Throwing Tantrums

School is kicking my ass!  Well, actually, life is kicking my ass!  Well, if I want to be totally honest, I am kicking my own ass!  Let me explain:

I went to see my Reiki lady.  I’ve seen her before, once, and you can read all about it here...she is fabulous!  She is mothering and lovely and makes me feel at ease just in her presence.  I feel I am able to open up to her, basically a stranger, with morefreedom than I do the people I have known for years.  It’s a great feeling.  So, this session was much different from my last.  I thought I knew what to expect…but I was totally wrong.  Basically, I went to her thinking I have been having issues with balance.  Not my normal, clumsy, falling over a lot lack of balance, but rather my ability to balance all the facets of my life while still having my sanity remain intact.  So I went to myReiki lady in search of tips to regain my balance.  I got a whole lot more.

The first difference was the physical.  There was a point, when I actually managed to shut my mind off for a few minutes (I think a few minutes…it is very difficult to keep track of time when you are attempting to shut your mind off…which is very difficult in itself…see, even now, I ramble…) I lost track of her.  It was strange.  I knew she was there.  I knew she was touching me.  I just didn’t know where she was, or where she was touching me.  I didn’t feel her.  I didn’t feel anything.  Not her, not the massage tablebeneath me, not the blanket covering me, not my clothes, nothing.  Then my hands started to tingle an pulse.  The only thing I could feel for however long it was, was my fingers, pulsing and tingling.  Then the rocking started.  I don’t know if I was actually moving, or if it was just theReiki doing its stuff, but I felt like I was swaying gently side to side, like standing on a boat in the water, only I was laying down, on a table, in a small cement room, on dry land.  And just when I began to register all the feelings, and non-feelings going on, just when I thought “this is really cool–”  it stopped. Argh!! There goes my brain again.  Talking too much!  Ah well.

The second difference was the visual.  I didn’t see much.  My eyes were closed and it was mostly dark (as tends to happen when one’s eyes are closed in a semi-dark room).  There were periods of light, not extreme, but more like headlights through a shaded window at night, passing through then gone.  But in the darkness, that is where I really saw something.  Wings.  Huge,oversized, very dark wings.  No body, no sense of a person or thing beneath them.  Just wings, flapping very slowly just over me, as if hovering just above me, protecting me in a way.  I know, it sounds weird.  But it gets weirder …she saw them too.  No I didn’t tell her about them and she chimed in with a “me too, me too.”  Rather, she told me about them.  She told me about the size and the flapping and that they were attached to people in her journey into me, but she described them just as I had seen them, before I even said a thing about them.  (She felt the rocking too, but I had already told her about that…so I’ll leave that part out for all you skeptics!)

So, her synopsis?  Basically, she saw me walking.  Not on a journey, as I wasn’t really going anywhere, just walking.  Putting one foot in front of the other and nothing more.  At times, I/we/she would come across people.  No distinct faces or genders or features, just individual people.  When she asked them who they were, the wings would come.  They didn’t speak. They simply unfurled these giant, disproportionate, dark wings and flew away.  (Her idea is that they are angels of sorts watching over me in my non-journey…works for me!)  Besides my walking, she got nothing of balance issues.  Actually, she got the opposite.  I have no balance issues.  I am perfectlycapable to do it all, and more, and do it all well.  The problem is (get this) I simply don’t want to.  I’m throwing a temper tantrum because Mr. W is gone.  Where I have always prided myself on being this strong, independent, capable-of-anything-by-myself-thank-you-very-much woman, I found Mr. W and realized it’s ok to be a little dependent.  It’s ok to want to lean on someone every now and again.  It’s ok to want to be near someone.  And now that he is gone…I’m pissed and I’m throwing a little tantrum about it.  Hmmmm….think she is on to something here?

And here I am…shiny new blog in hand (goal, checked) and I have a new goal to replace it (ah well, like I didn’t know that was going to happen): NO MORE TANTRUMS!  OK,Missy …just get it done.  You know you can, you know it would be easier, better, happier, greater, and all other positive words ending in -er if he were here, but he’s not.  Not for another 10 months.  So suck it up, get it done, go through the motions, take one step at a time, and move on.  NO MORE TANTRUMS!

There…think that will do it?  Well, at least I have my angels…albeit strange, featureless angels, who don’t speak, and have massive black wings…hmmmm……

Needed: large shot of will power with a motivation chaser

“Here’s a rule I recommend: Never practice two vices at once.” – Tallulah Bankhead

Caffeine and nicotine.

I’m drinking my afternoon RedBull, having just smoked my last in my pack of cigarettes, contemplating whether I will buy another on my way home.  I’m trying to quit, just not very actively.  I even went and bought a herbal elixer from the local alterna-store and tried it…and guess what, it works…so I stopped taking it.  I’m not sure what it is.  I know better.  I know it’s bad for me.  I know it’s a bad influence type thing for my kids.  I know my car stinks like something crawled under the seat and died about two months ago.  I know my teeth aren’t as shiny white as they should be.  I know I’m not enjoying food like I could and should.  I know this lingering cold is a direct result of the smoking.  I know smoking has something to do with my recent return of the migraines.  I know I feel like crap at the end of the day and don’t even enjoy that first cigarette of the day like I used to.  I know I should quit…but it makes me think of another quote:

“When you say I should, you are imposing someone else’s expectations on yourself” — D.

