Dream on…

You standing in uniform, blue, no identifing marks, with a puppy cuddled in your arms. Standing by the exit door of a store, like you were guarding the door.

Puppy a Shepard mix I think.

Not sure who I was with. Husband maybe.

You came over to talk, blocking the door, people couldn’t get in or out. I moved you over, you were a little disgruntled at that.

Talking. Can’t remember what.

At your house.

Like Christmas.

Telling me a story

This is why I got a divorce I say. If you had done that to me I would have divorced you too.

You disappeared.

You sleeping in bed. No body parts peeking out. Sound asleep.

Cristmass tree partially taken down. Tree was huge, like a monkey tree. Parts were wrapped and put away, but half was still up.


Note: sometimes things don’t make sense, others may make sense further down the road.


The Red Shoes

I was thinking about a story from when I was younger. Maybe 8 or 10. My mom always wore high heeled (3in by the way)shoes, stretch pants and big hair, the works. Well dress up was a thing even when I was a kid, and mom had ALOT of shoes. So my sister and I would put on her shoes and clomp around the house.
There were a favorite pair of strappy red sandel high heels she had discarded that were my favorite. I thought I looked so amazing in these that I figured I would go for a bike ride with them on…so I did.
Biking along. Thinking I am so amazing. NOT paying attention to what I am doing. Bam. Hit a stop sign. Bike wrecked. On the ground (in those amazing shoes). A car stops.
“Hey kid, you ok?”
“Yes yes I will be fine”…completely embarrassed at this point
I decided to take the shoes off and bike home the 3-4 blocks in my bare feet. Safer you know. AND I have never owned a pair of red shoes or 3 inch heels since!
To this day, I could tell you where the exact stop sign was that I hit.

This is what I see

I self analyze, myself most of all. It doesn’t prevent mistakes, it does slow them down.

I have a friend.

We have known each other for almost 30 years. I knew him when things were new and fresh in life.

He is an introvert. Which makes conversation with him a challenge. Until I asked directly if I could ask nosy/curious questions. He said yes.

This is what I realized. He has PTSD. Makes his introversion worse I suspect. He is fairly self absorbed, he is not aware of others as people and how they are. He has a hero complex, the save the world complex. Being a firefighter and a cop that fits well. Saving instead of understanding. He has had many relationships. Most don’t understand him, or he doesn’t communicate well after the saving.

He is in therapy.

He uses sex as a coping method, or a drug as it were. To dull the pain. I support the sex angle, but it must be supporting to it. Snuggles and laughter make it better.

He is no longer that shiny kid I left. His wounds are left open. He can save the world, but who will save him?

Just makes me sad.

Going back in time: Childbirth

To know someone is to know their history, the stories that are part of them. I think I may keep with this theme for awhile…or not. Only time will tell.

Childbirth. Thought this was appropriate due to my oldest birth child graduating today. Designation, birth child because I have three step children which is another story.

Christmas day 18 years ago my daughter was born. That kid. Not ready till she was ready. Went to a midwife and her office to have both of my kids. Never went near a hospital except for the official ultrasound.

Let me back up to before the birth. My aunt provided birth kits to several midwives in the area and suggested a midwife once she heard I was pregnant. Hmmm. Ok. I did not want to have a little one in my home, for me that was to much and my house was messy (weird the thought process that you go thru). One of my aunts clients had/has a office by a beautiful lake, Lakeside Birth Center. The checkups and birth can happen there. One stop shopping. Then to tell my husband. His answer was “no way”, you will bleed out. Erm. Ok…as with many things marriage…I put my head down and pushed forward. So “we” planned to have this baby by the lake.

So back to the day of the birth. The kid was two weeks late from her due date, so I had to pick a day, since she wasn’t coming on her own. Christmas Eve was the chosen date. Set up the stockings in our bedroom before leaving the house. Left the oldest step daughter in charge of the youngers and off my husband and I went to have this baby.

Arrived. About 600pm. The midwife broke my water. Then labor began. So THAT is what it feels like? Completely and horribly sucked. Whos fucking idea waa this? Lol. Variety of pushing, walking, grunting and probably cursing. Took a couple of Tylenol for the pain (wtf?). At 12:12am on 12/24 my daughter was born at 8lbs 7oz. Oh, she was and is a beauty…couple hours later we were on the road back home. Arriving at home about 400am Christmas day. The timeline gets a bit fuzzy…but I think we woke all the step kids up to show them their new little sister and to check out the stockings and presents.

