I'm Free

It's easy to think we would know what we would do, or not do, in any given situation. We think we know what choices we would make, or not make, at any given time. I'm learning that's not always true.

I'm usually weakest in what I think I would be strong, and often strong when I fear I'll be weak. I have an opinion about everything, but know I'm not always right.

Lately I've had some really in-depth discussions with my boyfriend that have had me reconsidering some core beliefs and thus exposed some latent prejudices. I know I've uttered several times, in parts, the phrase, "I know enough to know I don't know everything, and just enough to know I know nothing. The more I learn, the more I realize how much I don't know."  Yet, what I do know is both horrible and beautiful.

Regardless of what I know or come to understand, I am who I am, and who I am is as honest as I can be... Not just with the world, but with myself.

I'm a mess, but I'm a beautiful mess. I've been through pain, still have pain and broken beyond recognition, but I'm still here.

I'm lost, but I'm still moving. I may not know where I'm going, but I'm going somewhere. I'm free. Free from the boxes, free from the guilt, free from the lines that define our paths. I'm free to wander, to explore, to seek, to discover, to experience on an undefined path, an unpaved road, an unmarked trail. Will there be dangers? Will there be struggles? Will there be uncertainties? Will there be mistakes? Yes, yes, yes, and yes. But the risk is worth the adventure.

Someday my adventure will end, but it will end without regret, without sorrow of having never taken the risk. I've walked the straight and narrow and became a zombie among the vampires. I've lived for duty, bore the armor of responsibility, tried to lead by being an example, and it killed me. I denied myself, picked up my cross, and cut my flesh. In trying to save the world, I suffocated. I still haven't fully learned to breathe.

I am free. I am happy. My daily struggle has not ended. My wishes have not come true. My dreams still have yet to be fulfilled. I have no idea what will happen today, much less tomorrow, and I don't know the answers to the universe's questions. I just know I'm free... Free to be me just like I am. Free to love. Free to be... Anything, do anything, feel anything, to fly, or do nothing. It's my choice.

Till next time,
Beautiful Butterfly

Livin' Out Loud - Liar

Our biggest obstacle when it comes to health, fitness, and even love, is our propensity to make excuses. We have them. We have plenty of them. Our mindset is where the largest part of our battle resides.

We lie to ourselves. We tell ourselves we need or deserve the destructive behavior we commit. We tell ourselves it’s okay to abuse our bodies, our hearts and our minds, after all it’s our period and we deserve that damn chocolate. We’ve been good and deserve to cheat on our diet. We did a lot more activity today than normal so we can skip our workout. We'll start tomorrow, and on and on. The excuses never stop.

Until we recognize we are out biggest abuser, see us for who we really are, we won’t win, we won’t succeed, we won’t break free. It’s nobody’s fault we are like we are. It’s not our past, not our genetics, it’s not our environment, it’s not the food industry, it’s not our religion, it’s not our disease, it’s not our drugs, it’s not ANYTHING but our own choices. We are exactly where we want to be, allow ourselves to be, choose to be, or choose not to change.

Only we can choose to put down the doughnuts, pick up the jump rope, and continue to make that choice everyday.

We don’t need to have a lot of money, personal trainer, expensive food, diet drugs, or the right workout clothes or equipment. Before we pick up or use any of these tools we have to first strip ourselves of our excuses, stand in front of our mirrors naked, look at ourselves in the eye, and truly see ourselves for who we truly are, not the lie we tell ourselves.

We are not victims. We are the abusers of our own self. We are the ones that gorge on the whole box of snack cakes, doughnuts, bag of chips, soft drinks, chicken nuggets, ice cream, and chocolate. We can take all the diet pills we want, drink all the diet drinks we want, eat off the little plates filled with seconds and thirds, but it doesn’t change that we neglect what we need, feed our feelings, and cheat ourselves out of living our lives to our best potential. We see ourselves as victims - and victims are slaves. We are slaves to our addictions. We are slaves to our excuses. We are slaves to our abuses. We are taskmasters to our own depravity.

We are the asshole that stops ourselves. Until we acknowledge our truth and see our truth, we can never change it. We're killing ourselves. We are an abuser, a neglector, and a selfish bitch. Stop lying to our selves. Have the courage to face our own truth and learn to live.

Then… naked, bare, exposed, and determined… change our story, change our stars, change our life.

Till next time,

Freed Slave, Survivor

Weaver of Words

Sometimes it seems my life is stuck in a rut and refuses to move either to the left or right, keeping me circling the same tree over and over and over again. Other times it moves so fast I think if I blink I’m going to miss the thousands of things flying by in a rapid pace. That seems to be the way it’s been these last few weeks. So many new things have happened I can barely recognize my life or what it had been just a couple months ago.

With all the thousands of ideas moving in, out and around me, I’m taking a quick step back to see if I notice a pattern. I usually can’t see the image when I’m up close or right in the middle of a thought. Some pictures need a wider view. So, what are these patterns I’ve been noticing? What are the words, thoughts, and meditations that’s been coursing through my mind of late? What do they mean? What are they trying to tell me? Where do they lead? Most importantly, which ones do I listen to and which do I ignore? Whew, I’m getting a bit overwhelmed just thinking about them.

I’ve been on a journey lately, one of the mind, most importantly, one of the soul. My imagination has been soaring to distant worlds, floating on different planes, seeking wisdom and enlightenment in understanding. Here are some of the quotes that have motivated me lately. Here are few words of wonder.

~

“Sometimes you have to stop being scared and just go for it. Either it will work out, or it won’t. That’s life.”

“Promote what you love instead of bashing what you hate.”

“Never let the odds keep you from doing what you know in your heart you were meant to do.”

“The Buddhists say if you meet someone and your heart pounds, your hands shake, and your knees go weak, that’s not the one. When you meet your soul mate, you’ll feel calm. No anxiety. No agitation.”

“Find someone you can be completely free with; sexually, spiritually, emotionally, physically, and cosmically, and go freaking WILD.”

“Find a heart that will love you at your worst and arms that will hold you at your weakest.”

“You cannot force someone to comprehend a message that they are not ready to receive. Still, you must never underestimate the power of planting a seed.”

“I’m very picky with whom I give my energy to. I prefer to reserve my time, intensity and spirit exclusively to those who reflect sincerity.”

“We’re so busy studying and seeking to find our life’s mission, let us not forget to look around and simply ask, “How can I help?”

“I admire people who choose to shine even after all the storms they’ve been through.”

“I love you neither with my heart nor my mind. My heart might stop, and my mind can forget. I love you with my soul because my soul never stops or forgets.”

“A person’s actions will tell you everything you need to know.”

“You deserve the love you keep trying to give everyone else.”

“I don’t want a perfect life; I want a happy life.”

“Whatever you do, never run back to what broke you.”

“On this road called life, you have to take the good with the bad, smile with the sad, love what you got and remember what you had. Always forgive, but never forget. Learn from mistakes, but never forget. People change. Things go wrong. But just remember, the ride goes on.”

