You've come a long way baby...

I'm tired.

Anyone who knows me has got to believe that's my mantra.

I work more than I should and I never accomplish enough.  Sometimes I feel so exhausted that I just sit and stare at shit piling up on counters and tables and wonder where the hell my maid is.

Then I remember I am the maid.

And the mom.

And the business associate.

And the chauffeur, the tutor, the dad, the chef - the everything.

Why is that?  Because I deemed my life better as a divorced, single mom.

During times like this, it takes a lot to remember just how bad it truly was.  I spent years sad and lonely and scared...always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I never knew what I was coming home to or what my son was being subjected to. I was miserable. My son was scared. I hated coming home. I hated that I hated it. I got to the point where I just wanted my husband out of my life. I hated his alcoholism and I hated him.

I don't hate.

It's not who I am.  I'm an annoying peacenik - someone who truly believes that love can conquer all.  But I was done trying to rescue a man who didn't want to be saved.  I wanted freedom.

And damn if I didn't get it.

I'm free now. Free to live with skyrocketing debt. Free to work 60 hour weeks. Free to have 1100 sq ft of clutter. Free to want to pass out while defrosting a frozen meal. Free to do whatever I damn well please...if only I was awake to do it.

Is it better?

Yes. It is.  But sometimes I'm too tired to see it.

I want so badly to have someone to share parenting with, to share finances with, to share my bed with.  I want someone there to hold me and tell me everything is going to be okay. I don't care if it really is - I just want someone to lovingly lie to me that my debt, my exhaustion and my messy house are okay.

I want a partner in life.

I want to be loved.

I walked away from that so I could have a better life.  Am I being selfish to want both?  Am I too old to want both?

God, I'm tired.

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.

Imagine all the people - living life in peace...

So what's wrong with us?

As a society on a whole?

Why do we perpetuate hatred and allow it to continue day in and day out?

Seriously. Have we learned nothing in my lifetime?

I have been around this earth for 50 years.  During that time I have lived through historical acts of fear, ignorance and unspeakable acts of hatred aimed at people who have done nothing other than to try and live in this world.

And why is this?  So many people have stepped forward to say this behavior is wrong - that it will not be tolerated - that it must change.  Yet, it doesn't change. It is tolerated. And there are just as many people who are willing to turn a blind eye to it everyday.

What is wrong with us?

Why do people allow hatred to continue?

Worse yet - why are there still people out there that push for its very existence?

Don't tell me I'm wrong.  I know they are out there.  I've dealt with them.  I've seen how they raise their kids.  I've heard their rhetoric of ignorance thrown back at the peacekeepers - as if the venom, if yelled louder, will become the right and destroy those who quietly strive for peace.

True - this is the way our world has existed for 1,000's of years - and on a much grander scale.  But that doesn't make it okay.  It doesn't give credence to a parent's right to instill hatred in their child.

Dear God, it's not a Constitutional Right to maintain stupidity and support your child's ability to heap hatred upon another child!

What is wrong with basic tolerance?

What is wrong with basic human respect?

What is wrong with simply being polite to one another?


Everything you do affects another. Period. We should be aware of our actions and not suppose, or even superimpose them upon another without recognizing that they are doing the exact same thing with their actions. We can be annoyed at another or ignorant of another - but the reality is - the actions will affect someone.


Politeness and kindness are easy. But only if the person choses to exhibit that behavior. Rudeness is a choice. Ignorance is a choice. It doesn't reside in a certain class or income of people. It exists because that person choses to be selfish and ignorant of others. 


I've learned that I can't change certain attitudes for the betterment of society. Which leads into a socialogical thought of whose ideals are right and whose are wrong. Is that even realistic? I don't think so. 


I do not believe that it is my duty or even my right to "change" someone by trying to force them to comply with my behavior. What I do believe is that - given the overall ideal of kindness toward one's fellow human being - it is our responsibility as a collective group to bring about awareness of all. It IS our responsibility to other humans to tolerate their differences - and to allow them the basic human right of survival in a horribly, difficult world.


Why the hell is this so damned difficult?  Can't we get any farther than this in the art of kindness toward one another?  This isn't an issue of how we have changed, it's an issue of not changing at all. 


