Middle of the Week Musings.

Happy Hump Day! It is almost Friday for all you out there who wish to enjoy the weekend!

Well I am back to complaining about winter, it is upon us full blast. Snow, snow, cold, cold, snow, and cold. You think that you would get used to it living in Illinois in the winter, but it is the same every year, dreaded, and cold and snowy. And still hated. But then again, that will never go away, I don't think humans were meant to live in the cold climates!

And Diva was in an accident, not hurt, not even the car. But she skidded off the road and ended up in our neighbor's front yard. I told her that she needs to quit plowing snow with her brother's car. But I don't think she found that very funny. And now she is afraid to drive in the snow. I tried to tell her that his car is a great big boat, a 1970 Delta 88, and was not meant for the snow, but does she listen, no! Not that girl!

And my son is his loveable smart ass ways, told her that she had no business driving his car to begin with. Even tho he gave her permission. We had to sell hers because it did not run, and we had several mechanics look at it, and still could not figure out what was wrong with it. Now she is without a car, and that is not good for Diva. I hope she hurries and finds one fast!

This week I have went back to being numb a bit. But that is becoming a comfortable place. Since I have been there so much in the past year.

I am glad 2010 is almost over, this year sucked.

Christmas is almost here, and I haven't decorated at all. Maybe I won't this year, but my kids keep nagging me, even tho 18 and 20, I guess they still want rituals.

It is hard tho to celebrate when you have to deal with a death, and have Christmas presents in the closet for him.

Maybe one day I will stop grieving so much. Some days are better than others, but they say to give yourself a year.

Who knows.

Not me.

All I can say is, I hope so.

And that......

Life goes on............

Tawdry Tuesday.

This one is a story about learning lessons. And obeying.


Let me provide you with a little background information first......setting the scene as you will.

I used to go to the clubs a lot, the BDSM clubs, or Social Clubs as they are called. I was very involved in the local scene. And I loved it! I loved the people, the exhibitionism, the freedom of play going on, and just that overall sense of being someplace where you could actually just let loose and have fun. I loved meeting new people, seeing old friends, and just chatting for the biggest part of the night.

One Saturday night a former Master had taken me to one of those clubs, and after doing the greetings and chatting for quite some time, he decided he wanted to do a scene, a rather intense scene and told me to get prepared. Told me to strip down to the bare essentials, and asked me if I had to go to the bathroom. I stripped down until I was standing there in all my naked glory and told him no I did not need to use the restroom. He asked me if I was sure, I reassured him I was.

He made me lay down on this table, kind of like a lower version of a dining room table, well smaller too, and he proceeded to put ankle and wrist cuffs on, along with adding chains to them and securing me to the legs of the table and then came the spreader bar. There I lay all spread out like I was going to be the main course for supper. And as soon as he ran his fingers over my flesh, down to my pelvic area, I had to pee!!! I tried holding it, but have you ever tried to squeeze those muscles in that position! Not gonna happen!!!

I meekly looked at him and started to beg to go pee. He was not pleased, he was annoyed. Ohh hell, I had pissed off the Master! I begged some more and he finally relented, told me to hurry up and get my ass to that bathroom, go pee, do NOT stop and talk to anyone there, or back. DO NOT STOP for any reasons! And if I did I would pay dearly with my flesh! And I really hate pain, so I was gonna obey no matter what! I scurried off to do his bidding.

That bathroom was a long way down, and I had to pass the entire club just to get there. I was off! I tried not to look at anyone and just went inside the bathroom, hurried and peed like a good girl, wiped, washed my hands and fled! On the journey back I could hear my name resounding into the air, over and over they were shouting for me. No!!! I could not stop, don't pay attention, they just wanted me to get into trouble. I looked over my shoulder and flashed a friend of mine a wink. She shouted my name louder.

I turned my head back to the Masterly Dude and there he was standing, hands on hips looking very displeased! Yikes! I made my long legs move faster. Still people shouting my name!! I was breathless by the time I had returned to him. And there he stood laughing at me. I looked at him all indignant, and told him I had obeyed! I did not talk to a single person! His laughter hurled out even more! He kind of spun me around and parted my thighs, and reached down to snag a piece of toilet paper that was caught between my legs. Brought it up to wave like a white flag before my eyes, and bend down to whisper in sadistic glee, "You give a whole new meaning to bathroom play slutcheeks."

I blushed profusely from head to toe.

The moral of this story is: Always check your equipment before doing a scene.

Life goes on..........

Middle of the week musings.

Happy Hump Day!

I haven't done one of these for a long time, and figured it was time to get my butt in gear. I have many of middle of the week musings going on today!

Sometimes no matter how hard you try, it doesn't really matter.

My favorite chocolate are still Dove promises. You get both in a treat. Chocolate, dark and smooth, and a promise.

Seven months and one day.

I still am not over it.

I wonder if I ever will be.

Things leave an impact on your life, and imprints on your soul.

I hate winter, and it is almost upon us once again.

I had to put away the flip-flops and replace them with funky boots. You know those type of boots, almost like wearing slippers. I love those boots, but I rarely wear socks.

I hate socks.

I have always loved the feeling of my bare feet touching fabrics or materials of the "things" I wear on my feet.

Take time out of your day to listen to music, at least one favorite song of the day. It helps, but then again so does smashing glass and watching it burst into a million pieces.

I write dark poetry, and it still does not express all the emotions inside.

I wonder if anything will. But then I know it has, for I have felt the tears.

My youngest child turned 18 this month.

My oldest child turned 34 this month.

I feel old.

I found a new fingernail polish, "Salvation Red." I wonder if there is hidden meaning in that.

I realized often my words have no meaning, only ramblings, and babblings of nonsense.

I found out that I have no words of wisdom to live by, other than.....

Life goes on.......

Alpha Male + Alpha Bitch, Survival of the Fittest.

I have been thinking again. I know, thinking, thinking, thinking. But that is what I do best. I have a lot of time on my hands and my brain never seems to shut off. I was having a discussion today about how alpha men draw alpha bitches to them. So my brain has been going around and around on the subject.

It truly is survival of the fittest. It is as nature intended it to be in my humble opinion. I mean how could I be with a man who was not alpha, who was less than what nature intended him to be. An inherent quality of being at the top of chain. Being of the fittest, the natural order. How it was meant to be. I did not always believe this, when I was young, I thought that fairy tales came true, and my prince would ride out of the sunset on his white steed.

What a silly girl I was!

Even in those fantasies I knew I needed a strong man. I was a very strong willed person, and still am. I could not be with a man who was less strong than I. I could not be the top alpha in the chain. I have to have that exchange, that power exchange, that TPE, the completion of how nature provided it for me. I am not saying this works for everyone, these are just my beliefs. I was taught from a very early age, that the man rules the home, the woman merely takes care of it under his guidance. His command.

I have been in wrong relationships over the years where the men were less than alphas and it did not work. It was simple, it did not work and I ended up being miserable. They were threatened by my alpha nature. They would see at times that I was trying to take over their authority, but in all reality, since they did not or could not handle it, someone had to. There always has to be one who has the most authority. Even in companies, someone has to have at least 51% of the vote. Otherwise how would anyone get anywhere. You wouldn't. It would fail.

