7 Appeals to Moms from Women Without Children

This was an awesome read. Coincidental, as I just had a mini "dinks" conversation. I love my daughter A TON, wouldn't trade her for the world and I feel like I'm a damn good mom. I feel like I've managed to keep a balance of being a good mom and still being an individual, as well. "The grass is always greener...." right?

There is nothing wrong with living your life for you, as much as there is nothing wrong with living your life for your kids. I'm just always the eclectic asshole, that tries to do both. I will never withhold from my daughter, so that I may have more. Her needs and wants will always come first and I'll go without, if need be. However, I'll sure as hell work harder so that we both can have as much as possible out of life. She knows she's number one, but she also knows mommy is a human being and an individual too.

Inspiration...

KEEP. WRITING.

Ernest Hemingway: "All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.”

Isabel Allende: "Write what should not be forgotten."

Mark Twain: "Write without pay until somebody offers to pay."

Neil Gaiman: "Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong."

Tina Fey: "It's a great lesson about not being too precious about your writing. You have to try your hardest to be at the top of your game and improve every joke you can until the last possible second, and then you have to let it go. You can't be that kid standing at the top of the waterslide, overthinking it...You have to let people see what you wrote."

S.M. Blooding: "It's okay to write crap. Just don't try publishing while it's still crap."

Sandra Brown: "You can only write by putting words on paper one at a time."

Raymond Chandler: "When in doubt, have a man come through the door with a gun in his hand."

Stephen King: "Writing isn't about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid, or making friends. In the end it's about enriching the lives of those who will read your work, and enriching your own life as well. It's about getting up, getting well, and getting over. Getting happy, okay? Getting happy. ...this book...is a permission slip: you can, you should, and if you're brave enough to start, you will. Writing is magic, as much the water of life as any other creative art. The water is free. So drink. Drink and be filled up."


Source: anomalously-written

"People hate most in others, what they fear in themselves...."

Try making friends with your demons, instead of forcing them to hide. Maybe then, you wouldn't hate me, so much for mine. I control my demons; the don't control me.

I am open.

I am free.

Curtain Call

I’ve never had the delusion of becoming rich, or famous. I never did it for recognition or local popularity. I never let sex sell the art, but gave sex appeal it’s place within. Praise on performance, creativity, and choreography has always been an amazing feeling. While praise for the aesthetically pleasing qualities, has always meant so little to me. I never needed to be in the limelight. All I ever wanted to do was produce a show that would blow their minds and help water the community.

None of what this is, is what I once envisioned and strived for. Jaded people, creative differences, personal differences, third party restrictions….so many fights to constantly be fought throughout the years. Tired of muddling through to merely stay afloat, rather than having the opportunity to reach the full potential I once saw within the entity.

I am no longer here for myself. At all. I’m here for everyone else. Having the guts to pull the curtain is difficult, when it feels like you’re trying to get out of a long-term, mechanical relationship. Driven now by comfort and routine, verses passion and love, as it once was. At one time, it may have been an issue of identity and not wanting to let go. Now, it’s purely an issue of outgrowing the relationship and not knowing how.

Terrifying....

Nobel discovery opens window onto Alzheimer's disease

It always has and forever will blow my mind; we can figure out every aspect of functionality in the human body…except for the brain. The brain is so complex and unique to an individual, we don’t even know the etiology behind headaches. We’re hardly sure of ourselves, when it comes to the pathophysiology that has been documented. And we’re certainly, lost, when it comes to migraines and cluster headaches.

So, mental illnesses….good luck. Exactly why there’s so much damn trial and error. Neurons “misfire” is how I’ve heard several of the diseases explained. Alzheimer’s and dementia, are lucky to have SOME distinguishing factors, when they actually present diagnostically. The history of treatment for mental illnesses is brutal. Now, they just get shoved in homes and brushed off, while treated to “ease the symptoms”….for everyone else’s sake.

I wish I could have started college directly after high school. Allowing me the time to go to school for the 8 years plus, I originally wanted to. I want to be doing what they’re doing….

