Who am I?

How existential of me to ask that.  And really, if I were philosophizing on my true meaning - my true reason for existence - then I think it would take up an entire book and not a blog entry.

No, the question is much simpler than that.

One of the ways I know to make money when I depart for my "epic journey of lateness" and explore the US in a motorhome (est.2015) is to write.  Yay! Writing.

Easy enough.

But how do you make money at it?  I don't mean $25 here and there, I mean $1000/month. Or more.  Well, I understand I need to establish myself as a writer in a freelance world.  I need to have stories and an angle and a friend in the publishing business.

Crap.

I actually need to work at this.

So where to start?  What do I know?  Always write about what you know.  Easy.

But what do I know?  Really know?

And that's where the problem seems to exist for me.

Here's what I know...REALLY know:
How to persevere
How to raise a child
How to be a single mom
How to live (or not live) with someone who has a terrible addiction
How to juggle life - not always successfully
I know what it's like to be withdrawn, what it's like to hide.  I know what it's like to pretend you are someone else.
I know the experience of acting - from a chorus role to the lead in a musical - and everything behind the scenes.
How to have a successful marriage
How to have a successful and angst-free divorce
How to be honest

But beyond that - I'm not an expert in anything.  I have my passions, but I don't consider myself to be an expert in any field.  I can tell stories and have a sardonic wit.  I can see the humor in just about everything.  I am the first to laugh at myself.  And I find myself a little afraid of everything around me.

Insecurity is a bitch.  If I were to look at myself on paper, without knowing it was me, I would be mightily impress with the strength of that woman.  But knowing it's me - I just know that I did what every other person in this world does - I put one foot in front of the other and move forward.  Sometimes through mud or windstorms, or blizzards, or floods.  Sometimes through the most beautiful of sunny days.

I am no different than anyone else.

Except I have a way to find my voice and the voice of others.  I have the talent to put that voice out there and allow my experiences to be heard.

Is that voice publishable?

Is there anything I can say that hasn't already been said? That someone wants to hear?

I have no idea.

And I don't think I will really ever know the answer to that unless I start to write from the heart.  Not a blog - but something more marketable. An article. An opinion column. Something to sell to a small paper or two or twenty or more.

Maybe a weekly piece would be enough to carry me forward as a writer and as a way to finance my adventure through space.  Maybe those stories on the road will become a future book (yes! even with pictures!), or at the very least, a small voice heard by a few souls who still read.

I understand that today is the day I need to figure it all out.  I can't wait until I'm on the road to test the waters.  The time is now...

The first step is always the most frightening. From my experience, the next few steps after that aren't so easy either...

The sigh of relief

Biopsy's are scary things.

Just being told you need to have one can strike fear in the best of us.  For me, it became a flood of "what if's" and a constant reminder to breathe until the results are in my hand.

Last week I had a major health scare.  I didn't tell many people...maybe only four because I didn't want to be seen as over-reacting.  I chose three of those four people carefully.  One is a friend who was diagnosed recently with cancer and has gone through treatment of varying stages throughout the past year and 1/2. Another was a stable...very grounded family member....someone I could depend on to get me through.  The third was my son.  I have never kept anything from him and this was something he needed to know - at the very least to understand why I was on edge.  The fourth was my ex-husband because he called right after I left the doctor.

I knew when I walked into the doctor's office what she was going to do. I hate pain and I knew the biopsy would hurt like a SOB.  It did. And I cried. I'm not sure how much was due to pain and how much was due to fear - but the tears leaked from my eyes and there was nothing I could do to stop them.

When a person is faced with uncertainty, I believe they fall back and re-examine a lot of their lives.  I know I did.

If I were to die tomorrow, what would be my regrets? Would I even have any? Have I done what I want to do? Do I even like the person I am?

In short, I realized that I do like me and that my real regrets were for the future that may not be so real for me.  Understand, I've made a lot of mistakes in my life - but I'm not really sorry.  I've done alright.  I have an amazing son and have had some great adventures.

I still want to see Europe.

I still want to visit all 50 states.

I still want to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.

But other than that, I've done okay.  My son said it best after he told me that he would stay within the moment and deal with the "worse-case scenario" only if that was our reality. He said - if he were to lose me today, he couldn't have asked for a better mother or a better upbringing. He has no regrets when it comes to his childhood.

I cried.

