateful vampire that will only cause more difficulty in their life. I want to be someone’s bright spot in a dark world, to be beacon of hope in this hopeless world, to be an example of love in this hateful world, to be precious to them. I want to be their crown, their pride, their joy. I want to be their peace. But not everyone will be able to handle a woman like that. It would have to be a strong man, the strongest of heart and character. The brightness from me will cause a reflective pool, and only a man who can truly look upon his own reflection… in truth, without excuses, without shame, and with great inner strength and strong faith, will be able to be with me. In truth, I may never find them, and I have to be okay with that too.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Why Do You Smile?

One of my children recently asked me, “Mom, why do you always post pictures of you smiling? Why do send me a text every morning wishing something good for me? You can’t be that happy all the time.”

I responded, “Because I can, and I choose to embrace the impossible and the positive.”

Yes, I do post pictures of me smiling as often as I can, and those smiles are genuine.  They’re hard- fought and heavily-labored smiles. They’re smiles of victory.  Yes, I’m a morning person, because I have chosen to be a morning person. I’m often tired like everyone else. I typically get 4-5 hours of sleep a good night if not awoken by nightmares. I have lots of nightmares.  Many mornings I wake crying, screaming, or afraid, dreaming of those I’ve lost, experiences I’ve endured, things that I’m afraid of losing or enduring.  I’m lonely, confused as to why those I love have such difficulty loving me back, why I’m so easily abandoned, cast away, or forgotten.  I feel unwanted and neglected by the world.  But I don’t let those feelings rule me or dictate how I’m to live.

I have learned to love myself, because I have never been able to depend on anyone else to love me.

I have learned to take care of myself, because I have never been able to depend on anyone else to take care of me.

I have learned to encourage myself, to be my own cheerleader, to be brave and wield my own sword.  

I’m no princess in need of saving. I slay my own dragons.  I wear my own armor and my strongest armor is my smile.

My smile reflects the choice to tell the world to go fuck itself; that it can’t beat me, it doesn’t win.  It may knock me down every day if it chooses, but I will rise, even if I have to do it a thousand times, and a thousand more.  I have died twice, yet I still live.  I have been hurt in every way imaginable, yet I still laugh, and smile, and hope for a better tomorrow.

Call me a fool.  Say I am naïve. Declare I am blind.  Refuse to love me. Continue to reject me. Stand against me. Forget me. Yet, I will smile.

I love me. I love the woman I am. I am proud of her. With my head held high, I look her in the eyes and I smile. The world be damned, for I am blessed.  I smile because I can and I choose to embrace the impossible and the positive.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

The Whimsical World of T.L. Gray - The Story - My Story - Introduction

The Story – My Story - Introduction

Since I was born I have died twice, lived three lives, fell in love with four men, and am known by five different names. I’ve danced the halls of a Spanish hacienda, and shivered in the dark corner of a run-down shack, hung every holiday decoration in American suburbia, and been so hungry I couldn’t eat. I’ve protested for peace and marched for war, rescued sex slaves, and fed the poor. I’m famous to some and a nobody to others. I’m greatly loved and easily forgotten. I’ve been praised by thousands, but damned by even more. But who cares about all that? I was born alone in this world, and alone I’ll leave it. I’ve come to realize that I live or die in every moment. Let’s just say I’ve had a few moments. Hell, at times I’ve done both simultaneously, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

This particular story, my story, begins on a hot July afternoon in a southern hotbed filled with hippies handing out flowers of free love, or embittered in a battle of protests for everything from women’s liberation, to civil rights, to war and draft-dodging. Indian Reservation by the Raiders played constantly on the radio, and President Richard Nixon was neck-deep in the Vietnam conflict. In the maternity ward of the Dekalb Medical Center in Atlanta, a young couple was heard screaming at each other down the hallway, fighting over what to name the quiet sleeping baby girl being carried in the arms of an elderly white-haired lady to the nurses’ station.

“Damn it, I’ve already told you, woman, her name’s going to be Rebekah Lynn!’ shouted the red-hair, freckled-face blind man at the young woman lying in the hospital bed. In one hand, he held tightly to the reigns of German shepherd service dog, whose silvered tags glinted with the name Fritz, and in the other clung tightly to a little boy with bright copper-red hair.

The young mother, no more than sixteen, started crying. “But, I want to name her Laura Lynn after Laura Ingalls Wilder, my favorite character from that book I read to you.”

The two continued to argue over the name, their voices filling the hall where the little old woman finally made her way to the counter at the nurses’ station. She looked down at the young, black nurse busily scribbling on her clipboard. “You were in there when my granddaughter was born, weren’t you, child?”

The nurse looked up, glanced down the hall toward the yelling couple’s room, and then smiled at the white-haired lady. “Yes, ma’am, I believe I was.”

