The Interlude

This morning while I slept I dreamt I was in Mexico.  I had done a little tour of the city, just wandering around, and I'd met a Jewish man (he looked like Matt Craven, only much older) in this little touristy place that was selling religious goods.  There was holy water stored in these little plastic rabbit bottles.  The rabbits were smiling and had bow ties on which were molded into the plastic.  He bought me one saying it was very expensive anywhere else. 

Later he visited me in the villa I was staying in.  I had laid down on my stomach on the bed and was sleeping with my face turned to the outside of the bed.  The little lamp on the bed side table was on.  I felt his hand on the small of my back and I opened my eyes from sleep as I sensed him sitting next to me on the bed.  He asked me if I was well and I smiled and said yes, and I was glad he came.  I lifted myself onto my elbows and he leaned forward with a book open in his right hand.  It was written by a Mexican philosopher he'd spoken to me of when we'd met.  He pointed to a passage and read aloud to me one part and as he read he traced his finger along my lower back under my blouse, barely touching.

He read, "It feels like death.  It seems like death.  But it is only Living."


'You see my Dear?  It is only living... you must... do you understand?  It is only living you must do, however it may look or feel or seem.  It is living.  Simply living.'

I remember smiling and how his touch felt and how I wanted to be touched.  Then we were in the sitting room, the chairs were heavy and wooden, dark wood etched and carved but not overly so.  The man was with his friend, a white man with white hair and blue eyes and also old.  They each had a glass with a small amount of liquor, the lamps cast a soft warm light.  My Jewish friend was holding my Holy Water encased in the dingy plastic rabbit.  He told me it as corrupted and handed me another bottle that looked like mahogany with brass stud and inlay work about the length of my forearm shaped like an extended pyramid.  He said it was pure and that his friend there had procured it for him at great cost from a monastery he'd been to but that they wanted to make me a gift of one of the bottles.  I held it in my hands wondering why but accepting the gift.  We were smiling quietly at each other, the other man lifted his glass as if in reply and sipped, I held the Holy Water, and my friend stood by the lamp as an old Mexican woman that looked a little like my grandmother came to sit with us.

And I woke up thinking I heard rain but it was the quiet sounds of battle coming from the living room, my son is playing Call of Duty. 

One Year

It's been a year.  This weekend is a year.  I still don't know what to think, what to say...

I still, more often than not, feel like I am in a haze, in Limbo.

I went to dinner with a friend.  We'd walked around and talked about nothing for a while.  I realized in comparison I am in limbo.

Maybe some of us never get out.  Maybe it's just this weekend and I'm a little depressed.  I keep pushing myself away from it, even though I am floating in it... like on a raft drifting, I keep toeing away from the edge and staring at the sky.

My Heads To The Wall

I've changed so much and when I consider how I am different I'm pleased.  The situations I review are not something I find particularly pleasant.  I am practicing putting things aside.  I tend to run over things in my mind, over and over.  When something is fresh, or emotional, or something that is challenging me, this over thinking can be as exhausting as the situation itself.  Then it passes and I start to find my level place.

Some situations are best left to themselves, to not feed them or poke at them and draw them back to see if they will bite you or not.  They will.  It's frustrating to walk away, to not do those things and have them pursue you, nipping at your heels looking for a fight.

The last piece of my past, in drama saturated fashion, is passing away.  The drama is one sided, and appropriately juvenile in execution.

Looking at it, not responding, and watching it grow on itself with no involvement from me has been an education, and a little depressing and draining.  Each time it nips at me, and I find myself thinking about it, avoiding being engaged, and move past it, she'll message me or text me with these superior and fatalistic statements, and I am at the beginning of processing it out again.  I'm reminded of John and my mother.  They'd each provoke and swarm like red ants biting, biting, stinging until I'd respond out of simple self preservation.  The look in their eyes of triumph was always disturbing.

When I cut my family off, when I finally left John despite still being in love with him, I changed. I no longer allow people to draw me into those situations.  That thing in me that would pull for me to respond, to defend against things I didn't need to defend against, to fix, to find a peaceful resolution.  I'm done.  Don't get me wrong.  I can't help but see it, I understand it is happening, I might even try to have a real conversation at first if it seems worth it... but someone that is out for emotional blood, for battle for the sake of battle... I don't play along. 

I have personally observed and learned people like that are seeking a release.  Creating the situation, putting someone else on the defensive, causing the drama but not taking responsibility for it but forcing someone else to, gives them a release.  A sense of winning.

I don't operate that way inside myself, I know some do but it doesn't help me understand it.  Now I don't need to understand it.  I recognize it for what it is now, I also won't be drawn in anymore.  Unfortunately I still find it in my head while they continue to try to worry at the rag they've ripped from the foundation of the relationship to rape and pillage and wear out. 

So that sucks. 

I've been waiting for her to make good on her promise to be okay with us not being friends anymore, to delete me from facebook, to not contact me anymore.  I refuse to give her the excuse to put it on me, so I am won't tell her to fuck herself, but I am tired of her badgering me.

It would seem the catalyst was Brian.  Her interest in whether or not I was investing in him was too strange.  But I don't think that's what it was.  Brian doesn't matter to either one of us.  The truth is she's over our friendship for whatever reason, she's created this, she's projecting her bullshit life onto mine so she doesn't have to deal with herself honestly.  She's using me for a release because she hasn't attacked me in a while, because I was always the non-judgmental friend that would defend and try to fix it.  Because she figured I was a safe and easy target.

I haven't responded in the ways I know she's expected me to and it feels good to not be that girl anymore. 

I just wish I didn't feel tired or affected.  I'm not hurt, I'm not overly sad, I'm not feeling a strong need to respond.  A few times I've started to.  Had my say.  Then deleted it.  I've learned to respond is to feed into it.  Then it is all consuming and nothing is accomplished but that other person gets what they need, the release.  Not responding doesn't mean I am not aware of her perverse need to try to get one.  I finally see it for what it is and I'm that person I was before in our friendship.  Maybe that's why.  I'm not a  pawn anymore. 

Here I am writing about it.  She's still managed to get me thinking.  That annoys me and I am learning to put it off more quickly, but it's there right now, and she keeps inputting it working for a response she can grab onto to turn into a fight.

It's sad and freeing to realize she was part of that last connection to my past.  To that person I was that could be manipulated that way.  I could keep her in my life, play into it, but I'm changing.  I don't want to, I don't need to. 

I've worked damn hard to be this woman I am now.  I like myself.  I am stronger. I want more for my life.  To enrich and to be enriched.  To not cast my pearls before swine.

I have learned from these three, mirrors of each other: Mother, Friend, Love

I feel I learned the most from John.  I believe it is because I loved him.  I really loved him unconditionally and for a time that was a very beautiful thing.  It was selfless, without expectation.  Then still loving him I had to choose a better way.  Making that choice changed something in me.  With my mother I was a child she didn't like very much, her definitions we rigid, her issues projected onto me, and me with a hunger to be loved as a child should be by her mother.  With my friend wanting the same acceptance I gave, wanting to be able to be just be myself and loved in friendship.  With my mother and my friend there was a sense that it should have been what it was meant to be.  Was that sense there with John? Of course.  But something with him was different, I can't qualify it.

Having known that love I had for him magnified the lack of it in certain other relationships.  I learned to expect more than just scraps tossed down to me while I gave so much of myself away.  It actually changed everything.  I'd learned to make the hard decisions, to stand on my own. 

The relationships I am developing now are more mutual and the difference is astonishing. 

Like with Brian, looking back over what I wrote about my experiences the last few weeks I see it.  I don't want to settle.  I learned from him what I was intended to learn.  Things are starting to move that way, situations I am actually learning from and it isn't taking Years to sink in, merely moments.  I'm allowing things to go that are Meant to go.  It's been difficult.  I have lost so much over my life, but quantity isn't necessarily quality.  I've learned sometimes the value I'd placed on certain people or things was far from accurate  I don't have to hold on for the sake of holding on so I don't have to lose something.  Sometimes losing is gaining.

I'm trying to come to terms with how to move forward.  I'm basic.  I have my routines: home, kids, work.  When opportunities come up to do something I take them when I can so I can have a sense of forward momentum.  The last few days I am tired.  I felt a little like I wasn't moving forward anymore (like I was moving backward) because I was struggling with these two people's behavior internally.  Without engaging in this drama I am still sort of worn out.  I'm learning hard lessons, losing someone I felt was a friend of 25 years.  Allowing myself to dump a guy even though he's going through a lot.  That was empowering for me.  I didn't allow my empathy to cloud my needs and overshadow importance of the things I am trying to built for myself.

I don't expect calm winds and following seas, but I am ready for some.   

The Comedy Of It All and The Close Call

  

Your Cadillac has got a wheel in the ditch, and a wheel on the track.

Alabama, Neil Young

The devil does fool with the best laid plan.  Good thing too.  It's a better thing when it seems the devil fucks up and God is left laughing.  

I can't say for certain God or the devil are involved here in my little Comedy, their rolls are lighting, sound and stage, script changes.  I just have to roll with it and make my own decisions and improvise.