Furthermore, this hits home. My deadbeat and my grandfather both had it. The possibility of getting it, scares the ever living shit out of me.

"My love has concrete feet..."

Things like this. This is why my heart is heavy. I need to unload a few pounds now, so I can sleep.
Sometimes I think….I must sound so self righteous to others. So full of conceit, when I explain what I refer to as, “my curse”. The Fixer. The stepping stone. The scapegoat. However many other names, I’ve referred to myself as. It cannot be coincidence, that the two most important relationships of my life, were with men that bare so much in common. They are not the only ones to hold on and say these kinds of things, but they’ve certainly held on the longest.

It’s maddening….when you give someone everything you have and they simply try to take more….rather than trying to give you a part of themselves. I was very much in love on both occasions. What I feel will never be fully understood, is this:

Venomous acts of cruelty, spawned from insecurity, selfishness and jealousy…..WILL eventually eat away at a person. Never sated…it will eat right through to the decaying core. How can a person possibly love anyone else, when they don’t even love themselves anymore. A fine line between love and hate, right? Sort of…yes. It’s not, necessarily, that I ever actually fell out of love. So much as it was, becoming disenchanted with “love”. At the deepest level, every bit of love remained. The day to day brought about the superficial, the resentment, the anger, the fear and so on. Pride, (bless it’s sinful little heart), led to the disdain of being shamed. Know thyself. Know thy value. Bless my overly analytical mind, as well.

By the end of each of these relationships, I felt small. I felt unloved, undesirable and unworthy of anything more. I was saved by youth and distance the first time around. I was saved by experience, the second. I swore I’d never do it again after the first. Pesky wolves in sheep’s clothing. Silly lovesick little girl with the rose colored glasses. She’ll learn eventually. One day she’ll learn to see the fangs behind the smile. Minimally, approach with caution. Stay far enough away, long enough, to gain a headstart, when the smile slips.

I’m not even angry anymore. I’m just sad and perplexed. I should have been able to avoid it the second time around. When I finally realized the similarities….I tried so hard to explain how it would go down. I tried everything to prevent history from repeating itself. I told that wolf the entire fable….every last detail….about the one before him. I told him what I learned about myself. I told him what I learned about wolves. I told him I was unhappy. I even told him I was never going off path for flowers, ever again. It didn’t register. It didn’t click. It was viewed as some kind of scheme.
Little Red Riding Hood was never the liar. She never cried, “Wolf!” She was simply too naïve to escape her impending death in one version and too helpless to save herself in another.

The point is this….I want my knight in armor. Not shining. Dull, old, beat up armor. Shining armor is far too suspicious. There’s no going back to someone that’s been proven a wolf. I need that modern day prince. The one that knows and appreciates what he has, BEFORE it’s gone.

….and for him… I will make him feel like a king everyday. I sure as hell try anyway…..

Timing is Everything

I’ve been forced to be strong, my entire life. I’m quite proud of who it has made me, actually. However, it leaves me lonely. A strong, smart woman, with a ton of life experience…makes for a very, very real, reality. It makes happiness and satisfaction in love, difficult. It makes “all or nothing” the only option. It makes each decision, an analytical escapade. It makes for a heavy heart, with each bond that has fallen apart.

So, I remain within the void…in the black hole purgatory. I smile and laugh, when I want to cry. I go out and keep busy, when I don’t want to get out of my bed. I make a happy memory, when I am incredibly sad. I dive deep into another’s ocean, while they wade in my shallow end. I walk away calmly, when I know I’m being played for a fool. My mind is beautiful, but torturous.

Therefore, if I fall weak in your arms, if you have to wipe away tears, or console me…you should know…you have me. You have all of me…every little bit…even the parts I don’t like. Vulnerability is not my strong point, but I sure would love to be free of this armor, indefinitely. I just can’t. Not until I have that one person fully and them, me. It just so happens, the instances in which that has happened, we were on completely different timelines.