“When you connect with people who are good for you, you feel it. This is a big deal. Don’t forget to acknowledge how great it is to be around someone who lights you up. Tell them, even if you feel a little weird. Your people love your weirdness.”

“When you kiss someone and you stop kissing them for second and smile, and then kiss again… I can’t think of something more beautiful than that.”

“Let your weird light shine bright so the other weirdos know where to find you.”

“I think it’s important to realize you can miss something and not want it back.”

“You don’t know this new me; I put back my pieces differently.”

~

I think you’re starting to get the picture. Well, I hope I’m able to get the picture, because those are some amazing clues. I’m still digesting, still trying to wrap my mind around what it all means, what it’s trying to tell me, what I need to hear. I may not know the whole extent of it at this moment, but I already know it’s all good.

I’ve smiled more in the last few weeks than I have in a very long time. Sometimes I get a little sad when I think back to other times I used to smile so much it made my cheeks hurt. Those times, those memories, those associated with those memories will always be precious to me. But, this is a new day, a new time, and a new season to smile. I’ve cried enough. Joy comes with the morning, and baby… the sun is rising.

“I’ve got a pocket, got a pocket full of sunshine.”

I don’t know what tomorrow holds. I don’t know what’s in store for me. Maybe it’s a great adventure. Maybe it’s a great love affair. Maybe it’s a new page to a new story. Whatever it is, however weird it is, I’m ready and I want it.

Till next time,

~Weaver of Words of Wonder

Compassion

I’m an over-thinking fool. It’s my blessing and my curse. It’s a blessing because it allows me to see the mystery, the majesty, and the beauty of this world. I’m amazed almost on a daily basis. On those days I’m less amazed, it’s only because I didn’t open my mind far enough to see the wonder of it all. It’s a curse - because with the same gift I can also see the ugliness, the hate, and the hell we create for ourselves. What do we have if we don’t have each other? Compassion is what makes us the most beautiful of human beings. The lack of it makes us the most evil.

Compassion isn’t empathy. We can all relate to different things in each other’s lives. Understanding is very important, and often the first step that leads to compassion. Yet, empathy doesn’t do anything for one another, it’s just a state of being.

We live in a world that has no commitment. We have so many choices these days, that when things get complicated, people get complicated, goals get complicated, we tuck tail and run. It’s easier to be on the outside, or in the first ring of commitment. It’s easier to stay in that excitement phase of friendships and relationships where everyone is just getting to know each other, where we focus on the good, where our imaginations fill in the fantasy because we haven’t yet had to deal with the truth or reality. But, when truth and reality begins to break down that fantasy, and we begin to feel the pull of adversity, noting differences and complications - we run. It’s so much easier to run and jump right into the next friendship, the next relationship, the next fantasy. The choices are plentiful. But what is being lost?

I see a man stuck in a rut. He’s miserable, unhappy, and really sailing through life without a compass of where he wants to go. He’s in an endless cycle of ups and downs, jumping from one pivotal problem to the next. By all worldly standards, he’s successful. He desires a great love, but he’s not willing to open his heart. When someone extends their hand of friendship, he turns away, choosing the uncomplicated, the stranger, the fantasy –knowing full well that it will only keep him in his rut. Perhaps he loves the rut. Perhaps he loves the struggle, or else perhaps that’s all he knows and it’s familiar to him. Where is his compassion?

I see a man riding a carousel. He loves all the pretty horses. When he sets his sight on one in particular, it consumes him and he puts all his wondrous focus on making his way through the vibrant colors to ride the horse of his dreams. He loves the journey, the spinning, waiting for the perfect opportunity to jump on the carousel, studying the timing, listening to the music. Once he mounts the horse of his choice, he rides with glee, proud of his achievement. His fantasy comes alive and he closes his eyes. But, then them again because the carousel stops. The wind no longer blows in his face, the music no longer fills his ears, and his horse no longer ascends and descends beneath him. So he dismounts and stands on the edge of the carousel until he spots another horse… and so the cycle goes. Why is he not satisfied to stay upon the horse he just rode? The ride will start again. He just has to wait. But, in his mind he wonders if the ride on the other horses is different, better, more adventurous. There’s too many choices. Why should he deal with the down moments of one particular horse when he can use that time to seek another, because in truth it is the hunt, the chase, the newness he desires most of all. Where is his compassion?

I see a woman who constantly loves the unlovable, the unattainable, the shallow, narcissistic, and vain. While there are many lined at her door holding out hearts full of devotion, she passes by without so much as a nod in their direction. She is cold and seeks the dancing fire. Oh, the fire burns bright and hot. She’s lived in the cold darkness for so long the fire has become intoxicating to her. She dances among the flames. They lick her skin and warm her cold bones until she begins to burn. The flames are wild, yet she foolishly tries to control them. Where is her compassion?

Compassion. Where has it gone? We don’t have time for it anymore, or the patience to see it through. I am as guilty as my neighbor on the left, and not quite as guilty as the one on the right. There is still compassion in the world. The only thing that is changing is my ability to see it. That vision stems from the temperature of my heart. It grows colder and harder every day. Will I too soon be in a rut, not satisfied with my horse, or burn among the flames? I don’t know. It’s too complicated to think about. Why should I waste such energy when there are funny cat videos to watch, a dozen or more date request waiting for a reply, a new fantasy in which to escape? Compassion is for the truly great, and convenience is for the fools. I am a fool.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Morning Musings and Affectionate Greetings

To those I care about most in this world, I often send a morning musing or an affectionate greeting. Sometimes it’s a blanket statement to all those I cherish, but sometimes they are individual and specific to that particular friend. Some days I don’t send any at all. I never just send them to send them, only when I’m inspired or moved with the full intent and feeling behind them. So, if you get such a greeting from me, it means I value you, been thinking about you, or feel I needed to reach out to you.

My musings are often deep and profound. While the sentiment may be shared by those who may have come before, and more likely to be shared by those who follow, they are always my original thoughts, feelings, or contemplations. I’m a deep thinker. I’m also very passionate and feel very deeply as well – about EVERYTHING. It drives some of my more reserved and practical friends quite crazy. But I am who I am, and I won’t apologize for feeling or thinking the way I do. Love me as I am, or don’t love me at all. I won’t change for you.

I love that place between the dream world and being awake, where my filter of bias hasn’t had a chance to interfere. My inner editor hasn’t even had time to sharpen her red pencil, so I’ve discovered it’s the place where I learn most of the truths about myself, my beliefs, my hopes, my feelings, and even my fears. I don’t always like the things I uncover, but many times I surprise myself, am very pleased, and can’t help but smile at the beautiful woman I’ve discovered there.

Tomorrow morning, just before you open your eyes, listen to your heart. What is your musing telling you?

Till next time,



~T.L. Gray

Oh, My Weary Soul

God, this world is so messed up, and I’m broken in so many shattered pieces, there are just some days too heavy for me to bear. I’ve lived in this valley for a long time, actually I think I was born here, and I can’t seem to find my way out.

