Keep Your Damn Hands To Yourself!

Probably the biggest reason I don't often bar hop is that the people I encounter, more often than not guys, are ridiculously drunk and all too free with their hands. It's obnoxious and unwelcome. Absolutely nothing I do invites this personal space invasion. Nothing.

My preference, when I'm out with friends, is to go into wallflower mode as soon as possible. There are exceptions, depending on who I'm with and where we find ourselves, but when making stops at a few places, I like to stand off to the side. Watching interactions and comical events, it's far better to just lean back against a wall and quietly observe.

I've always described myself as outgoing; an extrovert. It appears that I'm selective about when that happens. Most of the time I occupy the fringe. Until someone steps in and yanks me out. I don't appreciate it, at all.

I'd much rather have someone come up and talk to me, instead of coming up and groping me. What's worse is that I literally freeze when I'm cornered this way. I curl up around myself and look for a 'non-confrontational' way out of the situation. In my head, I know I should speak up and move, but I just can't. I hate that my fight or flight response just sits there and tries to wrap around itself. I would have thought that having been brutally raped, facing my rapists in court, and putting together a damn good life despite those things, that I'd be able to defend myself adequately. Instead, I'm a fucking shrinking violet.

My current defense mechanism? Look awkwardly uncomfortable, curl my shoulders in, wrap my arms around myself, and hope the offending party can read social cues. Clearly, I need to find a better way. This doesn't work with drunk people.

Thankfully, my friends rarely leave me to my own defenses and rescue me relatively quickly. At some point, I'd like to be able to hold my own without question. Until then I won't soon give up those caring people who bless me with their friendship, and who flank me dutifully when we venture out at night.

A Little Of This, A Little Of That

Fairly regularly, people tell me I ought to write a book based on the stories and experiences that have filled my years as a hair stylist. In truth, there is more than a book's worth of material. It is something I have considered doing a number of times; I just haven't figured out what format to put it all in.

Good things, bad things, and a whole lot of ooohhhh girrlllllll! things might make a fun read. Of course, I'd want it to be paired with a dos and don'ts list of being a client. For now, I am just jotting down as many things as I remember, and maybe I'll figure out how to package it in a way that people might be interested.

The wonderful, yet difficult thing about writing is the more I do it, the more ideas flood my already crammed full brain. This makes it a challenge to devote uninterrupted attention to any one project. One of the reasons I was able to juggle multiple stories when I worked for a newspaper was because I naturally focus swap. While it worked great for my job as a reporter, it hasn't translated as well in productive writing.

Routine; it comes down to routine and space. A regular frame of time to write and a space that's conducive to focus. Yes, it might sound like excuses, but the reality for someone whose thoughts dart here, there, and everywhere it is an absolute necessity.

I'd say I've got a little finagling to do here.

I Really Think I'm More Of A Warm Weather Pers...Squirrel!!!

I've got this idea, to write a book about something scifi-ish, YA genre. I've made decent headway and the ideas just keep rolling in. I've got to get my youngest to the bus stop for 6:55 tomorrow morning. I hope I can sleep; being at mom's sometimes makes that tough. The whole 'sleeping in a bed that isn't mine and on the wrong side altogether because it feels weird to sleep on 'my' side of the bed" thing really does a number on restful sleep. I can't wait to see Marcy tomorrow! Really miss the kitty cat these days. Cannot believe that father and son argued back and forth about a hair cut and put me in the middle of it today. Hope to gawd the whole drama I've been sucked back into is finally over.

That, up there ^... just a tiny hint at what my brain does on a regular, non-stop basis. Is it any wonder I have a tough time concentrating on writing? Seriously, it's a miracle I manage to get any number of things accomplished with that shit going on. I have little doubt that I'm living with a slight case of A.D.D. Well, that and being a multi-tasking female. Quite a combo.

I've often thought it's a good thing I'm single, since this overactive, obligation and interest driven thought process might leave a significant other or love interest feeling slightly neglected...or at the very least confused. The more I attempt to 'control' my thoughts and tendencies to venture of course, the more side trips my mind finds. I'm surprised that I manage to maintain the friendships I have so well.

Back to writing. My best ideas always seem to come when I am unable to take a moment and write them down. Someday I will figure out how to 'trick' my brain into thinking it's super late and I have to work early, so that I can take advantage of all the awesome material that generates just from lying there relaxed and just seconds away from sleep. It'd be nice to be able to snap right into typing each and every thought down before they disappear into the night. Pen and paper beside the bed sucks out loud. Who the hell isn't going to lose at least half a thought fumbling for the light and adjusting their eyesight to write coherent and legibly? I've found that at least with the Notes app on my iPhone I manage to quickly tap out some of these thoughts and can usually decipher the misspellings the next day.

I'm just rambling now; otherwise known as "I'm experiencing far too many thoughts at one time to communicate any one of them". I hear there is medication for this. Of course that just brings up the whole debate I have with myself about any kind of prescribed 'assistance', since I loathe the idea of putting more chemicals into my body than I already do just breathing and controlling allergies. I swear I'm not neurotic, my brain just never shuts up. I'm fairly certain most people are happy that I've learned how to keep most of that noise to myself. Every so often I spout off, and then it's business as usual.

Writing, writing, writing. I really need to be writing. Given the day I had, that isn't a task that will be productive this evening. Tomorrow looks promising. So, I'll hit the sheets and be compelled to tap, tap, tap away in Notes for the first hour I attempt to drift off to sleep. I wonder what my brain will think up tonight.

Some Doors Were Meant To Stay Open Just For You To Close Them

Determination and hard work are awesome. Very little in life would get done without either of these, and yet there are times when all the sticktoitivness in the world won't produce the results you intended. Sometimes, knowing when to redirect that effort into other interests, people, or goals is more important than sticking with something or someone that isn't worth the effort in the long run.

Sure there's risk/chance involved each time a person sets their focus for a specific path or goal. The whole 'start what you finish' approach to life is usually good, but I think that particular bit can overshadow whether the gain is beneficial or not. I mean, if I am always first concerned with follow-through, I might often overlook the moments when it became apparent the end-goal was not only the wrong tree, but completely in the wrong orchard. 

Completion is not the only admirable or acceptable end to well meaning determination and hard work. Being able to assess progress, or recognize a lack thereof, saves a person disappointment and preserves energy and drive that might be needed or more effective if redirected toward another goal. There should be no shame in walking away from a dead end or potentially, undesired outcome.

I have become much better at walking away. What's more is that I've learned to let go of the guilt, disappointment, and frustration that accompany the times in my life that I faced the truth of the situation and made a choice to turn my focus to things that would yield more positive benefits. Work, relationships, and my own personal interests ... I have to ask myself if it isn't panning out, why? Once I can be honest about why, and I can't find a work-around, I give myself permission to opt out. Were I to continue thinking of those attempts at goals or whatnot failures, I'd likely never move forward. Any attempt, if made with all you are, is some type of success. Giving up, walking away without exerting much effort, or when you stop trying at all is when failure occurs.