And that is how I feel it should be in a relationship between a man and a woman. At least in my world. I want and need the man to have the 51%. I can do it, of course I can and have. I was a single mother, and you had to do it, or else you would not have been able to take care of your kids. But wanting to, and needing to is another story all together. I do not want to, I do not need to. I need the opposite.

It is a need.

I am an alpha bitch. I need that alpha male, just as nature promised. All those glorious inherent traits an alpha male presents.

Never Qualifies Himself: The alpha male makes no apologies, he doesn’t explain his behavior. he is completely comfortable in his own skin so he doesn’t need to. They don’t boast about their success or try and prove anything – again they don’t need to; they assume you will like them simply because other people do, but they don’t care if you don’t – they won’t chase after you for your validation, they don’t care.


Confidence: The biggest asset to possess, no matter where you are, is self confidence. Believing in yourself, no matter what, is one of the alpha male traits that truly stands out. There is a fine line between self belief and arrogance, and the alpha male is well aware of these boundaries and knows how to handle it. He will appear supremely composed, and will leave you amazed at his level of confidence.

No Explanations: An alpha male will not look to anybody for approval. He will follow his instincts, and not feel like he owes anybody any explanations. There is no urge within him to justify and validate his actions and words to anybody. The most obvious of all the alpha male characteristics is that he is comfortable in his own skin and does not look and hope for any one's approval.


And they have more wonderful traits too, but those are the jest of it. And that is what I am drawn to. I believe it is survival of the fittest, you have to claw and scratch and fight your way to the top, and I could not imagine not being with an alpha male.

What can I say.

I am an alpha bitch.

And this quote perhaps says it better than I could.....

"I do not want to be the leader. I refuse to be the leader. I want to live darkly and richly in my femaleness. I want a man lying over me, always over me. His will, his pleasure, his desire, his life, his work, his sexuality the touchstone, the command, my pivot. I don't mind working, holding my ground intellectually, artistically; but as a woman, oh, God, as a woman I want to be dominated. I don't mind being told to stand on my own feet, not to cling all that I am capable of doing but I am going to be pursued, fucked, possessed by the will of a male at his time, his bidding." ~Anais Nin~



Life goes on.......

Caution-Rant Ahead.

Somedays I feel that I should be surrounded by caution tape. For the rants are coming and I can feel them. Maybe I should try some type of bondage and just wrap caution tape around myself and warn people to just stay away. It would be easy if we could do that here and there. It is easy on BloggerVille, just put it in your title and people will probably read it! Put it around yourself and people would probably come just to snoop and see what the caution is. Either way, I guess it doesn't matter, people are going to look, peek, snoop, nose around, because it is like a trainwreck. We have to see what we aren't supposed to look at.

I just feel like ranting today and my topic of the day, Hypocrites.

hypocrite [ˈhɪpəkrɪt]


n

a person who pretends to be what he is not

[from Old French ipocrite, via Late Latin, from Greek hupokritēs one who plays a part, from hupokrinein to feign, from krinein to judge]


People who use this lifestyle, this way of life, or whatever your label is, as an excuse. Yes, they use it as an excuse. An excuse to be something they are not, nor could they ever be. They use it as an excuse to con people into believing they are something they could never be. Because they need validation, or perhaps to just use to with the guise of getting kink. I know that sounds cynical, but it does grow weary with this lovely thing we have, the internet.

Anyone can be a dominant, a submissive, or master, slave, anyone can be whatever they want to be. I believe those traits are inherent, natural, not self-professed, not labeled, not because I want to get in your pants, and I found out what you need, so therefore I will pretend to be something you want/need.

And I have seen this for many years, and grow worse every year. The predators out there, the wannabes, the posers, the people who posture. And I wonder, why, why, why? Why not just tell someone you want to practice kink, why not just tell people that you are not sure what you are, maybe you are searching to find out, and in all honesty, not quite sure. I guess I will never understand the concepts behind those type of lies. Maybe they are truly deluding themselves, into thinking they are something they are not.

And I can see that if one is younger and less experienced, but some of these people have been "practicing" this same bullshit for years. The same stories over and over, I am master/obey, I am slave/submit. I have heard the same excuses for years and years, and could probably write a 1000 page book on them. Being a widow, belonging to some forums, you hear A LOT of excuses!

Whatever happened to the art of conversation, communicating, getting to know someone and asking tons of questions with upfront answers. I mean I can say I don't like lists per se, but I have them. And I don't mind sharing them with people. I just don't list things I have tried and might not like, but might try again if the circumstances are right on them. But I do put my hardcore limits on them, and I do put what I will tolerate and what I will not. I am open to discussions. I am open to conversations. I am open to communication.

What I am not up to, is wasting my time. What I am not up to is trying to get money out of me. What I am not up to are lies upon lies and finding out the truth through other people. Or finding it out on my own. What I am not up to is, people not being who they say they are. Because if you tell me you are something, I am going to hold you to it.

Yes, I know this has been going on for ages, but it seems more prominent since the internet, and as I said grows and grows more and more every year.

Am I cynical, you bet your sweet ass.

Am I jaded, sure am.

Am I still out there trying to find faith in humanity, yep, every day.

Life goes on..............

Happy Birthday The Bastard!

Happy Birthday The Bastard!

Today would have been his 49th birthday. So instead of being sad and thinking about his death, I wish to celebrate his life! And all the wonderful memories that we shared together.

He left a hole in my heart, but he gave me memories, he gave me laughter, he gave me his love. And for that I want to wish him a Happy Birthday and celebrate with cake! He loved cake, he loved sweets!

I would like to think of him smiling down with a big piece of cake in his hand!

And you know how you are supposed to make a wish when you blow out the candles? Well since he is not here to blow them out and make the wish, I will do it for him......

"This is my wish for you: Comfort on difficult days, smiles when sadness intrudes, rainbows to follow the clouds, laughter to kiss your lips, sunsets to warm your heart, hugs when spirits sag, beauty for your eyes to see, friendships to brighten your being, faith so that you can believe, confidence for when you doubt, courage to know yourself, patience to accept the truth, Love to complete your life."


~ Author Unknown~


Life goes on...........

Middle of the Week Musings.

Happy Hump Day! Grab a handful and let's enjoy the rest of the week!

I used to look so forward to the weekends. I could not wait for the weekends. It was a time when everyone was off of work, and I was able to spend time with those that I cared about. Now it is like another day.

Another weekend, just another day. All the days are blending into one. I get up everyday and wonder what day it is, for they all seem the same. What sets apart one day to the next, from Hump Day to the weekend. I used to count down the days, I used to wish them to hurry, and now it seems that every day is the same. They pass quickly at times, and at others they drag, but they all seem the same.

I wish I had a cook, and a maid.

I have realized that submissive women need a man. I know all you women libbers that it is NOT the way it is supposed to be. But since The Bastard's death I have realized that one of the biggest reasons it was, has been so hard is that the women in my house, meaning me and Diva have felt the loss so much more than most, because we need a man. Don't get me wrong, I have been a single mother most of my adult life in those regards and I know how to run a home, how to put structure into my life, and those of my children. But submissive women need a man. It is pretty simple when you look at it. No rocket science there. We thrive with the right men, we flourish and grow with the right man.