Pay it forward.  Pay it backward. Just pay attention to those around you.  Being polite, being kind, being tolerant, isn't giving in.  It's acknowledging that others have a right to exist.  


And before you say any differently - remember YOU have that right to exist.  And you don't make the rules.  We are all in this together.  We don't have to like each other, but we do need to coexist. 


We need to stop the vicious cycle of bullying. We need to stop the vicious cycle of accepted hatred. We need to stop being willfully ignorant of the suffering our turning a blind eye can cause another human being.


We have to realize these are children - the very people we have brought into this world as our legacy to society.


Aren't we supposed to hope for a better life for our children? For our Grandchildren? For Society on a whole?


Doesn't that better world start at home?

She's taking chances...

She gets rock n roll a rock n roll station
And a rock n roll dream
She's making movies on location
She don't know what it means
But the music make her wanna be the story
And the story was whatever was the song what it was
Roller girl don't worry
D.J. play the movies all night long

I remember hearing this song back in the dark ages of the late 70's.  A friend said the song was "my" song.  It was me that Dire Straits was singing about.  I was a flattered 19 year old, stepping out onto the brink of adulthood - no holds barred, nothing to keep in check, the world at my feet.

My life WAS the songs I heard on the radio.  I lived for music - the poetry of my soul.  My hopes, my dreams, my loves, my failures.  They were all there on the radio. 

But the roller girl she's taking chances
They just love to see her take them all

Chances.  

I remember those.  

I took them head on with a smile on my face.  

Looking back, I see a girl who was never afraid.  But I know better. I was always afraid. 

 Except now, it's more noticeable.  I'm more cautious.  I don't pick up and dust off nearly as well as I once did.  Probably because I've learned - you can't always live in that dream world.  Sometimes, no matter how hard you fight reality - Reality creeps in and rules the day.

When I was much younger - before my skateaway days - I never really dreamed.  Reality was horribly there - every day - telling me what I could or could not do.  It was painful and blantant.  And it never left my side. 

Nope.  Love was never coming.  No white knight.  No castles.  No beautiful wedding gowns flowing over the fields as my prince swept me into his arms.  

Never as a young girl did I dream of that.  I was different.  I knew it.  No matter what - it was never going to happen for me.  I was told that - I was shown that.  I believed that.

Then the wheels hit my feet.

Hallelujah here she comes queens rollerball
Enchante what can I say dont care at all
You know she used to have to wait around
She used to be the lonely one
But now that she can skate around town
Shes the only one

I could fly.  I could reach out and pass by all the hurt and the pain of childhood.  I was invincible and alive.  Nothing was going to bring me down as I sailed away on avenues never available to me before.  And that is how I met him.

I was on top of my game.  I wasn't needy.  I wasn't vulnerable.  I was everything I could ever want to be.  I was me.  He was the truck grazing my hip and the seduction of the city.  He was my taxi driver - and I was his matador.  And I fell in love.

No fears alone at night she's sailing through the crowd
In her ears the phones are tight and the musics playing loud

Somewhere along the way - the phones were removed from my ears.  The music faltered and quieted.  But it was okay.   I had the dreams I had never allowed myself.  I had the music we created together.  I had him and I had love. 

Yet somewhere, somehow, over the years - the music ceased to exist.  I don't remember even losing it.  But I do remember waking up one day and realizing it was gone.  It was all gone.  The music, the dreams, the love, the feel of the wind on my face as I sailed into the crowd.  I wasn't sailing.  The crowd wasn't parting.  My feet were like lead weights.  The whirlwind of fantasy was no longer something I could see.  Instead, there were traffic jams and horns blaring and the pain of a gray city.

I wanted out. I wanted my skateaway.  I wanted my freedom and life back.

I rediscovered the song just a little while ago.  

I rediscovered music again.  

The dreams, the laughs, the hopes, the falls.  It's all there.  Again.  In my life. And I'm starting to feel whole.  It's almost as if I'm 19 all over again - and the blip in the middle was only that - a blip. 

She's back.  

That rollergirl - she's taking chances.  