If I can work through life's detours and continue to make progress, my direction is likely a good one. Few things worthwhile in life, are the result of little effort, but all the effort in the world cannot produce something worthwhile if it just isn't meant to be. Stop, listen, and be honest with yourself - this is how I've made some of my best choices; choices I might have avoided otherwise in pursuit of following through no matter what. 

I've considered something now for a few weeks, but only over the past two days have I really thought about all the aspects honestly. The moment I removed that overbearing sense of 'obligation' because I'd already come as far as I have, I was able to let go of any guilt or failure about walking away. I am no longer where I was personally, professionally, or spiritually when I first decided to walk that road, and I therefore cannot expect to force the original result that I had intended. Instead, I've found all that effort and energy far more beneficial if I focus it elsewhere. I am not responsible for how others will react to this choice, and that is by far the best, most freeing feeling there is. All that matters is I can walk away knowing I didn't fail, I succeeded because I chose to focus on me.

Stop With The Banging Around Already

Thunder and I are not friends. I'm not really sure when my dislike for thunderstorms started, but I've loathed them for much of my life. It's a loud, frightening disturbance that I tense up upon hearing. Ah, but if I'm attempting to find the silver lining in each day, I may need to work around this particular negative reaction.

Admittedly, I need to work on this one. For tonight however, I will just say that I'm quite happy the booms, cracks, and ominous sounds lasted only a short while. And should I ever have wondered what it might be like to live under a waterfall, I need only look out my windows. The rain is really coming down now... as far as I'm concerned, it may continue as long as it keeps the thunder away.

Next storm, not that I'm welcoming it any day soon, I think I might attempt to listen to the atmosphere talk, and push the detesting of thunder I have long felt aside just to see if there's something good there that I've been missing. Yeah, right! Perhaps I will just work at adjusting my focus to something other than the sky crashing into itself. Far more likely I think.

Thankfully, I have a number of things to occupy my mind, and music to fill my ears, because oddly enough - I love the sound of drums :)

William Faulkner, Your Words Hold The Key

I find myself torn between the thing I want most and all those moments that make life worth living that I will never get back. It is far more difficult to step away from friends and family than I thought it would be. Truthfully though, I hadn't thought it would be necessary to sit that part of my life out while I pursued writing.

Like packing to move helps you downsize your possessions, I would venture to guess a friend weeding will occur during the next few months as I decline outings and invites in favor of my very own world of make-believe. Those who know me, and who know the process, will undoubtedly be ready to pick up where we left off as soon as I am finished this project. Anyone who isn't, well it's safe to say that season of friendship has passed.

Where I able, I'd remove myself from my surroundings to somewhere isolated; forcing myself to work as diligently as necessary. As that is completely unrealistic, I have opted to test my resolve and dedication to a dream by making some fairly tough choices. While it may be overly dramatic and unnecessary, I will be writing my closest of friends with an upfront explanation (this also serves to ensure they won't be tempted to tempt me with the distraction of fun).

It hasn't ever really been in my nature to take time for me. Self-induced social avoidance seems, in some ways, self-absorbed. Of course it is, though this type of self-involvement isn't a negative thing. If I ever want to look back on my life and know I actively chased my dream, I have to engage in self-absorption. What's more, I need to find a way to be okay with that.

For far too long I have waned in dedication to a gift that I would be lost without. There is a William Faulkner quote that I have recently started using as my daily mantra: Don't be a writer. Be writing. I cannot have written anything, if I am not first writing. And so I begin...

Lest We Forget

The rain stayed away, contrary to the forecast, and today was stunningly beautiful. While I wish I hadn't cancelled the hike we had planned, it was still a good day. Who doesn't love sunshine, blue skies and grilling?

Certainly, this weekend has become synonymous with food, friends, and laughter, but I can't help delving deeper and remembering it's true meaning. The enormity of how many men and women we have to be grateful for, creates a guaranteed moment of silence when you stop to think about it all. My life could not be as it is today, were it not for those men and women.

When I think about Memorial Day, I am reminded (as we all should be) that men and women I had never met - have never met, have and are making sacrifices I could not imagine making myself. They have given up time with family they will never get back, and some lose more than just that time. The American military, regardless of if we 'agree' with war and conflict or not, do what most of us could never bring ourselves to do.

I pause often throughout the weeks and months, as the years fly by, to make certain I am expressing my gratitude often and doing so by living a life I appreciate for even the simplest of things. Being able to sit outside and take in the blue sky, hearing the ocean and knowing I have the freedom to enjoy it whenever I want, or just knowing I have lived 42 years in relative peace - I have made it a practice to focus on these 'simple' things every day. Most especially on holidays like this.

As always, I am beyond thankful to the men and women who have served, are currently serving, and who have given up time, limb, and life serving our country. May all of those who are away and on foreign soil know they are not serving in vain, and may they all be brought home safely soon.

Such An Impact, I'd Never Have Guessed

The past two days have been full of hugs. I'm a hugger by nature; well, actually I just grew up in a family that hugs...a lot. All hugs are good, but some have a bigger impact than others.

The energy that is passed from person to person, or generated during a hug can be intense. Depending on the situation, a hug can also convey what each person is thinking, feeling, or needing at that moment. By far, the hug is a universal language all it's own.

As I was leaving a benefit for friends, I was given an opportunity to finally 'meet' an incredible lady in person. I approached her, expecting short conversation, but was blown away by the hug we shared. So many things were conveyed through that embrace, and contrary to my concern that I might be hugging her too tightly given recent surgery and chemotherapy, she hugged back tighter.

For reasons I am not fully aware of, this woman's story has gripped my soul. I do not know her personally, only through her friends and her husband, whom I've known for years. It might be that I have had a connection to someone I know immensely well, who has been through the same frightening experience. It might be that her positive spirit in spite of the negative weight that accompanies such a life-altering ordeal is beyond inspiring. In truth, it is likely these reasons and more that have led to the love and admiration I feel for this truly beautiful being.

Hands down, the best part of my day was that hug.

In The Meantime...

My youngest son has become the kid I 'drag with me' everywhere. The store, beach, fundraising benefits - bra shopping...yes, it is totally appropriate to feel sorry for this poor boy. He rarely complains about it though, which is amazing since he is a teenager and it's in his DNA to complain.

He asked me what I will do when he moves away. My reply was that I didn't want to even begin thinking about that. I'd put that reality off forever, if it were within my control.