My birth son. His birth was very similar. Same location and midwife. Decide to not wait till he was past due unlike my daughter. The day he was due we made the appointment to have him. Went and had lunch, never have fish and chips before giving birth. Showed up. Broke the water. Labor started at 8pm. Lost the fish and chips about 930 at a guess. My son was born at 12:08am at 7lbs 8oz after 4 hours of labor. No tylenol this time (I am a beast).

He was born, covered with goop. Looking a little like a garden gnome. His ears were not quite in the right spot, due to the tight squeeze. He also had his dads hairline, or not much of it, but oh so cute. The step daughter watched her little sister while the birth happened and the step sons were required to live with their mother in Italy at that time, they didn’t see him till much later.

So that is a piece of me.

Tell me a story.

I want…

The desire for touch.

Not a smack or a tweak, as is the norm.

But, from you …you are beautiful and I want to kiss you.

Well sir really? That won’t happen right now, but maybe someday. Until then…

You don’t know me. If you did you would understand that I need to have a conversation. Let me tell you about my kids… YOU tell me about yours! What makes your wife smile, what does she do that makes you smile? Whats new? Whats old? Lets talk about things in the world. Tattoos. Retirement. Things new to me. Your life, my life. Gardening. Work. What makes you tick?

See me as a person.

Because frankly. I am boring. Messy. Wild. Worth it. Really. You may never know because you don’t care enough to ask. So the fact you think I am beautiful and you want to kiss me, doesn’t mean much.

Doesn’t mean much at all.

Itchy Brain

When I fret or worry something or get fired up about something its like the inside of my brain itches. I want to pull the thoughts out.

Smooth them.

Like a Wrigley’s gum wrapper when you were a kid (or maybe you do it now as an adult, no judgment). Lay the wrapper on a flat surface. Smooth it with a tool or your fingernail, so no wrinkle remains. Then fold the wrapper back up. Perfect.

My brain wants that done. Scoop the mess out and smooth till no wrinkle remains.

The…why did he say that… smoothed out.

The circling thought pattern… laid out.

It feels good to be hugged… that’s nice lets fold that up and away now.

Reality is a great tool also.

So instead of a gum wrapper, which is a great visual. I have shoes I hold in my hand to represent the miles I need to walk to sooth (smooth?) my wrinkled thoughts.

Timer photo. 2 paper coffee cups, a lid and some wonderful light coming thru the hotel room drapes.

So you are seeing a therapist?

Bit random for subject and title, but hey, that is exactly what I am doing.

Reason: I am seeing a therapist, because my emotions are in hyper drive. Especially when I am upset. I also have been more upset lately which makes me upset.

The list:

-Husband did not pay his taxes AGAIN. One of my very first blog posts, years ago. A different feeling to it now.

-my little baby girl is now an adult and is running off to be an adult! Graduating college, Highschool and off to AIT for the military. Empty nest? A little. But better to go off an adult than smoke pot in the non existing basement.

-small car wreck. Not my fault, and very minor and lucky. It could have been a lot worse.

-selling the house my husband and I own that has been rented out for 7 years. A little sad, but selling to the renters who are good beans. Then the profits will go to a new roof on the barn I live in. That project is probably even more stressful. Hiring out for it though.

These are the big hitters.

My therapist says I am very self aware. I am experiencing grief, but have a good cycle to cope with it. Says she saw me go thru it several times as we were talking.

One of the interesting things she said, near the end of the session.

“Where do you put your grief or anger?” I can’t remember which she said specifically, and that is interesting in its own way.

I had to think. Where does it go or what do I do with it? When it is not coloring or effecting me, or so it does not effect me?

I walk.

I hike.

I do something new

I take pictures.

Sometimes all of these together.

She said. “What could be interesting is creating a timeline in pictures. Of your life. Abandoned picture here. One year old you. Flower here 5 year old you. You don’t actually have to do it, but the thought is interesting.”

Why yes. Yes it is.

After the session I was talking to my friend about what the therapist said and she says, “Go take some pictures when your mad and then go take pictures when you are happy, see if they are different.”

Ok. Good idea also.

Boundaries, buckets, self awareness and soothing.

Thanks for reading. No pictures this time…