And this time...I know to be careful of the trucks and the taxis and the traffic surrounding me.  I know...the wheels on my feet can slip on the pavement.  I also know...I can fly...

Come slippin and a slidin
Lifes a rollerball
Slippin and a slidin
Skateaway thats all
Shala shalay hey hey skateaway
Shes singing shala shalay hey hey
Skateaway

Any Major Dude...

It's been a Steely Dan kinda day...week...month...

Sometimes it's hard not to see beyond the facade of happy day-to-day existence - it's hard not to see the tiny timber tied together trying to hold up the smiles and laughter.

That's how I feel today.

Tired of trying not to see - not to feel the tiredness of the days as they stack upon one another.  Trying not to fold under the weight of my acceptance.

"Any major dude with half a heart surely will tell you my friend...any minor world that breaks apart falls together again."

I try.  Day in. Day out. I try.  I'm no different than anyone else - yet, I wonder sometimes why it is that I feel so different...so removed from the rest of society.

If you look at me statistically - I'm right there in the thick of things.  I'm a divorced, single mom.  I struggle with making ends meet. I'm average height.  I'm one of millions of overweight Americans. I remember the 70's. I believe in hope.  I don't trust our Government. I hate war. I love puppies.  Nothing too unusual about me.

Yet...

I've always felt as if I were just a tad removed from the reality of life around me - as if I exist on the sidelines and can almost reach in to experience the game...but not quite...it's just a transparency sitting outside the perimeter of my sight.

God knows I try.  I want to play.  I want to be a part of it all - but sometimes it's so exhausting to go through the motions just getting to the game so that when my chance finally comes around to join in, I find an excuse to step away from the field.  It's maddening sometimes - yet, I know I do it to myself.

I make sure I find a way to live life on the peripheral.

"I can tell you all I know, the where to go, the what to do. You can try to run but you can't hide from what's inside of you."

The melancholy of living - even to those of us who always see the glass as half-full, who would rather smile than fight, and who chose to see the joy in the day instead of the death and destruction that surround us - never escapes us. We know it's there. It's always there - and it's not even hiding around the corner.

No. It's twisted up in the twine that wraps the facade around us as we go out into the world. Every day. Every moment. It's always there.

Somehow, it's part of who we are.  And, at least for me, it's what keeps me anchored on the outside looking in.

"I've never seen you looking so bad my funky one. You tell me that your superfine mind has come undone."

Any major dude...

Shine on...shine on Harvest moon...up in the sky...

I love Fall.  Or Autumn as the season is properly called.  But, while I was living in Alaska - I came to understand the reason behind calling Autumn Fall.

My first Autumn in Alaska - I was talking with my mom on the phone and looking out of my sliding glass door.  We lived in a second floor apartment and my view was a forest of trees.  They were beautiful.  The white birch wore their canopies of yellow leaves brilliantly while surrounded by the reds and pale greens of ash and cottonwoods.  It was a cornucopia of colors framed by the majesty of varying spruce.

Well - as I was talking to my mom - all of the leaves (and yes - I do mean ALL OF THE LEAVES) dropped from the trees. At the same time. Together. As if they all counted "one, two, three" then yelled "jump" and down they came.

Fall.

I never called it Autumn again.

It's the end of September - officially Autumn for the last couple of days - and it's a ridiculous 90+ degrees outside.

I hate Fall in Texas.  It's almost as unbearable as summer.

We've had rain - thankfully - but it only adds humidity to the air and makes the heat all the more unbearable.

Right now, I'm pretending it's lovely and I've opened the windows of my apartment for the first time in four months.  Yep. Windows open, A/C off.

I'm insane.

But I want it to be cooler.  I'm desperate.  I want to wear jeans and long sleeves.  I want to curl up with a blanket and a book and listen to the rain and the wind.  I want to be chilly.

Sometimes, I want to go home.

Except, where exactly is home?

Right now it's Texas.  I guess.  I don't know.  I'm still not sure after three years. It's more familiar than it was, but I don't know if that makes it home.

Is it Alaska?  I was there for 18 years.  It was heaven.  But ... life happened up there and it was time to move on.  Emotionally.  Financially.  But I miss it.  I miss the trees and the mountains.  I miss the waters and I even miss the snow.  I miss Summer.  I miss the week of Fall and the week of Spring.