I’m so tired of saying ‘goodbye’. What the hell is good about bye? What the hell is so wrong with me that I’m never enough to fight for? I don’t think it’s that I’m not enough, but that I’m more than they deserve. Because I know I sure as hell deserve a lot better. I deserve something real, and the world is full of cowards too afraid to be real.

I have scars all over my body. I try to hide them, not because I’m ashamed, but because I also carry the inner scars that were created from them and don’t want to share them with just anyone. People are strange creatures. We’re controlled by our fears, and often can’t see a person beyond their skin. We lie to ourselves and convince ourselves that our faith, our beliefs, our values, or our philosophies guide and lead us in our decisions, but they don’t… our fear does.

I have a friend who says he fears nothing, but he’s lying to himself. He runs as I hard as I do, perhaps even harder, because he’s afraid. But I don’t have to tell him. In the silence, he knows the truth. However, knowing the truth doesn’t keep him from being an asshole. Even still, he’s beautiful and I love him, even though I also hate him for his vanity and cowardice.

I heard a quote this morning from Jim Carrey – “My soul is not contained within the limits of my body, my body is contained within the limitlessness of my soul.” The Journey of Purpose. I believe this. When I look at someone, I look beyond their flesh and try to see their soul. When I tell someone they’re beautiful, it isn’t their body I’m talking about, but their soul.

Who sees my soul? Who can see past the smile or beyond the scars? I believe no one. I’m just the girl who ______ (fill in the blank).

My soul is weary. My heart is crushed. My faith is weak. I’m tired of carrying this mangled scarred body around. I can’t run any more. I wasn’t meant to run, but to fly. I’m lost.

The New Bachelorette: Dating After 40 - Get Back in the Game

After taking quite a bit of a hiatus, I believe it’s time I got back into the game… the game of dating in the twenty-first century after 40. This makes round three??? Hopefully it won’t be three strikes and I’m out, but to be honest …dating is exhausting.

I made some mistakes in the first two rounds that I’m hoping I’m more wise to avoid the same curve balls this time. I’m learning to weed out the players, and how to spot something genuine, something worth fighting for.

Why did I use the word fight? Because every relationship is going to have ups and downs, and if it’s worth anything, it’s going to require a fight to make it work. I can make pretty much any relationship work, and the differences doesn’t come down to the guys – but to me, at least that’s how I’m looking at it. How much will I have to change to make it work? How much of me do I have to sacrifice to make room for someone else in my life?

Before you roll your eyes at that last statement, let me explain.

I’ve been alone for a while now. I needed this time. Though it’s often hurt, and has been extremely lonely, it’s forced me to take care of myself, to put me first, to give me the time to experiment, analyze, experience, and determine who I am, what I want, what I like, and what makes me happy. I love the woman I’ve become. I love all the new experiences I’ve jumped into and the obstacles I’ve leaped over. I regret none of them. I’ve faced death and learned to live. I’ve faced rejection and continued to love. I’ve had my heart broken, but realized it still beats – even battered and bruised. I’ve felt the earth shift beneath my feet and know what lightning feels like. If I felt it once, I can feel it again.

I’ve also learned a few things from my two earlier strikes… I’ve learned not to hold back saying what I feel, no matter the consequences. I’m not ashamed of my feelings, it’s who I am, it’s how I feel. I’ve tried to play the games, but I’m just not a player. It’s backfired. Every time I held back what I felt, not wanting to risk disrupting the relationship, I’ve watched what I wanted slip through my fingers like trying to hold onto water. By the time I found the courage to speak my heart, it was too late and they’d moved on to someone else.

I’ve learned to go slow. I really enjoy those early moments, the messages, the butterflies, the excitement of seeing each other, the flirtations, the getting-to-know you long talks, because those are beautiful moments. I wish they could last forever. For me, those are my most cherished memories – the funny, playful, innocent moments. My fondest memory is watching someone play a video game.

I’ve learned to walk away. I will never again be where I’m not wanted. I lived too long that way and for me it’s a deal breaker, no matter how much it hurts to leave. I will never chase what doesn’t want to be found. I’m devoted in everything I do, and to those I care about. I love my friends and their lives, their problems, their joys, their loves, their wants, their hopes, their dreams … all of it is important to me. I try to be their cheerleader and let them know and feel how much I love them. To someone I enter into a relationship with, I’d be even more devoted, supportive, a cheerleader, an advocate, a coach, a lover, every aspect of their life would be important to me and I’d protect it, do what I could to enrich it, and love them with all the love I possess – in honesty and faithfulness. But, the moment I feel I’m not wanted (I’m not talking about being mad at me – because I guarantee I’ll make you mad.. probably on a daily basis because I’m passionate and have an opinion – but I love a good verbal sparring – it releases endorphins), no matter how much it hurts and rips my heart out, if I’m not wanted, I will walk away.

If I knew, without doubt, that someone I loved truly loved me – wanted me – desired me in their life – that’s going to be one lucky son-of-a-bitch. I don’t NEED anyone. I’ve learned to take care of myself, fulfill my own needs, and to love myself. The person I let into my life won’t be because I need them or need anything from them, but simply because I WANT them, that I choose them, and I’d let them know by word and deed every day how much they’re wanted, they’re loved, they’re desired.

Well, it’s time to get back into the game. I’ve got the bat in hand. Let the dating begin.

Till next time,

~Bachelorette on Deck

No Beauty in Indifference

I clearly remember the day when after years and years of running, I finally stopped, turned around, and faced the God I feared, the God I hated, the God I loved but was certain hated me. I was 24 years old and had already lived and survived three lifetimes, I knew hell, and hell knew me.


I remember the moment I put my nose to the carpet of a little country church, warm tears dripping from the tip, darkening the fibers as they fell. I sincerely prayed for the first time since I was a little girl. I didn’t ask for blessings, or prosperity, or health, or love, or proof of existence, or even a miracle. With every fiber of my being, I asked God to open my eyes and ears, so that I could see something different in humanity. All I could see was the ugliness. All I knew was how to survive monsters, to look for the danger in their words and actions, to assess my risk, to read the body language of liars, crooks, thieves, and predators. I needed to believe in goodness, gentleness, kindness, trust, and love. I needed to see the good potential in people, to be able to see God.


There wasn’t a flash of light or the sound of a trumpet call, but somehow over the years I began to see and hear differently. I still saw the ugliness, the risk, the danger, the lies… but I also saw the potential for goodness, the motive between the lines, love colored with hope and sewn with faith. I begin to love humanity even as we writhed in the midst of our ugliness.


What breaks my heart is how cruel we are to one another. Cruelty doesn’t always come from monsters. The greatest cruelty I’ve ever experienced didn’t come from the hand of a violent predator, but the gentle hand of indifference. To not care, to not feel, to not fear, to not love is a great cruelty. It’s just as cruel as being overbearing in narrow-minded views, excluding those who may think differently or outside their boxed ideas – this includes all religious, political or social mediums. The way humanity treats each other is both great and tragic. I see and hear the good and the bad, love and hate, and the cruelest of them all is indifference. There is no beauty in indifference.


