Communication Is The Key

This week the common thread in my life journey is communication.  In some cases it's the lack of it, and in some it is just the right amount.  Sometimes I wish we were less advanced and more like other animals in the world that can't talk.  I love words but they get in the way.  I watch people for their physical reactions to things I say, something my mom always taught me to do.  And when the expression doesn't match the content of the words, the communication becomes muddled.  And I find myself doubting the words in favor of the body language or the smiles that never reach the persons eyes, or any other tell that may give them away as hiding something.  I still get taken in every once in a while by someone that I shouldn't just like you, but for the most part, if I follow my gut, I understand something may be wrong or a miss.

When I see something that doesn't match, I should leave it alone, but I usually don't.  That is when I probe and ask questions, like, "What's wrong?" or "Are you ok?"  When they confirm that nothing is wrong I usually assume that either the person doesn't want to talk about it, or that nothing is wrong and my 'bullshit' sensor must be off.  But lately I've come to understand that it also may mean that the person may need to talk but doesn't know how.  They may be afraid of confrontation, even when it's with a loved one, or someone they trust.  This fear of confrontation is an alien concept to me.  I have no choice but to leave that alone as I don't want to upset them further.  But I can see that there is a problem and I want to help solve it.  It's my nature.  Not being nosey, just want to help.  Especially if it involves me.  Because if it involves me, then there may be a fault that I'm either working on, and the information would be helpful, or I'm missing and need to be made aware of.  Unfortunately, most people are too polite to be honest in this area.  I'm not.  When I love someone I want to help make them the best person they can be, and I love them enough to tell them when they are hurting someone, or making a mistake, or being unfair to themselves, or others.  Not to be disrespectful to equals, but like you would with a child that doesn't know any better, or one that is testing their limitations, (or yours).  Sometimes even adults need reminders of when they are being unfair, or having double standards, or lying to themselves.  Thats the hardest one to get most of us to admit.  As most recovered addicts will tell you, lying to yourself is the part that keeps you hooked.

I know for the past four years I've been lying to myself and trying to be someone I wasn't so that I could find love again, feel accepted.  What a colossal mistake of judgement, unfairness, and lying to myself all of that was.  I had several loved ones, friends and family members who tried to question me,warn me, talk to me about who I was becoming, or even try to step in and save me from myself by insulting new friends of mine that they disapproved of.  That last way was not the best way to confront me, but it was the way they did things.  I don't hold it against them, I just can't trust them anymore.  For a while I couldn't trust myself either.  The life choices I was making were not for me.  They were risky, or against what I would preach.  Was talking the talk, but not walking the walk.  My body language didn't match my words.  Something I hate in others, well maybe hate is too harsh.  I want to fix it.  And yet I was doing it too.

You see, I'm one of those people that believes that my journey is mine.  And the people that come along with me on it, for long or short periods of time, are just that, people that come along.  They are on their own journey and I am honored when I can accompany them, or if they chose to accompany me.  For that limited time, we are on a similar journey.  But it is never the same.  To me that is impossible.  I am an individual.  So are they.  Even in co-dependent relationships they are still on their own individual journey.

This part of my journey is a road that is overgrown with massive amounts of weeds and brambles, and for me to continue without being choked by the weeds or cut by the brambles, I must prune them.  It is a very slow and sometimes painful process, but in order for me to heal and grow, it must be done.

And while I often think of the ones that can no longer be on my journey with me, I know it is better for me, and as much as a very large part of me would still like to try to help them, or let them help me, I honestly believe we have tried long enough to 'fix' each other.  Or perhaps since no one really needs fixing, a better term would be to help each other see where they could be healthier and happier and leading fuller lives.  It may not appear like I take advice because it takes me a long time to put into action the advice I have received from loved ones and family, and yes lovers fit into this category too.  Perhaps even more than family because they know me in a way that family never could.  And my lovers have helped me greatly in discovering who I really am, as apposed to who I was, or who I may have recently pretended to be....hoped I could be....but sadly know I am not.

And perhaps it's not so sad after all.  Perhaps it was just another part of my journey.  My lessons in life.

Cheers

YARRR! Being a Pirate Can Be Frustrating

I WANT MY NEW DOCTOR!  And I want him now.  I tried all the BBC links and while I can download the players, I can't download any shows until I'm back in England....RRRRRR.  I not be going to England, any time soon, maties.   So here I sit with Sammy Bo Baggins, trying every site known to man, and I'm not getting anything that doesn't want me to sign up for some 'free' offers that are anything but free.  So I keep looking.  Keep playing with Sammy, and keep understanding that, this is not going to work, and I'm not going to get to see my new DOCTOR!

