For her children

These are my childhood memories of your Mother….

I met your Mom in middle school, she was my first friend at a new school. I remember sitting down in Mr. Northwood’s homeroom class and she wouldnt stop talking to me. She kept asking me questions and I didnt want to turn around. Everyone knew each other and I was new. I wanted to stick to myself. Well, she was relentless. We ended up on the same bus home, with different stop, but within walking distance from each other.

She love Prince and because of her I know more songs than most people think. She forced me to watch Purple Rain like eight thousand times…not really…but maybe close to a hundred over the course of our friendship. She covered her tiny room with every poster she could fit on the wall. She loved hats and eyeliner and crazy hair like his. She danced and sang every song there was. Some days I thought I would lose my mind if I had to hear one more thing or song from him. And I know there were occasions where her nails were purple and so was her eye shadow. She cried and cried when he died.

She also love Michael Jackson and a boy name Tony from high school sang like him. I think she talked to him for hours just so he would sing for her.

We danced to all the good 80’s music in the living room at the home at the end of the dirt road. Her house was the last one on the road and could be scary at night.

We talked about ghosts and scary stuff.

About a frog in the window which is a joke only we will ever understand.

She would wash green grapes, roll them in sugar and freeze them. They were so good in the summer. We made a lot, A LOT, of macaroni and cheese. And she cooked everything with butter.

She ate instant coffee on occasion, along with a spoon full of creamer and sugar. We were 13 and you do dumb things at 13.

She convinced a group of girls to sleep in the desert in the back of the valley. So in the early evening a bunch of us hauled our stuff out there and spent the night. We walked half way to the front of the valley, we thought we were going to the store and decided half way there to turn around.

She had a donkey named Jessica. We would walk her on a lead and put big clown sunglasses on her. And Bobo and Swanie, pigmy goats. They were so much fun.

She would put curlers in her and when we met at the bus stop she would say that she looked like a poodle.

We smoked cigarettes and drank together, talked on the phone for hours, listened to music and sometimes we would draw.

We went to the Reno Rodeo with her step-dad who was a horse shoer. We stayed all day.

We played in the desert and she would pick things up….snakes and horny toads…she wasnt afraid of anything.

She texted me old pictures of us a couple years ago..I didnt even know she had them. Those were good times.

She made me crazy and I am sure I repaid her. She is fun and funny…I got her on levels where others didnt.

The way she squinted her eyes…she always needed glasses.

Or touched her tongue to her nose…

When we were baptized at 14 in the little Baptist church in the Valley.

And I know that she loves you…more than you can even imagine. She told me how wonderful you are, who looks like her, who acts like her….this makes me laugh and she laughed too. How smart you guys are and how good. How proud she is. She even gave you credit for pulling stuff on her she never would have thought of when we were kids.

The last few days I have listened to the Prince station at work…a song will come on and I will drift to a time and place that I shared with her. I love your Mom, in all her craziness and chaos, it makes her who she is.

I just wanted you to know things about your Mom that we shared throughout the last 36 years.

Learned behaviors….

Who taught you to fear?

I have busied myself with little oddities tonight around the house and the echos of the eggshell dance have been present throughout the evening. I count the last few things that need to be done in the days and ahead and then the things beyond that. I am tired.

Moving, I moved so much in my childhood. So many memories discarded over the last few years and even more over the last few months. Things I never dreamed I would let go of have finally met their fate in the local landfill. I think I kept the most important things and I try not to consider the things I let go of too long or I will, like many other times, overthink. This brought up some old wounds and the dive into how and why I still practice old behaviors that also led to survival.

The eggshell dance….a learned behavior and a childhood coping mechanism. My conscious thoughts were “be quiet, be good, stay out of the way, tiptoe around the bubbling anger that could overflow at any moment”. A learned behavior to make sure I was safe. To make sure life was a little bit easier. Always watch-full, always, always aware, and always, always fearful.

Forward….I carried that learned behavior into my adult life and still practice it even today. Although I try not too, I realized tonight I still carry that programming with me. It sent me into scattered thoughts this evening, sifting, looking, digging in and trying to recall at what point I learned this or who taught me. Self taught I think, its been here so long I cant remember where it came from. It’s a thread in the fabric of my life that runs deep. I practice it more than I like to admit.

Everything will be okay, if everything is okay.

Never too much or too little, always trying to find the perfect balance and sometimes life just isnt like that. A lot, life isnt like that.

People will judge you and it will hurt. It can be a harsh judgement or a small one, sometimes the sting is the same.

So tonight I will consciously try not to spend too much more time on why I repeat this behavior and do my best to be more aware that I have no reason to be fear-full any more and just be……

Peace for your Monday evening ❤

Your power

My thoughts have been totally immersed in our individual power and what we give our attention to. I once knew someone who thought it was unusual that I could walk away from some so easily. If someone hurts you repeatedly, disrespects you, or just treats you like you are irrelevant, give yourself permission to walk away. That is the beginning to taking back your power.

I feel that if someone discounts you enough, hurts you, uses you…whatever you want to call it, it’s okay to cut ties with them. No matter the part they have played in your journey.

“The day I chose to stop speaking their name, was the day I took their power away and took mine back. The day I chose to not respond with anger, I found peace within”.

So I move forward, an occasional memory will come up, or something will trigger me but how I choose to react is just that, my choice. I can say it is not always the best way, but it is my way.