Love me or hate me, but at least feel something. The cruelest act I’ve ever experienced is to simply be forgotten. I seem to be easily forgotten, dismissed, passed over as if I don’t exist. God tells us to love one another. That doesn’t mean overlook our ugliness and blindly cling to false truth and allowing the people we love to continually abuse us – but to see both our sins and our goodness, to see the truth and the lies, and then in the face of that truth choose to love, choose to hope, choose to see the potential for greatness. Forgive. Not forget… never forget, and sometimes walk away if needed, but forgive.


The thing I love most about my friends are not what they do, or what they have done, but what I know they’re capable of doing and becoming, and their capacity to love. We all have sins, failures, attitudes, hurts, triggers, scars, and walls. ALL of us. None are perfect or perfectly good. But with love – all things are possible. That is why I choose to love, to hope, to believe what my natural eyes can’t see or my ears can’t hear. It’s why I still hope when people push me away or put up their walls to block me out, and continue to love them even when they stop loving me. Yes, I walk away, but that doesn’t mean I stopped seeing them for the beautiful creatures, the beautiful, complex, deeply layered human beings that they are comprised.


My faith in God has been shaken, especially these last few years, and especially facing mortality. While I can’t always see and hear who, what, where, when and why… I am still that same young woman with her nose pressed in the carpet and opening her heart to her god, wanting something real, something more and bigger than what she was capable of doing on her own.


So, yes… I’m peculiar, strange, different. I’m a sinner like anyone else. God granted me my prayer. I can see and hear beyond the image, the masks of flesh we project and think protects us, covers our sins, hides our vulnerabilities, and colors our beauty. It was so much easier to hate humanity. Loving them is the hardest of all. Loving them when they don’t love me back is downright cruel. I wish I could close my eyes and cover my ears and go back into the darkness. Instead, Beautiful… these tears now fall for you. I wish you could see what I see and hear what I hear and know… what a beautiful soul you truly are. My last hope is that my god sees me in like manner.


Till next time,


~T.L. Gray

The Image We Project

I really need to stop looking beyond the projected image, because it gets me in trouble every time. Most often it just gets me hurt. I suppose I do it because I have this insane idea ingrained into my head that if I treat others how I would want to be treated it would just magically happen in return. It’d have to be magic, right? Because, seriously, who else walks around thinking about how they treat people? Who spends the time to peel back the layers in an attempt to really get to know someone? Who looks beyond the skin, the image, the resume, the labels, the skills, the talents? I tell myself all the time… “You do, surely there are others.” Well, the magic hasn’t happened yet. I don’t know why I keep getting surprised and hurt, but I do.

I look at the world around me, and I see example after example of a culture and society that can’t even get beyond skin color, much less any deeper layer. We’ve got riots going on all over the country because of racial bigotry and hate (and that’s not aimed at only the ‘white-privilege’ community, but the ‘black-oppressed’ community too). Hate can’t see past the outer shell and it sure as hell don’t solve anything. I don’t want to hear one word on either side of this debate – because at this point all I see is hate, and violence, and stupidity. Whatever efforts were made to open up a much needed dialogue, to peel back another layer, has been destroyed when the fanatics took over and started robbing, looting, burning and acting like dumb-fucking idiots. This whole situation has become lost and out of control and the ones fueling it, stirring it up, are the biggest hatemongers of them all. (No, I don’t want to debate, talk, or discuss it in anyway. Don’t respond to this post with anything to do with this whole issue. I’m done with it. Seriously, I’m done. I won’t engage and you’re wasting your time.)

Want to know how someone feels about something or someone, get them angry. It is how a person responds to adversity that you see them for who they really are, what they really feel, what they really think – things they’ve suppressed, hidden, and pushed down. It doesn’t mean they can’t change their minds – and once felt, always felt is a myth. Feelings change. Thoughts change. Responses change. That’s why forgiveness is so important. Don’t hate them for how they feel at that moment – try to figure out why and then work on changing it. But it does reveal a part of the truth, most often things they don’t want to admit even to themselves. I know it helps me see what I sometimes can’t recognize within myself. When I get angry, I begin to look around to see if I can recognize what hurt me, because 99% of the time my anger is a result of being hurt, most often me hurting myself.

Do I always succeed and rightly recognize my triggers? Hell no. I’m often just as wrong in those assessments as I am in trying to understand the motive behind someone else’s aggression. I’m a hot mess and I know it. I can’t help but wonder, surely there’s others like me. Does everyone have all their shit together, but me? Does everyone else always know the right thing to do, the right way to feel, the right way to respond, the right way to diffuse and understand the situation, except me? Does anyone even give a damn to find out what’s beneath this outer layer? Can they see the eyes behind the mask, or just the shiny glitter on the outside? Can they see the pain behind the smile?

I just want to close my eyes. I want to be like a turtle and hide within my shell. Most of all, I want to stop feeling, stop caring, stop hoping, stop loving. My cruel blind father introduced me to many of the evils in this world, but he also taught me how to see it differently – not with my eyes but with my mind and my heart. My invalid mother with MS taught me the cruelty of guilt, but also by taking care of her the beauty in sacrifice. My weak brothers taught me the stark reality of betrayal, but also what it meant to protect. My indifferent husband taught me the pain of being unloved, but also the pride of being faithful and dutiful and the strength to love myself.

It’s hopeless. I want to submit, but submission requires trust, and trust is something I don’t think I can ever give. I’ve tried. Damn, I’ve tried so many times. I’ve failed. I don’t even trust myself. My fear, my stubbornness, and my lack of trust – keeps me doing the stupid shit that causes people to get angry and push me away and makes me run. Oh, I run. It’s what I do best. I try so hard not to run, because I know running doesn’t solve the problems, just packs them down deeper so they can surface and cause an explosion that ruins any progress I might have made. Yet staying – staying incites hope, and hope leads to pain. It’s painful to hope for something and then watch that hope die. Faith has you believing you’re something more than what you’re not, and it’s awfully painful when you’re made of aware of how you’re really perceived, what your true standing is in someone else’s sight.

I love myself. I think I’m a beautiful, passionate, loving, faithful and honest person. I love to laugh, and I really love to make others laugh. I’m a natural cheerleader. I truly care about the people I’ve chosen to let into my inner circle, which is small, tight, and something I protect with vivacity. I’d do anything to protect them. Everything I am, everything I have, every gift, talent, and knowledge I possess, I share with them – without hesitation – as long as I’m wanted. I’ve lived too many years giving to those who didn’t want me… I can’t do it anymore. I just can’t. Finding out that I’m no one to those I deeply cared for, that I’m nowhere near as precious to them as they were to me… takes my breath away. I literally can’t breathe. But I will. I will inhale …and exhale …and wipe the tears away …and go on with my day.

Till next time,

~Breathless

My Own Insanity

I understand the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, yet expecting a different result. However, it seems like as humans we are predisposed to exhibit bouts of insanity. I’m learning sanity is sometimes a bit over-rated, but I can’t help and continue to wonder why we have such insane tendencies.