I've done that a lot in the last week...quietly in the dark after going to bed.  I'm not ready to leave this life.  I'm not done.  Damn it - I didn't see this possibility coming and I don't want to expend the effort to deal with it.

And that is as far as I allowed myself to go down that path.  No further.  Not until I had something tangible in my hands.

Today, I received my "unofficial" results.

There is no cancer.  No pre-cancerous cells.

Even the small pity-party journey I allowed myself to take was overkill and paranoia.  I'm going to be fine.  And while there is no definitive reason as to the condition I have - it is not cancer.  Whatever it is will not try to kill me.

I have survived to fight another day.

Today is NOT a good day to die, and for that I am thankful.

day: I re-commit myself to me

I've been lost.

Some of you may have noticed, but I'm assuming the vast majority have not. Nor should anyone. Because I'm me and not you. Our focus should be on ourselves.

We - at least the females among us - tend to focus on everyone else other than ourselves and in doing so, forget the most important person in our lives.

I've done it the same as the rest of the women in this world.

I will always find a way to focus on others before myself. But I will make the effort to take care of me first.

And that is what I'm doing today.

Taking care of me.

This past May, I jumped into the 17 day diet with both feet and I managed to lose 30 pounds. This is incredible. This is amazing.

Then...as I've always done in the past...I started to inch my way into self-sabotage. I made excuses and found ways to cheat albeit in very small ways. The whole time I knew what I was doing. At least I was completely aware.

And I reached out. I cried out. Everytime I felt myself starting to hide away from the world, I'd yank myself up and throw myself out there publicly. Well...at least I threw myself out there into SparkPeople world.

Thankfully some people reached back. Even though many were struggling with their own weight loss demons - people found a moment in their day to recognize me. I love you for that. I needed you and there were those who ... at the very least ... acknowledged my presence and predicament.

I knew I needed to get back on track. I knew the weight would creep back up if I didn't. Thankfully, I've gained less than 5 pounds back. This past weekend was like a free-for-all with Mexican food. In the past six weeks, I've "allowed" myself to reintroduce sugar back into my system. And alcohol. And though I've maintained an awareness of each addition...I caught myself starting to let it go.

I do that. I am the best damned pity-party thrower out there sometimes. I don't know why, but I will destroy my best intentions with feelings of being unworthy.

I know...I know...I am worthy. 99% of me knows that and will tell you that. I am strong and intelligent and accomplished. But there is that teeny tiny voice inside of me that says I'm lying. It tells me that I've been faking it all these years and someone will call my bluff. It tries to convince me that there is no substance behind the facade that is me.

Why that voice is easier to listen to doesn't make sense to me. But it is. It's like comfort food. It's like a warm, soft blanket on a blustery Autumn day. It's the crackling of a fireplace and the caress of a lover.

And it is trying to destroy me from the inside.

Not today.

Today I am pushing it back down - but only after I confront it head-on. I know it will always be there - but by acknowledging it and recognizing it is part of me - I will be able to keep it in check.

Today I am back to complete my goal for 2011. To reach that goal - a total of 40 pounds lost in 2011 - I have only 13 pounds to go. I can do it. It is completely possible. Not "if" but "when."

And in doing so - will be able to reach MY healthy weight in 2012.

Melancholy - contemplation on life today...

I tend toward the extremes in life sometimes.  I'm either up or I'm down.  The inbetween is most likely a melancholy.

That's today.

I saw it coming.  In the last week I've been tired and at a low ebb. It's colored how I see things in life right now.  And while - generally speaking - I'm a happy and optimistic person, I'm starting to feel myself turn inward.

There are so many things I need to do - primarily rid my life of boxes and boxes of stuff in my garage.  The pile is so much smaller than it was years ago - but letting go is difficult at times.  It's also difficult because I tend toward strong memories - and these boxes are full of them.

I learned at a very early age that life can change in the blink of an eye.  Because of that I've gone through life "making memories" of people and times.  Where most people in this world just go through a day - I tend to focus on something to remember - something to hold onto and something that will bring the memories back.  I've done this so long that I really don't realize I'm doing it.  It's subconscious on my part.

But today I went through 3 boxes.  And while I ended up throwing or giving most of their contents away, I held onto a small shoebox of cards and letters - all from the 1980's.  I found a phone book of people that are mostly no longer in my life; wedding cards, anniversary cards, Christmas cards, birthday cards - mostly from my mom who died Oct 2, 2001.  Cards my ex-husband and I gave to one another during those 1st few years of our marriage - those incredibly happy years when nothing could drive a wedge between us.  And while I gave that marriage everything, alcoholism divided us and I called it quits after almost 25 years.  But the '80's...they were some good, good times.