I will NOT be having sex with Brian.  Surprised?  I'm not.  Considering it was worth it though.  Considering was a step forward.  A greater step forward is understanding that I won't. Particularly before regretting actually having done it.

Why?  Well I will tell you.  Not only did it all start to fall apart on itself but he did little things that became the things that broke it all instead of made it.  And, I'm not sure he'll be surprised either.

I don't want a project.  I saw it right away.  His life is in a tailspin right now and where he ends up landing and how will be entirely up to him.  I waited much longer to come to this conclusion than I should have, it was taken care of for me right at the beginning truth be told, the exit presented and I was through it before I  knew what happened, but I looked back... I drew myself back to it only to have extract myself out again in short order.  

Brian and I met this evening for a movie.  We met at World Market.  I enjoyed myself there until he showed up. He was in a jovial mood.  That isn't why I stopped enjoying myself.  It was because he was sort of all over the place, but he'd said he'd had a good day and on a new job with a lot of responsibility that can be an occasion for rejoicing.

We left the store so he could put some things in his car.  He had a plastic cup with straw and a soda which he topped off in the cup.  He offered me some and let me know there was rum in it.  No thanks.  Not a fan of rum and cokes, I have my reasons.  I realized rather quickly he was swimming, gill deep.  Even when I am drunk I don't like drunk people.  I don't appreciate the sloppy silliness and the lack of focus.  We decided on the film and went in.  He was all over me.  Sitting close, hand holding, over nuzzling, terrible kissing.  And he's a fucking talker during a movie and he had to go to the bathroom several times.  For that I was grateful, it gave me a break.  But I can't.  I just can't be patient with a movie talker.  There is a time and place for kissing and touching, and he doesn't get that either.  And... He smelled like alcohol, it was rolling off of him.  Big fuck up with me.  If you are drinking enough to reek of it I'm out.  Deal breaker.  Last night I thought it was that smell on his clothes ... the front load washer smell.  I think it was that and alcohol. 

It gets better!  I'll sound like a Straight Up Bitch now and I am okay with it, it is just too much for me to process.  It's too complicated and feels old when it should feel fresh and be shiny.  It's more than I want to deal with in the wee early stages of knowing someone, and the instant consistent sex thing was only working because I was interested in having sex.

The Ima Bitch part.  While we were watching the movie he got up yet again to use the restroom.  He found out a friend of his passed away.  I believe he was sent a text message of the obituary.  He couldn't stay.  He let me know he was upset and had to leave.  I went to leave as well and he told me to stay.  I did.  For about 15 minutes letting the movie wash over me, the thoughts tumble through my mind, the feelings crest and fall, flat flat flat.

I'd been thinking on the drive, and since I arrived home how could I break it to him that I am done when he's going through so much crap and feeling bad but knowing it was going to have to be done.  How I could word the truth.  Not the observations.  That I figured out.

But I'm thinking ... it isn't even necessary.

Ahhh, handled.  He messaged me just now asking if he can see me.  I replied, I don't think that is a good idea.
Okay was his reply.

I dodged a bullet. 

Layne On A Path

You have your way. 

I have my way.

As for the right way, the correct way,

It does not exist.

~Friedrich Nietsche~ 

A year ago today my life should have been beautiful.  I was deeply in love and had been for years, it was supposed to be a fresh start.  The days were sunny and fresh, the rain soft and balmy, the leaves were changed to bright fire and drifted down like embers in the side-way light.  And like an ember it flashed bright with hope, with potential, and un-nurtured it crumbled to ashes and succumbed to its destruction.

Day after tomorrow.  Tomorrow night.  Just a few weeks from now.   These days just a year past ... I was existing in a burning hellish world.   I was enduring and trying to survive.  I was painfully thrust into a new beginning.

Perhaps I have accomplished a lot.  I thought I had.  I'm not so sure most of the time.  It simply is what it is.  I have learned to be content with that, to go with the flow of it all.  Inside I question, I fret, I balk.  Outside I roll with it, or I roll away.

I have a hard time interacting with people.  I speak, I laugh, I share, I socialize.  I've gotten better at it over time.  Work is easiest.  It's controlled, there is expectation I can meet, the time is structured, I get lost in my craft.   When I would go out socially I would sit and observe.  I liked myself better then.  I didn't say much.  I was quiet.  I hated it, still do, when I shared too much.  I didn't care to add anyone to my life, so no one really mattered, except my few girlfriends.  I met a few men that proved to me I was right to avoid it all.  The drama they were capable of causing, I couldn't handle it.  So I didn't.  But slowly, like peeling away damage to reveal new fragile tissue, I have become more comfortable going out socially.  A small, imperceptible shift happened sometime about two months ago.

I went out and my 'No Fucking Way' barriers seemed to melt and turn to vapor under the dark focused stare of a short impish Mexican-American.  I laughed and had fun for the first time in Years.  No one to answer to, no mold encasing me that night. I was freed for a few hours by whiskey and the devil and it was sublime to float above my destruction, and the things I've been struggling to rebuild, and the path so ingrained in my psyche.  Free.  Free enough to let him touch me and not cringe out of guilt and fear and longing.  And his touch shattered the numb grief I've been existing in.  I wanted more.  

I am struggling with myself. That impish, charged, and swarthy man above unearthed parts of me I thought died with John.  I'm struggling with feeling confused that I felt that way, that I met someone else and he'd been capable of making me feel something too.  And Different again.  That fun-devious man a few months ago feels different than the man I am experiencing now.  

I'm struggling in my thoughts and responses in regard to this.  I suppose I can be as honest here and I am in my head.  I haven't been with anyone in year.  The intimacy John and I shared had been disintegrating, due to his health, stress, and the fact he could be prime, grade A asshole. The intimacy with him, in all honesty, was always a struggle.  Being in love with someone like that can do damage.  To be built up and broken down time and time again by someone that is broken is something I wouldn't wish on anyone.

My girlfriend and I have talked about hang ups.  I'm certain I have them, but how deep they run, how long they'll be there I have no idea.  I have this quality deep down, a strength, a me, that always abides.  I think I'll heal, but it's the healing that hurts as much as the things that caused the wounds.

So I am sort of seeing someone.  I say that because it's weird and not really, to me, serious.  Dating is not something I do, and honestly, I wish I was seeing someone else too, several someone else's.  Maybe I could send them all away.   

Hang up number 1 identified.  I don't like letting anyone too close.  I have already learned so much about myself interacting socially lately, and with this man.  I see things in myself, things I adopted from John, ways of assessing people.   I also see things about myself I'd love make into allies instead of enemies. 

Yet, I find myself in this situation and I'm uncertain, though I suspect I know, where it's going.  

There are little lies it's being built on so it won't go far. 

Little lies amounting to little doubts, which is absolutely unsurprising.  

Hang up number 2, trust issues.  I have them.  I hate having them.  Hate it so much I've often ignored my instincts and feelings and ended up being in situations I could have avoided.

Is this one of them?

Little lies.  Pictures.  Why, why, why, why do people misrepresent themselves?  I understand, we all want to be the ideal we were, but it is an overcoming or a deal breaker for the other person when Inevitably the truth is revealed face to face.  Why bother?  It is bizarre to me.

So putting aside the reality vs. his ideal of himself, the self he's trying to re-realize and very well might if he'd focus, let us move on with the understanding I am setting it aside, Not ignoring it.  I already mentioned in another entry his first impression... not like the pictures, a bit out of shape, shorter than he likes to describe himself as, and his clothing carries the fragrance of 'front load washer needs to be sanitized'.  The main reason I don't want a front load washer btw.  Yes, I told him last night.  I can't let that one go.  

It's hard to not compare him to John.  John was clean, put together.  Even when he was a mess he was lethal, gorgeous, undeniable.

This man is so different.  I worry he's a slob.  I do.  I'm setting it aside because I figure there are things I like too and his circumstances might be feeding into this.  Not making excuses, just allowing a concession for now.  First I didn't misrepresent myself.  I sent a face shot taken maybe a day or two before when we tried to figure out if we'd ever met as we are acquainted with some of the same people.  No.  He'd checked my facebook but there are only four head shots available for viewing, my facebook is closed to anyone not a friend, and I don't have body shots, I don't know why, I just don't.  So I took a picture, as well as I could, in my girlfriends bathroom the moment before I sent it to him.  From the knees up in velour black trackies, and a long sleeve soft draping fitted blue baseball-cut t-shirt.  I look good in my clothes.  Slender curvy as described.  I'm like John in that respect.  I usually look reasonably put together.  An ex-coworker once said John and I were two beautiful people together, a beautiful couple.  I was very flattered because I have always seen John as the beautiful one.  Naked I don't mind looking at myself, I know my flaws and I'm not overly excited about having anyone else see them.  Perhaps hang up number 3, but what woman doesn't have that one?  I don't think a man would notice unless he was the coldly scrutinizing type or gay.  John liked me naked.  Actually, John like me in lingerie, he had his little kinks like everyone else.  He made me feel sexy, but sometimes I felt like a doll... He'd get lost in himself during those times we'd have sex... like a boy experiencing the body, not the woman.

