The way my brain works (a lot of the time)

From the ashes will rise the phoenix...

2011-08-04T16:07:00.003-04:00

My life has been upside down as of late - trying to figure out which way is up while your head is stuck up your a** is pretty hard.

Have you ever been so scared of your potential that you never do anything with it? That you just let it sit and waste away as you live your mediocre life? Yeah, that's what I was doing. Just squandering the talent and intelligence I possess. Sitting on my lazy a**, blaming the past for the present and never building a future because I was afraid of failing.

Realization struck as I turned 3-1 and everything started falling into place.

I have a love, a wonderful make you gag kind of love with an amazing man, a love that I disrespected deeply and treated like sh*t...A love that I broke down until there was nothing left but a tiny battered bruised flame of hope. A love that my stupid insecure self was willing to throw away for things that are worthless - people, places, feelings, etc.

No more. Never again. Bottom line. If you can not accept my relationship, my choices, my triumphs and my failures then you can not be a part of my life. If you are the closest blood relative or the farthest person in the degrees of separation from me - If you are not with me then you are against me.

I have a love and it is beautiful and it is mine. You judge your life and let me live mine.

20/20

2011-08-03T15:48:00.002-04:00

I have let my own state of dis-repair cause unintended pain to the only person I have ever loved truly – not commiserating love not pain/hurt = love but truly sincere and genuine love the kind of love that people write about that people dream about.
Had it.
Lost it.
Because I stupidly let my insecurities convince me that I am not good enough for that kind of love or beauty in my life.
Because all I have known is that kind of love – the kind of love that sucks the life out of you like a vampire, never giving anything but taking everything, the kind of love that plays tricks with your mind as it secretes its venom into your veins, leaving you like a junkie, craving your next high – because all I have known is that kind of love I am watching true genuine L-O-V-E slip through my fingers like the sands of time and I do not know how to keep it in my hand.
I do not know the words to say, the combination of syllables and sounds that will make him believe that I have let go of the demons that chased me for so long.
Do not have the language to pierce the hurt and pain that is enveloping him as he goes on his fact-finding mission to prove that it was all a lie.
Because it is not.
Was not.
And the facts that he will find belong to another woman, another life.
They are not my truths and they are not my story.
Those words, those facts, those sentences strung together to create pictures came from a woman haunted by demons and chased by shadows.
The truths I know now, even days after the epiphany, are clear and harsh.
They do not hide behind shadows or clouds, filtering only the ‘good’ parts, the p.c. parts out to my eyes, ears heart and mind as my former reality did.
They have taken my entire existence into their blinding light and have forced me to face the truth about who I am, who I want to be and the way I’ve been wasting my life about the people who I have allowed to become important to me and all that I have lost.
And these truths have come too late.
A lump has taken up permanent residence in my throat.
The pieces of my heart are hurting….the left piece and the other piece because I know there is no “right” piece in my chest.
I can not take back what I have or have not said/done.
I can only move forward with my reality.
I have managed to lose the person that has brought me true happiness and love.
Lose him because I could not appreciate his beauty when I had him in the palm of my hand.
Lose him because the woman I am today came too late.

(I am down, I am sad, I see the clouds rolling in but I will fight for this because I know what is right...and I want what is right and beautiful in my life....I will spend the rest of my life making up for what I did...be it directly or indirectly....I will prove that I am a "better" me...)

Like they were @ the start of me...

2009-07-30T07:30:00.001-04:00

29 year old me misses my 6 year old self.

Moreover, she misses her Mom. 23 years ago my Mom managed to hold a cigarette in her mouth while simultaneously singing/cleaning/cooking/watching me & my sister (then 2). Impressionable 6-year-old me was awed and amazed by her, my real-time Mom, not by the cartoon mothers or TV mothers I had vague recognition of. Even my young mind knew that those mothers were made up, make believe and I knew that my Mom was real – I mean, I lived with her.

Obviously the years have given me insights and have thrown the blinds of innocence off of my dark brown eyes but the memory refuses to be tarnished. I still hold in silent reverence the image of my beautiful Mom caring for us, loving us and her happiness continues to shower over me. Time has made me wiser (and older) but I can still look back at my Mom, all those years ago, and see her with the innocence of a child – before reality came into play. I can still hear the records, see the cigarette smoke, see her big, round, tinted glasses, and hear her strong voice singing along to the music. I sat among the noise pretending to read but really watching her, memorizing her.

I smile as I think that my sister, then 2 and now about to become a Mom for the first time, probably doesn’t have much recollection of this Mom that I remember.

In years to come I hope I can laugh with my nephew and recall my memories of the apartment where his Mom & I were young, the apartment that my younger sister lives in now and will probably be in for a few years. An apartment that, when I lived there briefly as an adult, still invoked memories, ghosts of laughter and tears. I could still see the memories playing on the wall.

People change and grow, surroundings change and grow old but the memories that form our belief systems remain intact – if only colored by the tiniest hint of blue, reminding us that time moves forward not back and that sometimes memories are all we have.

Flowers for Ann*

2009-03-14T07:30:00.000-04:00

Nobody even noticed she was gone until they looked around and realized they hadn’t seen her in years. Occasionally she would flare up and someone would joke “Must be Ann again,” but over the years the flare ups had become so few and far between that it seemed appropriate to say a proper “good-bye” to her.

There was no formal service. Nothing to really mark the occasion. Nobody cried. Nobody even gathered. Just one by one it dawned on the family that Ann had left. She was nowhere to be found.

