S.O. get this newsletter called “Inspirations”

Sometimes, they are crap you have read in any self-help book or in some forward from Aunt Dippy-Doo or whatever. Sometimes they are actually poignant and sort of arrive at just the right time. I don’t believe in coincidences (I think I’ve said that about 8.5 million times) so I have to believe that messages reach us when we aren’t looking for them but are aware they might arrive anyway.

Anyway, long story short… but not really I suppose, S.O. sent me this last night:

THAT’S THE WAY THE BALL BOUNCES

Legend has it that when India was colonized by the British Empire, the game of golf was introduced to the city of Calcutta. Aside from the usual obstacles, golfers had to contend with an unusual hazard: wild monkeys dropped from the trees and played with the golf balls, tossing them to and fro, and leaving them scattered about.

Although it was inconvenient, the players soon found that the rule had some unexpected benefits. While the monkeys frequently left golf balls in hard-to-play spots, sometimes they actually placed a ball in a better position for the golfer. As writer Gregory K. Jones puts it, “It did not take long before the golfers realized that golf on this particular course was very similar to our experience of life. There are good breaks, and there are bad breaks. Our job is to make a game out of whatever life brings us.”

Today I’m trying to better define my next move in a complicated game and I’m definitely playing with monkeys. Wish me luck.

Broke the news to S.O. that I’ve been off my anti-depressants for 6 days today.

He was actually more excited than I have heard him in a long time. He told me how proud he was of me and how great it was. He also said something about celebrating and making me a nice dinner. It just felt really amazing to get that kind of support.

Julien went to Scarlet’s for breakfast this morning so the girls (Deirdre and Rowan) and I rocked out to 80′s music… actually, we still are as I am writing this. Currently listening to Lisa Stansfield’s “Been Around The World” – *sigh* takes me back to 8th grade when I could still wear a bikini…

Today is one of those days when it feels like big changes are coming and they are mostly for the better. We got two more orders in and that means we can pay for our e&o insurance and still have a bit left over to keep the business account floating and able to pay business expenses for a while. If things keep going like this – even just 4 orders a month we can keep breathing and buying bottled beer.

What I want to believe more than anything is that the past several weeks have been the final “darkness before the dawn” – do you hear that little hopeful Pollyanna trying to poke her head out from under the bed?

Soooo, bankruptcy is over now I guess. Now we make our payments monthly and move on with our lives, I guess. I think… I’m not entirely sure since the credit union is arguing over the value of the car and now our car has to be appraised. Ha.

I keep trying to get out but this b/k thing keeps it’s claws firmly embedded and continues to drag me back in.

As any good neurotic would, I came home from court wound for sound as they say and proceeded to unleash the evil “Mommy Dragon” from her cage where I keep her carefully chained… most of the time.

Julien and I got into it. Deirdre was quiet, dodged the bullets and then came into my room later to watch Memphis Beat with me. Rowan, as always is completely oblivious for the most part. She prefers to think the world revolves around her and when something doesn’t coincide with that she ignores it.

Now it’s Thursday and S.O. is off until Wednesday. I’m actually excited about that as things have been much better lately. I’m looking forward to some family time, movies, etc. S.O. is calling it our “anti-vacation vacation” since we aren’t going anywhere.

Sunday is the 4th of July (duh!) and we decided to tone the party down a bit, keep the guests to a minimum and opt for an old-fashioned bbq with burgers, dogs, macaroni salad, chips, dips and homemade ice cream. We’re going to get a modest box of fireworks enjoy them in the front yard with our neighbors and then head back to the back yard to watch a movie and eat ice cream.

Of course, I’m not inviting my friend or her grabby, pig of a boyfriend this year either. And yes, they are still together. Still not even close to being engaged and she is still hanging on with all 10 fingernails. I haven’t spoken to her in over a year. She’s on my FB so I occasionally see pics of their rather trashy existence together. Blech. Really glad that both are gone.