Conversations with my friends have revealed that I'm not alone in the reluctance to entertain this kind of future thinking. The unknown has always made me apprehensive, but when it comes to my sons, I'm nearly always ready to bolt in the other direction. It isn't that I'm unable to accept that a future without my sons is rapidly approaching, I'm just not in the mood to acknowledge it at the moment.

So, until they leave the house for good, I will continue to 'drag along' for as long as they allow me to.

Something I Wish More Families Knew: My PSA

As a stylist, I have amassed a wide array of professional experience over the years. I can perm, color and cut with ease, as well as perform a host of other hair services. I am a licensed cosmetologist, certified color educator, and well-trained, listening ear. What I am not is a relief care taker for elderly clients with Alzheimer's and dementia. No hair stylist should ever be considered an alternative to actual relief aides, regardless of any qualifications they may have previously come by.

I completely understand the desire to maintain an older loved one's (who may no longer be cognizant of their hair/nails/body) appearance. It is done with the intention of preserving the dignity and pride that person once had. When families care enough about their loved ones to make sure they are adequately dressed, that their hygiene routine is uninterrupted, and that their hair is neatly coifed it shows how much they still see that person the way they always have. Helping preserve dignity is by far one of the most devoted acts of love.

The thing is, when people continue to care for aging and ailing loved ones who require 24/7 care, they sometimes lose sight of that loved one's safety. People drop off their children, parents, spouses and siblings at salons everyday for hair services, returning to pick them up once they service is done, and their errands completed. On the whole, I personally don't mind this, but there are instances when it is inappropriate and potentially hazardous to the individual and to others in the salon.

When a person has dementia or Alzheimer's they are in a state of confusion, often accompanied by fear. There is no real concise sense of time, and often the only thing keeping this person tethered to a reality that makes even a small amount of sense, is a familiar face. Take a confused individual out of their environment, place them in one with loud sounds, lots of people and someone they don't know (or have no long term memory of) invading their personal space - you can imagine the level of fear can go up quickly.

I wish that people, like the daughter of a woman whose hair I permed and cut today, knew these things. She may think she knows, but her actions say otherwise. My heart ached and my sense of what's right burned, as this woman hustled her 89 yr-old mother, who shuffles and lists as she walks, into the salon, asked how long she would be, and promptly left. This woman, stricken with Alzheimer's, was placed in my care, without so much as a contact number. While I am a completely aware and capable person, not all stylists are. This daughter has been fortunate thus far that her absence hasn't provoked combativeness in her mother. I am sure that her mother's docile, sleepy demeanor has given her this false sense of security, but it is a dangerous form of denial. Fear and uncertainty can, and often do, surface when the afflicted individual no longer has a tether to keep them even.

Salons are NOT the place to 'drop off' your confused parent, sibling, or spouse. Stylists are using sharp implements, hot tools, and there are cords and chemicals that present unlimited hazards. It is a recipe for disaster should that loved one become physically combative.

If you are caring for, or know someone who is caring for a loved one with dementia, Alzheimer's, or any mental deterioration, do not leave them anywhere there are not certified/trained individuals. Most importantly, remember when that loved one is removed from their surroundings for ANY length of time, YOU are their anchor to a reality they have all but lost footing in. While it is important to maintain dignity and routine, it is crucial to do these things with them. If you cannot stay, reschedule to a time or day when you can sit and wait with them.

I cannot stress this enough. It is commendable to keep your parents and loved ones home to care for them in their later years. Know your limits, seek help or a break when you need it, but never forget that even a seemingly innocuous detail can launch the person you know into an unsafe situation for everyone involved.

Hard To Believe My Little Sister Is 36!

My youngest sister added another year to her life experience today. I may have mildly embarrassed her by singing Happy Birthday while I brought her a red velvet cupcake, complete with candle. Of course it was in the middle of a busy salon, so...

It goes without saying that I love her, and honestly I admire and adore her as well. She is a loving and creative mother; her sons have never wanted for entertainment or hugs. While we all have our own ways of raising our children, I sometimes wish I had done more inventive and crafty things with my two sons. I have watched her in awe, become a devoted and supportive wife. She is full of surprises that express her love and appreciation; something too few of us make the time for. The thoughtful and involved nature she possesses goes beyond her own doors, as she is quite possibly one of the best gift givers, complete with unique and festive presentation. In my next life, I should attempt to be half as clever.

One of the things she has taught me, without even realizing she has, is to speak up and say what is on my mind. Not that I have had a difficult time speaking up, but I did struggle with allowing my emotions to get in the way of effectively communicating what I wanted to say. I always know that she will give me her honest impression, answer, or advice, and I know if I ever need a listening ear, she will always be there.

Fate threw us together when our parents married, and life created the unbreakable bonds shared by sisters. I have watched her go through many difficult times, and come out stronger and wiser. She is talented and inspirational; an amazing and vibrant soul. Her smile and laughter are infectious; her sense of style, enviable. Life blessed me with this resilient spirit with whom I am sharing the incredible journey of sisterhood. The birthday of such soul is indeed worthy of celebrating.

Happy birthday, Melissa. Thank you for everything you do, and for every ounce of who you are to the world around you. Cannot wait to see how fabulous the next 36 (and many more) years are with you!

Ps and Qs

I'm irritated that other people's choices and way of life can upset me at times. I certainly wouldn't appreciate anyone taking my life and decisions personally. So why is it such a knee-jerk reaction for most of us to go there?

I can't say that I will ever avoid this pitfall of being human, but I know I'm getting better at correcting those kind of thoughts when they occur. It takes a whole lot of breathing, counting, and brutal honesty with myself. Nearly every time I get offended by other people, when they've done nothing to me or to affect me directly, it is because there is something about my own life and choices that I know needs to be fixed. Often it is getting upset or irritated in the first place.

Sure, there is a line between ignoring the world around you and being part of the problem, this isn't what I'm talking about. By all means we should work toward helping one another out when we see the need and the person in need is willing to accept it. Unless someone is being wronged, hurt, or neglected it really shouldn't cause me any amount of irritation or distress. What anyone does is there own business, just as what I do is mine. The less time I spend worrying or occupying my thoughts with things that don't concern me, the happier I am. I'm all for being happier any chance I get.

Thoughts Of A Mother

I hope that my sons grow to be happy, adjusted, loving men. My dream for each of their futures is for stability. I am already proud of who they have become, and I'm certain I will be overjoyed by who they will be one day.

When I push you in a specific direction, I'm showing you what really matters in the scheme of life. I remind you of things over and over again to show you the things that are worth valuing. As your mother, I want to look back at the years you were growing up and know that I gave you as many tools as I could for you to go out and make your way without me.

More than just being able to entertain in a tidy home, with a clean bathroom, I hope that you continue to be thoughtful, caring men. Should fatherhood fall upon you, I have faith you will give every ounce of yourself to the task. May you choose your life partners wisely, so that you understand each other and grow together.