Brian and I have things we like in common.  Each of us like many of the same things, each of us has things we could introduce to the other.  We talk easily to one another.  Both of us like to read.  This is a good one because when I read I don't particularly like to be interrupted.  He likes to cook, I used to until my sons became pedestrian and picky eaters.  I cook well and I am creative, they are just suspicious of food.  In this I feel they are not my sons.  I have always been adventurous.  It must be the German in them.  Though my youngest is more adventurous than my eldest.  Back to Brian ... and since the first date, we know we can kiss each other well.  I think I am better at it.

He doesn't set me on fire like the other man just before him.  But my head does start to swim. 

And this is where I start to freak out.  I am like two people.  Fury wants to get proper fucked, and I think yes, I'll end up proper fucked.  Trust Issues are irritating.

I think he could make me cum, probably again and again.  He has wonderful hands and he likes pleasing a woman.  This is something I like about him, he makes love to the Whole woman, he's turned on by Her.  Her body, her responses, who she is... that is undeniably working in his favor. 

Each time we've kissed, three times now, he gets better.  I like a little aggression.  If it's sweet, I'll give sweet back.  If it's hungry, I'll hunger back.  I'd like to note, only if I'm into it.  Not into it you couldn't do anything to change it.  

I'll cut to it.  I'm doubtful it would be anything more than friendship and sex, sex, sex.  Honestly, I'm not sure it would be anything more than sex, sex, sex.  Sex enters the picture and being friends can be, complicated.  I can't decide yet with him.  I think maybe... but I'm not worrying over it.  I don't pick up that he's a gossiping man bitch anyway.  I just think few men are capable of being friends post having sex.

Before I met him he let me know I was 'hot'.  Fair, blunt, obvious.  After we met and he told my girlfriend it was a great first date, that I am beautiful (nice transition from Hot), and it was the best goodnight kiss he'd ever had.  Sweet.  Better than ur hot.  I allowed it and still went on the date because I am clear that I need practice.

He keeps his eyes on me.  He's attentive, not shy about it.  He's not the jealous type.  I wore a dress last Thursday.  I love it, I feel pretty, it's sexy but absolutely not obvious in any way.  What's that quote, tight enough to show you're a woman, loose enough to show you're a lady?  He wasn't the only one looking. Even I noticed.  He mentioned it and seemed proud.  I liked that.  John was shockingly insecure and to compensate arrogant and controlling.  I feel it was the saddest thing about him.

He saw and commented on something I don't like about myself and I Needed to hear it.  He mentioned my eyes are solid, I give nothing away.  But my mouth is easy to read.  I show my emotion there.  Something I can now be aware of and try to work on. 

I believe he isn't past trying to play me, to manipulate to get me into bed.  After all, he is a man and desire makes men focus on realizing and satisfying that desire.  I KNOW he wants me.  I think he thinks he has me dialed in and he's patient to a point.  I do and don't like that about men.  If I want to have sex with him I will... I guess it IS a bit of game.  I'd like to play it better... but not to Play someone. 

Last Wednesday he kissed me good and proper, he used his hands... it's a good thing his situation and my situation prevented us falling into bed because I am certainly not going to fuck someone in my car the first time I break this celibacy.  I like the little boundaries, they are pacing us.

But it's looming.  Last night we met for a drink when he was done with work... knowing his situation I understand he desperately needs a distraction.  

He is in such a similar place to me when I'd met John.  Only he's a man and men are different in their responses to these situations.  He's been married forever, separated and still living with his wife.  He has two sons, close in age to mine now, just a few years older.  I am certain it is absolutely brutal on all of them.  I know this particular tidbit isn't a lie as I know people that know his circumstances.  If I didn't know this for a fact I'd decide he was lying and a cheater, so there is some comfort in understanding where he is right now.   Damn it, I think friends on both sides just want us both to get together, to at least get laid.  Why is that?  Why do my friends want me to get laid and why am I so damn resistant?  Why can't I allow myself to just have fun, to let sex be FUN.  I've been there before, many years ago when I was younger.  I think some part of me though was looking for a happily ever after.  I'm different now.  I am viewing things differently now.

Well, I think I am headed in that direction.

When I kiss someone I get lost... I lose myself to sensation.  Whether I am deeply attracted to them (as in seeing a potential) or not.  It has been lovely to be kissed recently by two men that know how to kiss.  John couldn't kiss well.  I taught him by taking over in that department, and sex with John was good, but it was... idk, something different and I described it better above.  Sex with my ex-husband was just sad.  

I'd met someone when I was separating from my ex... perhaps similar to where Brian is in his life now.  He was possibly the best sex I have ever had.  He was wonderfully freeing to be with.  There was no expectation, we had so much fun, we were well matched, and there was no possibility of either of us falling in love.  Then John happened and that was it.  John was one of the great and palpable shifts in my life.  He was an Epic Event.

I was, and I still am, happy to have experienced that.  Yes John, but I am referring to the man before John, his name was also Brian.

Brian's circumstance (the once I am seeing now), like mine was, desperately needs a soothing balm... a touch, a kindness, an oasis from the horror of what is happening in his life.  He's a man, and men are different.  It is easier for them to fall into other relationships, essential to their egos.  I envy it a little as a woman because it is so much more difficult to disconnect the emotional aspect.  So, two months ago he had an interlude with a girl half his age.  A delightfully funny and honestly rather sexy reveal on his part.  I like learning things like this, I like learning anything about someone.  It adds a richness in the interaction for me.  We'd been talking about masturbation and I wish I could remember how the conversation started.  But this reveal started because he told me it turned him on to watch a woman make herself cum.  I'd asked him how he'd learned this, when, and many women he'd experienced this with, he said she was the first.  So it's a new IRL turn on.  I admitted I've never done that with anyone.

He'd run into her a few months ago.  She used to work for him at another place he'd managed.  He mentioned he'd be willing to hire her at his new establishment he is general manager for.  This is his story, I'm just retelling it.  He said she didn't think it would be a good idea because of the sexual tension.  He indicated he was surprised.  No surprise, they hooked up.  He said she told him masturbation was the only way she could cum. I envy how younger women today are more assertive in their sexuality, less shy.  He said after she told him he watched her masturbate then he made her cum without her toy and that was the end of it.  He said she was way too young.  He also said she gave terrible head.  How is that possible?  I mean I suppose it is but... if a girl is in touch with her sexuality enough to be uninhibited in that way I'd think she'd be better at oral sex, IDK, maybe she's not Orally inclined.

That would take me back to me.  I like sex... I like that heady power of making someone else lost in sensation too.  I like mutual sex.  I like to draw it out.  I like a man to be a little aggressive, it helps me be more open.  Otherwise I tend to become introverted and shy.  And that is where I remember who I was before crazy church, my ex, and then John.  When I was younger I was freer.  I wasn't  slutty in any way, but I had a very healthy sex drive, I was less shy.

John I loved unconditionally.  Sex was great because of my feelings for him.  Then his pathology and his actions systematically destroyed us.  I still loved him very deeply when I left.  Then he died shortly after.  It's a shadow inside me, and the years of loving him and living within that life will, for a time, be something to work through until I am past those things. My ex was the whole sad religion thing, a poor poor match.  Both men very insecure, very selfish.

I'm worried, almost scared to take that step.  I'm  frightened of how I will respond to someone else.  I can't predict my responses.  I can't help but look at Brian and wonder if he's just another version of my ex-husband.  I can't help but wonder if I am doomed to end up with another version of my ex, or John.  How sad it is that I feel I am doomed to just those two types of men.  How ridiculous is that mental conversation I have with myself?  At least I recognize it.

However... considering these ridiculous thoughts I am finding myself on yet another path.  I have these wonderful boundaries with Brian.  I get heated kisses on the driver side of my car, a taste.  We can't make it happen because I have my sons at home and he has 'complications' and his home isn't free either.  I might have sex with him, I might not, I can't predict that.  I can say it is likely. It's nice though... these immediate impediments to actually having sex.  I have time to warm up to the idea, not feeding the impulse too quickly and ending up questioning after.  If I choose this I won't regret it and I'll know it doesn't have to be more or less than it is.  I am a little worried he's falling in love with me.  I could be wrong, but that would be unfortunate.  I want a mutual experience, or a mutual falling for one another.  I don't want to be hurt and I don't want someone hurt because of me either. 