The kids and I have been doing a late “spring cleaning” on the house. I just felt like I needed a change around here so furniture got moved, thrown out, and rearranged. I’m still working on some organizing and I need to get a good system down for Rowan since I’m going into the next year of home schooling well aware of what I’m in for. I finally got a filing cabinet drawer cleared out to dedicate just to Rowan’s school work! It should make things much easier for next year.

Of course, just as I start to reduce our business stuff and get used to the idea that our business is in a coma for the foreseeable future – a client calls. The phone hasn’t rang in two months and a client calls with an order. Not only that but he says he has two more next week. This particular client is as loyal as the day is long and S.O. has been his go-to guy any time he can actually choose his “go-to” person.

I don’t know how I feel about that. I know I should be grateful for the work (and money) and I am. I also acknowledge possible signs the Universe is throwing in my direction. Sometimes you get lucky and get bashed over the head with it and maybe that’s what this is… let me explain.

When we went to b/k court we saw one of the former head honchos for a BIG client we used to have – he was filing bankruptcy. We didn’t talk to him but it was bizarre to run into him when we practically NEVER run into any of our clients around town.

On the way out of bankruptcy court we got a call from the other client that we got the order from.

All of this was the day before our final data source (and our last regular bill for the business) was set to expire.

And then as we rounded the corner coming home we crossed paths with S.O.’s former boss at his job (the one he left to start our business) – the guy was always a weasel and he was obviously cutting through our neighborhood (his neighborhood is about 3 miles away) sneaking home from his current job on his lunch hour. Which, of course, reminded S.O. of why he left all that garbage to begin with.

I personally don’t believe in coincidences. I think coincidences are just a little nudge from above pointing you in a direction or confirming the direction you are going. We had a long talk… and while we have pared down our expenses tremendously, we have decided to keep the business running on just one step above life support. We’ll see what happens…

I suppose I could, but I really don’t want to calculate the number of hours I’ve actually slept this week. It’s wearing on everyone around here. Thankfully, last night was S.O.’s last night on night shift.

These days I’m back to feeling very soul weary. I’m frazzled, I’m short-tempered, my thinking is very fuzzy and I lose my train of thought easily. It would be easy to say “it’s the weekend, catch up on some rest.” I’m really going to try. It’s just that the weekends have become just a larger version of closing the bathroom door for a few minutes of peace and quiet.

The attorney’s office called yesterday. The b/k we thought was filed LAST weekend (after yes, almost 2 years of being in the process) wasn’t filed because there were still some “budget” issues. We have to be back in his office early this evening to sign papers – again.

My time line for righting the majority of wrongs in my life went something like:

– modify the mortgage — file bankruptcy –

Little did I know that would take nearly two years and encompass a lot of little things that had to be done to get to those places. The stress at times has been nearly unbearable and while I felt like I was getting a second wind several months ago I’m now looking at another year half gone and I’m back to feeling very worn down.

Lately I’ve been constantly ranting in my head how I hate my life. That it has become this giant, sticky web of stress. I feel like I fight to get an arm free and realize that in doing so I’ve gotten both my legs stuck and so on and so forth. As a mother I look around and worry at what all of this stress has done to my children. They are good kids, no doubt, but the world in which Rowan is being raised is far different from that of Julien’s and Julien’s was far different from that of Deirdre’s. It’s like each of my children were born into these very different mini-eras of my life. We go through these periods of solidarity into periods of “every man/woman for themselves.”

I think back to a few people who have come by here and mentioned that nothing much has changed. I think of someone who said that they looked at my life and thought, “oh shit, nothing is getting better!” and then started paddling away like a rat from a sinking ship.

And I’m here and while some things are better I still feel like I have a long way to go. I’ve read the books, I know that I am the one in charge of creating my own happiness. I know that even in the shittiest of shit you can find a bit of light and stick it in your pocket.

I also know that life is a shit sandwich and the more bread you have the less shit you have to eat. I’m down to a heel and a half right now and I’m trying to pretend it all still tastes good.