Responsibility and motivation increase with age, at least that is how it should be. Throughout your lives I have held you accountable for your actions, because there is no better way to face mistakes than head on. As you start your lives away from home, I hope you remember this well. A person who can admit they are wrong, apologize, and move beyond their mistakes is far more likely to grow and rebuild/retain the trust others have in them. Even more important however, is the ability to forgive.

Don't lose sight of the choice to be happy in the frustrations that life presents. Continue to bring your own focus back to all you have. If you don't like the way things are going, try looking at them a different way. May the examples of hard work and dedication in your lives provide the framework from which you model your own careers, whatever they might be. You are the author of your story, believe that you can make it anything and everything you dream.

Never forget that no matter what, I will always be here for you. There is nothing I wouldn't do to help either of you in this life. Until the day I leave this world I will listen, comfort, champion, and celebrate right along side you both. All the runny noses, coughs, diapers, boo-boos, bad days, milestones, conversations, hugs, excursions, difficult times, hurts, triumphs, and hopeful expectations have created the family we are, and it will all continue to shape the family we become.

Distracted

On my hike with my youngest son today, I started to think about how much time I've wasted worrying about things that I cannot change or control. It's all but impossible to avoid worrying, my mind has more thoughts pass through it than I ever even realize. I can't do much about most of them, but I can stop those pesky negative ones that try to disguise themselves as tentative and concerned.

Trying to concentrate on spending time with my son and seeing all that was around me, was a constant effort. Until I unplug from most things in life, I don't realize just how busy my brain is. Mixed in with the birds chirping, ducks quacking, waterfall roaring, and the occasional voices of others around us were thoughts of dinner, work, and a host of random thoughts such as 'what ifs', 'now whats', and 'did I turn my flat iron off'. Even when we sat to eat lunch, I couldn't just be in the moment. It's not that I didn't enjoy the day; I saw a number of things and the two of us had good conversations, I could just feel the preoccupation of other thoughts creeping in.

There are a lot of things that become effortless over time, but I have the distinct feeling that maintaining the overall theme of the thoughts we actively think is something that is always being adjusted. It doesn't seem likely that a redirection I may make today is one I won't have to repeat several times down the road. Maybe the act of recognizing overall negative or self-defeating thoughts, pausing, and putting a more positive spin on them will eventually become second nature. After all, that kind of routine can be applied to just about anything that crosses our minds.

I think that I will attempt to bring my focus back to whatever, wherever and whomever I am with, regardless if I must make the conscious mind shift fifty times or more, the next time we go exploring in the woods. I will also leave the cell phone in the car. And to appease my son, we may forego capturing the moment via camera, leaving just our minds to preserve the memories.

Looking Ahead

Having bid another farewell, I am hopeful that the coming weeks bring a fresh start and a far more uplifting atmosphere. Spring is suppose to signify new life, so when end after end came, retaining focus on new life and promise became somewhat challenging. Given the extended winter, maybe this was just the last push of bitter cold making it's existence a bit more unforgettable. The leaves are out and the flowers are beginning to come up, it's safe to say warmer days and better weather are ahead. 

There are aspects of my life that are routine, despite the fact that I may not see them as such. Typical things like chores, work and spending time with my sons are so ingrained, I forget that they represent order, without which I cannot imagine the cluster fuck my days would be. When it comes to other things that would benefit greatly from a bit more 'routine', I have a tough time instituting it. Particularly when it comes to writing. 

A large part of why I am writing these daily entries is to keep myself in a writing mood. The problem is that beyond this blog, I am not doing the type of writing I should be doing. There is always something else to do, somewhere to go, and in Maine, when summer comes calling this girl drops everything to take it all in. Yes, I need a bit more discipline in my life. Mr. Sunshine and Mrs. WarmWeather are convincing, what with there temptations of fun and relaxation. It's all fun and games with those two, work and discipline are sorely out of place from May until September.

It's time I began a more focused and productive routine. This means that I will be foregoing nights out, and making the most of good weather in a few hours here and there, while also finding time to write as I've been meaning to. There are no excuses. There is also no reason I can't find a way to have my summer and give my keyboard a proper workout at the same time. So long as there is discipline. 

Nostalgia Times Ten

My cheeks are sore at the moment from smiling. Despite a somber occasion, I was able to spend time with some incredible people I hadn't seen in far too long. Amazing, and even more, my two sons were able to be part of it.

As I think back on the last few hours, I can't help but continue to smile, and shed a happy tear or two. While I've stayed in touch with these friends on Facebook, I haven't had an opportunity to really catch up and talk with any of them in years. They all remembered my oldest son as a toddler, but none of them had met my youngest. Over fifteen years, by estimation...that's how long it has been since we all sat around and conversed.

Watching my sons talk to these friends of mine was incredible. While I am fully aware of how grown up they are, this ... seeing my sons with people that were a part of my life before either of them was born, made me realize it all the more. My youngest son rode home from dinner with me and commented that he really liked these friends. Now by no means did I think he was inferring he doesn't like my other friends, I just think he could feel the history and connection, and he felt connected to it.

Aside from my two sons, the other 'best' thing about having met my ex-husband was these friends. I might have known them individually prior to my ex, but during the early years of our marriage I was able to interact with them and get to know them better. I sit here tonight, once again beyond grateful for the people in my life. I am fortunate beyond words; my life continues to astound me.

Whatever afterlife there may be, I have zero doubts that Dan was responsible for this evenings get together. Dan, wherever you may be, thank you for your laughter, sense of humor, and for tonight. You will be missed by so many, and I will always be thankful for having known you. May there be peace around you, always.

Hello?? I Am A Professional Hair Stylist...I KNOW When Someone Colors Their Hair!

There are a number of things in any given day that amuse me. Some of them simply because they are funny, and others because they are somewhat incredulous. If nothing else, at the end of the day people are entertaining.

Given what I do for work, I am always amazed when someone outright lies to me about what has been done to their hair. Particularly when I am in the middle of a consultation with them regarding potential services. My reputation as a stylist and the integrity of my client's hair are the two most important factors of what I do, and they are exactly why I choose to hold consultations with anyone who sits in my chair contemplating changes.

The questions I ask serve a real purpose, so anyone who isn't honest about the history of the hair on their noggin is not likely to become a client of mine. Occasionally I may not cover all the bases, as there are a number of things that impact the elasticity and overall strength of hair. More often than not, however, people who want a service done that has either been refused elsewhere due to the condition or prior services of their hair, or they suspect a stylist may refuse, will omit key information in the hopes of getting their way.