My mother groomed me from a very small age to be a 'wife', and I have applied that to being submissive. I need a man. I was groomed to be with a man. I don't need to "take" care of a man, I need a man for all the wonderful reasons a submissive woman needs a man. I don't need a man who needs to be taken care of like one of my children.

I need a good massage, one of those deep massages with oil and nice strong hands. I have a problem with my back and I need a massage. I over extended and need a massage.

I normally use middle of the week musings to talk about things that have happened during the week, and to point out to myself all the revelations that came to be in the previous week. So today I am going over in my head all the things that I have been thinking about.

Okay, not all of them. I can't give away some of my secrets, otherwise I wouldn't have any left for myself. Those dark secrets that you keep to yourself, and don't really want to share them with anyone, because they are special and we all need secrets.

The fields behind my house are coming down and that makes me sad. It means winter is close at hand.

I hate winter. I would rather be someplace warm during those cold Illinois winter months.

I need to quit smoking.

Time to put away my flip-flops and get out the winter shoes.

I hate shoes. I like the feeling of bare feet.

Did I mention how much I hate winter?

I hope you have a good rest of the week, and I hope you have something to look forward to on the weekend.

Oh well, as I always say,

Life goes on.........

Tawdry Tuesday.

This is something I used to do on my old blog, Tawdry Tuesday. So since I have this new blog, this new place, I wanted to bring back some of the old rituals. And this is one I enjoyed. I started this on Tuesdays on those cold winter months, and they are coming again. So why not have someplace to tell stories of my past on those cold winter nights, or days, when I have nothing else to do, and bring some of my past inside with me. Those first moments of things explored, things that are fun and exciting, and hope for more to come, always hoping for more to come!

This one is about the Slut-O-Meter. How to gauge a slut in one easy lesson. Yea right, I wasn't easy but I was a slut, well according to the man I was with at the time. This was before I became accepting in my vocabulary of being a slut. Even the word slut bugged me, not because I was a prude or anything, far from that. But being a slut was something that I thought meant sleeping around with several men at once. *laughs* Like that matters now eh. Okay, back to my story.


The man I will call simply, "Sir", took me to a club for a private party. Way back in my beginnings. Before I had even had a chance to see much of that depraved world of the lifestyle. Not really a newbie, but very inexperienced. Quaintly so. We had argued, well maybe debated would be a better term, nahhh, argued about what constitutes a slut, I said, sleeping around, he said wait and see. I begged him to please tell me and give me some idea of what being a slut was. I had the right to know! Or so I thought.

He told me he would put me on his Slut-O-Meter and we could find out. Fine I snapped! I was game, always up for a challenge. We walked into the party, he gracefully took my coat, and then had the audacity to laugh at my outfit. I had on black leather pants and a white lacy shirt with jump boots. I was going to party! And then he had the nerve to tell me that I looked like a bitch ready to do battle. I batted my eyelashes at him, and said, "I am aren't I, Sir." You could hear the sarcastic tone dripping from within.

He laughed again as he grasped my wrist, a little too hard for my liking but something was making me feel that moistness down deep inside. I then noticed that his outfit almost matched mine. Save for the white lacy blouse, his was replaced with a pressed white dress shirt. The creases sharp and on edge. For a moment in time suspended in eye to eye contact, my mind went to equals, equal rights. Before I could utter protest he was undoing my leather pants, unlacing my leather boots, and shoving me down to a chair. I squealed in protest only half-felt as he undressed me like a present on Christmas morn. Right down to my lace pink panties. (yes, I still wear panties, even from that lesson long ago!)

There I sat boldly staring at him from my seat below, naked other than that scrap of pink wrapped around my waist. I defiantly crossed my legs, shielding all my glory and wetness from his view. With a savage boot they were pushed open, I hissed, he snarled, the fight was on. I went up with a hand of long tapered nails, painted in such a brilliant red, I was going to rake them across his face, but his vice like grip held tight around my wrist. I barked that he was hurting me, he replied, "Like I care slut."

I was livid, furious and wanted revenge. I tried to snake a leg in between his and found that I was held fast. Pinned in that chair like a wild beast! I smirked, thinking to throw him off with my smile of disdain. He reached his hand down to snatch a fistful of soaked panties and silken cunt. A menacing laugh came from the bellows of his mirth. And all that came out was his remembered words.......



"What a slut."

More laughter as I was ready to spit in his eye, and then he walked away, laughing, as I sat there in the chair with my mouth wide open, aghast.

I flung from the chair to go after him and beg.......I wanted more!!!

Life goes on...........

"Remember me."

October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. I hope you will take a few moments during October to consider the issue and remember those whose lives are affected by it.




The National Coalition Against Domestic Violence (NCADV), in conjunction with Ms. Magazine, started the Remember My Name project in 1994 to create a national registry of names of those who have lost their lives to domestic violence. Since then, NCADV has continued to collect information on incidents of people who have been killed by an intimate partner and produces a poster each year for Domestic Violence Awareness Month listing the names of those submitted to the project. To date, over 7,753 people* have been memorialized through the project.



http://www.ncadv.org/



NCADV has partnered with The Wireless Foundation for over seven years through the CALL TO PROTECT program which was created to provide victims of domestic violence who may encounter emergency situations with free cell phones for that use. The collection of deactivated cell and wireless phones for this purpose has literally saved hundreds of lives over the course of our partnership.

In addition to phones being distributed for emergency use, proceeds from the sale of phones not utilized for emergency use help fund agencies that work to end violence in the home, such as NCADV.

There are so many things you can do to help. If nothing else, display a purple ribbon someplace during this month, pass the word, or give a moment of silence. Remember those that have lost their lives, and remember if you are in need, please seek help.



I got flowers today!



I got flowers today!

It wasn't my birthday or any other special day.

We had our first argument last night;

And he said a lot of cruel things that really hurt;

I know that he is sorry and didn’t mean to say the things he said;

Because he sent me flowers today.



I got flowers today.

It wasn't our anniversary or any other special day.

Last night, he threw me into a wall and started to choke me.

It seemed like a nightmare.

I couldn't believe that it was real.

I woke up this morning sore and bruised all over.

I know he must be sorry.

Because he sent me flowers today.



I got flowers today!

It wasn’t our anniversary or any other special day;

Last night he threw me into a wall and then started choking me;

It seemed unreal, a nightmare, but you wake up from nightmares;

And I woke up this morning sore and bruised all over—but I know he is sorry;

Because he sent me flowers today.



I got flowers today!

And it wasn’t Valentines Day or any other special day;

Last night he beat me and threatened to kill me;

Make-up and long sleeves didn’t hide the cuts and bruises this time;

I couldn’t go to work today because I didn’t want anyone to know—but I know he’s sorry;

Because he sent me flowers today.



I got flowers today!

And it wasn’t Mother’s Day or any other special day;

Last night he beat me again, and it was worse than all of the other times;

If I leave him, what will I do?

How will I take care of the kids?

What about money?

I’m afraid of him, but I’m too scared and dependent to leave him!

But he must be sorry;

Because he sent me flowers today.



I got flowers today….

Today was a special day—it was the day of my funeral;

Last night he killed me;

If only I would have gathered the courage and strength to leave him;

I could have received help from the Women’s Shelter, but I didn’t ask for their help;

So I got flowers today—for the last time.
~Author Unknown~


Life goes on................