Freedom

Free from the person. From a bad situation. Free from love...from hate. Free from the resentment. Then one day, the last binding tie gets cut. There is anything, but a sense of freedom. There is only sadness for a bond, thought to be boundless.

We grieve the living, so differently than the deceased.

Bleed it out...

This...

It's time...

Bits of it sit like a brick on my chest. That’s just the kind of person I am. Romanticism in every pore. Sentiments are everything. They’ve always been.

It is not until I’m pushed to the brink, teetering, and staring down at the lifeless land below….that I finally push back. Push and run. Push right past the one backing me into the dead end.
“Never look back.” I always do, but never as I’m running. Not until I’m far enough away, so no one sees. You’ll never see me think twice when it comes down to this. You’ll never see me cry. You’ll never know the things I miss after I say goodbye.

Burn me once, twice…ten times, shame on me, finally. Maybe it’s because I’m hopeful. Maybe I put too much faith in people. I see the good…or…want to. I expect the light to beat the dark. Comic book heroes and fairytale love affairs. That’s what we’ve been taught our entire lives. Unrealistic expectations.

“You’re so strong.” Strength does not come without a price. Mine is that of a widower. It is painful to let go, but holding on is pure torture. So, I let it all go. I let you go. I let your inabilities and apathy go. I let my insecurities and resentment go. And when you cross my mind, I will not think of what led me here…what could have been…what should have been. I will only think of what was and smile through the tears. I’ll find peace in knowing I loved myself enough to walk away, when you didn’t love me at all.

I am consoled by the notion of opening myself up to finding someone else that will.

Perfect...

Sometimes the most simplistic lyrics can be more profound than poetry. Raw emotion, even as a cover. It’s perfect. Goosebumps.

(Don’t judge me)

The fixer....

Inside My Mind: Foolish Reveries: Lay with me in the meadows, by the countryside. Grace my ears with your soothing lullabies. Read to me while I rest, encased in the warmth...

Came across the original hand written version of this while cleaning/organizing. June 25, 2003. 20 years old with everything in front of me, while my life was just beginning. I’d do so much, so differently. Or so I’d like to think.

I’ve made so many wrong decisions. Still I have the same vision. Still I have an open wound. An unfilled void. They say insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, while expecting different results. I question my sanity then, I suppose.

While I am the fixer, I suppose I’m always looking for my savior. Someone to be a me, for me. Selfish, though I’m often selfless. Just once, I’d like to get what I give. My mind is moving into the house of old….where there is no choice but to give up the foolish reveries. Let it all go. Let the cold return, to fill the vacancy. Alone. It’s where I belong. It’s where I’ve always been, even in the days of mates.

Overall

That moment when you realize you’ve grown numb. You don’t get upset anymore. You don’t cry anymore. You just exist. You just feel done. Overwhelmed. Exhausted. Ready to throw in the towel. Almost…..not quite….but you know it’s coming.

That’s a sad moment.

Find the happy...

Never put your happiness in someone else’s hands. Learn to make yourself happy.

A lesson that still has not been learned. Happiness has only ever felt like snap shots. Like one good day out of one hundred bad ones.

Medicated. Same snap shot…with a dimmer flash effect.

I wish I had a crystal ball....

If only letting go and getting over someone, was as quick and painless as falling for them.

Delusional

“And all I want is to save you, honey. Or the strength to walk away.”

5am. Why? Not at all sure.

"It’s draining all of me

Oh they find it hard to believe

I’ll be wearing these scars

For everyone to see"

...never the same song.

Midday Thoughts

Silence personified
Dr. Jekyll
Mr. Hyde
My comfort
My torment
Quiet
And deafening
In this moment
Anxiety
Tonight
Serenity
Please…
Stay with me
Weather the storm
Hold on
Just a little longer

Another one...

“Falling’s not the problem. When I’m falling, I’m at ease. It’s only when I hit the ground, that causes all the grief.”

….this is the bottom….