Good Bye Time

DEEP BREATH--SIGH--DEEP BREATH...Here we go

Fuzzy Face and I are over. I will say it isn't a HUGE shock. I have been entirely too clingy too fast. And I just always had this nagging feeling that it wasn't the right situation for me. But you know, I was comfortable for the most part and liked the idea of being part of a family.

I do love him in a way. I'm just not sure its in the "Til Death Do Us Part" way. He is funny, and fun to be with. He's pretty good in the lovin' department. And I think he is really good looking. I love to look at him.

Sometimes it felt like I wasn't exciting enough or hot enough. But I also had a long talk with my brother this weekend and realized that Fuzzy has a couple of flaws that I am not quite sure I can handle long term. I really really wanted to, but wanting to isn't enough sometimes.

I haven't had the urge to cry yet. I'm sure I will bawl my eyes out on the way home from his place with my stuff in tow. He's a good guy. Just not my guy anymore. Sad, isn't it?

Hopelessly Hopeful

A couple of days ago I watched "The Shawshank Redemption" for about the hundredth time. I was struck by something that Andy said after spending a week in the hole:

"There are places in the world that aren't made of stone. There's something inside that they can't get touch, its yours. Hope"

I have said before that I am hopelessly hopeful. There were times that dreaming about what I wanted to happen and how great my life was going to be were all that sustained me. I never ever have given up hope. It may have wavered from time to time but it has never left my side. I'm not some Pollyanna that thinks that everything is always going to work out, that people are always good, and that nothing is going to be difficult. My hope is more that I can get through anything that I am handed.

My childhood memories come to me in mere flashes like photos in front of my eyes. I cannot recall whole memories very well. I will not condemn my mother for how she handled my raising. She did the best that she knew how to do with a daughter who was so undeniably lost and out of control. I am sure she counted on my father for assistance with me as he and I were so much alike, spoke our own language, and she struggled with understanding daughters. (For those who may not know, my father was severely brain damaged in a motorcycle accident when I was 6) Whenever my mom would fly into a rage or go too far with her criticism I would retreat into my mind and dream about a different life.

In my marriage I stayed lost in the daily tasks that presented themselves. Marriage was in no way what I had expected. I knew it would be hard. I had expected that much. But I was ill prepared for the lack of love and affection I found there. The hope of sudden improvement is what made it livable. Through all the yelling, fighting, insult hurling, and bad behavior I wished against all odds that one morning The Right Wing King would wake up and know how to love me. That he would suddenly understand how much I loved him and how desperate I was for his love and approval. Sadly that relationship ended in a pretty brutal divorce.

Hope is my crutch. Is that even possible? Is my looking forward a bad thing? Am I holding out for the unattainable? I'm not even sure. I do know that now that I am in charge of my own life and its direction that I will not settle for less than what I spent so much of my life hoping for.

John and Yoko

"It's part of our policy not to be taken seriously. Our opposition, whoever they may be, in all manifest forms, don't know how to handle humour. And we are humourous." --John Lennon on his and Yoko Ono's 1969 "Bed-In"

In 1969 John Lennon and Yoko Ono held two seperate week long "Bed-Ins" as a non-violent way of protesting war and promoting peace. One was in Amsterdam and the other was held in Montreal. The Amsterdam Bed-In received much press coverage but was not taken seriously by the press. The Montreal event had less coverage and had a mixed review by the American press.

Why, oh why would I start out with this ridiculous history lesson?? Last week Fuzzy Face's mother walked in and said that Fuzzy and I reminded her of John and Yoko. We spend a great deal of our time together cuddled up from the cold in our cozy bed. No, we don't spend the entire time getting it on...not that I would mind much, but that's just not how it is. It just happens to be warm and comfortable there.

In most homes the family comes together over the dinner table. In this house we all end up in a big hog pile in the bed. We all pretty much live in our jammies and hang out together watching tv. I haven't decided yet if this is as bonding as a meal around the table. But I am pretty sure that it is teaching Fuzzy's girls that they are loved and can come to their father for anything...even when he is cuddled up with his girlfriend.

As for he and I being like John and Yoko, I suppose I can see it. We are together most of the time, we spend most of our time in bed, and I am musically gifted while he sounds like someone beating a cat against the wall when he sings (kidding Babe, I like hearing you). I would like to brag that we are always naked and look good while doing it, but that wouldn't be very honest. He looks incredible to me when he is undressed, and hopefully I look good to him. Then again, I am the only naked woman in the room usually, so he has nothing to compare me to.

John Mayer

Lately I have been listening to John Mayer on an almost constant rotation. In my car, at work, when I'm falling asleep...all the damn time. I know that his music has been out there forever and I have always appreciated his musicianship. It's good, but I have never been a crazed, rabid fan.

Then, I started seeing Fuzzy Face. The first night that I spent with him I vividly remember making out with him furiously and taking my shirt off while "Heartbreak Warfare" was blasting out of the speakers upstairs. I can recall thinking, "Oh my God, this is going to change things". It was the first time I had had been with anyone in a long, LONG time. I seriously thought that no one was going to find me attractive ever again. I was convinced of it as a matter of fact.