So she asked me if I am feeling like I want to quit smoking, or if other people are telling me I should quit smoking, and honestly, I don’t know.  I know all the reasons, but do I really have a want to quit?  It used to be easy.  I was a casual smoker, and could start and stop on a dime…but I was taking anti-depressants then.  Now…not so much.  I’m actually addicted and I’m running pretty short on will power these days. 

Things I should do:

• quit smoking
• organize my clutter
• throw a bunch of stuff away
• plan and prepare healthy, well-balanced meals for my family
• get up earlier
• get ahead in my school work
• work on my training project at work
• sweep up the (thousand) leaves in the back yard
• throw away the (million) leaves I’ve already bagged
• work on my surprise for Mr. W
• install, learn, and utilize my photo editing software
• install, learn, and utilize the wordpress software and apply to my own site
• work on my art project

Things I want to do:

•  
•  
•  

Yeah, that’s how it is.

Moving on?

I’ve hit 2,000 views (yea!!)  Thank you all!  Of course this makes me feel that much more guilty about my lack of posting as of late.  I apologize to my loyal readers.  I will try not to let it happen again.  And I am happy to welcome my dear best friend R. to my blog.  While I am trying to keep this a totally anonymous blog for the protection of my children and myself from the ex-men (they would use anything and everything against me if they could), I have recently had the urge to sharemy stuff with those who mean the most to me in my life.  (Plus, I’m notoriously bad at keeping up with my long distance friends, which is just about everyone thanks to my constant moves and military time, so at least by reading this, they might get an idea of why.)  I love you R.  Please be patient with me! 

Today is September 11th, 2008, as we all know, the anniversary of that day.  I’ve been wrestling with whether or not to post something about it.  I hadn’t planned on it, but in my training class this morning, it’s the first topic of discussion, so here I am.  The question posed was “where were you?”  So where were you?

I was stationed in California then.  I used to listen to Regis and Kelly in the morning as I got ready for work.  In fact, I would set my alarm to radio and they would actually wake me up.  So that morning, I hit the snooze during some music (as is normal for me) and dozed a little longer.  When the alarm went off again, they were yelling about something to do with an airplane and some buildings and quite frankly, I thought it was a joke.  We all know morning shows, especially in California, are notorious for jokes and pranks on the radio.  (Didn’t some djs get kicked off the radio in New York or something a couple years back?)  So I went about my morning, flipping on the TV for some news before I headed to the shower, and then I saw it…you know…the second plane hitting the WTC.  My jaw dropped, and I called work.  Two people were in, and of course, they hadn’t heard.  (No TV, radio, internet, nothing).  Immediately after I informed them, the FDIO came to life, spitting out all sorts of FAA notices.  The next few days, we all took turns doing security checks, and begging to be sent somewhere to do something, being denied, and feeling useless.  Why did we join the military?  Why were we wearing those green cammies?  That’s also when I found out that the base I was at had no active weapons and no actual “active” mission.  We were a training base and nothing more.  Great.  I’d joined the military to do tests.  Nice.  Granted, I did get to see and work with things that I can’t talk about and some things that no one else has ever seen and I did immensely enjoy my time there.  Ah, well.

So that’s where I was.  But how did I feel?  I’ll be honest.  I didn’t “get it.”  I mean, I got it, but not the way so many others did.  I wasn’t affected like the rest of the world, it seems.  The main reason I was wrestling so much with whether or not to post about 9-11 is because I don’t seem to be affected the same way. Honestly,  I’m kind of sick of hearing about it.  It seems to me that Americans take tragedy like 9-11, like Katrina, like so many others, and milk them for all they are worth.  The individuals and groups affected by such tragedies have a right to mourn, have a right to remember, have a right to help, but they also have a right to heal.  How the heck can they heal when they are constantly bombarded with images and news stories and “oh my goodness, you poor things”, and remembrances by those not effected.  On top of that, it seems that those not effected are jealous-of-sorts, wanting to be effected and as a result find some small thread to of tragedy to cling to and make it their own.  I feel like saying, “let them be.”  Don’t get me wrong, everyone should have support, everyone needs it, to a point.  (Even me)  But too much for too long is just counterproductive, not to mention annoying.  If you are fortunate enough to have not been touched by the evils of the world, by the tragedies of the world, by death and destruction, stopping hanging on the shirttails of those who have.  Support them when they need it, but let them heal, let them forget if that is what they choose, let them move on.  Am I just strange in my views?  Am I heartless?  Am I a bad American?  Am I a bad person? 

