I saw a headline this morning that said “Internet Apocalypse to come with next solar storm.” I didn’t see the word internet when I glanced at the headline and my first thought upon learning that we are in for an apocalypse was that it seemed about right.
I saw this headline right before I dropped my daughter off at school. I arrived as they were shutting the door for parent drop off at the back of the building so I went around to the front.
When I arrived at the front I was told that I couldn’t drop her off there. So, naturally, I had to go fetch the helicopter and air drop her onto the roof. I was hoping for a little practice time before her first jump but she’s 13 so it was time to woman up.
As I drove away from the school a little perplexed, I thought it might be a nice time for an apocalypse.
The world is a dumpster fire and anyone interested in trying to put it out is standing on the outskirts with tiny hoses and poor water pressure.
I’m barely able to comprehend the world we live in these days and I’m 46 years old.
How’s everyone else doing? We all need to check in with each other and we need to check in with our kids.
They’re hyper aware of the world around them and still have undeveloped brains so I can’t imagine their feelings.
So I offer this prayer today….
Dear Sweet Baby Jesus in the manger,
I’m reading here that you will “come again.” It’s time. We’re not ok down here.
Have you ever had anyone ask you something that started with the phrase, “If you were me”?
That always makes me nervous. I don’t like pretending to be in someone else’s shoes. It’s uncomfortable. Half the time, I don’t know what I would have truly done in their situation and most of the time I’m sure that what works for me probably doesn’t work for others.
And yet…here I am asking you to put yourself in someone else’s shoes. This post is going to be all over the place, and I’m sorry. If we have a difference of opinion on this topic, I hope you respect my right to think differently, as I respect yours.
I’m going to lose some friends today. And that’s something I’ve made peace with. There comes a point in your life when you can’t stay silent anymore. When staying silent equates to spewing hatred so if you don’t want be my friend after this I’m sorry but I can’t keep my mouth shut anymore.
At first I blamed my paranoia on The Handmaid’s Tale. I mean…how many episodes can one watch without starting to feel a little uneasy about the perilous state of human rights.
Then I watched with my own two eyes as the state of Texas built a time machine, went back in time and took the freedom of choice away from women.
I don’t feel like this is paranoia anymore. I know other states have heartbeat rules for abortion but, if I’m not mistaken, most of those states are facing actions which could invalidate those rules.
Not Texas.
They took away a woman’s right to choose whether or not she wants to be pregnant. The most personal choice a woman can make.
I just don’t understand.
So, if you were a rape victim who found out she was carrying the fetus of her attacker, would you carry that fetus to term even if meant sacrificing your own mental health to do so?
Let’s go one step further…imagine your daughter has come to you. She was raped. She is trying to move past it. Six weeks and one day after her brutal attack, she discovers she is pregnant.
Now imagine that she can’t function. She becomes depressed. She can’t bare to be in her own skin knowing that she is carrying the fetus of a monster inside of her.
Desperation grows until she decides the only way out is to end her own life. Do you say to her, “Sorry, sweetie. You’re out of time.” Would you sacrifice your child’s life to save the life of the unborn?
If you were them…what would you do? At 25 years old, I terminated a pregnancy. My first husband and I were trying to have a baby and I was thrilled when I found out I was pregnant.
And then I knew something was wrong. I knew the baby wasn’t healthy. I could feel that something was off. So I went to the doctor and every other day for weeks upon weeks, I got my blood drawn to check my hormone levels.
It was almost 6 weeks after discovering I was pregnant that I was told I had to terminate the pregnancy or risk losing my reproductive organs. So I took the medicine to end my pregnancy.
The baby was never going to survive and if I hadn’t terminated, I would, at the very least, lose a Fallopian tube or an ovary, and, at the very worst, die.
Imagine a world where I wouldn’t have been allowed to do that. A world where I didn’t go on and have my two daughters. If you are telling me that a world without them in it would be better than having an abortion, then you can fuck off. You can fuck off from the top to the bottom. From the beginning to the end. From side to side and all around. Fuck all the way off.
I can hear the defense now…but they allow abortions for health reasons.
For now. For now they allow that. This is a slippery slope. They allow it for physical health reasons not for mental health.