When a person answering my verbal Q&A portion of a consultation tells me they have had no color treatment, yet their hair has every visible and tactile sign that it does, I often wonder exactly what they think hair stylists do. It is my job to understand hair. The end result of a hair service is advertisement for any stylist, and my preference is that it be reputable. Lie to me and I will not call you a liar, but I will refuse to do any chemical services without full disclosure.

I turned away a woman today, after a brief discussion about her hair. She had wanted a perm, and aside from the fact that I loathe that service and find it wholly outdated, this near 70 yr-old actually thought I would believe she had never colored her hair (there is NO natural color in that shade of brassy dear lady). I did not argue what I could see quite plainly was a false claim, I moved to the fact that her hair was simply too compromised, in my professional opinion, to withstand any additional chemical services. She did not like the answers or suggestions I gave her, but her disappointment is not my issue. Sadly, she will likely continue to perform at home hair doctoring, making the condition of her hair far worse.

If there was one thing I could impart on anyone seeing a stylist for the first time (or anytime really) it would be to give full disclosure. We do not ask the questions we do so that we can laugh at your answers, or poke fun at your mistakes; we want to make sure that the chances a service, which can compromise the hair's integrity, are as slim as possible. The stylist-client relationship isn't that of the bride-bridesmaid; we don't want you to leave looking hideous in something that does not fit or flatter you. You come to a professional because you know they are knowledgable and talented enough to create a look you will look great in, so don't sabotage the outcome by withholding or lying. Because just like your fried and fragile hair will be, those acts are just plain ugly.

The Things On The Sides Of Your Head? Yeah, Those Are Ears, Use Them

Listening. It is amazing to me how many people have no clue how to use this valuable skill. As life speeds by around us, how is that we have forgotten something as simple and relevant to happiness as slowing down, sitting on our own thoughts, and really paying attention to those around us? Too few people practice active listening.

Sure, they hear that someone is talking to them, but they don't give them their full attention. Students only half hear their teachers, shoppers going through check-out lines rarely acknowledge the cashier ringing them through, parents nod and grumble when their children are trying to tell them about something they are excited about, significant others talk over each other believing that communication is about being heard, completely ignoring the fact that someone has to be listening, and relationships are a two-way street. It saddens me to witness, and makes me question when and how we can ever find our way back to being a compassionate, interactive, and focused people.

What I have to say might be important to me, just as what someone else wants to convey may be to them. Out there, somewhere is a person who is longing for eye contact, a warm smile, and possibly a light bit of chit chat to make their work day a little more bearable. There are children craving their mother or father's undivided attention, friends who just need to talk, and spouses who are drifting apart with no understanding as to why. The solution to all of this is for us all to start practicing active listening. We all know how it feels to want that connection with another person, whether it is to share happy or sad news, and to feel as though the other person really heard and understood us.

So why are we becoming more and more disengaged? It isn't as though listening is an impossible task. In the grand scheme of life, how could giving someone a few minutes or even a couple of hours of your time, free from distractions, possibly result in negative things down the road? There is far too much self-absorption and far too little inclusion, and it has changed the dynamics of social function. We do not seek others for camaraderie, rather for our own personal audience. A society breeding narcissism is what we've become.

Look up from your phones, take out those earbuds, put down the game controllers and laptops, make eye contact and ask someone about their day. Practice being engaged and interested, and listen. Acknowledge cashiers, toll takers, and anyone who you encounter; connect with the people around you through legitimate, human contact instead of through technology. Be the start of crowd wave, because those always catch on.

Humanity is endangered, unless we work to change it, it will soon be extinct.

This Life Is All It Should Be And A Lot More

Everything in life just seems better when I'm focused on positive and healthy things. What use to upset me for hours or days, now just irritates me briefly. I find the silver lining so much faster, and set myself back on the path I want to be on before I get incredibly sidetracked.

If I were to live my life again, as tempted as I might be to change things, I cannot imagine altering the life I am living now. The hardships, heartache, and challenges are worth being able to look around me and love where I am and the people I am with. There may have been other roads I could have taken, but none of them would have led me here.

I don't need perfect, but I do need real. Quiet, reflective moments, full-belly laughter with friends, and watching my sons grow up mean everything to me. If there is a reality that I don't have even one of those things, I am glad that I am in this one.

This day I am where I am because I choose to be; any time spent on wishing or wondering why I was not some place or with someone else just helped me navigate this path when it was difficult to see it. I'm far less worried or afraid of tomorrow, because I know it will always be what I make it, though I might not see the full picture without looking back occasionally. Yes, everything in my life - even if I can't see, or haven't decided what comes next, I know whatever it is will be just what it should be.

Fully Recharged

My go-to beach spot for the summer has been found, and I couldn't be more excited. Sort of makes me wish I was independently wealthy, so that I could spend every single sunny day there listening to the waves roll in. Without the danger of skin cancer, of course.

One of my neighbors asked me today if I was happy with my choice to relocate here. Without a doubt, I am quiet happy. For me, living and working in the same area became too much. There was no way I could be out doing anything without running into people I know. I needed anonymity, but what's more I needed to be closer to the ocean. In less than 10 minutes I can be at any number of beaches, ready to take in as much ocean air as possible...happiness abounds.

As long as I am by the ocean, I can find as much positive energy as I need muster. Yesterday and today were enough to recharge, after a draining two weeks. When I think of a happy place, somewhere I could let my mind wander off too when life ups the ante, it is always salt water blue.

After my afternoon reading and peacefully sitting, watching the waves roll in, that very same neighbor made the observation that I seem like a happy, balanced person. Were there any doubt that I imagined the ocean's effect on me, that comment proved that enough positive light shows through for anyone to see. Despite all the sad and/or negative things that happen, being able to continue to project genuine happiness makes me all the more sure my life has a meaning, purpose.

What boosts you up? Where do you go to regenerate your frame of mind? How often do you go there?

I don't believe a place that gives our souls strength and intensity should be rationed. Go to them every chance you get. Absorb every ounce of energy they offer, because the beautiful thing is their meaning and effect rarely fade.

The Right Kind Of Attraction

In my lifetime I have heard the phrase "you are who you hang around" more times than I can count. When I was young, this saying was an annoyance to me, because I thought (particularly during my teen years) that I was above any such influences my parents thought I was exposing myself to. As an adult, and a mother, I have come to realize just how relevant and true those words really are.

I believe that we are all energy, and more specifically we are all connected. What we do and how we think directly impacts our lives. The more positivity I put forth, the more good things and great people I have in my life. It is the simplest of truths. I spent so long fighting this concept, and looking back there is no question why I was miserable for years. Once I chose to feel happy, see good, and project a more positive presence amazing gifts appeared.