I’m not an expert at anything, unless you call doing the unexpected, hoping against all odds, or loving the unlovable technical skills. In which case, I’m a master. The only way I can rationalize this chaos and hope to change it is to identify and modify the formula that keeps sending me into these spirals.

I find I’m drawn to people who have very defined ideas and philosophies; men who tend to believe they understand the world and why we do the stupid shit we do. Like a magnet, the polarity of the possibility of understanding and enlightenment pulls me. (Love the alliteration.) Yet, there’s this voice deep inside my head, my inner sarcastic realist, who rolls her eyes and shakes her head and grumbles, “They’re full of shit and don’t even believe their own lies – because they deceive themselves more than anyone else.” I can’t help it, though. I’m still attracted to the possibility of their truth, even if their own assured confidence is false.

Why do I feel the need to understand? Why can’t I wear blinders and be happy with them? Why can’t I just submit to the bit in my mouth and follow the leads that direct me? Won’t this wildness within me ever be tamed? Life would be so much easier. So many are bent on breaking me. They jab me in the ribs with their spurs, they pull hard against the bit in my mouth, they snatch the leads, twisting my head in every direction, and they securely grip my mane as they ride. To be broken, life would be so much more simple. I’d have purpose. I’d be useful. Maybe I’d be loved. I’d be fed, groomed, sheltered, and my needs would be met. So, why must I fight to be free, to remain wild?

This is my own insanity. I keep fighting over and over and over, yet the truth is… I’ve never been free. I was born into captivity. Freedom is the illusion. Wildness is an excuse for rebellion. Perhaps I fight because that’s all I know how to do. It’s also probably the same reason why I grant freedom with no resistance, not because I don’t care, but because I care too much. Believe me, it has hurt me deeply to watch those I love disappear into the wilderness … only to never return. Set them free… and if they love you they will make their way back to you. *Sigh* It’s all insane.

I live in a mad world, and it’s insane to expect it to make sense. Yet I continue in my insanity – taking chance after chance, hoping against all hope, waiting for no one.

Till next time,



~Insane Wild Woman

Liars and Thieves

The world if full of liars and thieves,

Wearing masks of deception,

Hearts beating with corruption,

Sowing seeds of reprobation,

With no concern for the diseased harvest they produce.

Selfish!

In their drunkenness,

They don’t see the faces full of hunger,

The sallow skin,

The hollow eyes,

The need for somebody to rise up and give a fuck,

To have the courage to speak the truth.

The game is full of liars and thieves,

Rolling shaved dice,

Dealing marked cards,

All the while holding loaded guns beneath the table.

Indifferent!

The poisoned food is eaten by the children,

The bullets fly stray,

Landing in the hearts of the hopeful.

Fuck you, World.  You’re nothing but a liar and a thief.

Till next time,

~Disillusioned No More

Rational Debate

In light of the recent news reports, political pundits, protest riots, looting, and argumentative angst on both sides of the issue concerning the fatal shooting in Ferguson, I’ve tried to remain quiet and not respond emotionally.  I’ve listened to the various arguments and have tried to see things from all perspectives. I have to say I don’t get most of them – on either side of the issue.  I’m so sick of all the race baiting and bashing in this world. We are human beings – all of us, yet we sometimes act worse than the most rabid of animals.

I’ve been so frustrated without realizing why I’ve been frustrated.  I believe it’s due to the fact I’ve been unable to verbally express what’s been rolling around inside my mind and heart, because honestly I felt like it didn’t matter anyway and there was really no one that I could share my true thoughts and feelings.  Not because I don’t have anyone to listen, but I feel there are very few who CAN listen – hear me without bias, without prejudice, without judgment, without a PC or anti-PC or victim’s mentality who would try and stuff me into one of their preconceived boxes.  I’ll either be labeled a racist or fascist – instead of a rationalist. 

There really isn’t such a thing as a rational debate anymore – there’s a contest to see who can shout the loudest, who can incite the more powerful emotional response, and who is right or wrong.  It’s not about the issues anymore – because everyone is now a victim, everyone is now more concerned with being heard and being right than being reasonable.   I honestly gave up the hope of hearing or witnessing a rational debate until a friend of mine shared his frustrations with me this morning.  I feel honored and privileged he shared his wise thoughts with me – because his words freed me.  He was able to verbalize what I could only feel for so long. 

“Claiming victory over a debate is wrong on so many levels.  There are no winners or losers.  It’s an exchange of ideas.  That’s the bottom line.” ~ Sergeant T. Emilio Solano “If we’re going to outrage about something, it should never be one-sided.  We should focus on the act and the bottom line, not the reasons.  Murder is murder.  If a black guy shoots a white guy or vice versa, it should not matter to the level of outrage.  It’s a man killing a man.”

I couldn’t agree more. I honestly feel that when we focus on the race of the victim or perpetrator that is the moment we dismiss the humanity and all rationalization.  Responses from that moment forward become not about the crime/act, but about the skin.

Sergeant Solano continues, “Why are we so infatuated with the reasons?  Does it really matter?  A crime was committed.  Harm was done.  Does it matter who or why?  Reason should only matter on self-defense cases.  That’s it.  A community of poor uneducated people (the majority are) should not care if a white cop shoots a black dude.  Do we revolt when a black man shoots a white man in a trailer park?  I’m tired when any minority cries out about how bad they have it, or how underprivileged they are.  If you want to succeed - go to school and make a better life for yourself.”

Again, I couldn’t agree more.  My friend is a great example.  He is man of mixed races, born in the Dominican Republic and not of privilege, yet has worked hard to make something of himself.  He doesn’t drink, doesn’t do drugs, and takes pride in all he sets himself to do – working with excellent ethics for nearly 15 years in the Army. He's been in combat, is a leader, a teacher, a role model, and my admiration and respect for him is intangible. The way his subordinates respect him is not something given or granted, but earned.   It’s also something very lacking in pop culture today. 

I made the response to him, “We live in a PC world where everyone is a victim.  You’re of a different mindset.  You see individuality and personal responsibility, and that, my friend, puts you into another minority.”

He responded, “In nature, victims get eaten.  In humanity, those who want to play the victim and not strive to change should be purged. We don’t need their sorryness (I know… it’s not a real word) around the rest of us who strive every day.  Nobody really cares if you’ve been oppressed, enslaved, or abused.  Grow up, become stronger, educate yourself, and work hard.  We all have the same opportunities.  Nobody cares about your sorrows.” 

If we all look into our own closets, we ALL have been victimized in some way.  We have ALL felt and experienced some form of oppression, enslavement, or abuse.  EVERY ONE of us (black, white, rich, poor and every box we’ve created between).  These experiences all lend to reasons for how we react, but they’re not excuses.  There are really no excuses for repaying one bad deed with another.  Our response is truly what separates victims from survivors - from those who fail and those who overcome.