You see, I was at a birthday party last night for a friend, must really care about her a lot to miss dr. who, but I was so sure I could stream it....somewhere....found three other Doctor Who fans at the party too all, planning to do the same thing, or in the case of my favorite british couple here in The Windy City, they watched half of it an LEFT for the party.  I had to keep saying, SPOILERS, sweetie at them as they smiled at me with their contagious british wit and said, "Oh.  Of course.  Actually the big part that happens, is...."  and I ran away with fingers solidly implanted in my ears.

Now it seems that I may have found one, for screaning purposes only, and in black and white, but you know what, the first doctor was in black and white and I don't care.  I need to see it.  I can always watch it again when the fans start posting it on line.  Very disappointed that it wasn't on my usual sites, they are always so reliable.

I will attempt to watch it while Sammy Bo Baggins naps, and hopefully I will not go through too much withdrawal from Doctor 11, like I did when Doctor 10 left.  Sigh.  Sill makes me sad, but I am looking forward to Doctor 12.  He is fanboy like I'm a fangirl.  And there is nothing sweeter than getting to see a fan grow up and become a character he never thought he'd get the chance to act.  Can you imagine, little Peter five years old watching the very first Doctor on TV and never missing an episode?  Doctor Who has been in my life my entire life.  Although I didn't get a chance to watch it a a child like he did, I started with Doctor 4, and never looked back.  Well, I watched the older ones eventually, but the reboot is everything Doctor Who wanted to be back then but we didn't have the technology.  Now, it's stunning, even in black and white.

And now I think it may be time to put aside all the worries of life and trials we all go through and get lost with one of my favorite characters....sigh....like Donna, I keep watching for my TARDIS, like Rose I know it would end badly, and most like River, having my own sonic screwdriver, try to keep up, Sweetie.

Cheers

Surviving Childhood Abuse Is A Life Time Struggle

As a survivor of childhood abuse I can tell you that you don't just survive that point in time.  But you survive that point in time, over an over.  And not in just the triggers or memories that bring it back to you, but in the life choices being a survivor gifts you with.  That's right, I said gifts you.  Because for me there is no other way to look at it except with biting sarcasm.  I survived the childhood rapes, mostly because I didn't remember the first one, and the last two were, well I remembered them, lets leave it there.  But what becoming awakened sexually at a much too early time in my life, way before puberty and before I had a real chance at understanding what those feelings and emotions were all about, had done to my psyche, only time would tell.  And boy has it.  I have survived all the wrong choices and three divorces.  One very vivid trigger that I dated for a year....yech.  How much of THAT do I want to own?  Been a mistress....twice.  And while my heart will always love them, I can never trust them because I've seen how they treat their wives.  But I survived that too.  Even to the point to defend the wives.  Something my heart never would have believed possible when it loved them with such hope and such devotion.  You see sometimes being a mistress is more about being a shrink, or a mom, or a best friend than a stripper or a hooker.  Although I won't lie, those things come into it too.  The fantasy girl that they either don't see in the mother of their children, (that's their hangup not mine) or they don't like when their chosen woman tries to be the fantasy.  See I don't believe anyone thinks as a little girl, "I can't wait to grow up and be a monster to my husband and make him run to another woman for solace."  Nor do I think that any little girl thinks, "I can't wait to grow up to be a mistress and fulfill the whim of a man that doesn't love me enough to be with me."  But if that's not true where do these women come from?

Sometimes its from childhood rape, sometimes its from a life time of being coached into silence or told that you deserve this, or that it's good for you, or that if you tell you'll be killed.  The anger and rage that is suffocated when this happens is so enormous for some of us that it actually seems to surround us like a cloud of, "don't touch me."  or "keep your distance, I'll only hurt you."  or "I eat men like you for breakfast."  Been all those women too.  Have hated men so much that I wanted them to hurt, like the little girl in me hurt. But I thought I hid it well.  Perhaps I didn't, perhaps that why, with very few exceptions, I attracted bad boys that partied too much and cheating was a 'way of life'.  Perhaps the very few exceptions wanted to save me or show me that real love was something I deserved and they were going to be the man to show me that.  But unfortunately I was so angry and afraid of being controlled again that I couldn't let that happen.  And would eventually find a way to push them away, or if that didn't work, leave on my own.  And I survived all of that.