It’s murder, says the religious right. We have to stop the murder. I am telling you right now, if you are hearing a voice that tells you to harass, threaten, scare and terrify those who are having to face this difficult decision, then it is not the voice of God that you are hearing.
That is the voice of the devil telling you it’s your job to judge.
We are not to judge others.
I can hear people screaming in anger that abortion should not be used as birth control. I agree. I agree 100%. I’m sure the majority of woman do.
Are there women who do use it as a form of birth control? Sure. That’s an unfortunate product of being given the right to chose.
A lot of people I know feel strongly about the right to bear arms. I’ve been told that it’s not the guns that kill people. It’s people that kill people. And yet they don’t want their gun rights taken away.
Tell me how the right to choose whether to be pregnant is any different. And yet that right has been taken away for those women in Texas. The ones who don’t find out until they are too far along.
The rape victims. The victims of incest. The other woman who for whatever reason don’t want to be pregnant. It’s not my job to judge them.
It’s our job as human beings to be kind to one another. To forgive others. I can’t understand the world anymore. I was raised to believe that Jesus wanted me to love everyone.
What you do for the least of my brothers, you do for me. When did that stop being true? We only tear each other down.
We name call and play the blame game. I am a Christian. I believe that Black Lives Matter, I believe in supporting those who protect us but not the ones who abuse that power. I am an ally to LGBTQ + community. I can be a Christian and be all of those things. That is what Jesus taught me. To love everyone. To leave the judgement to him.
I understood the assignment. I will not judge. I will not pretend to know what another woman is going through. I will not sit back and allow old, white men to tell me what to do with my body. They do not judge me.
So, let me end this by saying, I am done being quiet. If you have a problem with me now, so be it. I’m taking to the streets on October 4th.
And until then…get your fucking hands off my uterus.
If you happened to see me this afternoon banging on my steering wheel while singing All Too Well by Taylor Swift at the top of my voice…no, you didn’t.
Wait…actually, you did.
I won’t be a part of the culture that tells us we shouldn’t feel what we feel. That our feelings, if not considered appropriate or confusing, should be kept under cover.
I’m having confusing feelings as of late. About what, you ask?
I know you didn’t ask but I’m going to tell you anyway.
Irrational feelings of anger towards my ex (not husband). We broke up seven months ago and I can count on one hand the times I’ve been angry in the months following the break up. And I would only need a one-fingered hand to count.
The prompting of this irrational anger was hearing from an unnamed source that he was dating.
Here comes the irrationality…I am in a new relationship. Really new but a healthy and happy one.
So why, if I am happy do I feel such anger? Am I that petty? Do I really want another human being to be miserable? No, of course I don’t. I’m not bitter but I am, however, one truly pissed off woman.
I’ve processed these feelings and came up with the following explanation. It is completely normal to feel like this. And maybe that’s the lesson I want everyone to take from this blog. Feelings don’t need to be apologized for.
I feel what I feel so deal with it. I’m saying that more to myself than anyone else. I’m giving myself permission to feel what I feel without guilt.
There is nothing more dangerous to the sanity of a person than being told not to feel something because it’s wrong. Sure, there are exceptions but I’m talking about the normal feelings we have.
My immediate reaction to being so angry was that it meant I wasn’t happy in my current relationship.
Wait…hold up…I said to myself. Let’s unpack that statement. I am happy. I’m really happy. We have a wonderful time together. We talk about anything and everything. He challenges me. He’s stable. He’s kind. He’s an amazing father. He’s a man of integrity and character.
So, it’s simply not true that I am angry because I’m unhappy. Moving on…
I must be angry because I want my ex back. I don’t even need to unpack that bag. I’ll just throw the whole bag off a bridge. I do not want to get back together. I ended it for very valid reasons and have no desire to place my heart nor my mind in that situation again. I can go my whole life without being lied to again and it will be too soon. Two years of consistent lying makes it easy to walk away.
So, that’s not the reason either.
What I’ve landed on, and this could change but I don’t think so…he is about to be the person I wanted him to be for someone else after I waited two years for him to be that person for me.