One of my truest fortunes has always been my best friend. She has been a constant light, even in my darkest days. Whenever I am around her (and truth be told, even a text from her has the same effect), I radiate positive energy. I discovered that by holding onto that energy, I was finally able to attract others like her and rid my immediate life of negative people. I'd heard it said that as we age we don't have the need or desire to make new friends, but in the past few years I have found that to be untrue. My circle of friends is a stellar group of like-minded, uplifting people, and I owe all of it to that dearest, bestest friend. Without her, I may never have understood the benefit and importance of surrounding myself with compassionate, bright, talented, and giving individuals.

The other blessing, and most important, bestowed upon me has always been my family. I would say that for a majority of my existence, though I have always known how incredible they are, I didn't relate the "you are who you hang around" principle to our close-knit brood. I suppose I just took for granted that families are uplifting and accepting. Recently though, my view has become more focused.

During my grandfather's funeral on Saturday (and for a better understanding of how everything relates as I go on, he was my grandfather for 19 years by choice as he was my step-father's dad), as I looked around the church I was brought to tears. The pews were packed full and at least a third of those paying their respects were my family. The reason this was such a powerful moment was because they were my mother's siblings, my cousins...people who in other families may not actively interact with "in-laws". Even more telling of the man who had lived an honest and positive life, was that my mother's previous in-laws (my father's family) had also come. This lack of division, that willingness and second nature to blend as a family has always influenced my inclusive nature.

Throughout the day I was approached by people I knew and those I'd only just met expressing their amazement and appreciation for my sons' respectable and welcoming demeanor. They remarked at how mature they both are, at how helpful, engaging, and proper they behaved. Given that they are 18 and 15, my expectations are of nothing less, but I had never truly stopped to consider how others see them. Over and again I heard that it was apparent they were raised well. A compliment to my mothering, but as I considered my previous recognition of my amazing family, I also recognized for the first time that without these relatives, my sons may not have turned out to be the young men who garner such compliments and accolades. It takes an energy field of mass proportions to generate the amount of positivity and radiance that collective, we are.

My family thrives and prospers because we choose to embrace the good things around us. So much so that other admirable families have come into our lives to magnify life's meaning. When I look around at those who are revered and those who always seem to have life figured out, the common theme is that they themselves are generators of positive light, and are surrounded by more of the same. It matters not what things you have, or what level of success you may achieve, if you do not have this kind of support and love in your life. What you do and what you think are the very magnets that attract the world around you. I can say that I am on the best path, thanks in no small part to the people who make up my world. This is a phenomenal life, indeed.

Oh I Certainly Saw That Coming

I have internal struggles on a regular basis about everything from whether to eat a small treat that's laden with gluten and risk feeling ill, to wondering if it's wrong that I can't help but smile when someone who has fucked me over is finally paid back in kind by someone else. It's human nature to see comeuppance as a fairness regulator. I suppose the line of whether it is right or wrong to experience enjoyment over someone's misfortune or bad karma paying a visit lies in just how much we revel in it.

When I found out, through a series of events and conversations, that an ex-boyfriend's dawg-ways had finally caught up to him, the Inner Brat smiled and nodded. I don't believe that I would ever take such extreme pleasure in situations like this that I would broadcast the news to everyone I know, or that I would allow the feeling of validation to make me smug. Had revenge ever been a motivating factor, I could have brought about his current situation years ago. I believe in making my feelings and thoughts known and then walking away, shutting out any desire to even the score.

There have been a handful of times when I stooped to the level of the person who had wronged me, and frankly that only left me feeling as though I had just earned that hurtful offense. Being able to walk away from something like betrayal or intentional hurtfulness, with my self-respect intact is what I continually aspire to. Whatever disappointment and pain I feel does not give me license to retaliate or behave vengefully. Disappointment and pain are opportunities to change and grow. I might not wish for the undoing of someone who has wronged me, but when their path of deceit and dishonestly come full circle, it allows the release of whatever residual contempt for that I may have still carried.

Sometimes we need a sense of vindication to finally remove the last string that has kept us tethered to hurt. The only way to truly move on and heal our scars is to free ourselves from the luggage we insist on carrying around. We heal when we decide to let go.

Don't Hoard Those Memories

Whenever I experience difficult times, I know that big changes are on the horizon. It is a cycle I've made peace with; the moment it becomes clear the universe is changing things up, I brace myself for another ride. I wouldn't say I enjoy it, or that the losses become easier to take, but when you've traveled a road regularly, you can navigate through the bumps and turns a bit better every time. 

I want change, even though it scares me at times. In order for changes to occur in life, there has to be an upside and downside. Even when the changes aren't necessarily for the better and what is lost or left behind is missed, the most important thing is the manner in which a person continues to move forward. Like most of us, losing the people we care about seems unbearable. The worst thing anyone can do is let the grief take over as though life has stopped indefinitely. The hardest thing is to push on and keep going through the pain, but what better way to carry those who have left with us then by showing our resolve and strength - to be the living example of the effect that person had on our life.

There are gifts we are lavished with through varied relationships have the amazing capacity to spread to people beyond the giver and the receiver. Knowledge, experience, humor and love given to one person, can produce ripple effects, even long after the giver has left this world. If we stopped living in the wake of mourning, we snuff out the essence of the person who has died. However difficult it may be, sharing those gifts we have been given with the world around us is the best way to honor our lost loved ones and keep their spirit with us.

It isn't enough to just remember, we need to share and continue on.

Some People Can Be Beyond Inappropriate

My sons have accused me of being embarrassing a number of times over the years, and the truth is I absolutely have been. Every parent knows, being a good mom or dad means sticking to the parent code, which specifically dictates offspring embarrassment. It's been this way for generations, and to be considered a full-fledged parent, some amount of embarrassment needs to be present, particularly during the teenage years.

Like most things in life, this needs to be done in moderation, as well as responsibly. It's okay to say, poke your child in the side or flick them in the ear, or even tease them about how cute they are (bonus points if this is done in public, in the presence of friends). It is not ok however, to get drunk and stand in the front row of a packed room and bellow your daughter's name repeatedly during her orchestral performance debut.

Tonight my heart broke for a sweet and talented young girl as I watched her up on stage with a group of other youth musicians. I can only imagine the nerve-racking feeling of playing in front of a room full of strangers on a brightly lit stage. The focus it must take to follow sheet music; I'd be distracted in a heartbeat by all the chaos in front of the stage. I imagine the excitement of playing on stage with local musicians must be intense. It is therefore unimaginable to me that such a child should have to be tormented with embarrassment from the audience by her own mother. How horrible and self-centered this woman must be to ruin her daughter's experience with over the top and inexcusable behavior.

In my opinion, a parent who makes a display of themselves is seeking to be the center of attention. How on earth can you love your child and be a good parent if you cannot give your child space and let them shine on their own? I wanted to pull this mother aside and explain that she was putting her daughter in a most uncomfortable situation and robbing her of being able to thoroughly enjoy something she had worked hard for and had most likely been looking forward to for quite some time. Sadly, someone who couldn't keep from overindulging at a youth event (though there was alcohol being served to adults) wouldn't have the faintest idea of what I was saying had I attempted to engage her.