Sometimes, in the case of the monster wife, I believe that the more men lie to us the more paranoid and possessive we become, thus growing into the monsters they eventually run from.  It's a round robin.  I'm not completely blaming the lying man there.  Obviously, I'm sure in most cases, they tried to tell the truth and got their head bit off for it, so when worse things happen, things that need to be discussed between husband and wife, they don't even try.  They don't want the confrontation and what she doesn't know won't hurt her, right?  Nope.  Not right.  Because somehow the truth always finds a way.  Just like love.  (cue Yes) So sometimes, and I believe more often then not, having been that monster wife and seen a few in my time, we become what our husbands help to create in us by not being our loving friends and confidents that we were together before the dreaded marriage.  And in some very rare cases children can appear to spoil this but I really have no patience for those parents, because I love children and it is never a child's fault for being here.  None of us asked to be born.  And I survived all of that.

I wish that I would have gotten help for my rage, and inferiority complexes years ago, as a child, before I started picking mates.  I think I might have survived better.  But perhaps not.  They say that you don't remember traumatic times until you are ready to handle them, so perhaps my small childlike mind would have snapped, and my wonderful children would never have been born, and that would have been a mistake.  Maybe it was meant to happen the way it did, so that I could really grasp that none of it was my fault.  And be able to let go of the anger, and the desire to be with men who clearly are unavailable, and not worthy of my love.  Maybe my mind was not ready to let it go until I experienced all that control, and got those issues out of me.  That poor little 12 year old girl crying into her pillow swearing to whatever gods were listening that she would never hurt like this again, never let a man control her like this again.  How many times did I let that little girl down?  A few, but sometimes I let her have her way, and at those times, I was a controlling bitch.  Possessive, paranoid, untrusting and untrustworthy, selfish, demanding and with impossible shoes for the men in my life to fill.  But I survived all of that.

Sometimes, we just haven't known what a tender, real love is, and will change into the very thing we hate to get it.  Sometimes we are starved for affection, and the unavailability of a man no longer matters.  They also say you always have a choice, and I believe that, but I've also been so swept away in love, or lust or loneliness or all of the above, that there was only one choice to take.  And if you've never been there you will argue this point, and you may.  But the option to say no, those two times I became a mistress, were not an option.  I love them still, but I can't love them at the same time.  I have lost so much respect for them both, so much of the trust I had, the hope that they would see me, love me, and be with me, that it started to turn the tender memories of our times together into a farce of me being used and abused once again.  I couldn't let that happen.  So I had to hide away my love and feelings, once again, coached into silence.  And hope I could save the friendships that started it all.

I guess I was as successful as anyone can be in this situation.  One talks to me about once a month if I'm lucky and battles his own depressions, as do I.  The other I still talk to almost daily but it seems forced sometimes.  Sometimes from him, sometimes from me.  And I guess he is trying to save us too.    But sometimes, sometimes, I feel like the only reason they reach out to me is to make sure I'm ok and not about ready to tell their wives.  So silly.  Why would I want to help them hurt their wives?  I don't hate their wives, I feel sorry for them.  Sorry that they are being lied to every night they lay down together.  Sorry that they don't know that their perfect men are not so perfect.  And maybe they do know, maybe they suspect.  I always did when my husbands cheated.  But maybe they can't face it, will believe it will 'run its course'.  That's the same silence and denial that a woman that gets beat uses as an excuse to stay with a monster.  Wanna know a secret?  She doesn't deserve it.  She doesn't deserve to be lied to, betrayed, and what she doesn't know can hurt her.  Because the main thing a man does when he cheats is he starts to ignore his wife.  You don't think she notices that?  She does.  He starts to disappear in subtle ways from the marriage.  And if she loves him still she will push and prod and question and start to do all the things that will drive him further away, but it's our of love and fear and desperation to save a marriage.  One of the things I learned is that you can't save a marriage all by yourself, no matter how much you want to.  If you both don't want to work on it, it will fail.  It already has, in that case, really.  It's a matter of time.

But I know, and knowledge is strength.  And strength is the main thing you need to survive. Don't be afraid of whatever form your strength takes.  Sometimes it might be anger, sometimes it might be love, but it will always be there if you just look for it and lean on it.  Let it hold you up, let it give you strength to remember who you are and what you stand for.  And never give in to the hopelessness that goes with depression and panic.  Talk to someone, anyone.  I'm right here.