Let’s be human beings, love one another as humans, and care for one another as humans.  Let us examine all things with rational debate – remove the race, the hate, the prejudice, the boxes, and the victimization.  Let’s talk to each other, not at each other. 

I love and admire my friend very much.  He’s not bad to look at either, but it’s his mind for rational debate that makes him truly beautiful.

Till next time

~T.L. Gray

Sing With Me or Let Me Go

Inside my soul plays a melody– it’s such a beautiful song, and whenever I’m silent I can hear it.  I can feel every note, but I can’t recognize the lyrics.  There’s all this noise pushing, blocking, and making it hard to find that clear message.

Of what am I so afraid?  I’ve been to hell  - and I survived.  I couldn’t have made it through without the love and support I received from a couple of my friends, but what am I supposed to do now that they don’t have to carry or hold me anymore?  I’m so fucking tired of walking away or standing still as I watch others disappear into the shadows – their songs that helped me so much fading into the background.   I’m like a dust particle floating through a beam of sunlight – I’m falling, fluttering in uncontrolled chaos, swished around by every gust of wind.  My time in the sunlight is for but a moment.  I know eventually I’ll touch the floor and disappear among the others who’ve fell before.  Now is all I have. Today.  My song.

I wish we would just hear each other – really listen to each other’s heart, as human beings.  We’re such a mess, but we’re a beautiful mess.  I just want to hear my song as I dance in the sunlight.  I must let go – grab the notes that work, let go of the ones off key.  There is no perfection, there is no answer that will solve all the mysteries, there’s only now, there’s only today, there’s only one song.  Sing with me or let me go.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

The Beautiful, Wonderful Mess

Every morning, just as my dreams begin to fade and reality takes over, a choice presents itself – a choice on how I’m going to face the day.  Regardless of the dream, whether it was good, bad, erotic, scary, hurtful, funny… no matter – I have a choice of how I’m going to set my pace for the day.

So many mornings over the past couple of years have been met with trembling hands, lumps in my throat, tears running down my cheeks, fear of the unknown, pain of the past, yet mixed with hope for a better day, for a better tomorrow, for love, for joy, for happiness.  Some days are met with those good moments, other days I face more trials and more heartache.  Every day I face me and the woman I was, the woman I choose to be, the woman I want to become.

I wish I could make everything perfect.  I wish I could always make the right choice. I wish I could always find happiness, always pick the right circumstances, and always find the right person.  I’m human and I make mistakes.  I get things wrong… a lot.  Sometimes …sometimes I get it right.

The world is in chaos, yet we’re expected to continue to keep on living, to continue hoping, to survive the pain.  Do you see me?  Do you not know I’m part of this world too?  For those who come into my life, I see you.  I look beyond your body, your words, your masks, and I see you - the beautiful, wonderful mess that you are, because in you - I see me.  I smile at your imperfections and hope you can do the same.

Quit expecting me to be perfect, to have all the answers, to lead you where you need to go.  I will disappoint you and let you down.  Don’t put that burden on me, I can’t carry it, I’m not strong enough.  Just love me as I am, and I’ll do my best to love you just as you are, and maybe together as we struggle to carry ourselves through this life and we won’t have to walk alone.

But if you can’t do that – let me go.

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

The Pick Up Line

Here's a snippet of my latest publication.  It's one of my favorite short stories.  Please visit RoadsideFiction.com and check it out and the rest of the awesome stories published there.

Here's a snippet:

The Pick Up Line’ by T.L. Gray


Sidney couldn’t get her Mustang to go fast enough around the twisting, winding, and lonely back roads. She did all she could to avoid the traffic of interstates frequented by worker bees and corporate zombies, choosing instead to take the long route. Lost in thought of the life she’d fled, the roadside bar suddenly appeared like a ghost in the misty rain.

She turned off the car’s engine and gazed blankly at the dilapidated building. Her body ached all over as she climbed out of the car and walked toward the entrance. Sidney reached for the rusted knob on the ramshackled door. Just before she touched it, she hesitated, took a deep breath, and wrapped her fingers around the knob.

The name Jake’s splayed in cracked, faded red paint across the face of the muddied panes. It wasn’t a hip or happening place judging from the lack of cars in the graveled parking lot, but it looked the way she felt – neglected, forgotten, and run down. She opened the door and stepped into darkness.

As her eyes adjusted to the surroundings, Sidney cast a glance over the place, pleased to find it almost deserted. A middle-aged, fat, bald, brawny brute stood behind the bar staring up at a flat monitor on the wall. He threw a quick glance at her, but immediately returned his attention back to the basketball game. Another man, younger than the bartender, sat at the far end, his fingers tapping his beer bottle in tandem with this right leg bobbing up and down. He seemed consumed with the game playing across the screen.- See more at:

http://roadsidefiction.com/index.php/the-pick-up-line-by-t-l-gray/#sthash.ThOZiqcy.dpuf

Flirting With Death

I’m a natural flirt.  Most of the time my flirting means absolutely nothing and I have only playful intentions.  When men sometimes respond to my flirtations, I’m often surprised and can’t understand where their interest is coming from, because I just see myself as being funny. In that sense I often flirt with everyone, even women, and I’m in no way gay.  I don’t have anything against being gay, I’m just not personally attracted to women.  Quite the contrary. I definitely like manly men, tough guys, not big bulky guys, but tough attitudes, confidence, intelligence, with a high nerd factor. A soldier’s uniform will make me do a double take in a heartbeat. Okay, I’m getting off topic.  That’s a post for another day (which I should write soon for my New Bachelorette: Dating over 40 series).

But what I want to talk about this morning is ‘flirting with Death’.  In my observations there are many of us who flirt with Death regularly, even if we don’t know it.  We can be the happiest, most confident person, but have this twisted sense of adventure – tempting Death, daring him to notice us.  We often don’t realize that’s what we’re doing, but it is and it’s what brings that thrill we’re looking for.

I tempt Death with all my extreme activities.  I regularly participate in outdoor events that require a personal health waiver. Why is it such a thrill for me?  In my meditation this morning, I’ve come to realize it’s because I’m flirting with the off limits, even Death himself, because testing my mortality makes me feel most alive. I’m not claiming it’s rational or even sensible, just the facts of the matter.

I’ve seen many of my friends flirting with Death by looking for a certain feeling, for that spark of life.  They go from person to person being very sexually promiscuous, never using protection, all because they’re frustrated with life and unsatisfied.  They love the meet, the thump of the beat, the dance, and the fantasy,  but when the song changes, they change partners and keep dancing.  They’re facing Death with every dance; not only theirs, but their partners too.

I’ve seen soldiers who’ve been in combat desire to be back on the front lines.  They become frustrated with their mundane, everyday routine so they seek thrills in many various ways, pushing themselves to extreme limits.

