Wait for It

Patience is a virtue that I have never mastered.  Maybe this impatience is innate, caused by being the baby of the family, but when I want something, I want it now! I want it yesterday. Then the writer in me says, just make it happen. My fate is up to me. I am the author of my story, so write the dialog, write the emotions, breathe it all into life. In writing, I can make the characters to do exactly what I want. Life isn't like that, though. I know how storylines, character development, and plot points work. A story is over before it begins if our protagonist gets everything she wants in the first three paragraphs. It's pointless and boring. She character must struggle, face conflicts, and overcome it all to make it to the final chapter. The good one. The one you endured 365 pages for. The waiting builds dramatic tension, and tension is meatiest parts of the book. The pages you dog-ear and read over again and again. I need a slow burn, a building, not a bright burst that fades. I want embers that never go out, keeping me warm for the rest of my life.

So here I am, practicing patience, maybe for the first time ever. I'm not being demanding. I'm not forcing my hand. (I am internally screaming and stressing. I can only handle mastering one virtue at a time.) I'm waiting, and in the waiting, I am still. In the stillness, I can think. In the thinking, I can decide what is worth the wait and what is not. What belongs to me and what has no place in my life. If something makes it through the waiting phase, and the stillness, and the thinking, it is worth it. It was stronger than my restless mind.

I have never really believed in fate, at least until lately, but there are just some things that happen no matter how much I fight it, no matter how I wasn’t expecting it. I have learned that I have to allow a natural progression to things. I have to let life be organic. Because the things that you don’t expect are often the most beautiful, the most life-changing. Everything you’ve been waiting for. See. I'm waiting.

I can't control how long it will take, but I know it's coming. And I can control how I react. I can remind myself to stay calm, to find joy here in the Waiting Place. The happy ever after doesn't come in the first chapter but on the last page. So I'm willing to wait for it.

Do Not Love Me Gently

Come in like a hurricane, reckless and real,

Demanding to feel everything all at once.

Lay waste to the dry rotted foundation. Destroy it all and rebuild,

A rebirth of everything that was broken and dying.

Pull my hips in like the rushing water of the tide that is called home by the moon,

Like you have no choice, like the coming together is fate. Serendipity.

Morning, noon, and night, coax the shores open, the barriers to the beach. To my heart.

Come in without invitation and pull me back out to you.

Touch my neck, a brush of fingertips, a pressing, a possession.

Let the core of your light leave a mark, but not a bruise, not a hurt.

A sunburn that blanches into an eternal tan of summertime.

Let the sizzle of your sun be brighter than my darkness.  

Be a rollercoaster of my life, full of thrills and stops and starts.

Steal my breath, but revive me, bring everything buzzing to life.

Fill my ribs with the pulsing reverberation of your story, of your truth.

Take everything of me in, let it fill you up until it’s all overflowing, brimming together.

So please don’t love me gently, too soft to feel, too inane, like a plot without a point.

Be a still point in a spinning world, an anchor, but also a fire.

Love me wildly, freely, make me feel it in my bones.

Consume me like the eye of the storm, reckless and real.

Abuse: My Own Personal Voldemort

He didn't come in swinging, instead with vows and silky words. But those promises were pawns, the softness shards of glass. The bend, the break, the hurt wasn't in my bones, but in my soul. In my heart.

Abuse. It's such a lumbering, heavy word. I don't even like to say it out loud. It's my own personal Voldemort. He who must not be named. Because if I give it a name, I give it weight. I don't like to talk about it because I don't like to admit that it was real. That it happened to me. It was my reality for over ten years, and sometimes, even though it's over, it's not.

That's the worst part. He's gone, but he's not. (Don't mistake me. I'm beyond over him. He's nothing to me.) But he's still here inside my head, still taunting me. He gave me a box full of darkness, and sometimes it still eats me alive, blots out the sun. How do you exorcise a demon as slippery as a cuttlefish that sloshes ink into your veins every time you try to catch him? It's a daily thing, the shutting out of his vicious, cycling words.