I'd prefer right now that we are able to experience one another.  I can't see myself with him long term, I can't see anything long term.  I'm thinking I'm not meant to.  But really I don't know, and I don't want to have to think that way.  And why is it I have need to struggle with that... I have had this thought that I have to hold out for something else.  What something else?  What.  It seems unrealistic.  I think I could open up at this moment and at this time and have sex with someone I like, that would end up being very good sex and not have to worry about it ending in a decade or more of my life like it did with my ex, like it did with John.  I am trying to figure out how it is I have defined myself sexually, emotionally, as a woman... residual effects of that church (Christian rights and wrongs) and having trained myself to behave towards men in a way that would always make John feel safe?  And he really, really didn't deserve it, he didn't try to make me feel safe, he didn't make me feel safe.  Yet whether I was with him or not, I became good at sliding my eyes past men, setting a 'oh... don't bother' boundary so well it became automatic.  It didn't make a difference, it didn't help in my relationship with John, he was so insecure and he jealous of the unknown in regard to me. Regardless, I became so good at avoiding other mens interest.  I shut them out so effectively.  I have been trying to learn how to NOT have that automatic habit now.  I am learning for now it was the man the across the table from me, assertive in his attraction.  I simply wasn't allowed to avoid noticing him and that drew me out.  I couldn't simply look past him, and he made me laugh that night, and he surprised me in his behavior several times and it was lovely being noticed and returning that awareness.  And Brian... a blind date... again, sitting across from me, having a conversation.  I couldn't pretend it wasn't there.  I won't lie too, just meeting Brian out I wouldn't have considered him.  But on a date I noticed his eyes.  A neutral green.  I learned we had things in common.  I learned I'd go on another date.  I learned on that other date his hands are amazing and he kisses well.  I learned I liked his touch.  Felt soothed and desirable.  Kissing him a third time I learned I could very much desire him back as equally as he did me.

Last night I asked him if this was just sex.  I think he perceived I was asking for an assurance, and he seemed a little taken back.  He said,  no... we have a lot in common, we talk all the time...  Yes we do.  We are also a little hyper focused on sex right now.  He perhaps needs an Oasis, and I need to just get on with my life and start breaking down some bullshit barriers, learned or self erected in what I believe to be in error.  Maybe we'd be good for each other right now.

I want to move forward and learn about myself.  I am tired of denying aspects of myself.  I am not saying I believe having sex with Brian is going to miraculously open me up to who I am as being fully realized but I think it is a step in that direction.  I want to be the one to define myself, I want to see certain things change and I want to avail myself of opportunities to achieve those changes. If I hide from myself from life and experiences, avoid taking chances and getting to know what makes me passionate I'll never grow. 

I Hate The Holidays

I do.

I hate them so much more now.

I hope, I do...

I hope someday I will look forward to them with a happy heart.

So here's to hope!

To Give Me Just What I Need

So many things are stacked up in me.  Things I am holding on to, illusions of myself and my life.  I try to sort them out and they slip like eel's through my grasp, hide in little crevasses, and zip out to tag me when I'm not prepared.  When I feel like I have it all dialed in, they let me know I'm a fool.

What is odd is I am developing a level of comfort with this.  Knowing I don't know shit about anything, can't predict the next five minutes much less anything past that.  Knowing I can't predict anything in my inner world is fine until I am struck with something and find myself trying to assess my responses much less being able to address the situation in a timely manner, or knowing if I am handling it well when I address it right away.

I am seeing things I couldn't see before, or wouldn't.  I am open now and they are there offered up, or shoved in my face in the most 'wtf where did this come from?!!?' way.  Things about myself, people in my life.  The most uncomfortable things I see, how others see me or how I come across to others.

I am comforted by Greg's seeing through my grief and my walls and my sadness, and seeing a woman worthy of love and respect and appreciation and desire to impart love to.  He's flew away today but he left a mark of hope within me.

I am saddened to finally understand a friend of many years is not and honestly hasn't been a friend at all.  It's so one sided, and now we seem to not understand each other in the simplest ways, but she's always connected in her need for unconditional acceptance when her life is complex and spiraling.  I painfully learned this on an already terribly difficult day, today, when she made a vicious and crazy personal attack of me.  It's horrible to realize our friendship, if it ever was, is absolutely over on a day when I am most deeply feeling loss of love and family.  Her attack is frivolous at best and twisted.  I know I did nothing wrong and I am finally in a place to, yes, still review my actions from her POV, and realize I did in fact did NOTHING wrong.  What is wrong is I have persisted in continuing trying to maintain a friendship with her over the years. I am actually concerned about her alcoholism and I feel it is a large factor in her behavior, along with the plain and painful fact she doesn't and never has had any respect for me.  It isn't just me she attacks, but today was just wrong and bizarre.  She might apologize at some point, more likely she'll try to pretend it never happened.  I'll find a way to forgive her when I stop feeling hurt, but I won't forget and I am not interested in being her friend.

Having been alone since John passed for the last year, I am very curious when I am aware of someone that finds me desirable or if I am approached by someone who does.  I pull back and I also want so badly to experience it, to see what they see.  I am afraid to let anyone in too close or at all, and at the same time I am getting closer to letting myself go there all the time wondering what it is I am waiting for?  I suppose someone I find desirable as well... but someone has been closer than others, others that in no way could be anything other than blink of a moment, or nothing more than a mind delving kind of plaything if I had the ability.  You know, to see through their minds eye, know their thoughts. 

And What is Really Strange is... it sort of IS there.  I see things, I just avoid acknowledging them unless they are blatantly brought to my attention. Like today with my friends attack.  Or if someone is forward in their attraction.

Why do I hold back.  Why am I holding back?

The Fury in me, that's the name for all the aspects of me I try to keep in check, named in a humorous story I wrote from another blog a long time ago.  Well, she is just tired of taking my 'friends' crazy shit and letting it go and letting everything be okay somehow.  I tried a little today to get a dialogue going, but 'friend' was out to injure, not give tough friend love.  I have other friends now, friends that don't use things against me for their cruelty.  Friends that I always leave feeling happy,and fullfilled after spending time with them... not vaguely confused and uncomfortable.  Friends the like me for me, let me be myself, mutual, wonderful women.

I wish 'friend' would get back together with her boyfriend and practice her dysfunction there and stop torturing her friends by blindsiding them and putting them on the defensive.  She can go back to keeping it in her tight little circle of hearth and home.

There is guy that's creeping past my walls. A big maybe I could go there.  I am wanting to feel, even if I don't feel it deep down.  I really have no idea until I go there.  But I won't know until it happens.  I think he sees my outer walls... He pointed out that not only do I have them but I let people know why they are there.  He said I don't need to do that.  I just need to have my boundaries drawn, not explain why, that with the why I give someone power to manipulate me.  He's so right.  I was embarrassed to have him tell me and at one moment I put my hand over his mouth.  I needed to hear it.  However, he can think he knows me, but the inner boundaries, those that protect my heart... that inner me that is being realized and is practicing Being... he has no idea she exists.  I do.  I recognize her more and more everyday.  Grow stronger with every little lesson, and big one.

I'm curious though, how do you get to know someone without knowing where they have been, where they are, where they might be going?  I have so much to learn.  I Am an open book.  I do let people know how I feel.  I Am 'A plan without a plan.'
*Interesting things he's said to me when he's comfortable and talking to me when he's very tired.

Those Fury aspects in me have needs. What are those aspects?  My instincts, my boundaries, my Moxie, my gumption, my visceral Joy, That spark of life deep inside me that has been battered by the people I should have been nurtured by and should have been able to trust at the core of my life. My anger, my Fighter, my self-protective inner strength...

I'm learning to embrace myself.  I am changing so much.  I am afraid to let it happen too fast, of making mistakes that strip me of the process... So much has happened in such a short period of time.  So much loss.  I've been trying to hold on to what I have left, be cautious about what/who I let in.  I really want to learn how to function in the world again.  I recognize I have this amazing opportunity to start over again, make a good life.


It seems I am still being tagged by eels.  I may always be, probably will be.  They might not always be my own.

I want to keep moving forward.

"Absorb what is useful.  Discard what is not.  Add what is uniquely your own." ~Bruce Lee~

Sometimes You Feel Like A Nut...

Sometimes you Know It.

Other times it's everyone else that's nuts.

And sometimes it's just that everything gets lost in Translation.

First Impressions

Last Friday my friend told me she was giving my number to a guy she was supposed to be going out on a date with.

Yeah, I thought it was weird too.  I wondered why, and I figured he wouldn't message me because he was interested in her.

Well, he did.
First impressions were varied.  He was easy to message, but that’s not a stretch.  He was attractive, though not really my type.

The messaging on Friday was unfocused on my part because I was finishing up work and focusing on getting out, getting home, and hitting the road by 7:30pm at the latest to go to Southern California to see my girlfriend and her family.

I closed off out messaging saying I’d see him Monday for our date and to have a good weekend.  The drive to So Cal was smooth, we arrived in great time.  I watched the movie The Purge with my step son, his girlfriend, Julie’s twin boys, and my sons.  I liked it.  The kids couldn't get over how stupid some of the characters were.

I crashed, and Saturday was a lazy day mostly spent watching Long Island Medium on demand in Julies bed with her and her daughter, all of us under the electric blanket because I chose the one weekend California weather decided to get cold, and windy.

Julie, her husband, her aunt, and I had plans that evening.  I've never been to a Casino.  It just wasn't my thing, that’s why.  I played the penny slot with a dollar and won six.  I bought us each a drink.  Under poured whisky for me and her Long Island was as drink the bar tender should have been deeply ashamed of.  The drinks were $15.  The people watching was priceless.  A crazy man sat next to me.  Yes, crazy.  When we were waiting for her husband and aunt to meet us when were ready to leave, a man was very focused on making eye contact with us while he actively and deeply picked his nose.