Cheers

NOT ON MY WATCH!

What a week, but we all know I work best under pressure.  Sammy Bo-Baggins is back and I feel like a contributing person in the family unit again.  I really missed him, and of course we are both sick.  :)  Cute little germ magnet.  And with the beginning of this summer cold I got to experience my first migraine.  LUCKY me.  I have never had such pain in my head.  Never been so ....OUCH.  Was even sick to my stomach and couldn't stand any light source.  ALL technology went away.  But it is gone now and lasted for about 24 hours.  Even had a very hard time sleeping.  Usually, sleep helps my headaches, not this one.  This one actually woke me up from a sleep and started banging on the back of my skull until I sat up.  Then of course with the change in elevation it banged at cluster points above my eyes to lay back down.  What to do?  Glad it is over and I hope I never experience that kind of pain again.  

My daughters have them, and were a bundle of advice.  They tell me it's mostly due to stress.  And didn't even have to ask if I'm stressed.  They know I am worried about getting hooked up with nanny agencies, with only one real experience that I can list where I got paid to watch children.  And under a year experience even here, when all is said and done, but hopefully my age will be a help in this rather than a hindrance.  Maturity usually is when watching children, and since I've been here in Chicago, I've become Betty Crocker.  I know,  I know....NOT my vision either, but you know it ain't bad?  I always wanted that Fairy Tale marriage where I could stay home and raise the kids and write and my husband would gainfully support us on one job and be home every night and the weekends to be a part of his children's lives and mine.  And we would travel and go out and have fun in whatever city we chose to live in.  I think I just got a little sick in my mouth, but you get the idea.  I was a little girl after all.  

A little girl who had her childhood ripped away from her by an abusive babysitter.  This is how survivors, survive.  How we live to not repeat the horror, or lock ourselves away in a room, where it is dark, because we just don't have the trust to try any longer.  I can't be those girls.  I want to hurt the men that hurt me, with my bare hands, with such anger that hell hath no fury to match.  But I'm sure they are dead now or in prison and they aren't worth it.  You know I'd get caught.  Its like I'm a super hero about physical abuse now.  "NOT ON MY WATCH!"And I fly away with the kids under each arm away from whatever harm is about to come to them. (But no capes.  They are dangerous).n  Of course there is no abuse here, and I'm sure there are some more kids out there that need loving, extra grandmas, to watch them while their parents are hard at work.  I just have to find them.  Thats the only real worry.  

So I've decided that instead of finding the right man to fit my scenario, I'm becoming Mr. Right so that I can support myself in the manner to which I have become comfortable.  Without the reason why, being my children's survival.  I'm doing this for me.  Because I deserve it.  That's real growth from the scared and angry little abused girl I've been for so long.  I'm looking forward to finishing my profiles on the nanny sites here and getting my references up and background checks done.  This takes time and money, but things are going in the right direction.  Forward.  Once I find a part time gig to fit in with what the kids need of me here, then I can focus on a full time or several part time ones and find my own apartment!  I sound like a teenager!  I like that.  Teenagers are full of youthful lack of experience and denial that demands they will never fail.  And they jump.  They just go and do it.  That's what I need to find again.  My confidence in myself as I was as a young woman.  Fearless, before all the divorces and hurt and bad decisions. The one that took care of the scared little girl and made her less afraid.  Convinced her she could do it, and didn't have to be silent.  Unafraid to take the world on and never look back.  I know she's still in here somewhere.  I may have left her under a heap of dirty laundry, but once I have all that aired out I'm sure she'll pop up with that know-it-all smirk, the one that looks like "I know something you don't know." And she'll grab my hand and say, "NOT ON MY WATCH."  And we'll be off.  

Better catch up.

Cheers.

“When the sun has set, no candle can replace it.” ― George R.R. Martin

A good week, I really can't complain.  I am down to the last three chapters of my book in the second draft and I'm feeling both good about that, and sad, that soon I must let it go out into the world.  Artists!  We're a strange bunch.  I'm waiting on feedback from my editor on a good chunk of it, but after that, the last read through, and then I publish.  I need to get this one written and the characters out of my head, because I can feel other things that need to be written.  I just haven't decided yet if I'll make the next one another "fantasy/sci-fi" or if I'll make it a "tell all" or a "how not to book".  Lots of ideas floating around in my head and until I'm happy with one, I won't start or revisit any notes.