So, I can't be afraid to talk about, scared to say the word abuse aloud. Because it happened, because it hurt, because I healed from it. It will always affect me. It's the reason for my self-doubt, for my anxiety, why I can't sleep through the night. That box of darkness is mine. I'm not afraid to own it. It was freedom and finding what was lost. It forced me to become the best version of myself. It was a gift.

The Bitter Pill

A bitter heart eats its owner. I feel like the bitterness is about to gobble me up whole. There will be nothing left but the anger and darkness. I've stayed positive for so long, but I'm tired. I'm afraid that soon I won't be able move because bitterness sits on my chest like an anvil. Joy is as slippery as a cuttlefish, almost impossible to catch. I used to be a ray of freaking sunshine. Glasses were half-full, rain clouds meant rainbows, and I had the audacity to hope. But over the last few years, I have learned that life is hard, and sometimes shit just happens. All the doors and windows are locked up tight and I'm suffocating without fresh air. Clouds are full of rain and storms. God is often silent, even when you cry His name.

I'm trying to find happiness in everyday, but I'm honestly just too worn down. And I get so, so angry that I have to do this all alone. Believe me, I'm happily divorced, and my family is great, but I'm irate that my boys' dad doesn't do anything for them. Not even a phone call on their birthdays. He's faded out of their lives, leaving me to pick up the slack, to be a mother and a father, when some days I don't even have what it takes to be a decent mom. I yell, I leave dishes undone, I feed them fast food, and sometimes I'm so busy that I have to ask myself if I even hugged my children today.

So I feel sorry for myself. It's not fair. Life wasn't supposed to turn out like this. I was supposed to be given a reward for all the bullshit I was dealt. I was supposed to fertilize and grow a garden from all the literal crap life has thrown at me. When do I get a break or something good? I know a lot of people have it worse. Believe me, I know. This is my pity party and I'll cry if I want to.

And don't get me started on the garbage can men out there. I try to stay far, far away from them, but somehow one always slithers in. I'm dumb enough to think that maybe this time it will be different. But it's never different. It's always the same POS man dressed in a different skin suit. I'm so done. I'm about to be eaten alive by my own warranted bitterness. Is happiness somewhere hidden in the heartache? How do I find light again? Or is life just hopelessness and getting to the end of the day?

Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?

You remember that Paula Cole song from 1996, right? "Where is my John Wayne? Where is my prairie song? Where is my happy ending? Where have all the cowboys gone?"  I feel ya, Paula. Cowboys (or lumberjacks, if you prefer) Cowboys are real men. There's something so attractive about a man who takes care of business, pays his bills, and loves his children, but lately, I've been wondering just where the fresh hell all the cowboys are. I'm still happy I broke up with my boyfriend. I'm not sad it's over. I'm relieved. But I am disappointed. In him, in my last boyfriend(s), in my ex-husband, and in men in general. I know there are good men out there, but are they either married or trapped in a black hole. 

Or am I just a sucker who keeps falling for the same selfish man-child in a different body? What really gets to me is that fact that I fell for it. I ate up the sugarcoated crap he fed me. I fell for it again. Again! I thought I was evolved. I thought I had figured out what I did and didn't want in a man. Maybe I'm doomed to repeat patterns. I go back to what I know, be it good or bad. A vicious cycle. Round and round I go. The only way to stop it, is to get out of the ever turning ring of fire. And I am out. 

I just have a hard time figuring out why these boys won't be men. The men I keep dating want to be better men, and that's the part that gets to me. The potential. But potential doesn't mean anything when there is no action behind it. These men are stuck, floundering around in mediocrity. I will never be happy with someone who is satisfied at the bottom when I will never accept less than the top. I'm all burned out on relationships, like for forever. I honestly aspire to be a cat lady. Within the next year, I'll be able to buy a house again. I will fill it with my boisterous boys and all the cats I can handle. I will be the Alpha cat and I will be happily alone. Does anyone want to buy a compound with me and live independently? Maybe start an Amazonian society, where we only bring men in to fix the plumbing and kill snakes?