Earlier that evening I’d decided get ready several hours early so we weren't rushing and pressed for time, or at least I wouldn't be.  Then I kicked back in lounge pants and a soft t-shirt and checked my phone.

He’d messaged me that morning.  I returned the message and we started texting back and forth off and on the rest of the weekend.  Sunday morning he sent and early text and woke me from a nightmare.  It wasn't too much, he was complimentary but not overmuch.  It seemed we were on a good wavelength.

The only downside was he’d sent me some pictures.  You know, no shirt, buff work out guy pictures.  I couldn't help but wonder … is he going to be that guy that works out all the time and needs constant approval and appreciation for how ‘healthy’ he is.  I wasn't looking forward to being right.  I only have head shots on FB and my phone.  I sent him a few recent ones and tried to take a body shot, got the knees up in my trackies and blue t-shirt.  So he’d see, I wasn't a work out girl, but I was what I said I was, slender-curvy, soft.

Outside of that his timing was nearly miraculous.  Never too much, never too little.  He put effort in.

We met Monday, several hours earlier than planned as we were both free and he’d asked saying he didn't want to wait anymore.

I was early, he was moments behind me.  He did look something like his pictures.  A shorter, thicker, less muscled version of himself.  His face rounder, his clothing a bit sloppy I guess because he was dressed from the waste up.  To be fair he’d sent me a group photo of him at a Zombie pub crawl, not dressed up but certainly still thinner than the man who walked in and sat down.

I didn't obsess about it, but I didn't let go either.  I just noted it.  There are ways to make a first impression.  There are ways to wear jeans and a t-shirt.  He did it the other way.

We had a fun conversation.  We agree on a lot of things, but that can be expected on a first meeting after a comfortable level of messaging and attraction is achieved.  He was far more attracted to me than I was to him, but what the hell, I was drinking whisky, even if I was drinking it slowly.

I kept thinking he needed a haircut, clothes that fit better, and that if he was working out his pictures wouldn't end up being a total lie.  If he wasn't that was cool too.  He wasn't a work out dickhead, and his pictures of his sons gave me hope he wouldn't be turned off by mine.

I liked him.  There was no love at first sight, no lust a first sight, he was comfortable, attentive, sweet.  We took a walk and I liked the way he just held my hand.  I was intrigued that he is Cajun by birth and his accent only comes out when he’s with his family.  I was interested in seeing him again.

The whisky promoted a deeper goodnight kiss than I would have allowed otherwise, early goodnight kiss because we both had to get home to kids.

We messaged later and decided he’d catch me up on The Walking Dead as I’d missed three episodes.  We decided he come to my place the next morning.  I didn't feel the ‘wtf are you thinking’ effect until a little bit later, probably as I sobered up completely and got a clear head.  I kept thinking, ‘I don’t know this guy and I am having him to my home?!? He seems a little needy, what if he IS a creep?  What if He is the Stalker type?!?’

So like an idiot I cleaned house and still let him come over after setting a ground rule, which was No Making Out.

Ends up he’s not a murdering rapist, my instincts were right about that.  We sat together on the couch and watched the Walking Dead.  He had plans to meet his friend, and acquaintance of mine and a friend of my girlfriend that set us up.   So we had boundaries.  Though I do understand he could have raped, beaten, murdered, and stashed me in my home, showered and met his friend for lunch all in the time it took us to watch The Walking Dead.

Yes, I thought I shored up my boundaries better than that.  Evidently not.  Noted.

I like his hands.  He has great hands.  He’s the kind of man that would give me a back rub and not skimp on time or attention just to move it to sex or because he gets distracted by, well, the fact he isn't really into giving me a neck or back rub and he saw something shiny.  I also realize he’s uber attracted to me and probably wants to touch a lot of me and the neck rub was all he was getting because of my ground rule.  He didn't break the rule but he did comfortably mold me to him while we watched Walking Dead.  I think he even dozed off a few times.  I think I might have.

I found myself thinking:
His shirt smells like it was left in the wash a little too long, there is a slight smell of mildew, doesn't he notice?
He’s sweet, but when will his own personal version of asshole show up and is it an asshole I am willing to deal with or is it something nightmares are made of.  Like where’s the ‘Ahhhh, there you are’ guy I an waiting to reveal himself.
I’m not sure I am into him… I can’t work it out, why… it is that he’s barely taller than I am?  Am I shallow?
I’ll let things play out because honestly so far there is more positive than negative and the little things I am not into I'll think about why…

So I have been.

Our next round of messaging was less inspiring.  It seemed like things weren't as on as they were before.  Night before last he drunk messaged me.  I didn't like that.  I believe he was trying to compliment me, tell me I’m open and I let people know how I feel.  That I see.  I hear.  I feel.

My response, no shit.  It was a rude response because he was confusing me and making me uncomfortable because he was drunk.  He mis-wrote things, had tons of typos.  His initial attempt was rather insulting, though I looked at it and realized what he was, I hoped, attempting to type.  That I was an open book.  But it came out differently… something like I needed to read a book… and I am still not sure he was trying to compliment me or not.

The next morning he apologized but offered nothing more, no form of explanation, or offer to clarify his intent.  It put a bad taste in my mouth.

I was already struggling with my feeling comfortable but not overly attracted to him.  I’d been questioning myself.  Remembering my ex-husband, not a good parallel to draw.  Comfort, but not attracted.  Similar in build, though This guy is much more attractive.    But I also remember settling for my ex.  I remember how right after marriage he became a needy slob.  I could see that potential in this guy.

I thought about my last encounter.  How the other man made me feel something again other than grief or just the hollow numbness I’d been existing in for so long.

I asked myself, am I only attracted to assholes?  Is it just the guy with the devil in his eyes that lights me up inside?  Why am I not attracted to this guy?  Would it grow, would he stay all the good things I see now, is this just what he’s showing me?

I don’t want to go backwards.  I don’t want to settle for what seems like a nice guy and end up with my ex.
I don’t want to get blinded by lust with some guy that doesn't deserve me.

Nothing was really clear, maybe it was, but I thought to myself, ‘I’ll see him again, see how it plays out.’

We made plans for Monday to walk a trail at the park.  He cancelled.  He started to go kind of warm and lukewarm on me.  Again, messaging can be misread.

I think he wanted to have sex with me, enough to put effort into me expecting a quick response.  Wrong girl.  He should have stuck with my friend who decided to get us together.  She and I are different people, and maybe with a different man I would go there and either see it move forward or move on, but I’m not really built that way no matter how sometimes I wish I was, when I feel lonely.

He, in what for him was a random and lengthy  statement in a message, said that he felt he was pushing me to be close to him as he wanted to be with me and we should try to be friends first and if it develops into more great and if not no one is hurt.

Hmmmmm.  Other little things in the background came forward.  My girlfriend breaking the plans we all had for this Saturday with their mutual friend, this guy messaging me that he’d been texting her and he pissed her off when she mentioned she’d shut down her dating profiles, he said he had too and that it was sad.
That could mean two things, sad they shut them down, or the sites themselves are sad (as in creepy, something we’d talked about on our date).

Then her pressing me for feedback on how much I like him, whether we were going out again.

I don’t have much to offer.  We message, he was great at first, now not so much.  He misrepresented himself in pictures, but there’s things I like, things I am not sure of.  Yes, I was considering seeing how it played out…
Until the ‘Let’s be friends thing’

So I told her I don‘t know, I‘m still working out my first impressions.
There were just too many things to tell her if I wanted to, I felt it better left for a real conversation rather than her cryptic way of texting.

No answer was good enough.  I think she was feeding him information back.  It’s what my instincts tell me.

Today she asked me again saying she thought we were spending the day together.  No.  I am working, he’s working.  He broke our Monday plans and said he just wants to be friends.

“And What do you want?” she asked me.

I messaged back, “I want things to move and progress easily if they are meant to.  I’m not interested in complicated.  I’m absolutely not interested in forcing anything.”

“But all relationships take work.” she said.

“I don’t have a problem with work.” I replied.

“So what happened with him?” she asked

“Nothing.” I finished.

She’d asked me the other day if the other guy has messaged me yet.  I responded, ‘Of course not, LOL’ This man is 48 years old and asking his friend for a month is he should message me?

Sometimes I think it would be an education to follow her thought process.  To hear her thoughts.  I think they might be unkind in regard to me.  I think I am her non-judgmental friend when she’s in crisis, her occasional get out and have fun friend, but she often flakes out and she always invites someone else along.  It is a weird complicated friendship I hold on to because of our history, because of time.  Because of my first impressions of her.




I felt pressure from her to be ‘something‘.   This situation is just too damn complicated already and I have only seen him twice.

I haven’t responded to his “let’s be friends” text.  He’s messaged me several times today.  I suspect when he’s simply bored.

See?  The timing is off, things have skewed.  I am not going to waste my time being some guys part time, his bored text messaging.
I am not going to push myself into something that is falling apart before it began.
I may sound foolish but I believe something is blocking the process from going further.
If we end up going out sometime or meeting up that’s fine, but for me the moment, the opportunity he had has passed.