“What’s your name, honey?” The old woman rocked the baby girl in her arms.

The nurse pinched her brows together, but finally answered after a few seconds, “My name’s Tonya.”

The little old lady quickly slapped the paper on the counter and started scribbling on it with one hand while she held the sleeping baby girl in the other. After a few seconds she waved it to the nurse. “Now you just go right on ahead and submit that information now before those two get finished.”

The young nurse took the paper and looked down at it. It was the little girl’s birth certificate, and hand-written on the first line was the name Tonya Lynnette.

The nurse smiled up at the little old lady and then stamped the certificate with the notary seal, and that was how I got my first name, Tonya.

It’s ironic. My parents were fighting over the names of a Jewish matriarch and an author of a book, and my grandmother named me after a nurse, a care-taker, someone that helps and nurtures others. All three fit. They sort of define me in many ways. Sadly, my family never called me by my given name, and most of my relatives don’t even know my real name, nor did the grandmother who gave it to me. Tonya means “priceless, without praise.” That too is prophetic and quite ironic.

I wish I could tell you that day was a day for celebration and marked the beginning of a wonderful life, that it was a beautiful, loving, bright story, full of inspiration and love, but it only marked the first of many dark days. Nevertheless, it’s an interesting tale; a roller-coast ride filled with many hills and valleys, twists and turns. You might want to grab hold of the safety bar before we get started. There will be moments that will surprise you, cause your stomach to ache, and have you feeling scared, even perhaps terrified; disbelieving the world can be so cruel. But there are other moments that will take you to the top of the world and have your heart soaring as your hair flaps in the various winds of love, hope, and joy. That’s life, real life. It’s not always a happy story, and not everyone gets a happy ending. It’s messy, complicated, and filled with real moments of good and bad. You can’t really appreciate one without the other. So, let’s go. I’m inviting you into my story. You’re not going to like everything, but my greatest hope when you reach the end (that is... if I can make it to the end), is that you find a little bit of understanding, that your perception of the world and the people in it change just a little. There’s evil in the world, real evil. There is also pain, real pain. But, there’s also good out there, and love, real love. So, come on, let’s go.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray ©2017

Budgeting... Our Resources

We should always count the costs before we do anything. Once we’ve made a decision of what we want to do, what we want to accomplish, what goal we want to achieve, we need to count the costs, the true costs – the money, the time, the devotion, the requirements. This requires taking a good, hard, honest look, and then set realistic expectations of what it’s going to take to accomplish what we want to do. Can we afford it? We have to be able to budget our resources or we will find ourselves building a house with no nails, no hammers, and no blueprint. Good intentions never built anything, but have been the root and path to much destruction. Ever heard the phrase the road to hell is paved with good intentions?

In order to create a good budget, we have to take an assessment of what resources are assured, what resources are needed, and then what we are capable of covering. We can’t budget on possibilities. We have to budget on certainties. We can’t buy groceries with hope, promises, or luck. We can only purchase real food with real money.

Let’s get to the foundation. We can’t build the roof of our dreams, hopes, wants or desires, before we’ve set the foundation. This is the hard part. THIS is the part where the budget falls apart for most people. We have to ask ourselves, and then be honest about it, what do we really have to work with? Not what we expect – but the lowest, the base, the minimum of what resources we have. We can’t budget of what we hope we will have. If we work a job that we ‘sometimes’ work overtime, get bonuses, dividends, we CANNOT set our budget on that part of our income. Our budget must be set on our concrete “hard” income based on 40 hours a week NET pay. The MINIMUM of what we bring home every week, two-weeks, month, or year. If we budget on fluid “soft” income, we will find ourselves underwater. Life will make sure of it. If we make $15 and hour, based on 40-hours a week, our gross pay is $600, and our net pay after deductions is about $450.00, our budget isn’t based on $600, but $450.00 – set as the cap, the maximum. NOT the minimum. Live within our means, what we have, not what we expect or hope to have. Don’t spend money we don’t have. 

Don’t use credit cards. If we can’t pay for it, we don’t need it. Learn to say NO.

So many times I’ve tried to help people write and set budgets, only to see them determined to set a budget on money they expected, but couldn’t guarantee. And, I’ve watched them fail time and time again. I’ve done it. It doesn’t work. SOMETHING or someone will always come in to eat that seed right out of our hands. That’s life, that’s what happens. We have to be smart and cover the basics, and then allow room for flexibility, because life happens. Our car will break down, someone will get sick, lightning will strike the tree that falls on our house, a power surge will fry our computer, our kids decide to play the guitar instead of the triangle, we get a flat, we fall and twist our ankle, our kids come home from school with lice and we have to fumigate the whole house, life happens… shit happens. And we have to have some flexibility in our budget to be able to absorb life. When we don’t, we fall, because life is still going to happen whether we set a proper budget or not. How we budget determines how we face that life. If we live from paycheck to paycheck, we’re not living, we’re surviving and life controls and dictates to us what we can and can’t do because we are being reactive instead of proactive.