After sitting with this feeling for a while, I’ve realized that’s it’s simply not true. Leopards don’t change their spots. Is that unfair? Yes, he could possibly change but I don’t believe he will ever be the person I wanted him to be because that person doesn’t exist inside of him.
He is who he is to me. Whatever he is to her doesn’t matter. I have no idea her expectations or deal breakers in relationships.
I will have no idea what will happen in that relationship and thank the good Lord above for that. Ignorance is bliss.
So, I will lay in my hammock and be angry for a little bit. It will fade. And I won’t feel guilty because my feelings are valid.
And to the new woman in his life..good luck. May he be for you what you need and want. For me, I want more than what he could give. And for that reason, I smile at knowing that I am knowing I am no longer in a relationship that didn’t work for me.
And for anyone feeling like they shouldn’t be feeling a certain way…screw it. You are who you are and that’s ok.
It’s been a long time. I mean… a really long time. I think I might have forgotten how to write but I’m going to give it a shot.
The only reason I decided to post today was because….you guessed it….God called. I felt the need to write. Maybe someone needs to hear what I have to say or, most likely, I need to keep what I’m thinking in a tangible place for reference.
See, God called me. In fact, he called me for about six months and do you know what I did? I hung up. Can you imagine? What if it had been God actually calling me on the phone? Would I have dared to hang up on him? Absolutely not! So, why would I ignore a consistent thought he put into my head every day for six months?
Well, to be honest, I didn’t believe it was His thought. Why would God want me to quit a job where I spend my day helping children with special needs? It made absolute zero sense to me. I couldn’t comprehend why I was having these thoughts. I blamed it on myself. The self talk I was engaging in was awful. I was telling myself I was lazy and a quitter.
I truly believed that it was my own negative thoughts telling me to leave as opposed to a divine thought from God. Can you guess what happened next? God needed to get my attention. And he did it in a big way. He made me so uncomfortable that I had no choice but to really listen to what I was being told.
I fought Him every step of the way, holding on to what I thought I was supposed to be doing, in order to do my will. And then He put me in a position where I could no longer ignore Him.
He literally sent someone to push me. When you literally get pushed and punched out of your job, you finally listen to what is being said and accept it. And, so I did.
The immediate relief I felt made no sense but I realized that I didn’t need it to. I am to do what I believe He is calling me to do. He led me to a place, several months ago, where I am blessed spiritually. Maybe this is where I need to be right now. Maybe it is time for me to choose to be fed spiritually instead of being starved. Maybe God is telling me to be kind to myself.
So, I am. It will not be easy. There are days I doubt my decision but then I sit still and listen. It is always the same message I hear. Sit in the pain for a little bit to get to walk in happiness later. I will struggle financially. I will live with the image of 22 sad faces in my head. There is nothing that can make you break down faster than a group of five year olds crying over your leaving.
At the end of the day, I believe that I need to go where I am being called. It’s not for me to decide. The only decision I know I must make is to stay on the phone when God is calling me.
Have you ever said something to someone, an off the cuff comment, and later wondered if you actually believed it? I did this the other day. I made a comment about love and later really began to think about whether I was speaking my truth or coming from an emotional place.
I have never been a fan of fairy tales. I never wanted my kids to watch Disney Princess movies. When my oldest was six, I took her to see the local high school’s production of Cinderella. When we left, I told her two things:
(1) Never kiss a boy when you don’t know their name.
(2) Everything you just saw was a lie.
A little harsh. I get it. It’s the way I feel…or felt. Jury is undecided.
But am I throwing the baby out with the bathwater? Am I dismissing the idea of a great, passionate, all consuming love? Am I teaching my girls that they should not be swept off of their feet by a man or woman, if they choose?
Love is not a fairy tale. Love is hard. Marriage is even harder. If you are lucky, you will love each other intensely. If you are lucky, you will fight with each other intensely. This has been a hard concept for me to understand.
I’ve always thought love should be really easy. No fuss. No mess. But when you think about it, what is the opposite of love? Guess what, it’s not hate. It’s indifference. Hate means you are still invested. Still care. When you stop feeling these things, it might be too late.
I’m certainly not advocating a life with someone who abuses you, emotionally or physically. I’m advocating for a life with someone who makes you feel things. Good things. Bad things. Just feel. Someone who makes you believe that the mad, passionate, all consuming love is out there.