I don’t particularly like ‘dating’.  It feels false somehow, I don’t know.

I decided I don’t want to meet someone through my friends or co-workers or anyone.  I’m not into dating sites, they creep me out, more power to you if you are there is no judgment from me.  I just see my friends, my ex doing it and their stories are just, stressful or creepy.  And they communicate they feel this way.  They say at first it is flattering, then it is just draining.

 I get the same stuff IRL why add constant updates on my phone to my life?


So… I made a list of the things I want in the man in my life if he’s meant to be there.  I've heard it’s a good practice.  To write down what you want, kind of pray over it, then let it be.

I’ll say it again, I have the most fun just relaxing in my own life and going out with my girlfriends.  These other experiences have been draining.

I’m learning from these experiences.  It bothers me, the kind of men I've been coming across.  They all seem really weak to me in one way or another.  I mean concentrated versions of Normal.

I don’t mind vulnerability, I mean weakness.
I don’t believe it is just men.  I think people are addicted to being in love.  I get it.  I’d love to be in love… I’d love, seriously, to be in love, to have sex with someone, to be touched, to have Fun in bed and out.

I just want more.  I want something deeper than a few days or weeks or months, or like with John, years struggling to capture what it can and/or should be.

I’m not interested in wasting my time.  This one played itself out, I let it go a little further than I should have when my instincts knew better, just like with the other guy.

I’m learning, and I’m content.  That is I recover contentment after getting past the cagey feeling within a few days after the ripple effects dissipate.

A Pleasant Distraction

It was there all along, sleeping within me.  It was perfect.  Just enough.  Dark eyes and sensuous lips resting on a face I could read plainly.  My god, someone I am attracted to but not someone I could lose myself in.  

It happened right away, that little thrill of desire I ruthlessly suppressed and he gently persisted.  I was ready to give chase and it was fun to run, to be barely caught, to escape to run again.  Fun to be caught and when he touched me I didn't retreat like before when others tried to touch me. It wasn't forced in any way.  Why him?  The banter?  The look in his eyes?  Yes.  My body said yes and my heart and mind knew that was enough.  I didn't retreat.  That was enough.  He kissed me like I haven't been kissed in a very, very long time. It was he kind of kissing where all the promise is laid bare and even the kissing can be enough.

Interestingly he isn't even close to what I am 'interested' in, and not only in looks.  How does that happen?  Someone that could draw out those feelings but someone I wouldn't be interested in seriously.  That is unfamiliar to me.  It was good to understood right away he would be a pleasant distraction.

The way he looked at me, bold and unapologetic.  That I wanted him to look at me that way.  He surprised me.  He made me laugh.  He was fun and he made me feel that spark of life within me again.  A taste, a sampling.

He kissed me and I felt desire.  Nothing more.

Desire is something I haven't felt for a long time. I am pleased it isn't more than it was.  I felt desirable,  I felt uninhibited.  I was boldly honest, and felt I could be naked and it would only be pleasant.  I could imagine myself having more than his asking touch and his kiss.  I believe it would be like a fire, hot and bright and consuming - yet I have no desire to know beyond what I already knew.  I believe it would be hot and bright and consuming.  I also believe there is little fuel to have it burn for long.  I don't believe he has what I want or what I need.  I could try to satisfy the initial attraction but I feel it would end in disappointment.  Why ruin it?

This pleasant distraction was enough.  Perfect in the moment.

Enough to let me know there is desire within me.  Enough to let me know he isn't enough.  Enough to let me know I want more.

I want more and I won't waste my time trying to make a pleasant distraction something more than it was meant to be.

He doesn't know what he wants.  Even if he wanted me more than than just desire but actual value of me, even if he had a clear path to pursue me I don't want him.  I don't want to be a catalyst, to simply be sand rushing out of his grasp, or a fragrance that quickly dissipates if he tried to pursue me in any real way.  No I am not that to him as much as he is not that to me.  I am content to be a vivid moment that perhaps awakens his mind from the dull acceptance he is allowing his life to be.  Acquisitions and mergers.  Settling for that.  We all have our paths.  I've been on that one.  It is not my path.

After seeing him I arrived home, I changed my clothes, washed my face, brushed my teeth, drank a glass of water and poured another.  While doing this I listened to the echo of his words.  Thinking about how when he kissed me I wanted more.  I wanted to lose myself to sensation and its good it was nothing more than kissing.  I came home and when I was laying there remembering his kiss and his touch and the desire I wasn't left wanting more.  I simply  lay prone beneath the weight of blankets feeling how cold my bed was waiting for it to warm.  Knowing if I was to have it warmed by another I wouldn't choose him.  I wasn't burning and unfulfilled.  I didn't feel the need to finish what we'd started.  The fire was banked, I wasn't restless as I had been during the day or the days since I'd first met him.  I simply fell asleep, content with the pleasant distraction and feeling no desire to repeat it.

It is freeing to not feel tied to him and his ability to have drawn that out in me.  He's the only one since John that has.  It seems to me I should want more with him considering he did, and I am happy that I do not.

It was nice to feel desirable, to feel beautiful and sensuous under his hand, to feel his mouth meet mine.  It was empowering to hear him say the words he spoke to me, the watch him look at me, and to know I didn't need more from him.

What a pleasant distraction.

What a nice way to come awake again, to come awake to the woman I am becoming in the aftermath of everything that was.

Quarter Past

I don't know what that title means.

It's Sunday.  My day to do absolutely nothing.  It's 10 o'clock(ish) and I have a little list of things to do and I might do them, I might not.

Change my bedding, do something with the messy piles in my room I've allowed to accumulate.  Tackle some laundry.  Go out and try to buy a pair of jeans.  Remember to drink water and stay far away from the yellow cake with chocolate frosting I made last night.

Simple things.

The weekend of the sixteenth I plan to go and see my girlfriend Julie and my 'Niece and Nephews'.  Pay down my debt with the extra $ I have this month.  Pretend like December doesn't exist.  It's so appropriate John died in December.  I have always hated that month, now there is one more reason.

I have some little goals... get my heath and mental health going in the 'full gas tank and long road ahead of me mode'.  That's where the drinking water mention comes from.  I realized I wasn't drinking very much water and that I was stress eating easy foods aka bread... hand to mouth sort of stuff.  I've gained weight.  Nothing anyone else seems to notice because I'm blessed with even weight gain... LOL, yes... LOL!  I don't get just a big ass or a big belly to signal I have to make changes.  I distribute.  This is not such a lucky thing as you may imagine.  Nope, I just notice my head seems to get smaller.  *giggle
It's not really funny, but it is. My clothes are a bit tight and I am not going to just go buy bigger me clothes.  Screw that.  The jeans... well, I need a pair of jeans in general and a pair of black slacks simply because it is getting cooler.  Something a bit more tailored for work.

Surprisingly water is essential for physical and mental health.   So is getting off your ass to take a walk.  That's step two, pun intended.

I am struggling to wake up, to start taking care of myself.  I want my life back. I like that I want my life back.

I've finally stopped thinking about myself in the sense of having a relationship.  I'm not sure how to explain myself.  I'd think about myself and John... about myself and relationships in the past.  Relationships in general.  Friends, family, men.  After John died I wondered how I'd be in six months, 10 months, a year. I've wondered about being in love, being with someone again. In the sense of being afraid of repeating myself, in the sense of being with someone as a distraction from my life, or as a covering for fears as opposed to facing them.

I've found I am different, but the same.  I find I am content now.  Content with my life and my relationships.  I don't want to have a relationship with a man.  John changed me.  I was watching a silly series, catching up online.  There was a line about never forgetting your first love, never really losing that love for them.

There was a boy when I was younger, that magic age of 17.  All the best songs about young and vibrant life are about being 17.  Actually I was sort of like those songs.  I was going wild at 17. Well, I thought I was in love with an idiot named Jay, Jason W.  My first love?  Another life moment that didn't deserve my time... But he didn't change me.  Greg didn't change me.  He changed my location, I went right back to it.  He was the first guy I'd ever lived with, before my ex-husband Steve the Pathetic One, and John.

Looking back it is so very clear that John is the only person next to my sons I have ever Loved.  I didn't really know what love was before my sons and John.

I have learned so much about myself in the past (almost) year since his death.  John profoundly changed my life, my view of myself, my expectation.  I'd started changing and learning the moment I met him.  This is something I have never experienced before on this level.  I have had those painful reflections of myself.  Seen things about myself I want to retreat from and can't.  I suppose it is easy to see the failings.  I am still learning to appreciate myself, see what is good, what I have to offer this life and understand my purpose here.

It could be different now simply because I am in my 40's, a mother, experienced my first loss attached to my heart.  Sure.  Life on a whole new level.

My sons helped me focus.  Becoming a Mom, I had to be something other that what I'd been.  John is something else, similar but different.

I lost myself in him, and I am gaining myself.  When he broke my heart, nothing short of losing one or both of my sons could make me feel that shattered again.  John's death, the fact he doesn't exist the way I knew him is still hard to grasp.  I still feel like he'll walk in the door, drive by me on the street, turn over in bed and pull me close.