Part of me wonders how much more I can take before I break completely. The other part of me is pretty sure that I’m the human version of cockroaches after a nuclear holocaust.

Wow, I just compared myself to a cockroach.

I almost started this out as if everyone felt the same way. I suppose some people don’t and that’s actually a little sad. Nevertheless, I sat in the bathtub one night, candles lighting up the bathroom providing just enough light to read by but certainly not enough to tell who might be coming through my bedroom door and I thought to myself, sometimes the shit wandering through my head is just a tad too cool to keep to myself.

And so, with the theme to “Highlander” (by Queen, of course, Rowan’s current favorite) blaring in my ears and the scenes from Tim Burton’s “Sleepy Hollow” wandering through my brain I settled into a a mound of bubbles about ear level deep with a brand, spanking, new, freshly unwrapped copy of “Duma Key” in my hands.

Mr .King and I have long been friends, you see. From elementary school when I first encountered “Salem’s Lot” to “The Black House” shortly after Rowan was born when I decided that we needed to part ways for a bit. There was something about the anxiety growing within my chest and the graphic descriptions of children being murdered that were not conducive to the desperate peace I was seeking between my own ears.

At one point, largely pregnant with Deirdre, I contemplated finding a sitter for Julien to creep into a lecture hall at a local university somewhere in mid-Colorado to listen to him speak. It would have been my first steps on a college campus since leaving community college in the armpit of California because the heart of an eighteen year old thought it knew better.

I didn’t… I’ve always regretted it and life goes on.

Still, sitting in the bathtub, iPod blaring in my ears and a heavy novel perched atop my thighs, it occurred to me that it had been years since I had tip-toed through the tulips with Mr. King. I quickly found myself immersed in the tale of a millionaire horribly maimed by an accident and actually felt my heart flutter in my chest.

Somewhere within the bubbles in the tub and the bubbles in the freshly opened bottle of beer, even if only for a few brief moments, I found myself again, lost in a story only yearning for what might come on the next page.

It felt amazing.

I remembered the long forgotten girl who could lose hours upon hours in her bedroom alone reading intently, page to page, cover to cover and never once caring what went on beyond the bedroom door.

That girl had long ago been buried in the rubble of diapers, first teeth, first loose teeth, report cards, teachers meetings, and doctor’s appointments. Yet, somehow in the midst of a meager opening to a story, only twenty pages in, she had clawed her way out and sat rejoicing in the sweetness of fresh air that only a cliched description on an electronic page can describe.

And, my friends, it was glorious, orgasmic, and beautiful.

I hope she hangs around for a while. God knows I need the inspiration.

You might have heard about an interview that Guy Ritchie did where he said Madonna was “retarded.” It’s a polarizing statement that taken out of context appears to be a nasty insult of sorts. Somehow after reading the entire interview the polarizing statement is lost and has little to no meaning whatsoever other than an ex-husband said it about his former wife.

Big deal. We’ve all said worse, just not to Esquire’s entire audience. To be frank, Guy is interesting. I don’t know that I’d want to hang out with him as much as I’d like to be in the same pub listening to him go on about whatever because he has, in my humble opinion, a brilliant take on things. He’s very abstract in his thinking and I like that. I’d love to read something he has written that is more just streaming his own consciousness than an essay, screenplay, or some other sort of crap that is supposed to be something.

Coming to the point, he has three “lines” he “lives with” as he puts it. I don’t suppose you’d call them rules or principles or guidelines, just sort of thoughts to keep in the back of your mind as you are rattling on about whatever it is you think you are passionate about.

Kind of like the bullshit I’m spewing right now. Which is really more just an exercise in putting my thoughts out into the electron oblivion than making any kind of point or impact or impression.

“Here’s the second line: It’s okay to have beliefs, just don’t believe in them.”

“Oh,” I say, glancing out the window. “I get that. That could be my line.”

“You get it?” Ritchie says. “Tell me an example.” I appreciate the challenge, and I’m unafraid of his reaction, even if I have it wrong.