We all want to feel alive.  But what we need to realize is that we don’t have to flirt with Death to do it.  He’s nondiscriminatory. He’s definitely not the answer.  I will continue to seek my thrills.  But as I’m become happier with myself and my life, tempting Death isn’t as much an appeal to me.  I’ve got too much to live for.  Will I let it keep me grounded?  Hell no!  But I will smile at Death with more respect.  Should he one day claim me, I hope it will be as friends after a well-lived life.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray  

Clarity of Regret

Clarity of Regret

“Just because you do right things, doesn’t mean they’re right.  History determines if you’ve made the right choices, and that great revelation doesn’t come until the end of your life – right before clarity of regret shows you the light.” ~ Titier E. Solano

What I’d like to have right now is clarity of mind.  Have you ever heard something that upon first hearing you felt it had more depth than you currently possessed in order to understand it?  That’s how it was this morning when my friend said the previous words to me.

I consider myself extremely lucky to be surrounded by such wise philosophers.  They’re not all writers, they’re not world famous, but they’re all geniuses and I hold them in the highest regard.  Some respect others for what they can contribute financially, socially, or even emotionally to the world, but I absolutely admire those who possess a great mind, who think beyond the surface, who can touch my soul.  Titles are good.  Ranks are highly respected.  Degrees are admirable.  Introspection and wisdom don’t require any of those things.  

I’ve been moving all week packing boxes, loading boxes, unloading boxes, and then unpacking those same boxes, to either discard or reuse them. I move all those items around and around, looking for the new spot where they now belong.  When I’m doing manual labor, my mind often delves deep within the psyche and I question sometimes even the basics of human truth.  I admire a sexy body, I adore a beautiful smile, but there’s nothing I appreciate more than a clever, wise, and stimulating mind.

A body is just a shell.  It can be changed, manipulated, grow old and wrinkly, or become scarred and damaged.  I could never love someone simply for their flesh.  Yet so much emphasis is put on that outward meat suit. I would say that a majority of our society can’t get passed it, never seeing the beautiful soul beneath it. I sometimes see a beautiful soul long before I see a handsome face.  Perhaps my view is a little different having grown up with disabled parents.  At an early age I was able to see the humanity behind skin and bones – and realize that a person is the soul that wears the flesh, not the flesh itself. It’s a person’s mind and heart that makes decisions, expresses emotions, and to which we truly connect.  Though it is a physical pair of strong arms that I crave and sometimes allow to hold me – the reason it feels so good is because of the soul that chose to wrap those arms around me. I’ve felt the intrusive abuse of an unwanted touch. While I despised the flesh that violated me, it was the soul of my violator I hated most – the source of the choice.

But what of our choices?  Back to the initial quote at the start of this post.  What’s the point of making choices if we don’t know whether those choices are right or wrong until they’ve been proven as such at the end of our life?  If we cannot control the ultimate outcome, why should we then be concerned with our choices at all today?  What seems right today, may at the end of history be proven wrong.  If I can’t truly know, or can’t see the end of it all, why do I sometimes torture myself in worry over making a wrong choice?

You don’t know how many times I’ve let life slip passed me because of indecision – by being too afraid to make a choice. NOTHING happens in indecision.  Fear of mistakes leads to that petrification.  But, I’m learning something very valuable and very liberating – even my mistakes are better than indecision, because even in my mistakes I’m alive, I’m moving, I’m more than just existing.  Mr. Solano responded to my Good Morning World post that ended with ‘I’m at least living’ with, “Many things live …”  I responded, “It’s more than just existing.  To be aware, to move like water in a river is better than stagnation.  It’s purifying and better than a pond – which turns briny, evaporates in the heat, and breeds bitterness.” His response is the quote listed above.  His words stirred my soul this morning.

I learn from mistakes. Yes, my heart has been broken so bad I don’t know if I can ever find all the missing pieces.  It’s left me so marred I’m a pitiful mess full of cracks, and I’ve done the best I can to haphazardly glue myself back together. Not just emotionally, but physically too.  I’ve still got a lot of work to do, but I’ve come a long way.  At times,  I’m so damned scared that another fall will turn these cracked pieces to a fine dust and I’ll just blow away and not a single soul on this earth will care. But being afraid leaves me indecisive.  Indecision leaves me stagnant.  Stagnation slowly kills me.  So what if I make another mistake? So what if I love the wrong person?  So what if I get hurt again?  At least I lived, and moved, and breathed, and felt something.  I’m so afraid to feel because I’ve experienced so much pain.  But, I’m more afraid NOT to feel. Closing off my heart and putting up walls doesn’t protect me… it kills me.   How do I let them down?  I want to blow them up with some dynamite (btw – invented by Alfred Nobel) and carve out a new path of liberation.

I don’t want the clarity of regret to consume me at the end of my life because I filled it with indecisions due to fear, or I sat around and waited for the perfect person or opportunity to come my way.  There is no perfection. What if the imperfect person in front of me is the perfect person for me?  I understand that the things I want may not work out -  that I could lose again, that I’ll fuck up and make a huge mistake, that I’ll get my heart broke again – but at least I’ll also have loved and lived.  Can I walk away and leave everything behind for love?  Yes, I KNOW I can, it’s what I’ve been doing the last couple of years – when the person I fell in love with has been Me.  How much more could I do it for someone else?

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Broken Receptors

I believe my receptors into humanity are broken because I don’t think I understand the world anymore. Perhaps I’ve spent too much time reading and writing in the fantasy world that I’ve lost touch with the real one.  Before my friends start jumping on the bandwagon and flooding my inbox with messages wanting to know what’s happened, I can say, “nothing’s happened”… seriously, nothing.  It’s just another of those existential moments, a culmination of several weeks, months, and even years of data being processed.

I look at the relationships in my life and see which ones have failed and which ones have lasted and I believe I can pinpoint the problems all stemming from either a strong or weak connection of the mind and soul, and on some levels even the body.  I have some friends whose words, inspirations, and actions touch my very soul.  They’re absolutely beautiful to me because of this link.  When I see their faces pop up on my phone it isn’t a pair of eyes, a set of dimples, or a crazy-ass smile I see – it’s wisdom, knowledge,  awe, respect, admiration, integrity, compassion, excellence, truth, trust, and deep love.  They’re beautiful to me.  I often call them beautiful, but I have no idea if they even understand what I’m saying.  I also have no idea what they see when my face pops up on their phones.  I very seriously doubt it’s anything similar.

I’ve always felt physically disconnected.  Always.  I rarely allow people to touch me, because that requires connection, it requires trust.  Don’t get me wrong. I don’t flip out if someone touches me, I just don’t initiate or put myself in a position to be touched if it can be avoided. Only a few times have I ever felt comfortable enough to where it seemed natural to touch.  Most of the time people interpret my reaction as disinterest or lack of attraction on my part – which would often be wrong.  But, in contradiction to that reaction and protection, I crave connection and I crave touch most of all. Yet, I’ve set up my life where I go weeks, even months, where I am not touched by another human being at all.  Almost on a daily basis my soul is enriched through the intellectual, psychological, and emotional connections I have with my friends (who are all far away from me and some have never touched me), yet there is no physical interaction.