My life is quiet now.  There is no drama.  My sons are growing up, which I want and dread equally.  I really enjoy my career, though, with out child support I don't make enough to survive. Yet.  So, if I have drama it is financial fear that plagues me.

Knowing my fear, I work daily as much as I am able in that day, to move forward and to better my circumstances.

I have spent a lot of time until recently thinking about relationships.  This is reflective post... this is a recent change, a recent letting go.  I am unfamiliar with this new me.  I'm a little embarrassed of the me I was before John.  I am/was ashamed of the me with John (after he hurt me).  I'm a different me after John.

I have a different standard.  I like my life the way it is.  I don't care to just let Just Anyone in, and I am not just referring to men.  I'm content in my life and can't see myself involved with anyone.

John's sister asked me if there was anyone in my life.  It bothered me.  It bothers me.  Why would there be?

Sometimes I crave intimacy.  I can't say I haven't kissed anyone.  Once I chose to because, well, John would have I told myself.  He would have used the distraction to hold off the pain.  I tried to go that route.  Well, I ended that before it started.  I've given my number to a few idiots I thought maybe I could practice on.  You know, go out for coffee... learn to be social, to simply play at dating.  That proved to me the kind of men I meet are socially retarded at best.  I had a bar hopping night with a few girlfriends and one of my girlfriends invited a guy and he brought a buddy (bar hopping, something I don't do, and I did just to do it and I had fun) and drank enough to say to my girlfriends guy friends buddy asking for my number (who didn't deserve my number) "What the hell, I'm drunk enough to give it to you.  Any yes, that is my actual number"  I kissed him later that night, and let him know it meant absolutely nothing to me, but that he was a nice kisser, thanks.  While this sounds crass, he is jerk that is involved with another woman and tried to play me by saying 'What if it isn't that serious?'  Meaning his relationship.  I told him what are we in Jr. High?  I don't have time for that kind of bs in my life and that I wasn't interested and maybe he should go home.
It must be nice being a man.  I know women that are like men.  I just can't really wrap my head around people like that.  

And, it's true.  I'm not.  Had I not been merry of heart with whiskey I wouldn't have let him touch me.  But it was fun being drunk and letting someone flirt with me.  Feeling attractive.  Not enough to need to do it again the next night, or the next week though.

Back to, 'sometimes I crave intimacy'.  I do.  It's a physical thing.  A desire created by hormones and loneliness.  And it is so quickly passing I hardly remember what it was when it has passed.  Initially I wanted to emulate John.  Lose myself in the distraction.  He wasn't very discerning.  Well, he had a type... anyway, that isn't me.  Sometimes I wish it was.  Sometimes I wish I could just meet someone, have a tumble. Let them help me forget.  There is no shame in that, no judgement.  I wouldn't judge myself for it. Sometimes I wonder why I can't scratch that itch.  Play that game.  Then it passes and sometimes I can't remember what it was I wanted to scratch. Sometimes I know it is because there isn't anyone, anywhere I am remotely attracted to enough to go there. Unless of course I am barhopping and drinking whiskey I guess.

I want more.  I want more and I don't see it happening.  So I am content with myself.  For the first time in my life I enjoy being home, going to work, going out sometimes with a girlfriend ... and having no internal agenda of Mr. Next.  This means I am in the moment with my sons, at work, with my girlfriends. This is a first for me.

These are the things I am learning about myself.

Shifting Tide, and the Two Things I Am Obsessed With. My Boobs

I'm not sure I can count on this or if it is just rising estrogen and testosterone in my cycle, the ebb and flow of my personal tide.
I still feel the ache, I still get teary or just cry, but something has shifted a little.  I feel I am moving forward a little.  I'm forming plans, setting goals.  I want to take ownership of my life.

I've decided, for at least the next year, to stay full time at work.  I rent my station at work.  I think I can work some classes here and there into my schedule and just shift my bookings to accommodate. I may also be committing myself to relieving the owner on Monday's so she can have two days off a week.  As it stands, she is the only one with a key.  In order to have a key we're required to pay an extra $50 per month.  I understand her thoughts behind this, it was something I struggled with when choosing this salon.  No key, working within set hours.  I've made it work.  To be asked to help her in this after just a year, to be offered this trust... well, it's necessary for her to take time for herself and her family, and I'm flattered she'd offer me the opportunity.  Salons are typically not open on Monday's.  I'd have responsibility and an opportunity to grow here.  More than likely I'll be bored outside of my own scheduled clientele so I'll bring a dvd player, a book... fill up the non-working time.

My next goal, get my debt paid off.  It's doable and I am focused.

Next, start saving some money, even if it is only $50 per month.

Next, and this is just something that has been bothering me for a long time...
Several years ago, when I was married to my sons father, I went under the knife and got breast implants.  The simple truth, I felt insecure about my body.  Sort of an obvious statement I know.  I'd always been insecure about my breasts being A-symmetrical.  I know, all women without enhancement are to some degree.  It was something I felt uncomfortable with.  I'd also nursed my sons about four years between the two of them.
Looking back even after the nursing my breasts were still pretty... but all I could see was what bothered me.
I chose a doctor after some research.  When I went his assistant was was so comfortable with the routine of her job she didn't recognize the individual.  She touched me without taking a moment to indicate she would, even my OB's do that every time.  She indicated I needed a lift on my right breast, then the implants, blahblahblah.
My husband is a cheap and selfish man.  He indulges himself well but doesn't see the necessity to consider others.  This was the first thing in our marriage I'd asked for and he actually made it a miserable experience. After the initial consult where the Dr and my husband encouraged me to get double D implants (as that was the size I'd increased to when I was nursing) he was such a jerk on the way home I cried instead of feeling excited.  I think I can honestly say this was the beginning of our end for me.  His selfishness was highlighted and magnified that day.
After I did all the prepping myself, after the surgery, he drove me and our sons to my mother's where she did post op care.

Maybe that is too much information, but it's in my head and I guess I need to put it down, I guess I need the 'conversation'.  I'm not one of those women that pretends I don't have implants (and yep, they are too big IMO but most people don't realize they are implants), I don't exactly advertise it either.
I'm average height, petite and a bit curvy in shape.

What drives me these days is in photographs I see fine-boned shoulders, and face, and torso... and these massive, misplaced boobs.
For a long time now I have wanted to remove the implants.  John loved my breasts.  I guess he was like a lot of guys.  Honestly, I can't stand them.
Instead of having my right breast lifted and balanced with my left, due to the money my husband allotted me I chose a larger implant in the smaller breast, and a smaller one in the larger breast.  While they are the same size and I don't feel the need to 'stuff' the left breast since I had the surgery, I am still asymmetrical.

Interestingly I am a statistic.  Most women that get implants decide to have them removed or reduced later.

I hate being a statistic.  I think that drive to not be one has continually set me wrecking into being just that.

So, I'll own it.  I'm over it.  I want my B cups back.  I want my body back to what it was.

I just have to figure out how to make that happen.

The need to do this is just growing exponentially as the days go on.  I fantasize about going to a casino (I haven't ever been, btw) and winning enough to pay off my credit cards and afford doing whatever needs to be done to my breasts!

Something else I will admit.  I dislike my breasts so much I don't want to be touched.  Perhaps much of this feeling is not my breasts but my continuing grief of my relationship with and loss of John.  The plain truth is this, the implants didn't make me more secure, they made me less so.  Also, I think the surgeon that did them is a Douche of the highest order.  He took a fast 5K and didn't advise me properly when I asked him pointed questions and at the time I didn't have the confidence to push for those answers.  I did what I always did back then, I took what was offered and tried to make the best of it.

It is interesting and kind of sad to look back at that me.  I wish I could advise her.  I would advise that young woman that larger breasts wouldn't make her feel more like a woman.  To at most get the lift of both and reduction of the right breast, that time would prove to her the power of what she'd become.

I have a few goals, a road to travel, a lifetime of learning and experiences left to me... and I feel my boobs are a sort of albatross.  (I'm laughing a little to myself at this)

The casino fantasy plays its mental stage of flashing lights and musical bell tones in my hopeful 'get what I want NOW' image of moving my wants into place...

Oh well... in the end it is probably meaningless.  Just thinking with my keyboard.  I'm not even going to proof read it.  I have something else I need to take care of right now.

Maybe If I Were Prone To Pacing

I'd be thinner.

I have a hard time organizing my thoughts.  I sit down and try to think clearly, even to write here, and it's like herding cats into a plastic bag.
They scatter, I lose a few, I hurt myself in the process (emotionally).

Two things terrorizing me, with an occasional third thrown in making me feel like I'm drowning in tar.

Finances/job, kids, John.

The obvious and easy bit, John.  Sometimes I am okay, which is a little like life being colorless... other times I miss him and have that crushing, can't breathe sensation.  A few times recently I've dreamt of him. It makes it harder to dream of him.
I want him to go to that place where I remember and I don't think of him constantly and feel the heaviness of grief.  Time.  I'll wait, there's nothing else but to.