With what has happened in Norway, and what continues to happen in our world today - with the bickering and BS of our own political parties and our own seemingly willingness to implode - my heart is heavy.

I'm saddened because of the pain felt worldwide.

And this has always saddened me.  The hunger, the fear, the death, the hatred - sometimes it just all seems overwhelming.

Yet, I know there are many more people who are kind and loving.  People who put others before themselves and unselfishly stand beside those less fortunate.

The world is more kind than hateful - more loving and more giving.

This is what I need to remember and focus on.

The lives of those I loved in the past are forever with me in my memories.  And while I cannot bring them back physically, I can live with the knowledge that I gave them my heart willingly and knowingly.  I allowed myself to be open to them and to remember our times together.

I pray that those people who are hurting today - both in Norway and elsewhere in this world - can find that they also made memories of each and every day they were with their loved ones.  I pray that they find the comfort of these memories in the future when the severity of their loss and their pain starts to subside.

I pray that - together - we can find comfort and peace and give enough love to one another so that others may never know the heartache of terroristic death.

Imagine all the people
living life in peace
you may say i'm a dreamer
but i'm not the only one
<em>26</em>

The day after...

If anyone is following my blog - you'll know that I was finally going to meet with a counselor yesterday concerning my divorce. A quick background: I divorced my husband (it was final in 2008) after 25 years of marriage. The last 6 of them he was a raging alcoholic. While my marriage had years and years of great times, they were almost all eradicated by the last 6. If you have never lived with an alcoholic - please, count your blessings. For those of you who have - I know you understand a lot of what I went through in those years.

I thought I was over everything - I thought I had found my peace and had moved on.

Well...no. I haven't. 

He still makes me angry. Not mad. Angry. I still get nightmares. I still feel that lost feeling I felt when I was searching for an escape.

He's been sober since September 2006 - the day I put him on a plane just after our 23rd anniversary for his 4th and what seems to be his final attempt at sobriety.

I was done. I told him not to come back.

Well - the counselor listened to my tale of woe and asked me why I hadn't let go yet. I told her I thought I had. Nope, she said. But she would help.

So...I feel freer already. I'm ready to be done with him. My son is 17 and has one more year of high school before he goes away to college. He's the person he is today because of who he is and how I've nurtured him. He is also a product of his environment - and he's come out on the other side better for what he's been through. The bottom line is - my son is who he is despite of his father. There is no reason for our son for me to hold onto his father. 

So why am I holding on? Because it's hard to let go after 30 years. I was 21 when I met him. 24 when we married. 48 when we divorced. I've known him over 1/2 my life. Good and bad. 

It's time to walk away.

And when I do - the counselor seems to think I'll let a lot more go...my weight, my fear of dating, my settling for life without the strength to move forward.

Today IS the first day of the rest of my life.

Learning to move forward - lose the anger, find the love

Let me start this out by saying I'm okay...frustrated, but okay. And in an odd way, I may have crossed a major issue in my weight loss journey - or actually, what causes me to have issues with weight loss. 

A little background on me: I divorced in 2008 after being married for 24 years. I met my ex in 1981, married in 1984, moved to Alaska in 1989, had our son in 1994. My father-in-law died unexpectedly in 2000 then my mother passed in 2001 - almost a year later and right after 9/11. By the start of 2002 my son and I were living with a full fledge alcoholic. The next 5 years were hell. On my 23rd anniversary, I put my ex on a plane to Washington for his 4th attempt at recovery. I told him not to come back. By June 2007, my son and I packed our car and drove to Texas to start over. The plus side of all this - my ex has been sober since September 2006.

As any other single parent can tell you, the past few years have been difficult - but I wouldn't change the choice of divorce for anything. It was a difficult decision - but the right one. My son and I are fine. 

My ex followed us to Texas, but was respectful enough to live 1.5 hours away. He is not in my face. There have been events good and bad - but all in all, we are friends. I loved him for over 25 years - I'm too damned old to be angry. 

And that may be the problem. There are times I still am. There are things that he says or does that bring it all back up - the anger, the nightmares, the frustration - it all comes back. 