So, don’t settle for mediocre in life. Really don’t settle for mediocre love. Love should be passionate and drive you crazy. Maybe it should be Cinderella and Beauty and the Beast. The end is just the beginning.
Cinderella might be sitting in her castle right now; pissed that her Prince didn’t put his dishes in the sink. But the next time she passes by the kitchen and sees them in there she probably gets the same rush she did when he put the slipper on her foot.
Beast might have gone out last night, had too much to drink, turned back into an animal and shed all over Belle’s yellow dress. But when he comes up behind her later to say he’s sorry, I bet they have the best make up sex ever.
Lesson of the day for my girls: Don’t settle for less than the person that makes the mundane moments of life something you look forward to with a passionate heart. Find the person you can talk to for hours, argue with for hours, make love to for hours.
It won’t be roses and wine for the majority of your lives together, but you should always want them to be the one carrying the rose between their teeth and uncorking the wine for you before you even ask.
So, I’m going to try and say goodbye to my cynical definition of love. Try to embrace my new definition and teach my children it’s all right to want crazy, mad and passionate.
Four years ago, if I had sat down to write a blog about the new year, it would have been full of silly notions of what I wanted to accomplish. That changed three years ago. My education in suicide began on December 30, 2012.
I was on the outskirts of the first suicide that impacted my life. It was happening to people I knew. People I loved. Friends. I didn’t know him. I knew what he meant to those that I cared about. I knew enough about him from those that loved him to know that he was kind and loving. A son. A grandson. A friend.
What I didn’t know on December 30th was that my experience with suicide was not over. I didn’t know that on the day I returned from the funeral of that kind boy I would be thrust from the outskirts to the center. The man who took his own life on the day I watched my friends bury their son was my friend. I knew him. I knew what he meant to those who loved and cared about him because I loved and cared for him.
Since that day, I have thought of suicide more than most of the population. I think about it more than someone who has never known someone who completed suicide. I think about it less than those who have lost a child, a husband, any family member to it.
I’ve learned from my experiences. And this is what I want to share as we begin another year. Or you begin even another day.
Those that suffer from depression and mental health issues are not weak. They have a disease that can be treated. If you have a “gut feeling” that someone you know may be struggling, speak up. Don’t be under the mistaken impression that they would never attempt suicide. Let them know that there is help available. Let them know that they matter. Don’t ignore what you are feeling. Don’t hesitate to feel like a fool suggesting to them that they need help.
I’ve learned that suicide is not about being selfish. It’s not about taking the easy way out. Suicidal depression is about trying to make the pain and the hurt go away. You want to end what you are feeling and you want to ease the lives of those around you because you think you are a burden.
Since the beginning of the new year, I have already learned of one suicide from a friend. It is January 6th. My only resolution for this year is to spread the word that suicide is preventable and it is my business. It is everyone’s business.
I don’t think there is enough adequate warning for how random my thoughts are going to be today. It all began last night when I started watching Spanglish and ended this afternoon as I sat in Panera trying to work on a way to incorporate juggling, ball walking, sword swallowing, and contortionists into a dance number.
Let’s get going. I have an attraction to Adam Sandler which for the most part leaves my friends completely confounded. I don’t blame them for not understanding. I don’t really understand to tell you the truth. In his more serious roles, he has a vulnerability that I appreciate.
So, last night I got on Netflix and turned on one of my favorites, Spanglish. How cute is he in this? Doting, devoted dad who is also a chef. I can’t take it. My love for Adam Sandler is not the point of my story. He says something to Flor. Something that stuck with me.
And it was not that beautifully written monologue where he tells Flor of his feelings. No, he says to her….if someone like you thinks that you are at a crossroads, then you are. Or something like that.
Do we recognize when we are at a crossroads in our life? I can think of only two times I really found myself questioning and wondering what I was doing and where my life was headed. First, after college. That’s a given. You’ve spent 18 or so years with your parents, 4 years with your friends and now you are an adult. Really, on your own. You’ve chosen a career, hopefully, and just praying that somehow you haven’t fucked up every decision that has led you to adulthood.