Frozen.

"You are suspended in me beautiful and frozen, I preserve you, in me you are safe."

~Atwood~


I am frozen to many degrees. I am numb and suspended to many degrees. I have preserved myself in me. I am safe inside of me. I have remained frozen and numb for so long, it is a comfortable blanket, suspended in time. I have started to be less and less frozen, but each time I find myself thawing, I draw that frozen blanket right back up. And I remain frozen yet again. How many times can you thaw, only to return back to that frozen state. Time and time again.

This has not happened over night, this has happened over time. I have turned into a frozen cynical state. I know this to be true, but yet when I resist the chill that has come over me, I seem to go right back into that state. I thought I was living the life I wanted/needed, in the 24/7 relationship. And quite some time ago I realized I was not living that life I had talked about so many times. I was living part of it, well not even part of it, just snippets here and there. I wanted to live it, so I guess in my mind I tried to cram it into the frozen ground. Because after awhile it was like that, trying to push something into a frozen ground. It just isn't going to work.

I have been doing a lot of soul searching these past few months, and I have found out much that I do not like, and much that I did not like. But the plain truth of it all, I allowed it to happen. I allowed myself to become frozen, suspended in time. Now I have to figure out how I got to this state. I gave my life to another in the form of master/slave/friend/lover/wife. I had high expectations, I was given higher expectations and I realized that many can play at a 24/7 relationship, and some do, but I was not trying to play. I was being true to myself. I was being true to my nature. Even with the everyday necessaries of life, I was being true to myself. And it left me in a frozen state, because the other person did not live up to those expectations.

I do not care to repeat those in the future. I want that person to be who they say they are. I do not want to be fooled again. It is too hard to come out of that frozen state. It is too hard to be who I was meant to be in that frozen suspension. I take my submissive nature to heart, it is inherent inside of me. It is not something I don one day and remove the next. I live it, I am it, I need it. I cannot live without it. But without it, with only a promise and not living it with another, I became frozen.

It is easy to talk about a 24/7 life as master/slave, it is easy to set up guidelines, and rituals and rules, and protocols. It is easy to do that, I believe anyone can do that, but what is not easy is to live those, to live within those guidelines, those rules, those protocols, in a 24/7 environment. People become overwhelmed, or perhaps they cannot live it because it is not truly who they are. I don't know, all I know is that I am frozen because for whatever the reasons were, I was molded to be something someone wanted me to be, and I am still at times stuck in that state.

Now I have to ask myself, is there something as being too submissive? So submissive that you allow yourself to be molded to be exactly what that other person wants/needs/desires, that instead of feeling submissive, you feel like a victim?

Maybe next time I will learn to do it right, I hope.....and am thankful at times....

Life goes on.......

LOVE. To be or not to be.

“You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul.”

~Julie de Lespinass~



~CAUTION, RANT~
 
Funny how when I need a quote to sum up the words that I cannot say, I find one that is so fitting. And that quote says it all. My love contains hate and my hate contains love. Well at least in personal relationships I have had. I remember having this fairy tale as a little girl, all wrapped up nice and neat, like Prince Charming was going to walk down the stairs and swoop me away. BTW, I am still waiting for him to show up.
 
I have had so many attempts at love fail, and I have to really start wondering why. I was listening to a conversation last night about love, and if people believed that they would have ONE that was meant for them. I guess their soul mate. I have never believed in soul mates, but I do believe that souls can mate. But I think it goes a little deeper than just that. I believe in destiny, I believe in fate, but I do not believe that there is one out there that was meant for just me. For if I believed that I would be putting someone up on a pedestal, and that is not my way. Not up so high when they fall off, I am hurt beyond repair.

But even with that said, I have to say I have had many regrets when it comes to love. I know, regretting falling in love, but I have, and I do. It is those times that I lose my head, and my passions become unhinged. I stop thinking clearly and just fall in with both feet, oh hell, my entire body! And I have to take a stand back and look and see it is just my passions coming unhinged, or am I really in love. I have loved once in my life to a man many, many years ago that I thought was my soul mate. I was young, and foolish and in love. I hated him so much that my passions truly became unhinged. I wore rose-colored glasses and saw him in an entire different light.
 
And now in the present day, I see that love as an ideal, a romantic illusion that I carried from my youth. And it does not work the same now as it did then. I have more experience, I am jaded, I am cynical, I am downright tainted on the entire concept of love. I mean I love my family, I love some of my friends, but to give myself to a man that way again, I am not so sure I could. I just went through an experience that forever changed my life. A man I was with, died. He told me that I was his soul mate, we used to argue that over and over, and he would often tell me love was enough.
 
I would tell him love would never be enough, there has to be other components in a relationship or it just won't work. I am finding out now things about that kind of love that him and I shared, that I know changed things, it changed many things, and now it is too late. It really doesn't matter anymore, or it shouldn't, but it does in other ways. I mean I am the one still alive, I am the one who has these emotions, these thoughts that steal up in the darkness. I don't want to keep making the same mistakes over and over, and over.
 
I don't want to end up alone either. But if that type of love happens again, I wonder if I will run from it, or embrace it fully. I have ran from it many times, and at times never once looked back. Yes, I am my own worse enemy when it comes to love. I have often tried to talk myself out of it, thinking that it is something for others, not for me. I have often thought myself shallow because there would be men who loved me that I could not return. I often thought myself a cold-hearted bitch because I could not force myself to fall in love.
 
I have realized that at times when I thought I was in love, it was not, it was merely something that I thought I needed. I have surrendered to men that I did not love, thinking that it would come later, and at those times it never did. I had a love of respect for them but falling in love, didn't happen. And I found out that I could never surrender completely unless I was madly in love with someone. I suppose that would be the entire package.
 
They say "Love Is a Many Splendored Thing",  I think it is bullshit at times. I think there are times when people say it just to say it, or because they need to say it, or use it as a trapping to get you. If I hear those words I am always suspecting something ulterior is going on, if I use those words, I mean them. Whether in friendship, or family, or whatever. I mean them. But I also love the written word, I love dancing in the rain, I love soft moonlight and candles. I love so many things, so how is that different when you give love to people, vs. loving other things.
 
Beats me.
 
Life goes on.........
 
 

Expecting.......

"It is said that the present is pregnant with the future."

~Voltaire~

I was cleaning the house and my thoughts were running wild as I was going through boxes and boxes of paperwork. Trying to find one elusive paper that I needed and started thinking of the present.

You know the cliche, live one day at a time, and wondered how can we truly do that, when in the back of our minds, we always, always try to plan somewhat for our future.

If not plan, we dream of it.

And the quote came to mind. How true that is, that the present is pregnant with the future, and it is! Sometimes so laden that it is a heavy burden to carry, worrying about how to pay the bills, worrying if you can make it through one more day, into the next. But not always negative, sometimes we plan for a trip, we plan to meet someone new, we plan on finding that one that can make our heart soar.

And that is when our dreams become to be. If we are lonely, we think about finding someone to take away that loneliness. If we are happy, we think about where that happiness will take us. If we are sad, we think about how to make that sadness go away. We are expecting......

I think it would be wrong to say that we never expected anything from our future, because we do.