I try. I do. I don't want to have these emotions come back. I want to move forward. I want to find someone else to love and be loved by. I know the only way to move forward is to forgive. I thought I had. I seriously worked hard to let it all go. It's not like it's the first "trauma" that I've experienced. I'm strong - I know I am. So for me to still get as angry as I do about his actions (or lack thereof) is almost baffling. 

So...after months of my son asking me to get counseling - I'm doing it. I meet with a counselor tomorrow afternoon. I'm tired of not sleeping. I'm tired. 

And what does this have to do with my weight loss journey? 

I'm an emotional eater. I have spent the past 17 years punishing myself with my weight. It's like I have an inner voice that says I don't deserve to be a healthy weight. It's like when I get angry at someone I love that I punish myself by destroying my weight. Always. Everytime I've experienced the anger, the frustration, the emotional crap - I eat. 

Today I realized I didn't eat like that. And I didn't do it yesterday. Or last week. Or the week before that. (believe me - there has been cause) 

This is huge. 

I'm not sure I'm "cured" but I have a control that I've never had before. I'm not sure exactly why. It's not that I've lost weight, because that has never worked before. It's not because I'm communicating with my SP friends - or my son - because I also tend to hide or hermitize myself as I like to call it. So, no...that's not it. 

I really don't know why. 

But I'm glad. 

Maybe...I'm really moving forward this time.

slow down...the corner is coming too fast...

So what's wrong with me?

My son says I've changed.  That's new.  I've never had my son tell me that.

My ex did. I've had friends tell me that.  Even family.  But my son?

nope. That's a new one.

So what's different?

My life is changing around me and I have no control over it.  That's nothing new - but the circumstances are changing.

My son is growing up.  Hell, he's already grown up through no fault of his.  Life threw him a curve ball early on and he hit it out of the park.

But is that a good thing?

I will never know, because it is what it is and I can't change the past.

So I'm trying to control the future - and it's not mine to control.

I love him. I'm proud of him. I trust him to make the right decisions and choices and twists and turns that come with life.  I'm just not prepared to let him go.  Actually, I'm not prepared to let go period.

Why?

Because I have nothing to grab onto.

In my past, I've had three things...
1.  What will I be when I grow up?
2.  My husband
3.  My son

I'm grown up, divorced and the mother of a high school junior.  I'm done.  I spent 25 years holding onto and guiding my husband and I will have spent 18+ years doing the same for my son.

I understand that now it's my time.  Terri time.

But I don't know what that means.  I can't see the paths.  I don't know what's around the corner.

And unlike that girl of 19 - this time I'm scared.

brick by brick - the facade begins

Sometimes the reason people feel so alone is because the person they want to hold them up doesn't.

It doesn't matter how many friends they may have, or how many of the people around them say, "if you need anything - just let me know."

People like me don't just reach out.  We don't just "let you know."  Not because we don't want to - but because it's been driven into our tiny little brains that to do so could be an inconvenience to those we reach out to.

Or...when we've reached out, we've received obvious advice that we really didn't need.

Telling us the mistakes we've made to get to where we are is unnecessary.  Usually, we know where we've fucked up.  It's pretty obvious to us.  We tend to feel extremely stupid for allowing ourselves to make the very mistake you feel a need to point out to us.

So - we don't reach out.  Because we don't want to be beaten over the head by our own stupidity.

Some people think we need to hear it to move forward.

We don't.

I don't at least.

What I need is quiet support.

Someone to tell me it will all be okay.  Someone to hold me and to prop me up.  Someone to stand behind me as I face the coming day.

I need someone who will protect me.  Someone who will not be condescending to me when I ask for advice.  I'm perfectly able to tick off every mistake I've ever made - every misstep that has led me down all the wrong paths. What I need is help climbing out of the hole.

I need love.

And I'm no different from everyone else out there that feels lost on a daily basis.

The hardest thing I'm finding is to grow older and having that support system change around you. I'm not alone in that I gather very few trusted people around me.  I'm not alone in feeling that I would impede on another's life by asking them to join my little circle.

People like me - need people like you to step up and come to me. I need you to make the effort to show me you truly care.  I need you to fight for me and not simply think I'm strong enough to do it for myself.

To simply offer up a comment of "just let me know" implies you're too busy to take the time necessary to reach through my walls and touch my heart.  I'm not going to "let you know" because it will take too long for me to explain why I need you.

Whereas you believe I have that time - have that strength - the simple truth is that I don't.

I'm afraid.

And fear is a grand motivator for living inside of walls.