If there had been a service, I believe it would have been a short one. No pomp & circumstance – quite the opposite of everything Ann represented – but a few people gathering. Probably not even to “pay respects” but to make sure she was not coming back. I prepared this little “Eulogy” for Ann. And I brought her flowers.

Ann:

“Not that it is customary to be happy someone has passed but I must say that I bring these flowers with a bounce in my step and a smile in my heart. For Ann brought our family many years of heartache and sorrows. Every time she visited we had a new crisis to handle. And so today I speak from a place of happiness when I bid farewell to Ann.

Ann was a difficult character. She acted out at sensitive moments because she was scared and lonely. She wanted to love and to be loved with a desperation that many of us can relate to. She kicked, screamed, clawed and cried her way into our lives and, once she had your attention, she wound herself around you and held on with a vise-like grip. Thinking that this was love, or the way to get it.

I don’t mean to sound cruel but I speak truth today. I am happy to see Ann go. May she never come back to where she has been put – hidden away beneath layers of happiness and positive life that have pushed her deep down into our memories. May the scratch of her scream, the rip of her volatility and the pain of her desperation be a thing of our family’s past – to learn from and grow from but never to go back to.

So, Ann, I smile and am happy that you are gone. In your passing may you enjoy these flowers as you never would have when you were here.”

(*Just to be clear: Ann is not a real person, nor even a made up person, she is a personality/alter-ego invented by my family. This is a work of fiction!)

I can see your halo....

2008-11-19T07:30:00.000-05:00

She is my "Biffle" - (on Urbandictionary.com defined as: "Best Friend (s) for Life - BFFL"). She is my best friend. She is a blessing in my life that, until recently, I never even knew I had. She is my "baby" sister. My cheerleader. My inspiration and my light. She is my angel.

There are a great many sisters out there that refer to each other as "best friends". They can site all kinds of events and moments that solidify their relationship. And to have a sister as your best friend is a beautiful thing. To have your baby sister become your hero is amazing. It is inspiring, humbling and enlightening.

Her name is Nicole Julie. She was born just as I was turning 10 - making her a full decade younger than me. She was in diapers when I was hitting puberty. She was singing into a play microphone, watching herself on TV; her wild curls sticking out haphazardly, her little lips twisted up into a pout; as I was starting to discover "cute" boys. She was starting Kindergarten as I hit 10th grade. Sure I loved her but it was a relationship that basically consisted of me taking care of her. Never could I imagine that it would come full circle and at age 18 she would be the one to "take care of" me.

When there are 10 years between you & your baby sister, some things are just expected. I am supposed to love her, protect her and guide her to the right path. I am expected to provide a good example for her to follow. I teach her about life and she learns about it and no one thinks it can be the other way because what could I possibly learn from her when I have already been there, done that? The little sister learns, the older sister teaches. Those are the rules. Or so they say.

But Nicole is not your average "little sister". Right from the beginning she was truly her own person. From the spunky way she would grab everyone's attention and hold it as long as she was in the room to the ways her beautiful mind showed itself even at a young age (President of her school 4th grade and 8th grade). She was a beautiful and unique individual right from the start. Almost as if she knew that she had to make an impression on the world. And it is all effortless. She simply knows who she is and what she wants and she does it or gets it because she can. There is no rebelliousness, no attitude. Just Nicole radiating from beneath her beautiful tan skin, mesmerizing brown eyes and mischievous smile. Nicole Julie. A flip of her luxurious wavy brown hair, a twist of her hips, a whisper of a touch from her hand and she could have you eating out the palm of her hand. No excuses or fear, no trickery or magic. Just a beauty that affects even the coldest person. An intelligence that is limitless.

Being the oldest, I faced everything before her. All the boy problems, all the family problems, all the school problems and especially all the "life" problems. I took it all on my shoulders, hoping to shield my sister from them. I created a world where I was carrying most of the weight and when I finally looked up for some help, when the load became too much to bear, the person I least expected to be offering their hand (for lack of experience, not because I thought she wouldn't help) was Nicole. I always thought it would be my aunt, our other sister, even my cousin whom I was very close to (in age and in spirit). Anyone else, because they "understood" my plight (or so I thought), because they were in my age range or older. But they all turned away. They all left me broken and shattered just when I needed them the most. And Nicole; beautiful, compassionate, intelligent, wise-beyond-her-years, Nicole; she was standing there with her hand outstretched and a smile on her face. As if she had always been there waiting patiently for me to see that she is my angel.

Nicole Julie, my "Biffle" is the reason I have learned to view things from a positive angle. The world can be tumbling down around me and I know that me & my "Biffle" will get through it. There are moments that define your life, there are people who define it too. She is part of both. Knowing that she was born to help inspire me (when she got older) and knowing that I help inspire her has given me new passion to pursue my dreams. Knowing that no matter what I do or don't do I still have this absolutely wonderful sister in my corner; fighting right alongside me, laughing right alongside me, crying (if need be) right alongside me; has taught me that there is nothing I can not accomplish. She has been the biggest blessing I have ever received and I thank my Mom & God every morning and night for bringing her into my life.

The words to accurately describe how much I love this "little girl"-or more accurately-this "young woman" exist and I can sometimes hear them in my head. But they pop like bubbles if I try to put pen to paper for her kind of beauty can not be contained by words. It is rare and unique and shall be seen by all that experience it but can never be written. This may be the closest I ever get to pin-pointing it and even this does her no justice. I could not have dreamed up a better best friend, a better "Biffle" if I had 100 or 1 million years to do so and I am grateful for having been blessed with Nicole Julie in my life. She is my "Biffle".