Part of my job as a parent is to push my children's sense of comfort and challenge them to overcome awkward moments. Luckily for them, I have balance and an awareness of their feelings; if they reach a limit, I back off. It saddens me how often I see situations like the one tonight, because as parents we should be lifting our children up and encouraging them to be their best, not tearing them down with humiliation and bad examples.

Now, Now And Then...

Ever hear a song and really hear the lyrics? I mean, when you hear a song you've heard a number of times...might even know it by heart, and all of the sudden the lyrics click in a way they never did before. That happened to me twice today.

I've listened and sung along with both songs more times than I could ever count, and something struck me today that hadn't ever crossed my mind, with both songs as I drove home from work.  I immediately thought of a particular person/situation as each of the songs played, and found myself slightly awed that I hadn't ever made those connections or interpreted the words in quite those ways before. Might seem odd, but I tend to think my current emotional upheaval has given me a different perspective or interpretation about a number of things the past couple of weeks.

There was more of an a-ha moment with one song than there was with the other (and what the songs were isn't really relevant). I actually had to play it back just to see if I would hear it in the same way twice. Not only did it strike me the same, but one part of the song in particular summed up everything about a once ongoing, not-in-my-best-interest interaction in a way I wish I had been able to see when that situation dissolved. Of course I may not have been receptive to that view had it presented itself at the time.

I am always amazed when I see things in a way I never have before, especially when it is due to the words of someone else. It always makes me wonder what on earth I was paying attention to when I missed the message the first fifty times I heard the song or someone I know say a particular saying or phrase. I'm fairly certain most of life's upheavals serve to encourage us to slow down and take stock in what really matters, move beyond the things and people who don't, and to remind us how precious our time here is. It's time I spent my days a bit more wisely.
                                                                                                   

Adjusting Can Be Arduous

If I thought it was odd being home alone when the boys were out before the cat went to kitty heaven, it is downright awful now. Finding it hard to focus on any one thing before I'm distracted wondering if they are ok and missing my fur baby. I know things will settle down and resume a more normal vibe eventually, but the crap in between now and then sucks.

It occurred to me earlier that part of this discomfort is that I don't often spend this kind of 'quality' time alone with my thoughts. Typically, if I don't like what's going on in my head, I just change up what I'm doing or take in a change of scenery. Tonight I decided it was time to stay in and stop trying to avoid the way I'm feeling. I have to say I don't like it one bit.

A lot of intense events in a short period of time can shake the surest of footing. I've never been the let go and let happen type; half of the noise in my head is just me reminding myself to ride things out and they will pass. Sitting here with no television or music, no background noise except for my fingers tapping on the keyboard and the ringing in my left ear...sometimes silence really is loud.

I do feel fortunate that I am able to redirect myself as well as I do; that positive news still finds it's way into my awareness. I may not be close to reconciling all the sad events I have been touched by recently, but I'm not so mired in the finality of it all to miss the good things happening to my friends, family, and all around me. I might not be able to recall the feelings of excitement or joy down the road when someone recalls a memorable moment from this time, but I will be able to remember it. I suppose I could say that I am currently in a state of conscious observation, rather than actively involved.

I've been in this place a few times before, but I'm not really much better at it. When I stop to think about that, grief, or the processing of grief isn't something I really want to become comfortable with. It isn't suppose to be easy or make immediate sense. It is suppose to be raw and disorienting; grief is upheaval and despair that varies in depth. The more invested in what or who was lost, the more bereft the road to adjusting. I am still here, and I feel every ounce of the void the emptiness my losses has created, but I wouldn't know the pain if I could not still feel all the life existing around me.

Minor Irritation

As difficult as it is to get into a writing rhythm these days, it stands to reason I become irritated when I have to bring that momentum to a screeching halt because of other obligations. Nearly a thousand words came effortlessly this morning, as I began yet another version of a book I've started countless times over the past eight years. I believe my teeth were clenched for half the day with frustration.

Since moving I have been unsuccessful in finding both the mindset and the appropriate environment to write well. Amidst the daily routine, fun, and heartaches, a pit of irritated emotions has fought for my attention. If I am a writer, then clearly I have been a very lazy and unproductive one these past few months. And I am - to the very core, a writer.

How is it then that the very thing I want to be, the thing I want to do most in life is the one thing I cannot seem to carve out dedicated time for? It's pathetic and inexcusable. Time is passing by at an alarming rate and soon enough I will wake up 80 years old. How sad if I reach that age never having accomplished the one thing I wanted to do for most of my life? Something has got to change.

Here's A Fact About Me

I'll be honest, I don't like being open about certain things. It's one thing to say what you know is the truth out loud, it's another thing to have to face the words and their reflection in the eyes of another person. I don't like pity, and I am highly uncomfortable with another person sitting with me in my grief, sadness, or whichever undesirable emotion when it's already so claustrophobic.

When life gets to be a bit much, I close myself off. It's the only way I can get through the hard stuff as quickly as my life requires me to. Even writing (publicly) about any of it is foreign to me. I find myself at odds between the need to withdraw and my commitment to write every night. Granted, I've fallen behind before, but give the heavy emotional climate I find myself in, falling behind could well mean falling completely off this particular course. Through good and bad, I chose to tackle this 365. And I don't quit.

This particular 'project' is in contrast to my general approach to my behavior within most forms of social media. I choose to divulge a few ultra-personal details, such as dating successes/failures, arguments, disagreements, and anger. What I opt to share is often light and really doesn't welcome the world into my everyday life. Snippets of my kids, co-workers, family, and friends; even photos of the lot. I don't, however, use any online platform to whine and complain incessantly about breaking a nail or getting cut off in traffic. Who needs that drama? This weekend's losses and my resistance to opening myself up when I'm hurt/upset pushed me to the point that I broadcasted my grief in a space other than this blog. While I tried to do so in the most positive and non-whining ways, it's odd to allow the posts on Facebook to remain, safe from being deleted.

I wouldn't say there is something wrong with being open and sharing your life with others, I'm just leery of doing so in a forum like that. Maybe I ought to be here, but given the whole objective in writing a blog is to write and share, the two outlets are far from the same.

To some degree, I suppose my selective sharing within social media, as opposed to my openness in blogging might give support the opinion that people tend to be less honest when they interact from behind a screen online. I know that I'm simply choosing to be selective about what I say and where I say it. Similar to when and how I eventually allow my thoughts and feelings in sad situations to be witnessed or shared with someone else.