I know I do. I am carrying my present into my future everyday, my business, my family, my life is always striving to become a better tomorrow. I expect things from my present, that hopefully are born into my future.

I also know that many live the credo, one day at a time, and that is absolutely wonderful for many things, but if we have no expectations on our future, where do our dreams go.

I have to hold onto that. I need that in my life, for that is what helps me get out of bed everyday. That is what helps me do some of the things I have to do in life. To expect, be expecting of my present with the future in mind.

I know that I talk in cliches sometimes, but this is what helps me look at things in a different perspective. I think that is why I like quotes, they help me to say things that have so much meaning, but few words. And I can put one to almost every aspect of my life.

And this one fits, I am pregnant with the present that I am carrying into the future.

I am expecting, many great things for my future.

I have to.....

Life goes on............

Many Faces of Laurie.

"I have never been aware before how many faces there are.  There are quantities of human beings, but there are many more faces, for each person has several."  ~Rainer Maria Rilke~

I have been engaging in the self-discovery of Laurie lately, well for many years actually, but lately it has returned. I am coming out of a numb-state, a frozen state and I am learning how to rediscover myself again. And taking each face of Laurie and exploring them again, learning how they act and interact with the others. I know that makes me sound like I have multiple personalities or something, but we all wear many faces, whether we want to admit it or not, we all do, we are not one dimensional, we have many facets, and I wear many faces. So in that self-discovery, I have to remember how to make them blend into one, Laurie. With no compromising this time.

Yes, I have in the past, many many times. I have compromised one for the other, or vice verse. Or at times I have compromised to the point of being miserable in my own life, but have given others what they have needed, leaving myself completely out of the equation. And ended up a nothing, numb, frozen. So I have had to look deep inside and try to figure out why I keep doing this, or doing that. I have to be comfortable in my many faces, I have to find solace in Laurie. In all her faces.

In that there has to be self-discovery, rediscovery and recovery. I have to peel back those faces and examine each other carefully and find the parts that fit and the parts that don't fit, and get rid of those that do not fit. It is a lot like therapy, peeling away the layers and layers of accumulated 'stuff' that has no business being in the faces of Laurie. And keeping the layers I like, the layers that are the true Laurie. A death has helped me see this, I gave up parts of myself in the last relationship that I should not have given up. Why did I give them up, because I thought I had to. The operative word being, "THOUGHT".

Did I really have to give up any face of Laurie, or did I merely think it was necessary in order to be what someone else needed/wished me to be. Well that answer is easy, I did not have to do anything, I should have just stayed the same, within the many faces of Laurie. But society depicts that we must compromise in a relationship, we MUST give in to some things or we will not be fair. I ask why is that. I mean really why is that. I live a way of life that says I do not have to compromise, I have to comply with the standards I set myself. And I should be with people who understand and accept that many faces of Laurie, and if they do not, why bother. I cannot changes those faces, they have been mine for too many years, I can take out the parts that do not fit, that perhaps others have shoved into the cracks, but I do not have to change.

Am I cynical, am I jaded, you bet your sweet ass I am, but even in that, do I have to take that face off, or do I continue to wear it as I do. It does not prevent me from loving, it does not prevent me from getting right back on that bike again, to fall down again and again, so why would I ever want to take it off. I earned it, damn it!

I wear the face of a submissive/slave, and when I hear that certain behavior is not fitting for a slave, do I take off that face just because I do not kneel at the feet of just anyone, but the ones I choose. That has to be inspired for someone to see that face.

I wear that face of passion, and I am not talking sexual here, although that is often involved in wearing that face, but so many other things too. I have passion when I clean my house, when I laugh, when I dance, when I see so much beauty in the world and so much hatred. How could that not be passionate when you see something so violent that it rips inside your heart and wrenches you to the point of sobbing.

And sometimes I wear rose colored glasses over some of my faces, why you ask, because I need to. There are times I need to see things as I see them, not as you want me to see them.

I wear the face of a bitch at times, why you ask, because it has helped me survive some pretty horrid places I have been. It has helped me remain strong in the face of adversity.

I wear the face of a mother, not because I have maternal instincts, but because I love my children unconditionally.

I wear the face of a little girl at times, because there is always new discoveries to be made, seen through the eyes for the first time, as a child would.

I wear the face of a dominant single mother at times, because it is necessary for the structure and the foundation of my home to flourish and remain strong.

I wear the face of insecurity, because it is simply who I am at times. No more explanation needed, that pretty much says it all.

I wear the face of abuse at times, I am a survivor, not a victim anymore.


I wear many faces of Laurie, that is what makes me Laurie. So many more, so many different, but yet all the same. Me.

Life goes on.....................

Middle of the Week Musings.

Happy Hump Day!

Wow that time of week already! Time sure flies.

This is my middle of the week musings. I started this years ago on my other blog, and realized that last week I hit Thursday instead! Shows you how much I keep track of time!

I started middle of the week musings to kind of put my thoughts of the week down. Silly things, funny things, things that have happened over the past week.

This week has been a turmoil in so many ways, but hopefully it is settling down just a bit.

I need a vacation. I did not have one this year, and that really sucks.

Winter is coming again. Blah.

They are already starting to take down the fields here, and I am not ready for that to happen.

With The Bastard's death it seems that the summer was non-existent in so many ways.

We had so many plans, and then he passes away, and none of them were fulfilled.

Maybe soon I will take a vacation, sounds like a good idea to me.

I wish people would say what they mean, and not what they think you want to hear.

I miss touch.

I hate the nighttime, it is lonely.

I wonder if I will ever get used to sleeping in bed all by myself. I keep trying to roll into the middle and find myself on the edge.

I hope you all have a wonderful week, and a better weekend.

Life goes on.................

Rock, Paper & Scissors.

"If you've lost focus, just sit down and be still. Take the idea and rock it to and fro. Keep some of it and throw some away, and it will renew itself. You need do no more." ~Clarissa Pinkola Estes~

I lost focus along the way. I forgot how to be myself. I forgot how to take my ideas and just let me flow, or to let them express themselves in whatever form they needed. I became those scissors, cutting away in jagged lines, in uneven movements, dull, no longer sharp. And then an idea came to me, I have always collected rocks, they are all over my house, and each one has a meaning. When I found that quote I took one and held it in my hand. Letting it roll around and feeling its weight in my fingers. Thinking over and over, of the things I did not allow in my life, and all the things that happened in my life over the past few years.

And an idea formed, I have had many rocks in my life. Many strong and stable people. I have had rocks that were strength, and I have had rocks that were unforgiving, uncompromising. Heavy and loaded with their own burden. I have had boulders in my life, that refused to budge, needing assistance to move them from my path.

I have had many scissors in my life, sharp, jagged at times, inconsistent. Never cutting the same line twice. Some would say that scissors are creative, and they make beautiful things, and when put together I am sure that they do, but if you look closely, you will be able to see that the lines are not even, no matter how hard you try. Come on look closely, you can see.

I have had paper in my life. Wonderful beautiful pieces of paper, people of gentleness that blew in for whatever moments they were needed. Some to fill up my chapters, and some for a word or two.

Paper, soft pliable paper, receptive to change, adaptive, easily influenced, persuaded, swayed, but also a blank canvas at times. Beautiful but yet can be crumpled, tossed away, torn, and ripped, smudged, smeared, cut with uneven lines.