“And the day I chose to leave the past behind me was one of the healthiest and most relieving moments in my life. No more worries about being enough for anyone but myself. It’s not to say that leaving people behind isn’t painful, but sometimes its just the best thing for you.”

Those who truly know me, know that I hold painful emotions and memories in until something brings them to the surface and only then will I spill them….just enough to ease the discomfort my heart houses.

Recently I broke…I think, no, I know I house a lot of pain that I have not allowed to surface and it overflowed. Triggers pull those deep seeded emotions from some long ago corner I have shoved them into. I know that there have been times that I haven’t made good choices in my life, but I know I have never hurt anyone with intention and never will. I don’t regret my choices, they led me to here, but it is my choice if I choose to…

“I choose not relive times before now, times that weren’t so happy. I choose not to recall times before now too often and I refuse to speak names of those that made me feel any less.”

So my thoughts right now are be mindful of the words you speak to yourself and to others….be mindful of the people and memories you give your power to.

After all, it is your power ❤

Peace for your Saturday night….

It’s moments like this….

It’s the quiet calm

before the flood

of emotions

It’s the sound of the house

before you wake

It’s the feel of the fabric

and the hum of the air

The incense that lingers

from last night

The remnants

and snapshots

The smiles

and laughter

The serious conversation

and the shared moments

of the weekend

you were gone

The way you love them

and the way you speak

The way we missed

each other

It’s the words you’ve shared

It’s the moments,

all of them

tied

perfectly together

right here

right now

Someone once asked….

And someone once asked her what she wanted…

She wanted to sit in a coffee shop on a rainy afternoon and work on the book that she had written a million times in her mind. She wanted to feed her soul with the things she felt most connected to. Words.

Her friends painted and wrote, weaved and crafted treasures for little shops and big. They took pictures of objects and people who fed their souls. They healed their wounds by creating beautiful pieces and places in this life. They left their mark. Yes, she wanted to leave a mark in this life that had meaning.

What did she want? Peace, calm…steady, easy rhythm to life. Not a roller coaster and of ifs and maybes. She wanted certainty. She wanted rain, coffee shops and bookstores. Tea and rosemary, lavender and honey…random simplicities. Big coffee mugs and good people. She wants to listen and be heard, to lift people up and kneel down with…laugh, cry and live life with.

She learned about crows and eagles alone on a desolate road at 12:40 am on a Wednesday morning. She knew about darkness and diving into the depths of it and resurfacing with some clarity. She knew about sleeping and rising alone, and feeling connected and disconnected from life and people.

But it wasnt about what she knew, it was about what she wanted.

Love and happiness……pens and paper….paint and canvas.

Life.

Today she wanted life more than yesterday.

Deck of Cards

52 reasons 

52 lies

52 loves 

and 52 cries 

 

A deck of cards for 52 days!! Positive or negative? It’s what we make it. Heavy and light, high and low.

I am maybe 10 and playing cards with friends sometimes. I called the shots at 10. I hated when she went out all the time. I hated the day care sitters. (So I fought it)

 

52 more 

And I am 14. We play out of boredom. Rummy or anything we can think of. A time killer and time filler. I play at my grandpa’s house  with my cousins, mostly always the boys. We are aggressive and trash talk as much as we can (for kids).

 

52 less

And I am 19 in an apartment with my friend. We when we aren’t working, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot and sometimes alone.

 

And 2 x 52 is 104

 

And I am in my 20’s playing with a partner. Skipbo. We are cutthroat! We play spades with others and take no prisoners. And then there is Belinda. We play for pennies, thousands and thousands of pennies. We never pay each other and I laugh now. Good memories of times past. I should play with Ashley tonight and beat her haha! That girl!! Maybe we can make some memories to last….

 

**** Once a week I free flow write in session with this amazing woman. She encouraged me to post this particular piece from a writing prompt we had this past week. She has encouraged me to write from all the parts of me that exist. She has helped me find the courage to continue writing and sharing parts of me that exist in written word!! Thank you Alyese Sweeney!!!! THANK YOU!!! Please check her out at writetoglow.com

 

 

Slow realization

And with morning came the slow realization that she would never be enough for him

She had given everything there was to give and she knew it still wasn’t enough

She always emptied her cup making sure others were happy

Overnight the bottom fell out of her cup and was slowly replaced with something new

Some long-lost new found wisdom

 

She knows what she has to offer

She knows what kind of life she is capable of building

Quiet confidence, along with sadness, bubble to the surface

It’s not about her being enough any more

She is enough for herself

What he seeks is something she doesn’t posses

He wont admit that it’s not her that he wants

He sought others in solitary time while she has been alone

And I look at her

She stands alone in the moment

strong

yet silent

With slow realization

 

 

 

 

Layers…..

 

Layers…
We all have layers, they define who we are. Like pieces to a puzzle, they are the makeup of our lives. I believe that as we live we gather layers upon layers. When we create friendships or any type of relationship we peel back a layer to expose a truth, a wound, a memory, a part of ourselves that has been created through the time before now.

Life experiences…sadness…happiness….grief….excitement….creating us, who we are, how we act, the way we feel….the creation of layers.

So as we connect with another we begin to peel back a layer, a gift, to share a piece of ourselves with them. They may not always be pleasant parts of us and they may determine who stays or who goes from our lives. Living authentically and being vulnerable may not always be easy but it definitely makes us happier at the end of the day.

Periodically I will share my layers in hopes that people will realize we all have things in common, threads, where we reflect in another. We have all been through something and at the right time we will meet another and peel back a layer that may comfort them through one of their troubled times.

 

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