The second was after my divorce. Husbandless, childless, creeping towards 30. Enough said.
Lately though, I find myself on the brink of something. My husband might call it insanity. Truth be told, I call him crazy for putting up with me. I think it is a combination of events that has led me here. To the proverbial fork in the road.
Without a doubt turning 40 confused me. I’m not calling myself old. I am just not as young as I once was. When you realize that both your 20s and 30s are over, it can be a little….jolting. Combine that with the fact that my kids are also getting older. Now, before the mommies out there start harping on the fact that my kids need me more than ever, let me say….I know that. I’m not all suggesting that I’ve stopped parenting because they are more self sufficient. I am simply saying that I have more free time these days because they don’t need me to do every little thing for them.
Hell, my 11 year old cooks dinner for us. I am not constantly running after little children making sure they are not going to hurt themselves. I field questions like can I go there? Can she come over here? Why isn’t the wifi working? All while eating homemade vegetable lo mein that the redhead has whipped up after school.
I have time. My kids go to school full time. I’m at home. Now, I work. I have three very random jobs and they keep me occupied most of the time. But can I tell you what it’s like to be a writer? Lonely. Except for the conversations I have with the characters in my head I don’t likely speak to another person for 8 hours a day. It’s isolating and can cause you to really examine your life.
All of this ran through my head this morning before I got out of bed all because I watched Spanglish. And to really rub salt in the wounds I had a dream last night that I was making out with Ryan Seacrest underneath is radio dj desk thing. I didn’t even dream of Adam….Sandler or Levine…doesn’t matter to me.
Ready for the next random part of my story? I came to Panera this afternoon to eat soup and work on the next musical I am choreographing. As I sat there, sipping and thinking about if I could find someone to juggle while walking on giant balls, I began to think about the crossroads Adam Sandler spoke of.
I am standing. In the road. In front of the fork. Part of me just wants to turn around and go back the way I came. The rational part knows that can’t happen. Life keeps moving forward. The problem I’m having is knowing what lies on each path. I don’t know. Does anyone? Probably not unless they are trying to decide on something specific….job choice, marriage, etc.
As I was contemplating this thought, I was brought back to reality by an older couple praying over their lunch. They held hands, said their prayer and ate in companionable silence. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t that they had nothing to talk about it. It was that they chose to sit and eat. It blew me away. I don’t even pee anymore without checking my phone.
At the end of the day, end of the month, end of the year, end of my life I want to sit with people who love me. In silence if I choose. In loud obnoxious laughter. I want to watch sunsets and sunrises. I want to travel. I want to listen to really good music. I want to watch my kids be happy in life. I want to be content. So, my point if I have one, which is looking doubtful, is that does it matter which path I choose as long as I meet the right people along the way?
Yesterday, I did what I do every two weeks; I went to the nail salon and got a manicure. I’ve been doing this, fairly regularly, for the last 4 or 5 years. And for all of those years, I have seen one technician. For the first few years, I didn’t know his name. I sat in the chair, played on my phone, texted, talked to the people next to me. We would smile at each other. Never really speaking. Other than the obligatory hello, thank you and goodbye.
About a year ago, I brought my girls in to get their nails painted and he was wonderful with them. I asked if he had children and he told me had two sons. From then on, I learned more about him each visit. His wife works with him. They like to take the kids to the beach.
Now when I go in we talk the whole time. Asking each other about our lives, the holidays, the weather. Normal, polite, chit chat.
Until yesterday. I sat down in his chair utterly defeated. For reasons, I don’t even want to get into, I am defeated right now. Tired, grumpy, irritable, blah. A product of my own doing.
He began his usual routine and when I looked up at him, he asked me, “What do you want for Christmas?”
“Peace,” I answered truthfully.
“A quiet day?” he asked.
“No. Peace inside,” I said.
He thought this over for a minute and said to me, “I stopped picking up my phone when I was bored. I have peace.”
I sat staring at him, speechless. Wondering what prompted him to share this with me. And then I realized that he sees me every few weeks, come in, pick up my phone, waste my time, and all the while looking exhausted and defeated when I get off of the phone.
He asked if I had ever delted social media and I told him I had for a few months a few years ago. “What did you do instead of picking up your phone,” he said.