“Well, belief starts out pretty sweet,” I say. “But eventually beliefs must be defended.”

“Right!” Ritchie says. “It’s just a path to the absolute.”

“To fanaticism.”

“Exactly!”

Full article here, I think it’s worth the read.

It’s okay to have beliefs, just don’t believe in them.
I love that. I really do. It’s simple enough and almost sounds a tad pessimistic, but rolling it around a bit and considering it – I think it’s pretty bright and on the mark.

I find it kind of fascinating because because it can be taken a number of ways but I like interpreting it as the idea of just living in your beliefs, existing with them, just being. Certainly not that I’m considering Guy Ritchie to be a life guru or something. But, I think that at any time an interesting thought could come from anyone or anything and then your own mind just kind of plays on it. Sometimes you hear things that make you think a little deeper than you might normally.

This was one of those times for me.

My father-in-law passed away from cancer in 1999 for whatever reason there has always been a spiritual connection there. It’s probably no surprise to you, but I’m a big believer in the supernatural, I’ve seen and heard enough that I know there is more out there than this existence we live in.

When Pops died S.O. and I were fast asleep in bed. We both woke up and stared into the darkness of our bedroom. Quietly my husband said, “He’s gone” and I replied, “I know.” About ten minutes later the phone rang. Pops was gone.

His funeral was held outside. I don’t know if you are familiar with what a mountain wind sounds like. There is a certain sound the wind makes when it blows through a mountain canyon and through the trees. It almost sounds like a voice or a moaning. It’s really beautiful. Pops’ funeral was not in the mountains or anywhere close to them. At one point in the service things were very quiet and a mountain wind blew through the trees.

Over the last couple of years Pops has made his presence known.

Pops made his presence known on Christmas Eve.

The girls were asleep and Julien, S.O. and I were in the kitchen reminiscing. Funny how the holidays, especially Christmas do that to you. S.O. was telling some hilarious stories about his dad. We’d been going on for probably an hour and at 12:01am S.O.’s alarm clock upstairs next to our bed went off.

The alarm had not been turned on and it was actually set for somewhere between 5am and 6am from the last time S.O.had to be up and out of the house really early.

I went upstairs with both Julien and S.O. on my heels. When I got to the bedroom and turned the alarm off the room was icy, icy cold. When S.O. hit the doorway a cold wind blew, as he put it, “right through him” and continued down the stairs.

Merry Christmas, Pops!

Ahhh, here we are roughly 10 months since I went off the anti-anxiety/anti-depressant cold turkey and lost my marbles over Julien’s hospital. I’m currently at 10mg of Celexa twice a week, Tuesdays and Fridays.

Yesterday was the first day of pushing the envelope an extra 24 hours before taking half a pill. Jitters, minor brain “zaps”, and a crying jag or two later and I’m okay but have a PMS headache that makes me want to stab myself in the head with an ice pick.

This morning everyone seemed to be moving through mud just to function. Sure, it’s Wednesday and God knows everyone is looking forward to the 3 day weekend ahead, but there is just a hint of “beaten down” surrounding everyone this morning. Things seem a little off. S.O. hasn’t been able to sleep much past 4am and usually has a headache by 2 in the afternoon. Deirdre has a sore throat this morning, typical for her this time of year and Julien woke up with a toothache.

This was the tooth that we had a root canal done on and then discovered later that the root canal wasn’t effective. In fact, the tooth showed nearly no sign of decay to begin with – basically, it just “went bad” for whatever reason and caused bone loss around the root. Typically, this can be caused by a blow or injury, but Julien didn’t have either so there really is no telling what caused the bone to pull away from the root… but nevertheless, here we are and the entire tooth needs to be removed.

We were moving toward that extraction last fall when Julien was diagnosed with cancer. Cancer took the front seat and the tooth was basically forgotten about. Until now. And, we pay for all of our dental with cash, we can barely get HMO coverage from S.O.’s employer, obviously dental is completely out of the question. Count your blessings, Stella… I know. Believe me, I know.