I have been all three. I know that I need a rock, and I know that I need to be paper, yes perhaps a little creased, a little torn around the edges, a smudge here and there, but the inside renewed.

I want to be that piece of paper with its edge underneath that rock, holding on a little, just enough that I do not blow away, accepted with all the imperfections, and all the messy edges, but accepted, and held gentle and tender, but underneath that strength. That stability, to know that the rock with hold with its power, but yet with its tenderness.

Life goes on.........

Middle of the Week Musings.

Happy Hump Day!!

Sometimes you have to go back to something that is familiar. On my old blog I used to do this every Wednesday. And figured that I needed more rituals from my past brought into my present. It would be a time I would reflect some of the things that happened during the week. A time for whatever happened, whatever came to mind. And I would write about them, or just put them out there.

This has been a hard time, but in that hard time there have also been good times. Not exactly a balance, but at least there has been laughter amongst the tears. And I know that he would want me to be happy, he would have hated me being so sad all the time. And last night on the phone with a really good friend, I did get some of that grief out, that buried deep down grief where you cannot catch your breath. And in the middle of it all was laughter.

My load feels lighter today. At least that part of it. It feels so much lighter. That is a heavy load to carry around, that grief. Some have told me that I have to get back to living, not that I stopped but I guess I embraced myself in that grief and would not let anyone in. It was hard, feeling guilt, feeling that I had no right to laugh. But that is life, you laugh, you cry, and we are the ones left here, dealing with it all.

The unpacking is finally getting done, and the painting is almost done, the organization is getting there, still mounds of paperwork, but it is dwindling somewhat. So much that goes with a person's death. My smile is happening more, memories are finally starting to come back, and I guess that is what happens when........

Life goes on...........

Rainbows.

When The Bastard and I moved into his house, well the house he found for us, he bought me that crystal, sun catcher, whatever you wish to call it. And he hung it in the kitchen window. He told me that his mother had one when she was alive that was similar, and he loved to watch the rainbows in the morning' light. And he felt that something from his childhood was brought back out when he bought me that at a fair. He found it at a fair, not very expensive, just a trinket actually, so I thought.

It did not hold much meaning for me at first, just another pretty in the house. Even tho he told me his own story, I have always been surrounded by pretty trinkets. Some I hold dear, and some are there for the appeasing glance. But this one was held by him, and he loved to go in the kitchen in the mornings, and see the pretty rainbows that crystal beamed all over the kitchen's walls, floor, and into the dining room. And he would always shout, "Look there my girl, rainbows! They remind me of you!" I would kind of roll my eyes in an embarrassed moment, thinking to myself, "Ohh yea right, I am really someones rainbow, full of joy and light!"

To those of you who do not know me, I am anything but that in the morning. I would stagger and stumble, cussing and swearing, squinting my eyes to reach that ice cold Coke in the fridge, to stumble back over to my computer, and start the daily tasks. Trying to wake up, stuck in that in between place of shut up and let me go back to bed, and I have to get my ass to work. But there he would be every morning chipper, and I would really have liked to rip that crystal off the window and throw it at him most mornings.

And it never failed, he would make that same damn comment every SINGLE morning, of course providing there was light outside. But I figured what the hell it made him happy, so be it. The last Christmas we spent together, I ordered him another one from Ebay, only I am a girl ya know, a woman without a measuring tape, so I did not pay attention to details, I only looked at the picture, and when it showed up, it was this tiny little thing. I thought to myself how in the world could I give him that as a gift. So in my sweet little smart ass way, I wrapped it up and put a note inside the box that read, "You have your rainbows and your sunshine, all I have here is this little one that probably won't shine at all, but at least it is genuine."

He laughed when he opened that box, he hung it up, and it never did throw off any rays of light. It just kind of hung there, tiny and small, not even really pretty unless you had a magnifying glass. But it was genuine.

About a week after he passed away, my sister and I were driving and in the sky there was a beautiful rainbow, and I cried. She cried, we even pulled over and took pictures of it with the camera and when we stepped out of the car, we saw it was not a single rainbow, but a double rainbow. We both knew it was him telling us it would be alright.

And a month later in the process of moving, from the house him and I shared, back to my old house, I broke the tiny one, it broke in the carton, but his larger one did not. So I found a window where it would catch the light, and shine his rainbows all over the living room in his memory. Every morning walking through there since I have been here, no rainbows. None. Not a single one. And then one morning a few days ago, I was walking through that living room, and lo and behold, I looked around and there were dozens of rainbows all over my living room!

I started to cry, only not so much tears of sadness, but tears that I knew it was his way of telling me everything is going to be alright.

Life goes on.................

Pandora's Box of Vexations.

I have discovered with a loved one's death came a Pandora's box of vexations. And every day I try hard not to lift that lid and every day I lift that lid. Releasing all the demons out, releasing all the annoying, irritating, vexations into the realm of my reality. And now I believe I have fallen into that box in the proverbial way, and am struggling to get out in the realistic way.

The deep dark richness of grief has turned into a funk, into a black funk. And reality has been a slap in the face. A hard one. You go from two incomes to barely one, and struggle to find enough to go around. You go from having your partner in bed every night, his pillows, his side, his nightstand, the safe warm holding of his arms and you are left with the whole bed. One nightstand, and half the pillows gone. You go for two to one, when it wasn't that long ago you went from one to two. And yet that was easier to deal with.

You go out into the world and people ask how you are doing, and you find yourself going out into the world less and less. Why bother stepping out to a place that opens that Pandora's box of vexations even more. So I sit here in my huddled world, and try hard not to open that box, but yet it keeps opening every day. It releases guilt, frustration, worry, anger, sadness, and a plethora of demons that cling on and refuse to let go. I know that people keep saying you have to get up and do, not just say, or think, but do. And every day I try to struggle in those binds that cling to me tight, trying to shake them off, and letting go. And every day I remain closed tight in them.

I am releasing some a wee bit, but with each one I release, another comes to replace. Don't get me wrong, this isn't a party of pity, but more of a studying of that box. There is also laughter, memories, and life that comes from another box. But this Pandora's box of vexations, that one has become a little too much. I wonder if there is a way it can be tossed in the trash, or if one day it will just close on its own. I think that box is also where the panic comes from, the blackness that engulfs me in the middle of the night, fear, fright, sometimes flight. And this surging in the pit of my stomach when it hits, hurry and close that box. Put it back inside.

My rational brain knows that it is time, time to get up and get moving. Time to put order back into my life, time to try and bring structure to my life. Back to my life, and then I wonder why does my other side just not listen. And I find myself back opening that lid.

I wonder if I can get a full refund on that Pandora's box.

Who knows, but.....

Life goes on.............

Ethic of Reciprocity.

"The golden rule is to test everything in the light of reason and experience, no matter from where it comes." ~Gandhi~

I know there are some out there that would scoff at my reasoning behind my interpretation of the Ethic of Reciprocity. And in this I have learned a lesson. Maybe some would say that it is not a lesson but a revelation, but for me it is a lesson well learned.