As most of you know, I’ve tried to enter the dating world.  Can you imagine how that’s working out for someone who seeks those same type of connections I have with my friends and then add a physical connection (from someone who fears touch) to the mix?  Not very well. I think I’m actually going to put it away for a while, because frankly I’m just exhausted.  I don’t understand the world.  I don’t understand what people want.

Everyone, and I mean everyone, says they’re not looking for perfection, but they’re all liars. We’re all looking for the fantasy we fell in love with in our minds and when the people in front of us don’t live up to that fantasy, instead of changing the fantasy we change the person.  Perhaps because I’m a writer and know how to change the plot, change the scenery, and even change the main characters – I meet people with an open-mind and an ability to rewrite my fantasy – creating one around the person in front of me.  But how can I expect them to be able to do the same? The sad part  - I don’t.  I expect them to find the flaw that changes everything, destroys the fantasy, severs the connection, be the reason that gives them the excuse they need,  and then watch them walk away.

People say one thing, but their actions say another.  I meet men who say they’re looking for that deep connection, for a woman that will stir their minds and imaginations as well as their bodies,  but they can’t dig further than skin deep, going from pretty face to pretty face, beautiful body to beautiful body, waiting for lightning to strike, but dancing on a clear sunny day. They’ve got no idea why they haven’t found “the one” yet.  If you want lighting - you have to dance in the storm. You have to be willing to withstand the wind, the rain, and the thunder, but most of all days with no sunshine.  Who wants to deal with all that, really?  This is how I’m disconnected.  While I love the sunshine, I feel most alive in the storm.  I’m looking for that person who stirs my soul, irritates the hell out of me because they push my buttons and refuse to let me wallow in deception, self-denial, and inside a comfort zone, making me a better person and come to a better understanding.  Yet those are often the very reasons why I’m never ‘the one’.  Who wants complicated?  Isn’t life complicated enough?

I’m about to celebrate my 43rd birthday.  At this moment I’m tracing a small scar on my chest where a needle of adrenaline was shoved into my heart when I was 22 to get it back started and regain a connection with life.  While I’m having the most amazing adventures, I’m doing them all alone because I can’t seem to make a connection, or perhaps just the right connection. I place my hand flat on my chest and can feel the familiar thump and wonder why I’m still here.  For what purpose was I saved? I used to think there was a reason I survived, twice, really more than that if you count all the near-death experiences.  I once believed I would somehow make a difference in this world. I thought I was special.  I thought I was set apart for some great mission.

The truth is - I make no difference and I’m no different than anyone else. The world doesn’t need me and will continue to turn without me when I’m gone. I faced my mortality a long time ago.  I’m not talking about feeling or believing I’m worthless.  I’m very precious and valuable. I’m a mother.  I’m a contributing member of society.  I have self-esteem and believe in my abilities and talents.  I’m not depressed. I was once needed by my children and by family before that. I’m not needed by anyone now, and that’s not a bad thing.  I also don’t need anyone else. I love  many people, my friends, my children – but I don’t need them.  I go day by day, week by week, month by month taking care of myself, living my life often with only a text here, an email there, a call every once in a while – a connection of the heart and soul - and I love them for it.  But, there’s no one to touch me, to hold me, to wrap their arms around me and tell me everything is going to be okay – there’s a lost connection – one I’ve never been able to make and seriously doubt I ever will.

Please don’t inundate me with emails or messages and tell me my time will come and that there’s someone out there for me I just haven’t met them yet.  I was also told … Mothers love their children.  Fathers love their daughters.  Brothers love their sisters.  Husbands love their wives.  Sometimes there are just broken receptors.

Till next time

Confident Assurance

What is it?

Confident – feeling or showing confidence in oneself; self-assured.

Assurance – a positive declaration intended to give confidence; a promise.  Confidence or certainty in one’s own abilities.

Confidence – the feeling or belief that one can rely on someone or something; firm trust.  The state of feeling certain about the truth of something.  A feeling of self-assurance arising from one’s appreciation from one’s own abilities or qualities.

Wow!  They sound like the same thing, but they’re really not. I can’t fully explain what confident assurance is without it sounding like I’m repeating the same definitions listed above, but I can tell you I’ve witnessed it with my own eyes.

I like to watch people even when they don’t think I’m looking.  I listen to them even when it appears I’m not listening.  Sometimes I don’t respond right away, because I’m pondering, wondering, and allowing the ideas to roll around in my thoughts until I’m able to organize them into some semblance of understandable form.  I blog about what I’m trying to understand, because in order to write it I have to organize all those wayward thoughts into some semblance of cognate reasoning.

I have a friend that would be the prime model for Confident Assurance.  This characteristic emanates from his pores like pheromones as if it were an natural part of his DNA.  Maybe it is because he has a brother that seems to also exude many of the same qualities. I’ve watched this man closely, I’ve listened to him speak, I’ve observed him in many different scenarios, and this one thing is constant – this confident assurance.

I’ve watched his eyes look at one thing, yet see everything.  I’ve watched his body in both attention and rest, recreation and sleep, and even still it operates with the smoothness of confident assurance.  It makes me wonder if it’s something taught or something learned, or perhaps a mixture of both.

There’s a sense of authority, an unspoken wisdom, a deeper knowledge like a treasure hidden in a fortified chest that covers this man and all he does.  I envy and admire him and this quality, perhaps because I’m such the opposite in many ways and desire to obtain some of these qualities in myself.  Yet, I like the qualities I have.  I’m passionate, while he’s reserved.  I’m emotional, while he’s practical.  I’m a dreamer and react as if I already possess those dreams, while he is a realist and lives in the moment, rarely beyond the hour or even the day.  I’m clay, while he’s steel.  He inspires me and makes me want to be confidently assured.  I can only hope that I inspire him in a similar way, though I highly doubt it.

My friend told me this morning, “Observations are pointless without construction.”  I couldn’t agree more.  That’s why I sometimes don’t immediately respond or instantly fail to understand the morsel of wisdom being shared.  But that doesn’t mean it’s lost on me.  Those words or ideas will roll over and over in my mind until I learn to break them down, separate them, pull them apart, and then put them back together again.  Sometimes I make a complete mess and the result I end up with is a tangled misunderstanding. This happens most often when things are expressed that I have trouble hearing because of the damage of my previous scars, but I’m healing. Sometimes I’m able to reconstruct, knowing every part of these wise words and how they function.  The result - is confident assurance.

I love my friend just as he is and wouldn’t ever want to change him.  I celebrate and admire our differences.  I love me just as I am.  Sure, I’d like to walk with a bit more confident assurance like he does, and I’m working on it thanks to his influence, but I wouldn’t want to lose me in the process.  I’m not perfect, quite the opposite – perhaps the Queen of Imperfection, but I love, feel, experience, and speak with my whole heart. I live out loud in honesty. I’ll never be boring. Granted, sometimes I’m a complete mess and get a lot of things wrong, but I’m an honest mess.  In that fact …I am confidently assured.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Good Morning, World - 05/03/2014 - Brush Stroke