Still, it isn’t a small “ouch” considering that the oral surgeon’s office quoted me somewhere between $300 and $600.00 for the procedure. It’s frustrating given that the root canal was $1400 out of pocket. If it weren’t for my background in dentistry I’d be super pissed, thank goodness for “insider” understanding, I suppose.

In the grand scheme of things I wonder if I’ll look back and realize that a truck ton of “bad” things happened in a short period of time in order to have an extended period of peace and, fingers crossed, boredom. That would be nice. To think of somehow burning all the bad “karma” up at once. Much like ripping off a band-aid quickly, maybe.

I’d like to think that would be the case. If I were allowed to make a conscious decision about having all the “bad” at once instead of over a period of 20 years I think I would probably have chosen to have it this way, all at once.

When I look around at my life and how rough the last 3 years have really been, I realize now how it has changed my perspective on a lot of things. Not always for the good, obviously. Things have gotten so bad that I have to hold on to irrational hope that somehow I’m burning off a bunch of bad stuff all at once, burning it all down, in order to rebuild something better. I think somehow the mind always manages to find a way to rationalize and make sense of the senseless, the injustice, and the difficult.

When I hit another stress point, another stumbling block, I have to think of it this way. What is the alternative? To believe that somehow I have this cursed existence, that everything in my life has been one domino of doom tipping into the next? That, without argument, the bad has always outweighed the good?

I’m not like that. That’s really not who I am. I’m capable of picking out the good in every situation, counting my blessings. The modern Pollyanna. I try to see the blessings even when I’m in the middle of the shit storm. I try to see where there have been fortuitous circumstances around even the smallest of tragedies. But there is no denying that it takes a toll after a while.

I’m back to exploring my own spirituality. I won’t be able to write about it nearly as eloquently as my dear friend Crys does, but I’m going to do my best with it.

Recently, I rearranged a portion of my family room. I just felt the need. Through the transition there was a definite change in the flow and energy of the room. It felt better, it flowed better. I may change my mind in a few months, but for now it just feels right.

I’ve started and stopped this post so many times that I have no idea what my point is or where I’m going. For now, I’m working on meditating, visualizations, and a lot of prayer. I’m trying to listen and look for signs around me and in nature. To go on my instincts and most importantly to have faith and hope.

For me, hope and faith are sisters. I read somewhere that fear is the opposite of faith. Fear is faith inverted, it’s having faith in bad stuff. It’s so easy to expect the bad things and such a challenge to look for and expect the good. But, it’s a challenge I’m willing to overcome.

I’ve been so fortunate to have people come into my life who are willing to support me and help me try to grow and expand spiritually, to help me see beyond the flesh and physical. It’s not a religious thing, it’s a spiritual thing.

The other night S.O. and I were talking to the kids about signs we’ve seen, felt, heard. Like the night S.O.’s father died. We both woke up at the same time and just laid there in the dark, staring at the ceiling. S.O. said quietly, “He’s gone.” I said, “I know.” It was maybe fifteen minutes later we got the call.

There was the day of his father’s funeral. It was held in a little, podunk town where his father had last lived. It was warm, the cemetery didn’t have a lot of trees. At a pivotal moment in the service a wind blew through that sounded, very much, like the wind blowing through the trees in a mountain canyon. No birds, no other sounds. We knew… we just knew. S.O.’s father was a mountain man, how he ended up in that town was beyond my understanding because it was hell and gone from the mountains he loved. Still, on that day, we heard a mountain wind.

I know that there is more to me than just this flesh and blood. There’s more to be learned, acknowledged, and listened to.

It’s up, it’s down and right now? It’s down again. Sure, not as bad as in the past, but not as good as it should be. Whatever karmic sins I’ve committed are far from being rectified, it would seem.

I give.

Universe! Please note my fist pounding on the mat.

I give. I’m done. Stick a fork in me. I’ll roll over, I’ll play dead. I swear.