Every Sunday my mother would make us go to Sunday School and I think that was probably the first time I heard about The Golden Rule. And through life I have often referred back to that lesson, with my own reasoning thrown into the mixture. Can I say I followed it to the letter, of course not. But I used it in the base line it provided me. Did I want someone to damage my car because I had damaged theirs. Did I want someone to steal my money, because I had stolen theirs. So in that, I did apply that rule. I would not do to others as I did not want it done back to me.

Years go by and I have added in a little bit more reasoning, and a lot more experience, and I learned that they call The Golden Rule, Ethic of Reciprocity. And learning more there are laws of reciprocity, and in which I learned through, the law of love. If we give our love, we expect it back. If we give our heart, we expect it back. If we give our trust, we expect it back. If we give our promise, we expect it back. Imagine in your brain standing there at a wedding, and the couple exchanging vows. Are they not expecting the very same in return. That is why most ceremonies have one state out loud that law of love and then the other repeats the exact same.

By now you are probably going, damn she rambles on and on and on! Actually I learned this lesson from a very good friend of mine, and I wanted to share a very valuable lesson learned. I have been listening to him in a normal conversation, talking about different things, and his words about reciprocity kept running through my mind. He was speaking on a business level, and at first I was right there along with him, listening, and then without realizing my mind started to wander, and would always go back to Ethic of Reciprocity, The Golden Rule.

And now he is gonna charge me, $24.95. What I learned tho is priceless, so I think he is undercharging!

No matter how hard I tried to get that out of my head, it refused to leave. Because I was applying that to my everyday life, and that law of love. I learned through the experience of different kinds of love, and the light of my reason and also at times, the darkness of my reason. I learned that when a person promises you a certain kind of love, in those emotions, in those boundaries, in those types of love, you expect it to be given to you in that exact way. And when it lacks, you feel cheated, and how could you ever return it in the same way. You can't. Because they have invoked nothing in return. We might think we still love them the very same way, but the process has altered its state. It is now going against the grains, instead of flowing with them.

When a person tells you that he will love you forever, and dies did he fail you in that love. No, for he loved you until his dying day. So in that it is not a choice. I am talking about choice here, law, reason, whatever you want to call it. So when you have someone who promises to love you in the way that you both agreed upon, and he fails you, because he is not returning your own needs, what light is in that, what reason is in that. And when you go to him and tell him that the relationship is over, most cannot or will not accept that. Simply because they do not see it as not keeping that law of love.

You can spend hours, days, weeks, months or even years trying to get that person to see that since he did not keep his word in the law of love, yours merely followed along. And it might still be there, that love, but nothing as it was. For now the reason and experience is put into place. You will not be put out there again to be hurt over and over, and over. Even tho as humans we do. But if we choose to allow ourselves to be hurt, them it is no fault but our own. And with each hurt we put another brick in our walls.

And then he comes back with the tools of manipulation, because he wants what he wants, right now!

DISCLAIMER-I am speaking in generals here.

But you also have your own tools, reason and experience. That trust has been broken and with each time it happens, you gain more experience. Merely because you experience more pain. And no one wants to feel that heavy weight of emotional pain. So in this my lesson, I have learned that I am still following the Golden Rule. I am giving back exactly what was given me. If I were to stay in that type of relationship, the tit-for-tat process can produce success in a way of allowing myself to give him the exact same type of love he is giving. But nowhere in that does it invoke the power of reciprocity, and so it fails to yield extraordinary success.

And the funny part of it, I did that with my business too. In my business dealings I treated them as spot market exchanges, value given for value received, period. Nothing more, nothing less. And in that it never produced that extraordinary success. Of course enough to pay the bills, but nothing that made me rich. I wish!

Anyway sorry I got side-tracked, that is the way my mind works. So lesson learned well.

Thanks "A" for the well taught lesson. And your check is in the mail!

Life goes on.....................

Tears.

"Tears are the silent language of grief." ~Voltaire~

How true those words have become. They have their own of just coming out at times and at times you do not wish to share them with a soul. You want to keep them protected and safe inside of you. For they are yours and yours alone. That is how I feel lately. I have cried more tears in these past few months than I have for years. I know it is part of the process of grief, and people say that they will help and if you don't allow them their freedom, it is not a good part of grief. Well I don't want them anymore.

I think I have reached that depressed part of grief, that part where you sit there all day wondering and reflecting on the past, what could have been done different and you find yourself in this dark despair. You want to hurl obscenities into the Universe, but yet you want to curl up in those tears and have them soothe and comfort you. But they really don't, they just leave you at times breathless and at others it is a sign of depression.

I don't think there is a way to 'do grief'. I think it just happens and you have to ride it out. And in that a part of it will always be with you, no matter what you do to try to overcome, letting time ease the hurt, the pain, the loneliness. Sad that a life ended, a father passed away, a lover, a friend, a brother, and a son, all rolled up into one. A life ended.

And you find yourself mad, angry, shocked, and all those tangled emotions, and you are left with one, grief. But when do you reach the point that life goes on, when do you reach that point that it really does and you have to get off your ass and do something about it, instead of wallowing in it.

That is where the signature line comes from when I end each post.....the same one I have used for years.....

"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life-It goes on." Robert Frost.

And I think he said it all......

Life goes on.......

The Comfort of a Quilt.

I was trying to find a quote that would fit what I wanted to say, a quote about a quilt and its covering or its wonderful blend of colors, of different pieces stitched together, and found not one that would say what I wanted to say.

The Bastard and I went to an auction one night, and I saw this lovely quilt, (Not the only in the picture, but you get the idea.) and I wanted it. But I did not have a chance to look it over to see if it was in perfect condition. I merely saw it as the man held it up. It was vibrant colors, purple, orange, red, green, brown, just these lovely colors woven together, and a soft velvet material. I wanted it! I was prepared with number in hand, but I had a limit of what I could spend. The rush was exciting but a little nerve wracking at the same time, what if I was outbid. When they told me I won it at $11. I was shocked! I felt so lucky and leaned over to give The Bastard a kiss. Like a little girl I went up to fetch my new quilt.

I brought it back and had it sitting on my lap during the rest of the auction, my fingers brushing along the soft fabric. Later that evening when arriving home, we laid out the quilt and saw that its underneath had a few little tears in the material. Nothing major just some wear and tear. It was a vintage piece after all and I did not expect perfection but I thought that it would be on the guest bed, for perhaps it was not 'good' enough for our bed. The Bastard laughed at me and said of course it was good enough for our bed, it would provide warmth in the cold winter months and it looked pretty on our bed. So he settled that and took it to the dry cleaners the next day.

When he brought it home a few days later, he put it on our bed. And it was beautiful and rich colors. And we snuggled under that warm quilt all winter. Bundled up, close, telling each other stories, watching TV, and well you know........but that quilt kept it all inside of its beauty.

And that was the last thing The Bastard touched before he died. He slept under that the night before and I found myself laying there night after night, cuddled in his memories, snuggled in my grief. My sister came to stay with me for those first two weeks, and we snuggled underneath that quilt together sharing our stories of him, our laughter of him and our grief. But over us was that quilt that he had bought for me all those months ago. A little more wear and tear, a little more worn, but more memories also gathered in the threads.

When I moved back to my old house, I put that quit right back on the bed. And I have found a shelter there when I snuggle up underneath each night. I find myself reaching out for him, but even tho he is no longer there, my fingers run across the velvet and I feel the softness, the warmth. A smile appears and I know that my memories will always be right there.