The boring bit.  Finances/job.  Sad!  No joke.  My job is a Hobby.  Interestingly I have driven backwards and quite hazardously through my processing there.  First I decided to go part time and get a part time job.  Then I realized this is a useless idea as it doesn't solve my problem of being a 42 year old woman with nothing planned for her future, zero stability, zero security.  Big Fat Zero! Ugh! <see what I mean?
Then I decided to go part time and take a few classes.  Start with computer classes.  That way if I decide I need to completely quit the hair biz I can at least say I know Excel. And that other computer stuff.  Then I thought Paralegal.  I looked it up.  Fuck.  Time, $$,$$$, how would I do that?... then I was pissed I didn't think to do that when I decided on hair and drama and ... <see what I mean?  I get all rats in a cage in a room on fire in my mind.

Then I thought to actually get caught up on my paperwork.  Do my books.  I checked my earnings vs my expenses.  I do make a little.  I am doing a little better than I thought.  Maybe I can manage full time rent, be a bit more Conservative in what I purchase for work, and in my personal life (Tattoo, WHY??? yes it's pretty but damn it I could have waited, maybe forever) and just ask myself, do I really need that?  Can I use that money to pay down my credit cards instead?  My debt isn't bad all things considered, but I did add to it damn it.  That doesn't help because there are things like the dentist and car tires and...
I'll try another year full time, see if I can push a little harder at building my clientele.  On my days off I'll take those computer classes.  Maybe I'll even chip away at becoming a paralegal.  Just because I wish I could pay for school, focus only on that, and still take care of myself and my sons doesn't mean there aren't Other ways to get it done.  Damn it I am only 42.
It's Possible.

And lastly, My Heart... the reason I bother to worry about anything at all  instead  of giving up and becoming my mother and just grifting someone for my needs and letting them worry instead.  *Seriously not my personality but as she rationalizes (and this probably proves she's more intelligent than I am) Desperate Times Call for Others to Be Used By "The One Who Must Not Be Named"

My sons.  They drive me nuts but, I love being a Mom.
My 17 year old.  I think he may actually be doing okay scholastically this year.  I'm not sure if it was the threat of having to provide in entirety his own cell phone should he screw up or if he's just maturing and deciding it's just easier than summer school to at least get C's.  I sincerely hope his progress report reflects that as truth.
He has a girlfriend.  *blank*  Okay.  She's sweet, not attractive in face or body (she's stalky and built like a gymnast.  She's a swimmer and and water polo player (when she's eligible), but has real inner beauty.  However she is just a 16 year old kid with all the ideas and none of the reality.  That little bit of 'I know better' attitude.
Her family life is total crap.  Her mother lives in another state and has had other children taken off of her due to drug use and neglect.  She told me she was abused by her uncle who was often in charge of her.  She's not even sure how bad it might or might not have been.  Her only real memory is waking up with his hand down her pants.  Outside of that she said she has gaps in her childhood.  IMO, inappropriate behavior from a guardian is bad enough, but I understand and it broke my heart.  She's so open, but at the same time has a hard time trusting people.  I know exactly what she means.   Her father is, a dumb ass IMO.  He's a child.  He goes from relationship to relationship.  He ignores his home life in favor of the flavor of the moment.   I don't think he has a job, but he finds money to spend at the bar getting drunk looking for the next missus right.  He even asked his daughter if I was single and attractive.  Her response, God Bless her, "Um, You're Really Not her type Dad."
I've only met him on the phone.  This is significant because she's a sixteen year old girl.  I picked her up Sunday before last for a movie and lunch with my sons and I.  He didn't meet me face to face.  Her Grandmother did.  Her Grandmother who it seems is her only stability. Her Grandmother who recently let her know she will be moving back down south when the lease is up on their apartment.  I sincerely hope she takes her with her and leaves her father behind.  Not because of my sons feelings for her, but for her.  She deserves a decent family life.

Her father had gone out to the bar the night before to get drunk with his neighbor buddy.  Picked a woman up and stayed at his friends.  He was too hung over to meet the strangers that were picking up his daughter he claims to be over protective of.  He was still too hung over to meet us when we walked her to her door after our day together.
Having been a hungry for kind affection sort of young woman once in my life I could see we were the best few hours on a Sunday afternoon she'd experienced in a very long time.

This girl gets no real attention.  I think her grandmother is struggling to continue to raise her loser son to pay any real attention to the teen girl that just needs some pampering and some encouragement.  So I did a little.  I also exchange emails with her encouraging her to stick to her education like a life raft and to remind her she's smart, capable, and Can do it.  I try to give her a sound board, and try to talk her past her anger with the adults in her life, the let down, and to remind her of positive things, of that horizon before her, of potential.  I tell her that she won't be this kid unable to control her life much longer.  I've encouraged her to not be afraid to join the military, something she was considering.  It would take her away from her family.  Maybe give her something more substantial.  I have a female friend, married.  She and her husband and another couple recently retired, they are in their mid-forties.  Maybe see if she can mentor Sean's girlfriend a little.

Meeting her has helped me to encourage myself as well.

Immediately after our movie date, realizing my son really likes this girl, I bought bananas and condoms and taught both my seventeen year old and my thirteen year old sons how to use a condom and WHY.

Now... my thirteen year old.  Do you hear the ominous music playing to this one in the background?
He's been a pain in my ass the whole school year and it only Just Started!  Detentions, missing classwork/homework (admits he was just lazy! Admits it!), 2 day on campus suspension!  Suspension!  For writing 'My Name is Ian'with a star and another design in sharpie on the bench during an assembly about 'Good Behavior' (yes, I am still laughing about that).  Then Stealing two suckers off of his teachers desk after repeatedly asking her for one for over a week.  His patience just wore out I suppose.  He got caught and got another detention.  And a call to me.  She said that was his only reaction in regard to the theft of the suckers, his Oh Shit reaction to her asking for my number. She said other than that he is absolutely polite and respectful and that's why she was so surprised.  I cried at that call.  Awesome.  It had been a bad day and that put me over the edge.

The biggest event, I tested out his walking home from school.  You, faithful reader, may roll your eyes at this.  You do not know my son.  At the beach this last Saturday he laid face down and proceeded to make sand angels, then covered himself like a sea turtle.  He was then shocked he got sand in his eye.  The whole time seemingly unaware he was In the volleyball court while a few kids were trying to play a game.  Like a kid like that can walk home from school when school is a thirty five minute walk from school to home. Four street lights, one in particular a large intersection.

I know this because I stalked him the whole way last Friday.  Why was I terrorized someone was going to kidnap him?  No.  Seriously. It must be left over from the Santa Cruz incident.  And over this weekend I fearlessly let him walk from the beach to the car where (I knew) he was inhaling chocolate croissants while he was also retrieving bottled waters.  Why was I okay with that?  I was okay in a strange city, in a transient beach community like Pismo, but not a few blocks between school and home.

I learned he's very aware of what's going on around him.  When he didn't catch me spying he was actually paying attention to lights, traffic, and everything around him.  I was stunned.

I took him to buy him a house key, a Jamba Juice, and a candy as a reward.  But the candy was tossed out as a reward because that's when I received the email, 'Your sons progress report shows and F but he raised it to a D- in Math'
Really? Gee, a D-?!

He can't watch TV during the week until it's a solid C, this when he's capable of straight A's, no BS.  He's not showing his work in algebra.  I explained to him, as I am sure his teacher has, Algebra is all about showing your work!  Yes, he gets the right answers.  Yes, I don't blame him for feeling it's pointless busy work.  However, it is his JOB.  My job is a hobby but he doesn't know that, I also do every freaking thing else and I worry like crazy.  Get a damn C at least.  This was after the sucker stealing incident he'd recently been grounded for that made me cry, out loud.  Not just those silent tears.  I cried.  He felt really guilty.  Good, because I felt like I'd been hit by truck hauling crappy emotion.

He walked again today.  I had a crying fit this morning worrying about him.  I hate it.  I hate being debilitated by fear.  But I let him walk.  Fuck Fear.  Excuse my cursing, but darn it! I only parked one place instead of four along the route this time.  I decided to work on my books in the shade of a church parking lot.  One of the places he caught me spying on Friday.  This time he didn't even look.

Several times before, during, and after he passed feeling that rising wave of panic and worry at not seeing him and knowing he's walking on a busy street.  I pulled out after taking a few extra minutes to work on my book to give him some distance. I forced myself to drive home and wait for him.  I kept busy and he came home just fine.  I think he was whistling.

Today I took his bike to the shop next to my salon.  I'm getting it fixed up for him so he can ride it instead of walking.  Tomorrow I'll drive him and the bike so he can ride it home so we can time it.  Then day after tomorrow if he wants to ride to school he'll know how to time himself.  Yes, I'll stalk him, or maybe this time it will be the other drivers on the road.

Yes, now I am freaked out about other drivers.  I warned him about people not caring about cyclists on the road and to just be careful.  He actually made suggestions that I would have made, Yes!
I'm still afraid!  Not just an expression.  I am actually anxious and afraid.  WTH, yet...

I think he's capable.  For the first time, past my fears, I do believe it.

That is a very big deal.

Time and Change may be working in my favor.