I am happy alone, but yet, I keep waiting for my happy ending, even though I know there is none. I've read too many books, where it all comes together in the end. Those plot devises work, the climax has merit, and every bad thing lead to something great. The cowboy comes home and saves the day. But we do not live in a fairytale. We wake up early, make coffee, go to work, raise our children, and pay our bills. There are times when the sunset is the beauty we've been looking for, when the rain clouds produce rainbows. Then there are times when life is meaningless or it hurts to breathe. But we keep on going, with or without our cowboys, because we are survivalists. I don't expect a brain surgeon or a millionaire, just live up to your full potential. Strive to be better every day. Be the best you. Never settle, with life or love or happiness. Demand the best. You are worth more than you know. You deserve it. Be your own cowboy(girl) cause no one is riding in on a trusty stead at sunset to save the day.

A Free Bird and Feeling Fries from the Other Side

I know you all are waiting with baited breath to know what happened, so sit back, grab a bowl of popcorn, and listen up. I feel like since I put it all on Facebook, you have every right to know the truth. Maybe it will help someone else, maybe this entry will provide entertainment, or maybe it will just help me work through it. No matter what, I'm always ready to over-share with you.

I have always been a free bird and like it that way. I'm an incredible person. I have a body that won't quit and breasts that men only dream exist. I'm beautiful inside and out. I'm funny, kind, thoughtful, and smart. I've been through a lot and always come out on the other side in good humor. I have never needed a man to be a complete person. Sure I like a companion, and this is. . . because I really, really enjoy (Keep it clean, Lauren) . . . giving and receiving back rubs. I want to be mad at myself or sad that it's over, but I'm not. I did the breaking up. I have always preferred to be single. No one is better company than me, myself, and I. I have a full, happy life. I have an abundance of friends, a beautiful family surrounding me, and two incredible children that I am extremely proud of. I have a career I love and a school that is a family for me and my children.

So what happened? I thought you were in lllooovvveee. I was. He treated me and my kids well. We had fun together, but there was always something holding me back a little. I kept one foot on the floor.  I've written about my trusty gut before. She never lets me down. Sometimes I ignore her, but she is annoyingly always right. When I was staying with him during Christmas Break, I felt a shift in the tectonic plates of the relationship. Things weren't adding up, red flags, they were flying, smacking me right in the face. I'll keep the details to myself, but something happened, and in an instant, my feelings changed. I was woke and couldn't go back to sleep. That surprised me. How can I turn it off so quickly? Am I a robot? Am I bitter? Nope. I am smart.

So this weekend, I will eat a lot of what I call Feeling French Fries, drink a few bottles of wine, and sing loudly along with Beyonce's Lemonade. Middle fingers up, hands high. Point 'em in his face. Tell him boy, bye! I honestly feel bad for him because he lost the best thing he's ever had. But I don't feel bad for myself. I dodge the proverbial bullet. I made it out alive. I always will. I ain't sorry.

The night my heart checked out of it, I had a dream, a very vivid dream that I couldn't deny. I saw what was going to happen if I stayed. He isn't the man for me. I felt it. I saw the someone else. I also had dreams like this before I discovered my ex-husband's infidelities. My gut was talking to me while I slept. I believe in dreams. But I did stick around for a little while longer. Just to make sure, to give my gut some time to really kick me in the butt. I wanted it to work. I wanted to be okay, but my guts were tied in knots and wouldn't let me rest. Please always listen to your gut. Do it for me. Do it for yourself.

How did you get yourself into this? Haven't you been through this before? I have this habit, good or bad, of seeing the goodness in people, of letting it shine through the flaws. I believe everyone to be good and honest at heart. Sometimes I worry that the way I love people will get me into trouble. I am too loving, too forgiving, and too nonjudgemental. If my best friend killed someone, I would be the person she called to help feed the body to the gators. If I love you, I LOVE you. I will be there with you through anything, even murder. Lol. Is love my fatal flaw? Nah. It has opened my life to the world and the world has shown me love in return. But that does not mean I need to accept being mistreated or lied to. I know the difference between acceptance and taking it. The unicorn turned out to be just a regular old horse with a plastic horn taped to his head. That's the beauty of dating. You can take your time and get to know someone. You have time for the tape holding everything to come loose. The exit door is right there, your running shoes are on your feet, and all you have to do is speak up and say that's enough. BYE!