My headaches come and go, but so does my emotional state.  I'm coming into the dog days of summer, it has been a cooler and wetter one in Chicago for the most part, at least thats what the natives tell me.  And I'm ok with that.  The afternoon and evening showers fit my mood.  The dog days of summer always have me missing people I've let go, or that have let go of me.  Or both.  And it's a strange time of year for me.  When most people are out and about loving the last days of sun before old man winter wakes up, I'm one to hide away and write or think too much.  I know Buddha said, "Each day we are born again.  What we do today is what matters most."  Or something like that, and that's true and yet, why do I miss certain people so much?

Cryptic, eh?  Yes I know, but the one I miss has asked me not to write about him so...And the other one, well, we are doing well with our long distance 'friendship'  although, we both know its a sham.  And a shame.  Why are the choices we don't make so intriguing?    I know they believe I idolize them that I don't see their faults, but you see, when you are the mistress, you see all the faults as well as the virtues.  You have to, in order to take that plunge.  Other wise I'd just be a stripper or a prostitute.  A mistress is not the road I had set out on, and I will tell you that the first time you cheat is the hardest.  Everything after that, you become an expert at lying and loyalty, and honesty.  After all, most men that cheat still love their wives.  There are rare cases and I know a few, who have lost that love or believe it is gone forever or changed for the worse; and have a loyalty to their spouse that they don't want to be the bad guy, or they have some other vested interest, children or business shares, something.  But what they don't think about is what I had to think about with that first cheating experience on my second husband, with what would be my third husband.  They are very good at thinking about the sex and how it will feel to be in love (lust) again.  That first blush, the thrill of the chase.  What they don't think about is how selfish they are being to their wives.  Pretending, (lying) to them every night when they lay down beside them.  The wives feeling that they have the best man in the world, or if they are unhappy too, and lets be real, they are, they at least are working on the marriage.  In faith that their husband is at the least, being faithful.  How selfish is it to have a wonderful woman you loved enough to marry or have children with or start a business...a life with, and be so afraid of being alone or making your life a mess that you lie to that love.  That you keep her isolated from the truth of your heart.  Is that why you married her?  I don't think so.  What I had to face was that I didn't love my second husband enough or I never would have cheated on him.  Period.  I didn't say I didn't love him.  I said, I didn't love him enough.  Of course I didn't know that when I married him.  We never know our greatest loves until we meet them.  But to keep him tied to me and cheat over and over was not only cruel to me and my third husband, but to him.  You see I knew that he deserved to be loved with the honesty and depth that he is capable of loving.  And so I let him go to find that love.  Not so that he'd be happy, he was happy, so was I.  But once I cheated that was a game changer.   (And guess what, he did find her and we are all better friends for the honesty).

Why are they so afraid of change?  Why do they 'love me' but refuse to 'choose me'?  So I moved to Chicago, to take myself out of the equation and make it a real challenge to see me.  And yes, one still arranged a visit.  Even though I ran.  The other has always been a long way away so me moving around changes nothing.  I often wonder what would happen if I moved there.  But then I think about the first one, and I realize I've already lived that story, and as wonderful and painful as it was, I don't want to do that again.  I want a partner, a companion, an equal, an honest, loyal love.

I know if you have never cheated, you're reading this and fuming that I don't deserve that.  But you are wrong.  You have not walked a mile in my shoes and believe me, my first husband and my third cheated on me, or came so close that the fantasy love they had destroyed us.  Affairs of the mind can be just as damaging as affairs of the flesh, and ones that encompass both, like strippers for example, can be the most damaging.  Try to remember as you are reading, that I was a little girl full of hope and promise before my physical attacks.  Try to remember that I was someone's daughter too.  Try to remember that I didn't grow up with the ideal that I want to be a mistress when I go up.  I wanted to be a ballerina, or a mommy, or an astronaut.

Life is a strange and wondrous journey, and I have to say that while I'm not proud of all my choices I would not rewrite them.  Well, I might change a day or two from the past to keep me with someone I miss, but he knows that.  He feels that too.  But I wouldn't change the affairs.  They have made me who I am and I love myself and respect who I am today.  Try not to crucify me for my past.  It is past.  Just like yours.  Every day is a new beginning.

Cheers