I come from a family, background, way of thinking of dealing with it and moving on.  Life goes by so fast, I figure why waste precious time, energy, or attention on the past, tragic or not.  It can’t be changed, it can’t be redone or undone.  Sometimes you can learn from it, but for the most part it’s just simply the past, gone, done, finished, bye-bye.  It’s taken me awhile to get to a place where I can put all the past, not just the disappointing parts, in the past, but I’m pretty sure I’ve arrived.  I’ve found more peace here, more happiness, more smiles and more laughs, but more importantly less stress, anger, and “difficult” days.  I like this place, and I plan to stay…even if it makes me a “strange, heartless, bad person.”

Liars and Cheaters

(This is a post I started on months ago but never quite finished…)

“All good is hard.  All evil is easy.  Dying, losing, cheating, and mediocrity are easy.  Stay away from easy.” –Scott Alexander

I’ve  never truly believed that anything worth having is easy to get, or to keep.  I have tried fooling myself quite a few times in the past, the ex-men being the greatest examples of that, but I always knew deep down that anything that didn’t require dedication or work or any sort of effort probably wasn’t worth it. 

It’s work to do the right thing. Reward: that good feeling inside. 

It’s work to exercise and eat right:  Reward: good health and appearance.

It’s work to keep your mate happy.  Reward:  a happy mate.

It’s work to not cheat.  Reward….

Cheating to me is the same as lying, and in case I’ve never mentioned it before, I believe lying is the most heinous thing you can do to another human being.  Lying assumes the person is stupid, right off the bat.  Lying shows a complete lack of respect for the person, either because you don’t think they can handle the truth, or they are just not worthy of the truth.  And as much as you may tell yourself you are lying to “protect them from harm,” lying is by far more hurtful than any truth could ever be.  

Both my ex’s were/are liars, although in totally different ways.  The first is simply a pathelogical liar.  He feels the need to lie about random insignificant crap, and worse, totally believes everything that comes out of his own mouth.  He could argue that 1+1=5 and no matter what inarguable truth you bring to the table, he will always believe 1+1=5.  

My STBX is what I like to call the “white liar.”  I’m sure he would especially like that title, as he is incredibly racist as well, but that’s another topic.  The ”white liar” is the liar that lies about things for what he or she believes is the greater good, again, assuming the person being lied to is a complete moron or is simply not deserving of the truth.  They aren’t big lies on their own, but they add up.  Every single little, insignificant, “white” lie adds up to a much bigger thing.  Besides that, my STBX was a really crappy liar when it came to anything of significance.  He has “tells”: his lip curls a little, he can’t keep eye contact, the tops of his ears turn bright red.  I figure he was practicing with all the little lies, trying to get over the “tells” in time for something really big, like when I figured out he had cheated, or lost a ton of money gambling, or something like that. 

Thankfully, Mr. W hasn’t lied to me, yet, that I know of.  Well, there was that one thing, but if I want to defend him, he didn’t lie when confronted with it.  He just failed to fill me in on the details until he was forced to.  But that’s if I want to defend him…

I used to be a really good liar, something I’m not particularly proud of.  And while there are the occasional unpleasant hiccups with being honest, I have to admit I feel better about being honest than I do about keeping secrets and lies.  Besides, it’s just too much damn work!  But beyond all else, I’ve found it’s much easier to be honest about what you are doing when you aren’t doing anything worth lying about.    Call me boring, but on my search for peace in this world, all that extra work just isn’t an option.

Fear and Loathing in….Life

We’ve come full circle, again.  Mr. W and I had a heart-to-heart of sorts, and he confirmed all my suspicions about him and what is going on with him.  It’s saddening to think how much happiness is sabotaged by fear.  I deeply understand the contrariness of fear and happiness, as I have struggled with it on and off for as long as I can remember.  It’s just dismal that we as people are more likely to choose safety, albeit melancholy safety over abject happiness all for the possibility of something going wrong. 

“As human beings we all want to be happy and free from misery.
We have learned that the key to happiness is inner peace.
The greatest obstacles to inner peace are disturbing emotions such as
anger and attachment, fear and suspicion,
while love and compassion, a sense of universal responsibility
are the sources of peace and happiness.”

–Dalai Lama

Even with my awareness of the toxicity of fear, I struggle with it every day.  As a mommy, I fear that I make wrong decisions for my kids and about my kids.  I fear that they will be forever scarred by my failed marriages and toxic relationships with their fathers.  I fear that I just can’t handle being a single mom.  I fear that I will lose them, and their fathers will poison their thoughts of me as well as hinder their futures.  As just me, I fear trusting those around me.  I fear getting caught up in yet another toxic relationship.  I fear being hurt.  I fear giving so much of myself, of the little bit I have left in me, that I will have nothing and be nothing when he leaves.  I fear he will leave forever.  I fear he will find someone else, with less baggage, with less fear.  I fear I will never get out of this financial hole I’m in.  I fear I will never accomplish anything in my life.  I fear that I don’t do enough, but I also fear that I’ll do too much.  I fear living a long, but unhealthy life.  I fear that my inherited predilection for cancer, heart disease, stroke, etc will hit, leave me alive, but leave me in pain for too long.

We all live with fear, every minute, every day.  It’s those of us that let that fear rule our lives that lose out in the end, missing out on the true joys of life…children, love, happiness, comfort, peace…