And then when I get up from beneath, and go out to face the world, I know that it shall always be waiting because.......

Life goes on...........

Destiny.

"Destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice, it is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved." William Jennings Byran

My sister and I were having a conversation today about destiny and this quote came up on one of her friend's page on Facebook. We had a nice little debate about destiny. Do we actually choose our own destiny, or it is chance?

We both agreed that destiny is chance. But then we went our separate ways. She thinks it is all chance, and I think it is both, choice and chance. I think that we choose our lovers/mates/spouses. I think we choose our friends. But we do not choose our families.

And she brought up a very interesting point. We cannot control others, and in that destiny is chance. Yes so true, we cannot control others, we cannot control the Universe, we cannot control God. But we can control ourselves and in that can we control parts of our destiny?

Would our paths be the same if we would have choosen some of our paths differently, no of course they would not. If I would not have choosen The Bastard, I would not be grieving now. I would not have known him, and who knows where I would have been now. But did destiny lead me to him or did I choose him of my own accord.

Kind of like one of those questions that will always remain unanswered. There are parts of my life that I believe I was led there for a purpose, and some I believe I led myself to, so perhaps my sister is right, we are led everywhere we are supposed to be when we are supposed to be there.

Interesting topic that one. I suppose I will have to give it more thought.

In the meantime........

Life goes on..............

The Bastard. May you rest in peace Darling.

May you always rest in peace, Darling.

He passed away on May 16th, 2010.

For many of you who knew me in a previous life, I was with the man I called, "The Bastard". Well that is what I called him. So let me refresh your memory and mine too. I think that I need some good memories and looking at him was always such fun. When he wore his leather pants, yummy! I used to have a blog of our life together, well my life before I met him and then the past two years of our life together. I am sure some of you will remember, and those who are new to this, welcome.

I miss him so much. He was such a part of my life, helping me through difficult times, helping me tear down walls that I had up, and no way do I want to deify him, I just want to remember him as it was. It wasn't always wonderful and if I said that I would be lying, but we did have some wonderful times. Although with the tough time, we had glorious times. And I will always remember him in those leather pants.

It is hard to let go when there is no closure, it is hard to say goodbye when it happens so suddenly there is no warning. He was 48 years old and he died very quick of a heart attack. I suppose I should be happy that he did not suffer, and I am thankful for that. But I am not thankful he had to go at all. He was buried with full military honors. He served the Air Force for over 21 years. And it was beautiful as funerals go. I was never so touched in my life in that way. When handed the flag tears rolled down my face, but with an honor of being his wife and being allowed to have those moments of his glory. Of his serving our Country.

I know that time will ease some of the grief and I am thankful for friends, and family that have helped me through this dark time. I am thankful that I have wonderful children that love me unconditionally and are there, that we are there for one another. I am thankful for the life that I was allowed to share with him.

And if there was one thing I could tell him, it would be......it would have been, 'I love you back."

He would always say, "I love you to the moon and back my girl." And I would always reply with, "I love you back." That is what I put in his casket, a white pillow shaped like a heart with one single rose and that saying. It was buried with him, and I was presented with his flag that draped his casket. He took the love with him, and I kept his with me.

I am healing. I am moving on with life. Not in the normal sense, but in the sense that I know he would want me to be happy. He would want me to see him as he was for me, and to me. He would want me to laugh, and he would tell me to get up and get going for......

Life goes on...........

Can a broken heart be mended?

Can a broken heart really be mended? I sit here and wonder if that is possible. It has almost been three months since he has passed away and I feel like my heart is mending, although just a little but can it truly be. It feels as if there are band-aids put in places but that the fluids of happiness seep out as if they will never return. I miss him. I still hate sleeping alone in this great big bed, I still miss his smell, I still miss all the silly things we shared, and I still am not ready to face the world without him. I have heard every cliche I think ever invented, and I have heard just about everyday the question, "How are you?" til I feel as if I am going to tear out all my hair and scream!

I fill my hours with mindless chores, painting the walls, unpacking, sorting, organizing, and all those meaningless chores only to do them over and over, and over. Watch mindless TV, meaningless conversations with myself, only to still sleep alone at night. Am I ever going to get used to being a widow, will the pain ever go away. Will it at least cease to some degree and give me back some sense of normal. Not that I was normal before, that is just something that never really happened to me. Normal that is. But I want my old life back. I want him back. I want to jump up and down and have my own way.

I have been back and forth to this blog thinking I should write down some of my feelings, but then again when I come here, all I can think about it what to write. Should I appease the readers, or should I appease me. I think I will just worry about me for now and write the mad ramblings. If they don't make sense, who am I to care. I know what they mean and I want my heart to stop hurting. I want my life to come to some sense of realism. Some sense of not being so damned sad all the time. I was asked by a friend how my summer was going, and I wanted to reply, "Horrid, how do you think." But I smiled and said nothing. Which is better in the end, I should have probably told him how it was really going. But would he have truly cared. Who knows.

I am having a pity party and I know it. I just can't stop it. Nor do I really want to, yet. I am not ready. I miss him and here I am with...........

Life goes on...................

"The Widow"

I am a widow. At 52 years old I am a widow. Something that I never thought of being. Something that I never considered. I have been a widow now for three weeks. I wanted to continue on my old blog, but found that when I deleted it I could not bring it back. So I created a new one, and found that I have to start all over again. Kind of like life. I not only have to start a new one, but continue with the old one. What an oxymoron that one is. Get on with life but start a new one too.

I have been through a myriad of emotions. Anger, sadness, fear, memories that flood you when you least expect it and so many others. Too many to mention. And I am afraid if I keep talking about all those emotions bottled up inside of me that my friends and family may stop hanging around me. Sooner or later they are going to get tired of hearing it. They are going to expect me to get on with life and go for it. They are going to start thinking that no one can wallow in that grief for THAT long! And yes I know it has only been three weeks, but first came shock, then grief & sadness, and now anger. I am angry because my life partner is gone. And I have to deal with everything now.

We shared almost two years together. And were married three days before he died. How is that for a short marriage! I feel cheated. We had never even had the chance to discuss funeral arrangements. We never had the chance to live life let alone discuss dying. I haven't reached the stage where I can talk to him yet. Just a little here and there, but not much. Some days I turn his picture face down, and some days I put it back up again. It is hard to look at his grin and think I will never see that again, only in a photo. I know that he would want me to live and laugh and be happy. But right now that is not possible. I hope someday it will be. I thought by starting a blog again I put all those negative and positive emotions out there, and it would help. Help me by letting go of some of it. Who knows if it will or not.

I hate sleeping alone. I hate the feeling of being alone. I hate being a widow. I want to rage and scream at the Universe, but who would listen. I want to rage against the forces that took him from me, but who would care. I hate the cliches that go along with death and in that they have no meaning to me. Just a waste of someones breath. The people that have helped are the ones who say nothing, only offer their 'ear' to listen. And I think at times if I hear one more cliche I shall scream and run into the night.

I was going to name by blog, "Letters to Bob." but then decided I don't always feel like talking to him. So I made it what I wanted it to be. The Mad Woman's Ramblings. That is what they are after all. MINE! It may sound selfish, but I am the one left here in life.

Life goes on..............