I have this saying I tell people sometimes: I plan my spontaneity. I schedule my freedom. What I mean is this. I love to be spontaneous, just have a whim to want to do something and then just go and do it, because I felt like it. However, I can’t LIVE like that. I have to buckle down during the week, make a schedule, make a plan, and stick to that plan – I work, workout, take my lunch every day to work, do my laundry, chores, my grocery shopping, schedule my time to get as much productivity done during the work week. It’s hard, it requires a LOT of discipline, devotion, and dedication, and the ability to say no, because life will send things my way in order to disrupt that schedule. I get tired, want to be lazy, and tempted to get off my schedule from family and friends. BUT, keeping to and being faithful to that budgeted schedule gets the things I need done so that when my weekend comes, I am FREE to do what I want, I have the opportunity to be spontaneous, not filled with a bunch of responsibilities I let go during the week. Because I budgeted my time, my money, and my goals to do what was required during the week, I have the resources to do what I want on my weekends. I planned my spontaneity. I scheduled my freedom. With my base pay I schedule to take care of my base needs, so that any bonus or overtime I get, I freely use to spend on my wants and desires.

Let’s take dieting as an example. Everybody’s body is different and requires a different amount of effort and energy to be successful. Some people have good DNA and don’t have to do much in order to stay in shape and filled with the energy they need to live a lifestyle they desire. The majority of us have to work hard in order to maintain a healthy body to enjoy a healthy lifestyle. That’s not fair. But, suck it up buttercup. Life has NEVER been fair. It doesn’t matter what the requirements are for someone else. Throw that shit of your head. Look at yourself, your life, your requirements, your need, and then make budget for YOU. Or don’t.

Listen. I’m not here to tell you how to live your life to MY standards. I’m trying to help you. This budgeting series is for me, to remind me of the goals, plans and dreams I’ve made for myself. It’s reminding me that nothing comes without a cost, that nothing good comes easy. If you listen to what I’m trying to stay, it can help you. But, WE are ultimately the only one that can help us gain the success we want to achieve. We’ve got to want it. We’ve got to be honest with our self about where we are, what we have, what we need, and what we need to do to get where we want to be. Our biggest obstacle is that person staring back us in the mirror. We’ve got to love ourselves enough to do the hard stuff, to say no, to dig in, to do what is necessary to protect and budget our time, our goals, and resources.
 

If necessary, we have to tell some of our friends to go away and leave us alone because they’re vampires that suck the lifeblood out of us - they waste our time, detour our goals, and consume our resources. They depress us with all their woes and problems. They take, but never give. Their lives are ALWAYS filled with drama and one disaster after another. Those are not real friends; they’re opportunists with sad stories and trails of chaos. Good friends know the plans and dreams we’ve made for ourselves. They recognize our needs without having to tell them. They become a support, a cheerleader, a coach, and a guard to help us see the truth of our circumstances, assist us in fulfilling our needs, and being an inspiration for us to achieve our dreams. THAT’s a friend. A friend tells us the truth, even if it hurts our pride, and loves us just as we are, but doesn’t put up with our excuses or bullshit. A real friend isn’t afraid of telling us the hard stuff. They don’t eat our groceries when they see our refrigerator is empty. They don’t use our electricity, or take advantage of our hospitality, while sitting by watching us go without a phone or internet.  They don’t invite us to stay out all night on one of their adventures knowing we have to work the next day, yet make no time to join us in our adventures on our time.

And true friendship requires us being able to be and do the same support for them. Do we encourage our friends and family, or make fun of them every time they try to do something? Do we give them hope, or talk down to them and try to talk them out of the dreams they have? Are we a pessimist and point out the negative to everything, only the negative come out of our mouths even in joking? Or are we an optimist and see the potential in ourselves and our friends and family? Do we think the world is just full of bad people, misery, hate, selfishness, judgment, etc.? Or do we see opportunity, potential, even when we recognize the bad, but also see a way to turn it around for good? Cut the negative bullshit excuses and people out of our lives. They’re toxic to us, to our budgets, to our dreams, to our hopes, and to our success. If we don’t cut this bullshit out of our lives, we can only blame ourselves for our failure.

Tomorrow is the last day of my budget series. I didn’t plan this series out, it’s just happens to be where I am in my own journey at this time. I hope I can tie all these different budgets together had have been able to create a clear path, a clear picture, and inspiration that will help any who read it.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray