My life is starting over again in the morning. I would say it's starting today, but it's late, and I'm tired and I'd rather start over when I wake up tomorrow. So, Thursday, August 19 will be the day that I really start getting my life back. That is a pretty bold statement I realize, so let me explain more of what I mean exactly.
When the sun rises tomorrow and the intense summer heat burns the dew off of the glistening grass as the clouds clear and the bright blue sky covers the world, my life will be brand new. I will officially be done with the past. I will have to deal with my horrid ex-husband no more. My legal battle will finally have come to an end. I will be able to breathe at last and begin to find my footing on a new path. This will not be easy. I have had to fire my worthless lawyer, and despite winning in court, it turns out that I still manage to lose. My ex is still not being forced to comply with the court order, and I in turn still have an impending foreclosure coming right at me as a delightful little gift for my 30th birthday. This is not easy to swallow at all. The fact that my ex gets away with all of the horrible things he has done to me over the years is infuriating and heartbreaking. There are so many intense emotions involved with all of this that I'm not even sure where to begin processing them all. I don't know how to compartmentalize all of it and sort it out because none of it is logical or reasonable. It is 100% unfair. Life isn't fair you say? Tell me something I don't know. Regardless, when you do all you can to try to do the right thing and you still get screwed, it's never easy to accept.
Back to my new life though...
I want to learn how to work through these deep emotions. I want my heart to be softened, my spirit to be gentle, and my words to be kind. I want to lead a quiet life without all this mess. I seek simplicity. I want to live a life that shows people love wholly and unconditionally. I say that, and at the same time I'm torn by bitterness and anger because I cannot understand how in doing the right thing I still get ruined, and my ex blatantly breaks the law and gets away with it. I have to pay the price for his actions. I just cannot wrap my mind around it. In reality, I want these things, but I am heartbroken. I am a mess, and I am lost and in great despair. I don't know how to find my way back to peace and joy unless I simply fake it.
I hope that when the new day comes rolling over the horizon my tears will be dry and heart not quite so heavy. I am hoping that the new day will bring with it peace and restoration. I don't know where to begin with all of this. It seems all I can do is just keep putting one foot in front of the other and take a deep breath every step of the way.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Might I Dream
And if I might dream tonight,
I wonder what I might find
lurking there amidst the midst and haze
hanging in my mind.
Would the stars glimmer and dot the darkness
of a thick and heavy sky?
Would the moon softly kiss the stones along the path
twisting through the caverns inside my head?
I'd hope for nothing more than a quiet peace,
a place to rest my weary soul.
Often though it is the opposite I happen on
in those dreams of mine.
Tonight I lay here wondering,
squeezing tight my eyes
hoping for a lovely dream,
and not one in which I die.
So I hope this time for a different ending
I pray for the dreams fairy tales are made of.
Or at the very least that in my slumber
I will rest and remember nothing in the morning.
I wonder what I might find
lurking there amidst the midst and haze
hanging in my mind.
Would the stars glimmer and dot the darkness
of a thick and heavy sky?
Would the moon softly kiss the stones along the path
twisting through the caverns inside my head?
I'd hope for nothing more than a quiet peace,
a place to rest my weary soul.
Often though it is the opposite I happen on
in those dreams of mine.
Tonight I lay here wondering,
squeezing tight my eyes
hoping for a lovely dream,
and not one in which I die.
So I hope this time for a different ending
I pray for the dreams fairy tales are made of.
Or at the very least that in my slumber
I will rest and remember nothing in the morning.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Fairy Tales
The dashing prince atop his white steed with the sword glinting in the sheath ready to slay the dragon for the lovely, kind princess. Or perhaps it is a fairy godmother flitting about waving a wand or wrinkling her nose to turn a pumpkin into a gleaming carriage. Or maybe it's nothing more than some handsome man making a girl's eyes dance and sparkle when she laughs as he swirls her around the dance floor accompanied by the lovely sounds of a stringed orchestra.
Most little girls grow up believing that this, or something similar could actually become their reality, at least to some degree. They dream of that beautiful wedding day in which their stomachs are filled with butterflies as they glide down the aisle in a gorgeous swathing cupcake gown toward the man of they've fantasized about their whole lives. Then they dream of the perfect honeymoon, the house with the white picket fence, the fluffy dog, and the giggling babies. Then there are girls like me...
I don't believe the fairy tale. I never did really. I was always the skeptic. And now, well now I don't know what to think. I want so very badly to believe that fairy tale. I want to think that somewhere there is a prince ready to come and rescue me from the tower. It just seems though that I'm destined to be Rapunzel forever, except I have short hair so the prince can't climb to the window to save me. I'm stuck there. Stuck.
I thought I had my moment a couple of weeks ago in court. I thought that finally I got to be the princess instead of Cinderella who gets screwed over by everyone around her. I thought perhaps I finally got to go to the ball and put on the glass slipper. I won in court, by a landslide. It was bad for him, to the point that I felt sorry for him. But it doesn't even matter. I still lose. How? Because he is getting to walk away essentially scott free because of a legal loophole in bankruptcy proceedings. Yes, yes, he has to file bankruptcy, which is bad, but it also absolves him from his punishment for screwing me over.
So as I sit here typing all I can think is that I am sitting in a tower waiting for someone and yet no one will come. We like to think that "we're all in this together" but at the end of the day, the weight of this all falls on my shoulders and mine alone. There is no help mate. There is no one who truly understands. The burden is mine to bear, and I hate him for it. I don't think the fairy tale is real. I told my friend today that I think there are no princes or princesses, only a bunch of smashed up Humpty Dumptys. The looking glass is shattered. There is no magic. Life is not pretty, and I doubt it ever will be. Shame on parents for letting little girls think otherwise. We are not princesses. Nothing of the sort. No matter how many tiaras I wore as a little girl, and not matter how many pretty dresses I twirl around in, I am no princess. The stories aren't true. In the end justice does not seem to prevail. We do the right thing because it's the right thing, but to expect a reward is foolish at best. It is true that no good deed goes unpunished.
And so I sit in my tower and wonder if there is an end to this mess. I try to make sense of it all, but it is a riddle I cannot solve. All the dresses in all the world can not a princess make. In reality, we are all more like Cinderella as she scrubs the floors, makes the food, and mends the clothes with coal smudged on her pretty face.
Most little girls grow up believing that this, or something similar could actually become their reality, at least to some degree. They dream of that beautiful wedding day in which their stomachs are filled with butterflies as they glide down the aisle in a gorgeous swathing cupcake gown toward the man of they've fantasized about their whole lives. Then they dream of the perfect honeymoon, the house with the white picket fence, the fluffy dog, and the giggling babies. Then there are girls like me...
I don't believe the fairy tale. I never did really. I was always the skeptic. And now, well now I don't know what to think. I want so very badly to believe that fairy tale. I want to think that somewhere there is a prince ready to come and rescue me from the tower. It just seems though that I'm destined to be Rapunzel forever, except I have short hair so the prince can't climb to the window to save me. I'm stuck there. Stuck.
I thought I had my moment a couple of weeks ago in court. I thought that finally I got to be the princess instead of Cinderella who gets screwed over by everyone around her. I thought perhaps I finally got to go to the ball and put on the glass slipper. I won in court, by a landslide. It was bad for him, to the point that I felt sorry for him. But it doesn't even matter. I still lose. How? Because he is getting to walk away essentially scott free because of a legal loophole in bankruptcy proceedings. Yes, yes, he has to file bankruptcy, which is bad, but it also absolves him from his punishment for screwing me over.
So as I sit here typing all I can think is that I am sitting in a tower waiting for someone and yet no one will come. We like to think that "we're all in this together" but at the end of the day, the weight of this all falls on my shoulders and mine alone. There is no help mate. There is no one who truly understands. The burden is mine to bear, and I hate him for it. I don't think the fairy tale is real. I told my friend today that I think there are no princes or princesses, only a bunch of smashed up Humpty Dumptys. The looking glass is shattered. There is no magic. Life is not pretty, and I doubt it ever will be. Shame on parents for letting little girls think otherwise. We are not princesses. Nothing of the sort. No matter how many tiaras I wore as a little girl, and not matter how many pretty dresses I twirl around in, I am no princess. The stories aren't true. In the end justice does not seem to prevail. We do the right thing because it's the right thing, but to expect a reward is foolish at best. It is true that no good deed goes unpunished.
And so I sit in my tower and wonder if there is an end to this mess. I try to make sense of it all, but it is a riddle I cannot solve. All the dresses in all the world can not a princess make. In reality, we are all more like Cinderella as she scrubs the floors, makes the food, and mends the clothes with coal smudged on her pretty face.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Rescue
The first line of the Tonic song "Sugar" says "Come on baby put your shoes on. Looking like you need a rescue [...]" Ryan Adams sings about the "Rescue Blues". I never thought of myself as the girl who got to be the princess rescued from the tower. Growing up I always played cowboys and indians, and the other girls got to be the damsels in distress while I ran around with my brother and the other boys. In high school I was quiet and mostly kept to myself. In college, I was even more reserved except with a very select group of friends. Now I'm more open, but I am incredibly independent...to the point that it's actually not a good thing. Hmm...which that may actually be why I've found myself in this position come to think of it.
What I'm referring to is my strong desire to be rescued...to not be alone...essentially just to be loved. I hear all of these songs these guys have written for these girls. I wonder if the girls have any idea what they have and if they do I wonder if they appreciate it. Do they know what it's like on the other side-to be alone and always do everything themselves? To not have that shoulder to cry on or that embrace to hide in when the storms come? To come home only to a pile of books and to know characters in movies better than they know most people? To find solace only in a song that isn't even for you? To wear a mask in the world of a pretty happy girl but at home to sink into a somber, melancholy version of the girl they might be?
I have a vague notion that perhaps a love like no other is waiting for me...waiting to be unlocked from it's warm, soft sepulcher. For some reason it is not yet time for me to escape this dark and heavy past of mine. Perhaps it is to teach me to lay down my pride and beg for help...to learn that while hell may be other people, I do in fact need those people in my life. Maybe I am too impatient and when I learn my lesson, perhaps there will be a reward. Or maybe there is no reward at all, but I am to live this life simply because it is the cards I've been dealt. I'm really not sure at all. The only thing I am sure of is that I feel like the girl in the song, and I need a rescue.
What I'm referring to is my strong desire to be rescued...to not be alone...essentially just to be loved. I hear all of these songs these guys have written for these girls. I wonder if the girls have any idea what they have and if they do I wonder if they appreciate it. Do they know what it's like on the other side-to be alone and always do everything themselves? To not have that shoulder to cry on or that embrace to hide in when the storms come? To come home only to a pile of books and to know characters in movies better than they know most people? To find solace only in a song that isn't even for you? To wear a mask in the world of a pretty happy girl but at home to sink into a somber, melancholy version of the girl they might be?
I have a vague notion that perhaps a love like no other is waiting for me...waiting to be unlocked from it's warm, soft sepulcher. For some reason it is not yet time for me to escape this dark and heavy past of mine. Perhaps it is to teach me to lay down my pride and beg for help...to learn that while hell may be other people, I do in fact need those people in my life. Maybe I am too impatient and when I learn my lesson, perhaps there will be a reward. Or maybe there is no reward at all, but I am to live this life simply because it is the cards I've been dealt. I'm really not sure at all. The only thing I am sure of is that I feel like the girl in the song, and I need a rescue.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Faith...
Now this is a topic that is controversial to say the least. Faith is not identifiable in any tangible sort of fashion. You cannot point at it, touch it, feel it, hear it, taste, or even smell it. Certainly you cannot see it either. We all know it exists though. So how do we define it?
I do not believe faith is simply going to church every Sunday, and it is by no means something as trivial as being in compliance with a bunch of silly, meaningless traditions established by church leaders hundreds of years ago. I can't imagine that faith can be defined by lighting hundreds of candles and counting beads as you pray. I imagine it must be more than sipping grape juice from a plastic cup and nibbling a stale cracker. Undoubtedly faith exceeds the emotional catharsis most of us experience at what has become a typical church service...a service that resembles a rock concert more than a quiet, reverent place to learn about and honor God.
Faith is defined in several different ways on www.dictionary.com. The essence of the definition it seems though is "a belief in something". I'm okay with the belief part I think, but I wonder about the something, and how that belief is developed. Now this brings me to the part where I have to sit and reflect on my own beliefs a bit. Doing so can be quite uncomfortable as I don't even know all the answers pertaining to myself. However, I'd prefer to be honest and admit I don't know than to lead on my lovely readers and pretend I'm far more sure of myself than is true.
So to begin, I believe in God, yes that one...the one with the capital "G". I believe that God is THE higher being in control of this universe, down to the tiniest atom in my human makeup. I'm certain that God has plans for all of us even though we aren't quite sure what those plans may be. I get a bit confused though when it comes to questions of predestination and heaven and hell. If this God in whom I have faith is so gracious, loving, and merciful, why then does he banish souls to hell? And what is to say that I will not be one of those poor souls languishing in misery forever even though I am trying to live a good life because doing the right thing is simply the right thing to do?
Muslims pray multiple times a day and make pilgrimages to Mecca. Hindus won't eat beef. Many other religions practice all sorts of different rules and regulations as part of their faith. They truly believe if they do these things they will go to Heaven. The Muslim men sincerely believe that if they live a good life they will be awarded numerous virgins in heaven. As Christians, and I don't mean that in terms of organized religion but as followers of Jesus Christ, what do we do? I am inclined to think that, as I often say, we have missed the point of the pageantry. We go to our churches. We wear the trendy jeans and carry our Starbucks cup like it's a badge of honor. We know where to go to see and be seen by the right people. We help the homeless not because we want to show love, grace, and compassion, but because it has become the cool thing to do. I believe our faith should be based on our love for man. Loving as Christ loved is far more challenging than one might imagine. We say we are "seeker friendly" and "relevant", but how are $300 jeans relevant to single mom who can't afford to feed her children, or to the prostitute who's been beaten by her pimp, or to the young girl battling anorexia so she can feel like she fits in, or to the man who lost all his money gambling and has a sex addiction? How does an emotionally cathartic church service practically help these people and build their faith in anything more than the almighty dollar that affords the lights, multi-million dollar sound systems, and the "rockstars" playing on stage in their designer "stage wear"?
This being said, I choose to put my faith in the love that Christ showed to all people unconditionally. I still cannot define that faith in a tangible sense, but I can however define it by actions.
I do not believe faith is simply going to church every Sunday, and it is by no means something as trivial as being in compliance with a bunch of silly, meaningless traditions established by church leaders hundreds of years ago. I can't imagine that faith can be defined by lighting hundreds of candles and counting beads as you pray. I imagine it must be more than sipping grape juice from a plastic cup and nibbling a stale cracker. Undoubtedly faith exceeds the emotional catharsis most of us experience at what has become a typical church service...a service that resembles a rock concert more than a quiet, reverent place to learn about and honor God.
Faith is defined in several different ways on www.dictionary.com. The essence of the definition it seems though is "a belief in something". I'm okay with the belief part I think, but I wonder about the something, and how that belief is developed. Now this brings me to the part where I have to sit and reflect on my own beliefs a bit. Doing so can be quite uncomfortable as I don't even know all the answers pertaining to myself. However, I'd prefer to be honest and admit I don't know than to lead on my lovely readers and pretend I'm far more sure of myself than is true.
So to begin, I believe in God, yes that one...the one with the capital "G". I believe that God is THE higher being in control of this universe, down to the tiniest atom in my human makeup. I'm certain that God has plans for all of us even though we aren't quite sure what those plans may be. I get a bit confused though when it comes to questions of predestination and heaven and hell. If this God in whom I have faith is so gracious, loving, and merciful, why then does he banish souls to hell? And what is to say that I will not be one of those poor souls languishing in misery forever even though I am trying to live a good life because doing the right thing is simply the right thing to do?
Muslims pray multiple times a day and make pilgrimages to Mecca. Hindus won't eat beef. Many other religions practice all sorts of different rules and regulations as part of their faith. They truly believe if they do these things they will go to Heaven. The Muslim men sincerely believe that if they live a good life they will be awarded numerous virgins in heaven. As Christians, and I don't mean that in terms of organized religion but as followers of Jesus Christ, what do we do? I am inclined to think that, as I often say, we have missed the point of the pageantry. We go to our churches. We wear the trendy jeans and carry our Starbucks cup like it's a badge of honor. We know where to go to see and be seen by the right people. We help the homeless not because we want to show love, grace, and compassion, but because it has become the cool thing to do. I believe our faith should be based on our love for man. Loving as Christ loved is far more challenging than one might imagine. We say we are "seeker friendly" and "relevant", but how are $300 jeans relevant to single mom who can't afford to feed her children, or to the prostitute who's been beaten by her pimp, or to the young girl battling anorexia so she can feel like she fits in, or to the man who lost all his money gambling and has a sex addiction? How does an emotionally cathartic church service practically help these people and build their faith in anything more than the almighty dollar that affords the lights, multi-million dollar sound systems, and the "rockstars" playing on stage in their designer "stage wear"?
This being said, I choose to put my faith in the love that Christ showed to all people unconditionally. I still cannot define that faith in a tangible sense, but I can however define it by actions.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
My Moment
Anyone who even remotely knows me is more than likely aware that I've been fighting to free myself from my ex-husband for years now. The simple, uncontested divorce alone took two years, and then there was the contempt case on top of it. Today was the hearing for the latter. After years of being the proverbial "bad guy" all I wanted was a tiny piece of vindication. I was scared and nervous that I wouldn't get it and that I would still, even despite the ex's clear willfulness to not uphold the divorce decree, be put in a corner so to speak. Things couldn't have happened more differently though...
We went to court and I actually had reservations about whether or not he would even show up. But there he was with his dad and new wife...we'll call her Little Miss Sunshine...seems appropriate given her age and bleached blonde hair. The ex was looking heroin chic, but not in that cool Olsen twin kind of way, but more like I felt as though I needed to buy him a burger and a haircut. Despite their very non-intimidating appearance, I was still a bit shaken by seeing him. After all, until today, I had not laid eyes on him physically since 2007. As soon as I saw my lawyer though all of the nervousness subsided. I was very comforted by talking to him and looking over the game plan. I had done my homework, and we had quite a bit of documentation to back up my case.
After a bit of chatting in the hallway, my lawyer, my mom and her husband, and I entered the courtroom. It was absolutely freezing inside. So even though I was inexplicably calm and collected, I couldn't stop shaking. The judge was an hour late to court, and we had to wait for several other cases to be heard before it was our turn. Finally they called my name though. By the way, I hope I never hear "Alexis Rice" called in a courtroom again. It's unnerving even when you're the good guy.
So we all take our places at our respective tables. My lawyer articulately makes his opening statement. Then the ex takes the stand. It was a little funny to see him nervous and without the ability to fight back employing his usual tactics of yelling at people to try to scare them into getting his way. My lawyer put it to him though and didn't let him pull any punches, even going so far as to ask the ex if he knew how to read since he claimed he was unaware of something clearly stated in black and white. I had a terribly difficult time hiding my amusement at that blow to his ego; however, I quietly sat and watched. He kept glaring at me from the stand. I assume he was trying to intimidate me. Didn't work though. Funny thing, he had filed a contempt case against me and on the stand contradicted his own case! It was brilliant.
After he stepped down, it was my turn. I tried to cooly walk across the court room to the witness stand. I took my oath and sat down. My lawyer questioned me first. My voice wavered a bit, in part because I was a smidge nervous and in part because I was so cold I was shivering. At any rate, my lawyer went through his line of questioning, and I was able to expound on my answers with him. Then it was opposing counsel's turn to grill me. The ex's lawyer was quite amicable actually and not at all threatening. He asked his questions and I gave simple answers making sure not to ask any questions myself.
My turn was up finally, and I must say I finished with a bang. I was quite proud of myself honestly. After I stepped down, the ex took the stand again. My lawyer is the man and didn't let him get away with anything. I told my best friend I even have a mini crush on my lawyer now because he saved me. :) Anyway, he served my ex up nicely on a silver platter. The judge made his ruling completely in my favor. The ex's face was priceless when the judge made his ruling, even making him responsible for $8,000 worth of repairs that I never mentioned or knew about until today. Not to mention he's responsible for my legal fees! Ah, and I can't forget to mention that the judge told him he's a big boy and needs to be responsible. Shazam! Oh sweet victory.
I don't think it's appropriate to disclose further details in such an open forum, but suffice it to say, that freedom is upon me today. I can breathe again, and perhaps I can start to truly live my life now. I'm a bit overwhelmed by it all. I was exhausted after court and took a five hour nap, and I'm still tired. :) It's mostly over now though. I can have a life. I'm not quite sure where to begin exactly, but I know I'm going to celebrate tomorrow, and I can't wait!
We went to court and I actually had reservations about whether or not he would even show up. But there he was with his dad and new wife...we'll call her Little Miss Sunshine...seems appropriate given her age and bleached blonde hair. The ex was looking heroin chic, but not in that cool Olsen twin kind of way, but more like I felt as though I needed to buy him a burger and a haircut. Despite their very non-intimidating appearance, I was still a bit shaken by seeing him. After all, until today, I had not laid eyes on him physically since 2007. As soon as I saw my lawyer though all of the nervousness subsided. I was very comforted by talking to him and looking over the game plan. I had done my homework, and we had quite a bit of documentation to back up my case.
After a bit of chatting in the hallway, my lawyer, my mom and her husband, and I entered the courtroom. It was absolutely freezing inside. So even though I was inexplicably calm and collected, I couldn't stop shaking. The judge was an hour late to court, and we had to wait for several other cases to be heard before it was our turn. Finally they called my name though. By the way, I hope I never hear "Alexis Rice" called in a courtroom again. It's unnerving even when you're the good guy.
So we all take our places at our respective tables. My lawyer articulately makes his opening statement. Then the ex takes the stand. It was a little funny to see him nervous and without the ability to fight back employing his usual tactics of yelling at people to try to scare them into getting his way. My lawyer put it to him though and didn't let him pull any punches, even going so far as to ask the ex if he knew how to read since he claimed he was unaware of something clearly stated in black and white. I had a terribly difficult time hiding my amusement at that blow to his ego; however, I quietly sat and watched. He kept glaring at me from the stand. I assume he was trying to intimidate me. Didn't work though. Funny thing, he had filed a contempt case against me and on the stand contradicted his own case! It was brilliant.
After he stepped down, it was my turn. I tried to cooly walk across the court room to the witness stand. I took my oath and sat down. My lawyer questioned me first. My voice wavered a bit, in part because I was a smidge nervous and in part because I was so cold I was shivering. At any rate, my lawyer went through his line of questioning, and I was able to expound on my answers with him. Then it was opposing counsel's turn to grill me. The ex's lawyer was quite amicable actually and not at all threatening. He asked his questions and I gave simple answers making sure not to ask any questions myself.
My turn was up finally, and I must say I finished with a bang. I was quite proud of myself honestly. After I stepped down, the ex took the stand again. My lawyer is the man and didn't let him get away with anything. I told my best friend I even have a mini crush on my lawyer now because he saved me. :) Anyway, he served my ex up nicely on a silver platter. The judge made his ruling completely in my favor. The ex's face was priceless when the judge made his ruling, even making him responsible for $8,000 worth of repairs that I never mentioned or knew about until today. Not to mention he's responsible for my legal fees! Ah, and I can't forget to mention that the judge told him he's a big boy and needs to be responsible. Shazam! Oh sweet victory.
I don't think it's appropriate to disclose further details in such an open forum, but suffice it to say, that freedom is upon me today. I can breathe again, and perhaps I can start to truly live my life now. I'm a bit overwhelmed by it all. I was exhausted after court and took a five hour nap, and I'm still tired. :) It's mostly over now though. I can have a life. I'm not quite sure where to begin exactly, but I know I'm going to celebrate tomorrow, and I can't wait!
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Walk On...
I have recently emerged in the dating scene. I don't care for it at all to be honest. I much prefer being with just one person and knowing said person well...having a best friend really. So, in order to not waste any more of my time or anyone else's money...
If you want to talk to me only because you think I'm pretty; if your view of religion is only that you think Jesus is cool and you know nothing about faith or God; if you have a confused look on your face because you don't understand my everyday vernacular; if you feel compelled to tell me how artsy/eccentric/cool you are, chances are you probably aren't; if you think you're a musician just because you can play a C chord; if you think you look hotter than me in eyeliner; if the thought of wearing my jeans crosses your mind; if you're under the impression that the world revolves around you or that perhaps you're owed something; if you play on other people's sympathies to get your way; if you feel the need to put down other people to feel better about yourself; if you look at women as a numbers game; if you like what i consider to be bad music; if your intellectual depth goes no further than beer, bikinis, and ball; if you think buying me a drink makes you entitled to hook up with me; if you don't appreciate pretty dresses, tall shoes, puppies, and cupcakes; if you like the idea of my eccentricities but think you're going to change them; if you're not okay with me being independent; and lastly, if you wear anything bedazzled or Ed Hardy...then please, please, do us both a favor and walk on.
If you want to talk to me only because you think I'm pretty; if your view of religion is only that you think Jesus is cool and you know nothing about faith or God; if you have a confused look on your face because you don't understand my everyday vernacular; if you feel compelled to tell me how artsy/eccentric/cool you are, chances are you probably aren't; if you think you're a musician just because you can play a C chord; if you think you look hotter than me in eyeliner; if the thought of wearing my jeans crosses your mind; if you're under the impression that the world revolves around you or that perhaps you're owed something; if you play on other people's sympathies to get your way; if you feel the need to put down other people to feel better about yourself; if you look at women as a numbers game; if you like what i consider to be bad music; if your intellectual depth goes no further than beer, bikinis, and ball; if you think buying me a drink makes you entitled to hook up with me; if you don't appreciate pretty dresses, tall shoes, puppies, and cupcakes; if you like the idea of my eccentricities but think you're going to change them; if you're not okay with me being independent; and lastly, if you wear anything bedazzled or Ed Hardy...then please, please, do us both a favor and walk on.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
When the Darkness Closes In...
It's like the swell of a wave.
The darkness, heavy and deep, washes over me
weighted with lies and secrets.
I can barely withstand the weight of it.
I can hardly hold on.
Surely one day I'll have someone to hold on to.
But if that day should not come
I'll be tossed to and fro with the tide.
The moonlight and the stars my only guides.
I'll hold steady to the shore
and fight the pull of the waves with all I have
until that day I can fall down and find peace
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
You Wouldn't Believe Me if I Told You...
I hardly believe it myself actually. It just seems so surreal, and not in a good way. Not like a sweet, soft dream. More like a horrifying nightmare that you can never escape. No matter what you do, the terrible thoughts of the past are always taunting you in the back of your mind. It's a constant battle to fight the lies of the past. It's exhausting to say the least.
It started when I was 18 though, and he was 23. I had never dated anyone before, and I was incredibly shy and reserved. I had a very hard time trusting people because my dad had passed away 4 years before I met him. Despite that, or maybe because of that actually, I wanted so badly for someone to love me, to not feel alone anymore. And there he was...
He had all the right words to say at first. He seemed so kind and gentle. He was decent looking enough, but more than that he was a smooth talker. Everyone seemed to think he was such a great guy...so nice, the sort to do anything for anyone. He had an awful lot of people fooled. He even came across as a very "Godly" guy who was really trying to live a good life and treat people well.
After much coercion I finally gave in and went on a double date with him and two of my friends. After that, I was sucked in. I'll give him that he was smooth enough to take me on a moonlight horseback ride and even serenade me by a fire in the middle of the night. I had no idea it was all part of master plan though.
We had a tumultuous dating relationship-constantly breaking up, crying, fighting, getting back together. He had succeeded in all but completely separating me from my friends. He had nearly convinced me that they were all bad people who didn't actually care about me, but wanted to use me. After five years of turmoil, we got engaged to the surprise, and later I found out dismay, of many people. We were engaged only for a couple of months before getting married. It was all so fast...a complete blur.
The day I got married, I was torn and crushed. I didn't want to do it, even as I walked down the aisle on my brother's arm. I was completely convinced though that no one else would ever love me. I was just so difficult to deal with on top of not being very smart, thin, pretty, or wise. I just didn't seem to have a whole lot going for me, and so I had resolved myself to this end...marry the only one who would have me. As soon as the ceremony was over, I cried. Then I cried some more. The tears didn't stop. I couldn't help thinking "what have I done?! My God what have I done?!" I wouldn't even sleep with him that day. I just laid in the bed crying. I was horrified at what had happened, and I thought there was no turning back. I honestly believed I had ruined my own life. Had I only gone with my instincts...
As soon as we came home from the honeymoon, I was in tears and begging for counseling. I was miserable and wanted help. My head was so twisted and convoluted even then, I couldn't see which way was up or down. I remember laying on the floor sobbing begging for help and being denied. I was told I just needed to work it out on my own. We couldn't afford help so I needed to just deal with it, besides, they were MY issues anyway. This went on and on for months, and then years. At first I thought maybe it was just a crazy side effect from birth control. The drugs made me terribly sick anyway, so perhaps they also made me crazy? I had no idea. I was exhausted all the time. I was careful to eat only small portions, and to NEVER eat any sweets. Everything was 100% organic, and often I didn't eat at all. I ran constantly and was at the gym all the time. I had to get thinner. Maybe then I'd be prettier, and then maybe, just maybe, I'd almost be good enough for him. It was a long shot, but I figured I should at least try. I knew I'd never be as smart or as wise as him. He told me that himself.
Soon I found myself going on shopping binges. If I could get the newest Marc Jacobs dress and the amazing Chloe stilettos, then I'd look pretty enough that he would turn his head when I walked in the room. Instead, he just continued to expect me to show up with Starbucks every Sunday and sit there quietly while he told stories and laughed with his friends. I wasn't to interrupt. If I did, I risked the humiliation of being shushed in front of all those people in the green room at church. So I sat and said nothing. I just tried my best to look pretty and maintain a certain image. I had all the right jeans, dresses, shoes, and makeup. I went to all the right places and always had the right drink in my Starbucks cup. Never was a hair out of place nor a speck of mascara on my cheek. I managed to maintain a very lean figure, weighing in at a mere 110 pounds, which, at 5'9" isn't a whole lot.
On top of everything else, I worked constantly. He wanted to be a rockstar, and I, as the wife, was responsible for funding his dreams. Since he was the husband, all of my dreams and desires had to be put on hold for a while. Besides, they were "Alexis Desires" not "God Desires". Clearly, his were God ordained, and mine were little more than pipe dreams. What a silly girl I was to think any differently. So, often I would work 17 hours a day 5 days a week to pay the bills. Someone had to pay for the expensive jeans and haircuts, etc. I quickly learned though that he was far more entitled to nice things like that than I was because he got paid to look good because he was on stage. Plus, his $300 jeans and $700 hoodie were tax right-offs anyway since he was a rockstar. I know, silly me. What was I thinking when I said that seemed ridiculous???
Slowly over time, I begin to sink down into a very deep, dark depression. I was bitter and angry all the time. Eventually, he even had me convinced that I needed to be institutionalized. I was literally curled up in a ball on the floor crying because he convinced me that I was hearing voices in my head. Of course he never said I was lazy. "Satan let me hear that." Gosh what a stupid girl for not knowing it was that tricky Satan who allowed me to see and hear my own husband call me lazy after I had worked a whole day, cleaned the house, and prepared dinner for him and his friends. Of course it was Satan. That's the only rational answer.
As I slipped further into this depression, I became addicted to working in a restaurant. I was good at it, and the work was mindless as it came naturally to me. It was almost like a soft rocking wave. It was easy and familiar, and the only place I felt validated.
The day he bought the $700 hoodie was a big turning point for me. After he made that brilliant purchase, I began looking at shoes. At this point, he propositioned me. If I wanted a pair of shoes, I would have to openly have sex with him in his truck right there in the parking lot at a very high end mall in the middle of the day on a busy Saturday. I had explained to him many times how much I hated to feel like a piece of meat, but he insisted I do that or I was a bad wife. He drilled it into my head that I wasn't a Proverbs 31 woman. Over and over again he told me how selfish I was and that I was a horrible prude. These are the same comments I received that day when I denied him. He said I should be a whore for my husband though. It was torturous, and I was reduced to nothing more than a ghost inside of the girl I used to be.
I couldn't escape either. I was too proud to tell anyone what was really happening at home. I was so good at putting up a facade that no one was the wiser either. The years of solitude while he was away traveling had provided me the opportunity to only strengthen the already existing walls guarding my heart. Not to mention my fear of being a failure. I didn't want to disappoint my mom. I was so scared of hurting her. And I was covered in shame. I couldn't bear telling people the things that had happened. I didn't think they would believe me.
It all began to unravel when I found the hidden stash of weed though. I was vacuuming and found the inside of a paper towel roll stuffed with dryer sheets. Confused I asked him what it was. He explained casually that he smoked joints through it so I wouldn't smell the weed. That erupted into a huge fight. I started sleeping by myself in a room downstairs. I constantly came home to him hanging out with his friends. I was a stranger in my own house. Eventually he gave me an ultimatum: do what I say because I'm the husband and that's why or get out. So I left.
I moved out into my own place. I worked a minimum of 80 hours a week to pay his bills and mine. I hardly ate a thing. I mostly would come home and drink until I fell asleep only to do it all again the next day. I was bitterly depressed and more alone than I had ever been. My mind was a disaster. I didn't know what I had done or what I was going to do. Truly I never would've left had my best friend not talked me through it all for a year a half prior to me walking out. But then, once I was out, I could barely afford to turn on the heat in my apartment. I slept wrapped in blankets on the floor by the fire so I didn't have to spend extra money. I never went out, and I was allowed only $5 cash at the bookstore. I worked to the bone...dropped down to probably 100 pounds. Size 0 jeans were falling off of me. I was a wreck. On top of everything he continued playing sick mind games with me-trying to coerce me to come back home and in the next breath damning me. Literally the mental and emotional wear and tear was nearly more than I could handle. I'm not ashamed to admit that thoughts of suicide entered my mind numerous times in those years of marriage and in the months after I left. I thought if I could just leave this world everyone else would be so much happier, and finally, I wouldn't be sad anymore, besides, I was worth nothing anyway right?
Finally I went to counseling again. We had trying going as a married couple, but to no avail. He would present one side of himself to the counselor...the sweet, loving side...but then in private, he would berate me for making him look like a monster. This time though, I went alone. I had to go for months. Sometimes I had to go twice a week. Eventually I was able to spread out my visits more as my counselor thought I improved. Slowly a glimmer of the old Alexis began to appear. It was faint at first, but I could see it. I hardly recognized myself. I began to reconnect with old friends. Strangely, one of my most important friends I talk to only via the internet or text messaging. Yet this friend knows me better than anyone else possibly does at this point in my life. He protects my secrets and has been an immense help to me through all of my mess.
As time passes by, even though I'm still not 100% free from the hold he has on me, the old Ali is coming back stronger. She's more familiar now. She's not afraid anymore either. I still hate when people tell me I'm pretty because I'd rather be sweet and smart. I don't want my value to ever be based on my appearance again. I want to think that someday someone somewhere will love me as I am. I don't want to be a project for some guy with a white knight complex. I want to be the part that completes the whole. I'm afraid to burden someone else with my tale. My secrets are heavy I know. I hope that one day though someone will be brave enough and strong enough to love me anyway. Perhaps someone can look beyond what was and see who I am instead.
It started when I was 18 though, and he was 23. I had never dated anyone before, and I was incredibly shy and reserved. I had a very hard time trusting people because my dad had passed away 4 years before I met him. Despite that, or maybe because of that actually, I wanted so badly for someone to love me, to not feel alone anymore. And there he was...
He had all the right words to say at first. He seemed so kind and gentle. He was decent looking enough, but more than that he was a smooth talker. Everyone seemed to think he was such a great guy...so nice, the sort to do anything for anyone. He had an awful lot of people fooled. He even came across as a very "Godly" guy who was really trying to live a good life and treat people well.
After much coercion I finally gave in and went on a double date with him and two of my friends. After that, I was sucked in. I'll give him that he was smooth enough to take me on a moonlight horseback ride and even serenade me by a fire in the middle of the night. I had no idea it was all part of master plan though.
We had a tumultuous dating relationship-constantly breaking up, crying, fighting, getting back together. He had succeeded in all but completely separating me from my friends. He had nearly convinced me that they were all bad people who didn't actually care about me, but wanted to use me. After five years of turmoil, we got engaged to the surprise, and later I found out dismay, of many people. We were engaged only for a couple of months before getting married. It was all so fast...a complete blur.
The day I got married, I was torn and crushed. I didn't want to do it, even as I walked down the aisle on my brother's arm. I was completely convinced though that no one else would ever love me. I was just so difficult to deal with on top of not being very smart, thin, pretty, or wise. I just didn't seem to have a whole lot going for me, and so I had resolved myself to this end...marry the only one who would have me. As soon as the ceremony was over, I cried. Then I cried some more. The tears didn't stop. I couldn't help thinking "what have I done?! My God what have I done?!" I wouldn't even sleep with him that day. I just laid in the bed crying. I was horrified at what had happened, and I thought there was no turning back. I honestly believed I had ruined my own life. Had I only gone with my instincts...
As soon as we came home from the honeymoon, I was in tears and begging for counseling. I was miserable and wanted help. My head was so twisted and convoluted even then, I couldn't see which way was up or down. I remember laying on the floor sobbing begging for help and being denied. I was told I just needed to work it out on my own. We couldn't afford help so I needed to just deal with it, besides, they were MY issues anyway. This went on and on for months, and then years. At first I thought maybe it was just a crazy side effect from birth control. The drugs made me terribly sick anyway, so perhaps they also made me crazy? I had no idea. I was exhausted all the time. I was careful to eat only small portions, and to NEVER eat any sweets. Everything was 100% organic, and often I didn't eat at all. I ran constantly and was at the gym all the time. I had to get thinner. Maybe then I'd be prettier, and then maybe, just maybe, I'd almost be good enough for him. It was a long shot, but I figured I should at least try. I knew I'd never be as smart or as wise as him. He told me that himself.
Soon I found myself going on shopping binges. If I could get the newest Marc Jacobs dress and the amazing Chloe stilettos, then I'd look pretty enough that he would turn his head when I walked in the room. Instead, he just continued to expect me to show up with Starbucks every Sunday and sit there quietly while he told stories and laughed with his friends. I wasn't to interrupt. If I did, I risked the humiliation of being shushed in front of all those people in the green room at church. So I sat and said nothing. I just tried my best to look pretty and maintain a certain image. I had all the right jeans, dresses, shoes, and makeup. I went to all the right places and always had the right drink in my Starbucks cup. Never was a hair out of place nor a speck of mascara on my cheek. I managed to maintain a very lean figure, weighing in at a mere 110 pounds, which, at 5'9" isn't a whole lot.
On top of everything else, I worked constantly. He wanted to be a rockstar, and I, as the wife, was responsible for funding his dreams. Since he was the husband, all of my dreams and desires had to be put on hold for a while. Besides, they were "Alexis Desires" not "God Desires". Clearly, his were God ordained, and mine were little more than pipe dreams. What a silly girl I was to think any differently. So, often I would work 17 hours a day 5 days a week to pay the bills. Someone had to pay for the expensive jeans and haircuts, etc. I quickly learned though that he was far more entitled to nice things like that than I was because he got paid to look good because he was on stage. Plus, his $300 jeans and $700 hoodie were tax right-offs anyway since he was a rockstar. I know, silly me. What was I thinking when I said that seemed ridiculous???
Slowly over time, I begin to sink down into a very deep, dark depression. I was bitter and angry all the time. Eventually, he even had me convinced that I needed to be institutionalized. I was literally curled up in a ball on the floor crying because he convinced me that I was hearing voices in my head. Of course he never said I was lazy. "Satan let me hear that." Gosh what a stupid girl for not knowing it was that tricky Satan who allowed me to see and hear my own husband call me lazy after I had worked a whole day, cleaned the house, and prepared dinner for him and his friends. Of course it was Satan. That's the only rational answer.
As I slipped further into this depression, I became addicted to working in a restaurant. I was good at it, and the work was mindless as it came naturally to me. It was almost like a soft rocking wave. It was easy and familiar, and the only place I felt validated.
The day he bought the $700 hoodie was a big turning point for me. After he made that brilliant purchase, I began looking at shoes. At this point, he propositioned me. If I wanted a pair of shoes, I would have to openly have sex with him in his truck right there in the parking lot at a very high end mall in the middle of the day on a busy Saturday. I had explained to him many times how much I hated to feel like a piece of meat, but he insisted I do that or I was a bad wife. He drilled it into my head that I wasn't a Proverbs 31 woman. Over and over again he told me how selfish I was and that I was a horrible prude. These are the same comments I received that day when I denied him. He said I should be a whore for my husband though. It was torturous, and I was reduced to nothing more than a ghost inside of the girl I used to be.
I couldn't escape either. I was too proud to tell anyone what was really happening at home. I was so good at putting up a facade that no one was the wiser either. The years of solitude while he was away traveling had provided me the opportunity to only strengthen the already existing walls guarding my heart. Not to mention my fear of being a failure. I didn't want to disappoint my mom. I was so scared of hurting her. And I was covered in shame. I couldn't bear telling people the things that had happened. I didn't think they would believe me.
It all began to unravel when I found the hidden stash of weed though. I was vacuuming and found the inside of a paper towel roll stuffed with dryer sheets. Confused I asked him what it was. He explained casually that he smoked joints through it so I wouldn't smell the weed. That erupted into a huge fight. I started sleeping by myself in a room downstairs. I constantly came home to him hanging out with his friends. I was a stranger in my own house. Eventually he gave me an ultimatum: do what I say because I'm the husband and that's why or get out. So I left.
I moved out into my own place. I worked a minimum of 80 hours a week to pay his bills and mine. I hardly ate a thing. I mostly would come home and drink until I fell asleep only to do it all again the next day. I was bitterly depressed and more alone than I had ever been. My mind was a disaster. I didn't know what I had done or what I was going to do. Truly I never would've left had my best friend not talked me through it all for a year a half prior to me walking out. But then, once I was out, I could barely afford to turn on the heat in my apartment. I slept wrapped in blankets on the floor by the fire so I didn't have to spend extra money. I never went out, and I was allowed only $5 cash at the bookstore. I worked to the bone...dropped down to probably 100 pounds. Size 0 jeans were falling off of me. I was a wreck. On top of everything he continued playing sick mind games with me-trying to coerce me to come back home and in the next breath damning me. Literally the mental and emotional wear and tear was nearly more than I could handle. I'm not ashamed to admit that thoughts of suicide entered my mind numerous times in those years of marriage and in the months after I left. I thought if I could just leave this world everyone else would be so much happier, and finally, I wouldn't be sad anymore, besides, I was worth nothing anyway right?
Finally I went to counseling again. We had trying going as a married couple, but to no avail. He would present one side of himself to the counselor...the sweet, loving side...but then in private, he would berate me for making him look like a monster. This time though, I went alone. I had to go for months. Sometimes I had to go twice a week. Eventually I was able to spread out my visits more as my counselor thought I improved. Slowly a glimmer of the old Alexis began to appear. It was faint at first, but I could see it. I hardly recognized myself. I began to reconnect with old friends. Strangely, one of my most important friends I talk to only via the internet or text messaging. Yet this friend knows me better than anyone else possibly does at this point in my life. He protects my secrets and has been an immense help to me through all of my mess.
As time passes by, even though I'm still not 100% free from the hold he has on me, the old Ali is coming back stronger. She's more familiar now. She's not afraid anymore either. I still hate when people tell me I'm pretty because I'd rather be sweet and smart. I don't want my value to ever be based on my appearance again. I want to think that someday someone somewhere will love me as I am. I don't want to be a project for some guy with a white knight complex. I want to be the part that completes the whole. I'm afraid to burden someone else with my tale. My secrets are heavy I know. I hope that one day though someone will be brave enough and strong enough to love me anyway. Perhaps someone can look beyond what was and see who I am instead.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Liar
Yes, I'm describing myself. Why? Because it's apt. I live my life behind a facade. I maintain this image of the pretty happy girl, but when I am real and honest, I am confused, disheartened, angry, and sad. I go home and weep with sorrow. Why? A multitude of reasons. What to do? I have no idea.
I don't want to be a liar. Yet I don't want to burden anyone else with my pain. It's silly probably anyway. But it's still there. I don't want to always be the strong one. I want to be able to fall apart and have someone catch me on the way down. Yet still I sit alone as I write this. My longing unfulfilled, and my heart weighted with despair and anxiety.
Sleep is the only real escape and the only place I am able to find some sort of solitude. So I choose it as often as I can, if only for a moment, to find a bit of peace in the chaos of this world.
Someday...someday perhaps I will be allowed the gift of true happiness.
I don't want to be a liar. Yet I don't want to burden anyone else with my pain. It's silly probably anyway. But it's still there. I don't want to always be the strong one. I want to be able to fall apart and have someone catch me on the way down. Yet still I sit alone as I write this. My longing unfulfilled, and my heart weighted with despair and anxiety.
Sleep is the only real escape and the only place I am able to find some sort of solitude. So I choose it as often as I can, if only for a moment, to find a bit of peace in the chaos of this world.
Someday...someday perhaps I will be allowed the gift of true happiness.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
The Weight of the World
I've written before about how I am so tired of running this race. Some days, it seems to be more than I can handle. Today, was one of those days.
Let me first explain that I have had 2 jobs since I was 20 years old. I'm going to be 30 in November. My point being that I have worked hard for a long time. In fact, now I even have 3 jobs. I do this in order to finance my life, which right now means paying very expensive legal bills and taxes on top of my usual bills like rent and insurance.
By no means do I live an extravagant life. However, the legal bills and taxes add a very heavy burden to the weight I already bear.
Today I opened a bill to find that I owe my lawyer's $1500. Where that money will come from, I have no idea. I certainly don't have it, especially given that I still owe the government a few thousand dollars as well.
When I opened that bill, it was just too much to handle. I felt like the floodwaters were about to rush forth. I am exhausted, and I am so angry that I am having to incur these exorbitant expenses on account of someone else.
God, I can't even believe I was married to him. I want to get away so badly. I want to escape, but even still while he's on his honeymoon with his new wife, I sit here with his claws still in my back. All of the emotions involved in this are so scattered and so many I can't even begin to describe them all. And the only thing I want is my freedom. I want the chance to start over. I would give anything for a new life. What is the cost of that? What must I do? What more must I withstand to gain my freedom, or am I destined to be an indentured servant for the remainder of my days. Atlas carried the world on his great and mighty shoulders, but I'm not Atlas. I'm nowhere close. My endurance and stamina are waning at this point, and I just need to breathe.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Little Ghost
I dreamt a dream last night,
and in it I could feel your warm touch.
I could hear you breathing,
and my heart skipped as you whispered to me.
As the stars faded and my room filled with light
you too little ghost slipped from sight.
The sun came and took you away,
and left me empty yet again today.
Friday, May 21, 2010
"The Human String in the Cat's Cradle of Her Heart"
It is this deep sentiment of longing for love that plucks away at that string
Amidst the twisted, knotted entanglement of forgotten emotions.
To be the epicenter of another's very being;
To be the light that fills his eyes;
To be the music that resounds in his soul.
To have my laugh sound like angels;
To be the most enchanting creature;
To be the only one in the room full of people.
Not life nor death can touch me so deeply as this desire to be loved.
For this I will bare my soul.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Pretty Girls
Women love to hate them.
Men only want to sleep with them.
They essentially are nothing more
than pretty little play things.
Adorned with nothing more than a smile
they illicit feelings of angst and animosity,
and lewd lust and desire.
They do nothing more than walk in a room,
but they're targeted as an entity,
not a person.
Soon they are reduced to nothing more than a face,
not even a name.
They have no thoughts or opinions.
They are nothing. Beauty is fleeting and subjective.
The pretty girls,
they blow away.
They are dust in the wind.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Playing in the Rain
I want to dance and sing she said,
But it's pouring out he told her.
I don't care she retorted.
Your hair will be a mess, and your dress will get wet.
I won't melt though, and I like how it smells.
You're sweet enough to melt though he said and smiled.
But I won't she said defiantly.
I'm going and you can't stop me.
I guess I might as well come along then he replied.
So they went out into the storm and turned their faces to the sky.
The weight of the world washed away under the heavy downpour.
She didn't melt, and her hair was a mess and her dress soaked.
It was worth it he told her, just to see you smile.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
To Give
To have the capacity and ability to give to other people is an incredible thing. Ideally it would be nice to be able to change someone's life in a completely dramatic way; however, I wonder how much a day might be changed by a simple smile, a kind word, or a gentle touch. Could we each possess the power to change the world by such simple actions?
If there is any plausibility to the butterfly effect at all, I think that this is in fact quite possible. Granted, some hurdles may be more difficult to cross than others, but imagine a day in which you pass by people on the street and actually acknowledge each individual. It astounds me that we live in those huge cosmopolitan cities surrounded by millions of people and yet have no contact with another person at all in a given day. I know at times I have been very depressed and felt terribly alone. I would've given anything to have someone act like I was alive. Instead, I made my way through the day quietly and unnoticed. I wonder how my day may have been altered had someone taken an interest in the forlorn girl in the corner with her face buried in a book pretending to have a bustling life with a phone that wouldn't stop buzzing for a minute because she was so terribly popular.
I have tried for years to fill a void in my life with all sorts of superficial, meaningless things, from dresses to shoes to fruitless relationships. I've found that giving back to others has allowed me to settle into being myself. The joy of giving is one of the greatest feelings I can imagine. To see another person smile because of some small sacrifice I make...well, I'd give anything I have for that. All of the money in the world can't buy that joy.
A-OK
Everything is going to all right. No, really. I know that. There is a peace and a sense of understanding I have been blessed with as of late that tells me this is a definitive truth. The road is winding, and the storms will rage, but I know that at the end there is a safe place waiting. I know that all the toils and snares along the way only serve to make me stronger and wiser. I know this now. I wish I had known years ago, but then I wouldn't be where I am today.
Now I can sit here and write these posts with little concern in regard to pleasing my audience. I can write for me and simple be honest with my thoughts. I am okay with who I am now. I don't feel the need to validate myself with new shoes and dresses. I have no interest in fame or fortune. My interest is people. They will fail me, and in turn, I will do the same to others. We are human, and we have a pretty significant learning curve. However, school is continually in session and so we can only get better at life...at living...and effectually at loving.
That's how I know everything will be okay...because none of "stuff" matters. It's the people who are at the core of everything worth anything. Lesson learned.
The Kindest Words...
As previously mentioned, I have been the recipient of some very kind compliments in the past week or two. It's funny, that me with a head full of words has nothing to say after having these lovely words bestowed upon me. I am simply overwhelmed. The people who have said these things say they are simply speaking truth. That truth is beyond anything I can comprehend though. To have people see me in such an incredible way is more than I could ever hope for.
Not only have these kind words filled my heart with joy and gratitude, but they have brought an understanding to me as to why it's so important to speak to others in the same manner. I see now how a heart is touched by the simplest word, or how it can be torn in the same way. I hope to be able to keep this in mind in dealing with people so that I too can overwhelm others with kind truths and avoid tearing their very tender hearts.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Echo
It seems in the last few weeks that the rhythm of my heart has begun to echo the rhythm of life, or maybe it's the other way around. Either way, I am finding a peace I have not known for some time. I feel...settled, and okay with where my life is right now. I do not feel rushed to make any major decisions. I feel like I have the freedom I have wanted for so long. And in all of that, my heart is finally in sync with my mind, and in turn, I believe my spirit is more in line with where it needs to be as well.
It's as though...I can rest. Finally. I have been waiting for this for years, literally. And now, I have this overwhelming feeling that everything really will turn out all right. I am learning to forgive, and in doing so, learning how to really live. I am learning to trust and to love and to do so with wisdom but without such great trepidation. I am learning to let go of my bitter and jaded cynicism. I'm trading it in for grace, mercy, and kindness. I am trying so hard to have a gentle spirit and a tender heart. And I am learning to allow myself to be surprised by potentially great things.
I have recently been touched by the kindest words from several different people. These dear compliments were so unexpected, and unbeknown to me, so very needed. I didn't know that real, genuine people could see me in such a lovely light. They have seen me for who I am though, and that is the greatest compliment I could possibly receive.
So here I sit, waiting for the next surprise. Yet, not expecting anything. I am content where I am...settled and quite happy. I hope that this echo doesn't stop. To maintain it I think I must constantly maintain my perspective. I must always remember that my problems are really insignificant compared to most. And above all, I cannot forget how important it is to love people. That is where the greatest joy lies, in building relationships...showing people they have value and worth beyond something superficial. I hope to leave as my legacy one day that I have loved well...and echo the spirit of a heart far greater than my own.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
The Onion
No, no, no. Not the "news source." Don't be silly. I mean more like the Shrek version actually...I'm referring to the layers. I'm sure other things are layered, but an onion is the first item that came to mind.
I was thinking today about how as I start to shed my skin a little, and quit hiding behind all that jaded cynicism, there is a lovely girl down in there. I remember her quite well now. She is much sweeter and kinder, more lively, more gentle, more caring, and really just all around better than the girl she became. She's edging her way back in, but it is taking time.
I became someone I'm not terribly proud of. Now granted, I wouldn't have survived a very difficult situation had I not been able to barricade myself behind strength and a cold, hard disposition. I would've gone mad quite literally. It was necessary to become that person. Like the Aqualung says, "to bear the weight, it's easier to lie." But now, I can't hide behind that facade any longer. The weight has been lifted and life is rather lovely actually.
I'm enjoying my foray back into my old skin. It's like finding an old pair of jeans that fit perfectly and feel like a dream. I've had the privilege to reconnect with old friends who allow me to be...well me, and it feels so good. It's comfortable, and it feels like coming home again.
I'm okay with who I am now. In fact, I like it. I have learned so much along the way, and so all the hardships were worth it. I am grateful to know that I have the personal strength to withstand an enormous amount of pressure. Now though, I'm ready to lay that all aside and go back to just being Ali...in wonderland, where things really are delightfully curiouser and curiouser.
I was thinking today about how as I start to shed my skin a little, and quit hiding behind all that jaded cynicism, there is a lovely girl down in there. I remember her quite well now. She is much sweeter and kinder, more lively, more gentle, more caring, and really just all around better than the girl she became. She's edging her way back in, but it is taking time.
I became someone I'm not terribly proud of. Now granted, I wouldn't have survived a very difficult situation had I not been able to barricade myself behind strength and a cold, hard disposition. I would've gone mad quite literally. It was necessary to become that person. Like the Aqualung says, "to bear the weight, it's easier to lie." But now, I can't hide behind that facade any longer. The weight has been lifted and life is rather lovely actually.
I'm enjoying my foray back into my old skin. It's like finding an old pair of jeans that fit perfectly and feel like a dream. I've had the privilege to reconnect with old friends who allow me to be...well me, and it feels so good. It's comfortable, and it feels like coming home again.
I'm okay with who I am now. In fact, I like it. I have learned so much along the way, and so all the hardships were worth it. I am grateful to know that I have the personal strength to withstand an enormous amount of pressure. Now though, I'm ready to lay that all aside and go back to just being Ali...in wonderland, where things really are delightfully curiouser and curiouser.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Sleep to Dream You
It's like a sweet ocean breeze comes flooding in
As I slip away into my solitude.
That gentle breeze; the intoxicating smell.
Gently, gently I fall away
Only to find you there waiting in the night.
I do not know your face or name
But you are there, quiet and waiting.
You have been there a long time
So still, so peaceful, so kind.
I can find you when I close my eyes
And the stars dance through the dark sky.
So each day I wait
For that serene moment
When at last I am at rest
And I can sleep to dream you.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
The Race
I am by no means a runner...not by any stretch of the imagination; however, I feel like I have been running the world's longest marathon. The last few years have been arduous to say the least. After two years of dealing with a less than amicable divorce, I thought I was finally at the finish line. I truly believed I was at a place where I could finally rest. The idea of slowing down and actually having something that might closely resemble a "real life" is such a far off concept to me that I dare not hope for or dream of it. Instead, I must keep my hand steady and nose to the grindstone.
The race is still going. There is a new route now, and another court date...more lawyers bills, more legal jargon being thrown around, more accusations, more threats. It's all completely exhausting. I have no idea how I have weathered the storm thus far to be honest. Some days I feel like simply laying on the floor and kicking and screaming like a toddler. Other days I yearn to simply fall apart in the arms of someone who loves me. I do those things only in my mind though, and instead keep cool, calm, and collected on the outside. I try my best to maintain that tough girl front, but it's just to avoid completely losing all my sanity and sense of rationale.
God I hope this ends sooner rather than later. I'd like so much to sit on a beach with the cool blue water dancing upon the tips of my toes while the breeze gently swirled around my hair...
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
The Power of Forgiveness
It is strange to me the potential power that can be released by the simple act of forgiveness. I had no idea how dynamic it could be, but I am learning.
Patty Griffin is a wise woman. Listen to the lyrics of her songs and you will understand. Her song "Forgiveness" has been on my mind lately for obvious reasons. In the first verse she sings about snakes at the bottom of the well. She describes how people are swimming in silent darkness where they simply fell, and how if they stay there, they will never be free. The trick is to obtain that freedom, the people must experience forgiveness in one form or another, whether by granting it or receiving it.
This is where I am...trying to climb out of the well. I don't want to forever swim about in the dank, murky waters. I am seeking freedom and peace, and to do that, I must experience forgiveness.
In my case, I have to forgive myself, which for some reason is considerably more difficult than forgiving someone else. As I daily strive to do so though, I can feel the walls around my heart slowly chip away. It's frightening most certainly, but I believe this to be a good and necessary experience if I want my life to progress instead of remaining stagnant.
The interesting part is that as I allow myself more freedom, I also am forcing myself to try to understand many emotions which I have always tossed aside as meaningless or senseless. I now find myself wanting to feel things the way other people do. I want to see the other side of the spectrum. I want to know it, and I do not want to be afraid.
This is a difficult task, and for someone who is a calculated risk taker, it has me on edge a bit. I think I will be able to find my footing eventually, but it will take time. Until then, I'll just find a comfy spot and settle in for the ride.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Oh What an Epiphany It Was...
A friend was telling me last night that often he's just not quite sure how to take me, meaning he can't always read me. He said I come off as so very put together and self sufficient. Well of course I do...that's the role I play. I told him it was all a facade, and it is. Beneath all of that collected exterior is a girl who cannot allow herself to have a real relationship and she inevitably always ends up alone...exactly where she doesn't want to be.
Everyone wants to be loved by someone...to be looked after and cared for. I run from it though. I am too afraid to let down my guard and risk getting hurt. Well, that's one part of it anyway, but that's the obvious reason. The more discreet, stealthy issue is that I don't trust people because I have yet to forgive myself. Sound strange? Probably. When you think about it though, it makes perfect sense.
I am terrified of making a mess of things again. I worry that I will let down people who love me. I am afraid that I won't be able to recover if I do it again. I'm so very afraid of not being perfect. I cannot forgive myself for what I have done in the past. In my mind, I ruined everything. I am the worst thing I could possibly be...a disappointment.
Yet, I do this to myself. No one else thinks this of me. It is my own hubris that gets the best of me. I know this now. This is the great epiphany. I have to forgive myself in order to truly love someone else and be loved in return. What does that look like in application? An acceptance of past mistakes and a willingness to take a risk and quite possibly falter again.
It seems that if I can perhaps accomplish though I will finally have the freedom I so desire. From what I can tell, as it stands, I am bound by my own chains, and we can't have that now can we?
Sunday, March 21, 2010
The Anti-Love Love
I think I tend to believe that I don't want someone to love me because in mind that is essentially nothing more than subjecting myself to under the control of someone else. That only makes me think that I will lose my freedom and independence and that my spirit will be crushed. What I'm beginning to learn is that maybe there is a love out there that isn't quite like that and that perhaps what I know of love isn't really love at all. So maybe it is okay to let someone love me...maybe.
I like having someone around, someone whom I can depend on to laugh with me, cry with me, stay up late and get up early with me. But I seem to like that only on my terms. I am somewhat affronted when I feel like another person is infringing upon my time or makes assumptions about me. But maybe if I can just learn to let people be people I will be in a better mindset. I do want that safe and secure feeling. I do want to be protected. I just fear so much that I will lose bits of who I am in exchange for that safety.
Is there a love that will still allow me to fly freely? Is there a love that is real and isn't like all the silly movies? Is there someone who has his own thoughts and opinions and doesn't take mine as his own? If there is a love like this...an anti-love love, then I'll take it.
I like having someone around, someone whom I can depend on to laugh with me, cry with me, stay up late and get up early with me. But I seem to like that only on my terms. I am somewhat affronted when I feel like another person is infringing upon my time or makes assumptions about me. But maybe if I can just learn to let people be people I will be in a better mindset. I do want that safe and secure feeling. I do want to be protected. I just fear so much that I will lose bits of who I am in exchange for that safety.
Is there a love that will still allow me to fly freely? Is there a love that is real and isn't like all the silly movies? Is there someone who has his own thoughts and opinions and doesn't take mine as his own? If there is a love like this...an anti-love love, then I'll take it.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
A Caged Bird
I didn't always feel this way...at least I don't think I did...
It seems though that my mindset has shifted in the last several years. I have become quite cynical and jaded. I trust virtually no one...not really anyway. And I keep people at arm's length. Selfish? Yes. Willing to change? Not at the moment.
The thought I most want to explore though is my view of love. This is quite possibly my greatest fault. I see love and relationships as a lock and key. I think to be loved by someone must be similar to being a caged bird. Love, in my mind, only symbolizes loss of freedom and independence, loss of self, and something that most closely resembles being an indentured servant. Because of this, I view relationships as nothing more than control. I've been told I'm wrong, and while that may well be true, I am not yet ready to allow my perspective to change. It is too risky. I cannot conceivably allow myself to do something that could cost me my freedom.
Today someone told me that my analogy is backwards and that love is really the bird flying free. I just can't see it though. I have no frame of reference to understand what that might look like in a practical application. The only things I know of love I have mentioned. Well, I know those things, and I have seen fairy tale love in movies. That is just some silly idealistic fable though. Real love isn't so pretty. Relationships don't come so neatly packaged. They are difficult and messy and weighty. They come with chains and locks.
Freedom and independence are the only way to be able to fly though.
It seems though that my mindset has shifted in the last several years. I have become quite cynical and jaded. I trust virtually no one...not really anyway. And I keep people at arm's length. Selfish? Yes. Willing to change? Not at the moment.
The thought I most want to explore though is my view of love. This is quite possibly my greatest fault. I see love and relationships as a lock and key. I think to be loved by someone must be similar to being a caged bird. Love, in my mind, only symbolizes loss of freedom and independence, loss of self, and something that most closely resembles being an indentured servant. Because of this, I view relationships as nothing more than control. I've been told I'm wrong, and while that may well be true, I am not yet ready to allow my perspective to change. It is too risky. I cannot conceivably allow myself to do something that could cost me my freedom.
Today someone told me that my analogy is backwards and that love is really the bird flying free. I just can't see it though. I have no frame of reference to understand what that might look like in a practical application. The only things I know of love I have mentioned. Well, I know those things, and I have seen fairy tale love in movies. That is just some silly idealistic fable though. Real love isn't so pretty. Relationships don't come so neatly packaged. They are difficult and messy and weighty. They come with chains and locks.
Freedom and independence are the only way to be able to fly though.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
The Fine Line Between Genius and Insanity
Recently a friend of mine mentioned that he thought Walt Whitman was brilliant, a genius even, but that he may have been a tad crazy too. I considered this notion for a moment and begin to think of other great artists, poets, writers, etc. What about Sylvia Plath, Edgar Allan Poe, Albert Einstein, Leonardo DaVinci, Dali? The list could go on for quite some time. The point is, all of these people are brilliant. I mean truly brilliant, not in the sense of simply being intelligent, but their intellect and capacity to obtain knowledge and understand concepts and theories is so far beyond what the average person is able to comprehend.
So often, people with this sort of mind, although occasionally praised and revered, are often rather shunned from society. "Normal" people cannot understand the brilliant ones. They do not typically "fit in" at usual social functions, and their conversations are beyond average to say the least. To most people though, that is simply frustrating, weird, and crazy.
I have a theory on this though. First of all, I believe average people say a genius is crazy because it's a simple explanation, one that requires no real backup, and it is easily dismissed in conversation and people simply carry on as they were. I think though that the real reason these people are labeled as "crazy" is because they have the courage to bring to life thoughts and ideas and beliefs that other people only dare to think of in the darkest caverns of their minds. If everyone were honest about what they really thought, wouldn't we all be a little bit crazy too?
So often, people with this sort of mind, although occasionally praised and revered, are often rather shunned from society. "Normal" people cannot understand the brilliant ones. They do not typically "fit in" at usual social functions, and their conversations are beyond average to say the least. To most people though, that is simply frustrating, weird, and crazy.
I have a theory on this though. First of all, I believe average people say a genius is crazy because it's a simple explanation, one that requires no real backup, and it is easily dismissed in conversation and people simply carry on as they were. I think though that the real reason these people are labeled as "crazy" is because they have the courage to bring to life thoughts and ideas and beliefs that other people only dare to think of in the darkest caverns of their minds. If everyone were honest about what they really thought, wouldn't we all be a little bit crazy too?
Thursday, January 28, 2010
The Long Road
the frailty of life is something intangible. it cannot be held in the palm of the hand. it cannot be seen or heard. it is however quite real to all of us, yet we disregard its importance until we are faced with the cold, harsh reality of it.
someone died today. someone dies every day, but this someone was the husband of a friend. as i drove home and watched watched the road unwind in front of me the same way it does every day, i remembered how it feels to lose someone you love. i remembered how it seemed as though i were outside myself watching everything go on around me. i could see myself standing there while the rest of the world continued on with everyday functions. it was as though i were screaming and no one could hear me. there, that cold, dark solitude is what i remembered so well today. that, i'm sure, must be how my friend felt today as she moved through the motions in complete shock while other people tended to their everyday lives. tomorrow she will wake up and her world will have been forever changed. she no longer has a safe place to call home. her home has been dismantled and there is nothing she can do about it.
that is the core of what i'm thinking now. i know so well what it is to lose your "home". not necessarily that i no longer have shelter or a dwelling place, but my actual home with my family, that safe comfortable place, is no longer there for me when i am hurt, frightened, exhausted, lonely, or in need of solace. my home is no longer something that exists. it is nowhere.
is my road one that leads me home? is the idea of home something that can never be attained? is it something that is only fleeting...something that should it be obtained is only destined to be lost again?
i was told tonight there is a difference in living and surviving. i'm not certain that i can differentiate between the two though. nor am i sure what the goal of doing either might be. live for what? survive for what? is there a point to traveling this long, arduous road? what does the end hold? maybe nothing after all...
someone died today. someone dies every day, but this someone was the husband of a friend. as i drove home and watched watched the road unwind in front of me the same way it does every day, i remembered how it feels to lose someone you love. i remembered how it seemed as though i were outside myself watching everything go on around me. i could see myself standing there while the rest of the world continued on with everyday functions. it was as though i were screaming and no one could hear me. there, that cold, dark solitude is what i remembered so well today. that, i'm sure, must be how my friend felt today as she moved through the motions in complete shock while other people tended to their everyday lives. tomorrow she will wake up and her world will have been forever changed. she no longer has a safe place to call home. her home has been dismantled and there is nothing she can do about it.
that is the core of what i'm thinking now. i know so well what it is to lose your "home". not necessarily that i no longer have shelter or a dwelling place, but my actual home with my family, that safe comfortable place, is no longer there for me when i am hurt, frightened, exhausted, lonely, or in need of solace. my home is no longer something that exists. it is nowhere.
is my road one that leads me home? is the idea of home something that can never be attained? is it something that is only fleeting...something that should it be obtained is only destined to be lost again?
i was told tonight there is a difference in living and surviving. i'm not certain that i can differentiate between the two though. nor am i sure what the goal of doing either might be. live for what? survive for what? is there a point to traveling this long, arduous road? what does the end hold? maybe nothing after all...
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