I don't miss seven months of Winter.

Or is home really California?  My mom always said I would miss it one day.  And I do.  With all my heart.  But I don't think the California I miss is still there. Most of the people aren't there anymore.  At least the people that I loved.

No.  Most of them have moved on or died. They are the California that I miss. They are the California that is home.

Maybe it's true.

Maybe you can never go home.

Because home isn't a place.

Home is a memory.

So - I'll hold my memories close to my heart. I'll wear them when no one is looking - bring out the thin, Victorian needleworks of time and gently wrap myself in the familiar fabric of family and friends no longer with me.  And as I quietly twirl around the dusty confines of memory, I'll ache to touch them all just one more time before I gently fold them back into the tiny compartments of my heart. I'll kiss them all goodbye and pattern them throughout my present day life.

I'll look out the window and imagine the stagnant breeze of a Texas Autumn carrying my home into the tiniest of dust particles and depositing it all around me.

Maybe today - I'll start to accept this place as my home afterall...

Maybe - just maybe - Autumn will be Fall, Fall will be warm sweaters, and Texas will weave itself into my heart along side Alaska and California.

What wroth is brought to bear?

In a continuation from the last post...

The silence has brought about a pain that I didn't see coming.

Not mine.  No - I'm more or less at a milestone in the bumpy road I share with my ex.

My son.

He was fine...for a while.  Until he realized that this woman referred to herself as "wife to be" four months ago.  That would be May.  This is September.  In between was Summer and a two week vacation my son and his dad  took together.

You know...the trip where two people reconnect?  Where two people learn about one another?  Yep.  That trip.  The one where his father failed to mention he was getting remarried.

To a woman with two children.

The trip where my son's father failed to mention his family would be expanding.  That my son would have a stepmother and two step brothers.

Fail.

Epic Fail.

Whatever trust his father was attempting to rebuild disappeared in that whooshing sound you heard last night.  Gone in a flash.

That's what happens with trust.

It can be there - be strong and unwavering.  It can be given without a second thought.  It goes hand-in-hand with love.  But be the one who whittles away at it?  Be the person who pulls that last peg out from the Jenga game and watch all the pieces fall everywhere?  It can suck.  Plain and simple.

If you're lucky - you can rebuild that tower of trust.  But you can only tear it down so many times before your partner is done playing.

The sad part is - you never know how many times you can remove pegs from the fragile tower.  And each peg removed cannot be automatically replaced because you changed your mind.

No.  Trust was destroyed years ago.  The sad part is that the trust originally there was the innocent trust of a child - the trust that comes from being born into a loving home.  There's no reason to doubt as long as there is love.

But watch out for those promises.

They'll get you everytime.

Without a drawn out reason for the past breaches of trust - suffice it to say, it has been a long three year rebuild that was enjoying a wonderful success.  It was a mature trust.  A once bitten, twice shy trust - but it was there.  Eyes were wide open.  Mistakes were expected and forgiven.

And sadly, excuses were made.  The mature trust was disguised and ... as it turns out ... was simply a facade for a hurriedly recreation of that innocent childhood crush from long ago.

For all my ex did through his years of self-destruction, I had thought his sobriety and rediscovered self had taught him that omission of truth can be just as damning as lies.

I was wrong.

And now he is paying the price for a debt he isn't even aware he owes.

Over my son's lifetime I have taught him the value of trust and faith in another human being.  I've taught him that these strengths must start within ourselves.  He has seen firsthand the damage that can be done when trust is lost in another person.  And he has seen what happens when that trust - rebuilt several times - looks like when it is completely destroyed.

My ex destroyed my trust in him.  It was the final straw and the catalyst for divorce.  It doesn't matter how it was destroyed.  My son was a witness to the rollercoaster that was the final years of an incredibly wonderful marriage gone terribly bad.

By not volunteering his involvement with a new woman allowed the black hole of speculation to open up and swallow our son.

The fragile trust is gone, and the pain that had been a lingering memory has reignited into a festering sore threatening to infect any future attempts at family.

And his father has no idea.