I remembered back to those few months and answered, “I prayed.”
“How did you feel?”
“Peaceful,” I said.
I left feeling like I had just been through an hour of therapy except I saved a couple hundred dollars and my nails looked fabulous to boot.
I can’t delete social media these days. Future book sales depend on it. I have to cultivate a base of support before publishing houses will even look at me.
But it makes me wonder what it would be like if I could go back again. Delete it all. I would miss my friends that I do not speak to on a regular basis. Miss seeing what they are doing. I would miss….ummm….give me a minute. I’ll think of something else.
If I took away all the distraction, what would I discover about myself? Would I fall back in love with this life I created? Would I feel rested? Secure? Confident? Peaceful?
Or would I come to admit that when all the noise is gone, I’m not the person I should be? Would I have to face my flaws? Could I handle the silence?
I stumbled across this on Instagram the other day. No idea who authored it. Only 17 words and 3 puncuation marks and yet it made enough of an impact on me to save it, ponder it and, now, write about it.
The first two words jumped off my screen; capturing my attention immediately. Your mission. My first thoughts….my mission? I have a mission. I have a mission? Do I have a mission? I don’t think I have a mission. I don’t have a mission, do I? I don’t have a mission. No mission for me. Nope. <Anyone who knows me well knows this is how fast my brain works all the damn time>
Be so busy. Next thought…nailed it. I couldn’t get any busier if I tried and, trust me when I tell you, I’ve tried. One husband, two kids, one dog, 11 chickens, two rabbits, two cats, three jobs, one blog, one obsession for poetry writing, and a partridge in a pear tree. Had to throw in a Christmas reference. Sorry and let me issue this warning now…a Christmas blog is coming.
I barely have time most days to sit and just be. Without thinking. Without wondering what else I could be doing or should be doing. So I’ve nailed the “being so busy” part.
Loving your life. Oh….be so busy loving your life. Had to stop and think about that one. I do love my life. I have been blessed with incredible people to love, a roof over my head, food on my table, coffee at the ready, dancing, writing. I could go on. And on. And on. I’m grateful.
But, what stopped me in my tracks, what made me sit and think about this picture, was the the next thought that entered my mind. Am I so busy loving my life? Or am I so busy doing other things that I fail to appreciate all the little wonders that appear before me every day?
Shit. There’s a real possibiltity that the question I asked myself could be answered with a resounding yes. When was the last time, I woke up in the morning, sat on the couch, coffeee in hand and enjoyed the fire in front of me. Can’t remember.
When was the last time I walked along the trail and stopped to take in the sights, smells, and sounds. Well, let’s see. There was that one time…no…wait. Just the other day I stopped and…nope. I’m usually thinking aobut how I should be running or should be home doing something else.
So far, I’m failing. Mission – nope. Busy – yes. Busy loving your life – nope. Fuck. Sorry. I really try not to curse but I can’t help it. I’m never good at editing myself in person and even though when I write I possess the power to backspace and delete, I don’t. It’s me. Get over it.
Moving on….you have no time for hate, regret or fear. I don’t hate. I used to. I hated people and certain situations. It took getting older and wiser to realize that having hate inside of you only does damage to your internal happiness not to anyone externally.
Regret. Double edged sword for me. I try to live my life without feeling regret. And I can say that I rarely ever regret my actions. I act on my gut. In the moment. Doing what feels right. Trying to experience everything that is put in my path.
What I do regret is how my actions affect others. Or is it effect. As long as I live I will never get those two right. I do regret when I’ve hurt others because I haven’t thought about how my regret free actions impact those who have chosen to love me.
Fear. Yikes. I fear. I fear all the time. I fear the tangible. Heights. Bugs. Birds. I fear what I cannot touch. I fear failing. I fear being hurt. Hurting others. I’m a walking contradicition, I know. I fear letting people in who can change my life. I fear change.
I’m all right with all of this because I try not to let the fear stop me. That’s where the no regrets part comes in. My desire to live life without regret outweighs my fears.
At the end of the day, I’m not nailing this mission. Yes, I’ve made it my mission. I’m doing the best I can. I am a work in progress. I’m okay with that.
A Girl and Her Goat 