Maybe none of this makes sense, because I know I'm rambling on. I share here, despite not first being comfortable with my thoughts, because I've chosen to challenge myself. I don't know what that means, if it means anything at all, except that it's far easier to write about the things I wish weren't happening and allowing others to read it, then being face to face with someone and seeing their reaction. Of course not everything I write about will be tied to sadness, and quite a bit of it will undoubtedly make little sense to anyone else. I've got 241 more posts to go before I'm done, comprehensible or not.

The Ache Is As Strong As The Air Is Heavy

I had to remind myself several times today that whatever snippets that replayed in my head actually happened this morning and not days ago. Time has not felt seamless or concurrent today. Sometimes I am surprised at how grief is the same no matter the loss. Despite knowing what comes next, it still stings just as bad as it did the first time.

Knowing there is more sadness to come, it's still impossible to pace myself to preserve energy and sanity. I have entered a dark and woeful place that does not lend itself to lighthearted energy. Though I know I'm not staying here, the walk to the other side where happier times wait is so tough. All this pain will one day be replaced with happy recollections and only pangs of wishing lost loved ones were still here. 

The finality of death; the irreversible reality of it is something I can never spend too long contemplating. I've nearly sent myself into a downward spiral when I've stayed too focused on the 'whys' that will never be answered. 'What ifs' are just as bad. Shit happens and more often than not, it sucks. 

I don't ever want to be that person that clings to grief as though it is a life preserver. No good will come from pushing away those things and people that create possibility and change. Staying stuck in sadness robs a person of life they can never get back. We are here for so short a time, why waste more time than necessary?

Much as I'd like to curl up in a ball under my covers for days...maybe weeks, ignoring the world around me until I don't feel anymore, I push myself to keep moving. Maybe I don't make the commute to and from work in a great mood, maybe I don't put much effort into cooking dinner, and maybe I sit mostly silent because I lack the energy or desire to talk about anything, but I'm still going about life, albeit less enthusiastically. I just keep moving.

In truth, I'm a little afraid to stop for too long. I don't want to get lost in this darkness, and that push I get from all the good things I still have in life are what keeps me far enough from the edge. While I am in a mournful state at present, I have not given the grief more of me than it requires. The healing has already begun, however slowly it may move. 

The Tough Stuff

Feeling every kind of pissed off and miserable emotion right now. In the last month I've been too close to too much death. I don't know how anyone can keep from falling into the thick, dark blanket of shoulder-wrenching, sob-fest sadness when so much loss is around them. I caved and found it almost impossible to drive tonight when the crying took over. And it isn't really a wonder; especially tonight.

I got word that my grandfather is hanging in, just as my cat had chosen to dig his claws in for one last night. I don't know how I'm suppose to sleep with all this going on, though I'm aware my lack of sleep won't alter the outcome of either situation. Faced with uncomfortable emotions that leave me raw and vulnerable to pain I don't want to feel. 

At exactly the same time, two sources of love and joy in my sons' and my lives have come to their end. I have no adequate words for the pain this produces. More than just my own, I am more affected by that which each of my boys will endure. It goes against every fiber of my motherhood - not being able to spare them this anguish. 

I am thankful, however, that I have words that enable self-expression to process and vent the things that consume and spill over. Without some outlet to divulge and purge, there would be no relief. Most things might never make sense, and I might well find it easier to remove myself from the world around me and become socially cut off. If I didn't have writing ... I believe that is exactly what I would do.

Somewhere, in all of this, there is peace and clarity. In time, I am sure I will be able to see both. And grow because of it all.

Sometimes Even I Am Bewildered By How My Brain Functions

There is no quicker way to shake my confidence than to throw me into the world of dating. I loathe the process. I'd rather go through labor and delivery of both my sons at the same time. Really, I would.

I hadn't ever considered that it would be so epically difficult for other people to be honest, decent, and normal. I mean, I'm happy with my life for the most part; there's just always that little part that seems to elude me. After a series of hurtful disappointments, it's easy for a person's confidence to be undermined. By no means do I say any of this lightly; being vulnerable is not something I do well. There is no situation, that I've experienced or dreamt up that has me starring as the helpless girl waiting to be scooped up and rescued. Even if I do find myself in a state of need, I'd sooner slap on a look of determination and plow through whatever I'm facing alone. This is how much I loathe being vulnerable. And damn, you need to have a PhD in Tammy if you're going to see me cry.

Exactly how did I get like this? Well shit, years of putting my trust and giving my heart to guys who a) didn't deserve it, and b) were experts at stomping and manipulating the feeling of worth out of it...starting with my 'first' father. In all fairness, prior to having been raped, I was already short on the belief that I could be loved by someone who wouldn't abuse my trust or play games. Add to that the betrayal, deceit, and withholding of genuine emotions of far too many failed attempts at relationships...well, you get the picture. I'm not cold, and more importantly I'm not unlovable; I am just so ridiculously guarded that I have a difficult time seeing anyone that has potential as more than a mirage.

Just why have I decided to share all this tonight? The older I get, the more frequently I am asked why I am still single. The older my sons get, the more I realize I will be alone before I know it. Time is ticking away and I find I contemplate what my future will hold, though most of my scenarios involve enough cats to be considered the crazy old cat lady, and a couple of men who worry too much because their mom never found anyone to share the rest of her life with. Melodramatic? Perhaps, but I am a writer and my mind works in over-exaggerated synopses.

The longer I am single, the less interested I am in leaving my comfort zone. Up until this point, getting to know someone has proved to be far more work and headache than any meaningful enjoyment could ever be garnered. The resulting attitude being in direct conflict with my overall state of being. I have put forth immense effort to reduce the negativity in my life; when I experience a slide backwards, regaining my footing becomes more and more challenging. And I'd venture to guess that these pent-up feelings of reluctance and outright refusal to even look at someone who isn't likely to twist and churn my emotions are the very reason getting back on the wagon of positive thinking and living after falling off is so damned exhausting.

Crazy part is, I know all of this yet I still allow it to continue getting to me. Who knew prolonged exposure to abuse and being taken advantage of could cause such skittish and negative behaviors? Well, I suppose most people know this, but how many admit it to anyone else? I didn't bother to do any research, because (I'm going to go all self-absorbed here) I really only care how to fix me on this one. And just how do I do that? I suppose I stop focusing on what everyone else thinks and pay attention to what my heart and soul must be hoarse from shouting all these years. That could take a bit to decipher.

I don't write this as a woe-is-me, as I've previously stated, I'm not into wallowing in helplessness. I know I'm not the only one who struggles with these type of issues, and keeping it to myself just doesn't make much sense anymore. I don't want pity, advice, or depressing commiseration. I just want to continue taking every opportunity to be honest with myself and with the world around me, because sometimes the only way I actually hear my own voice is by telling someone else.

I am, indeed, a work in progress...