So I was playing on YouTube and started listening to song after song after song. The chords that Mr. Mayer chooses for his guitar resonate with my soul and the head space I am in right now. I am a junkie for that bluesy relaxed guitar.

Now as I sit and listen away so many hours I think I've got this figured out. That sexy, emotional, full, rich music reminds me of what it feels like to be me. The actual me...good God. Where has she been? I've got swing, sex appeal, swagger, love, light, happiness, and hope. I have found a good spot for me. And if making it to John Mayer got me there, well, thank you to FF for having Cities 97 on that night, thanks to YouTube for making it all so accessible, and thank you Mr. Mayer for putting out such good tunes.

Being Miss Daisy

I am on vacation with Son and the BMD. They are incredible kids. So kind. And they take good care of me. We are all having a good time together. I feel kind of bad for them though....having to drag me around with them. So I have become like Miss Daisy. The old, crotchety, overly opinionated woman who is tolerated since she is bank rolling the whole shooting match, but sort of in the way.

It's not like I enjoy being in their way. I am in love in my own right at this minute. Being the third wheel is making me lonely. Son has BMD. Crazy Best Friend has her drifter. And I sit here missing what I feel I have at home. I understand that being alone here isn't the end of the world. Normally I love to be on vacation alone. But being alone surrounded by couples blissfully happy kinda blows.

I am trying so hard to not be in the way or push my own agenda. I am going with the flow as best I can...which for me is a huge challenge. I don't want to be that bossy loud mouth that needs to be the center of attention. I am working on being okay with a vacation filled with introspection...

I can't decide if I am being fake or mature. What I do know is that it is terribly difficult to let your baby birds fly on their own. Even if they are circling the nest waving back at you the whole time...you start to realize that they are going to fly off soon enough and build their own nest in a cactus somewhere.

Vacation: Night One

Here I am, camped out at my best friend's house. It has been an unbelieveably long day, probably too long for me to be attempting to write about. From the entirely too early wake up to the fiasco with the rental car. I have had too much excitement. I will say this much however: I am a very loved, much treasured woman. Fuzzy Face had to get up too early, yet he took care of me. And my son...he hasn't back 100%. The BMD helped me stay calm all day.

I miss Fuzzy and his girls. I feel like even work is an interruption in my time with them....vacation seems like such a luxury....I never knew anything could fill me up the way nursing does since Son and the BMD grew up. I have extra blessings in them I guess. I wanted to tell him I love him before I left....but I know that he knows, even if I didn't say it out loud. And I know that I need this time with my big kids before they are gone forever.

So goodnight to you my friends. I am sure I will have plenty to report soon....

I Can't Sleep

It's after midnight...I have taken all my meds...my head and neck fucking hurt...and I am WIDE awake. DAMMIT! I may have a beetle growing in my brain. It hurts so bad...

Okay, there's about a million things running through my mind as well. I have such a hard time getting my brain to quiet down when there is so much going on in there. So now I am going to lay most of it out here for public consumption...

I got into a fight with my younger brother yesterday. He told me that he quit his job. When I asked him why, he said that it was because of me. WHAT?!!?? Fuzzy Face and I were offered the opportunity to purchase tickets to a concert that he had been looking. My brother got pissed off because I wouldn't give him mine or sell him mine. He picked a fight with me about how I think that the world revolves around me, that I am always looking for sympathy and attention, that I am an addict just like him but my drugs are prescribed to me so no one thinks I am (I do in fact get vicodin prescribed to me for migraines, but I take like 3 a month). I wound up saying something hurtful to him, and I feel pretty bad about it. I did apologize pretty quickly after saying it, but it was out there...

Sigh...I am feeling fairly insecure lately. I'm not sure why. I might just be building it up in my brain because I can't sleep all the time. Fuzzy Face would probably say I am being "woman crazy" and it may be true. I am going on vacation next week and maybe I am a little worried he will replace me while I am gone. Same kind of insecurities I always have when it comes to him. You know: I'm not good enough, or funny enough, or pretty enough, or hot enough to keep him. Maybe I am taking over things that I shouldn't yet. God, I HAVE to get over that...That fucking liar of a voice inside my head needs to have its mouth duct taped shut. Because I know what I look like! For a heavy girl I look really pretty. Hell, for an average sized girl I look good!

Vacation! I am going to Tucson next week on Wednesday. I get to see all my friends from down there. I am going to eat a TON of delicious food! I am going to soak up the sunshine and visit Sabino Canyon. And I wanna go horseback riding. The drive south on 10 is going to be EPIC! I miss that drive at 95 miles an hour with the windows rolled down and the stereo cranked..."Wild West Show" by Big and Rich never sounds so good. Javalinas! Ross! Sonoran Style Hot Dogs!

My life is good right now. I don't know when I have been so damn CONTENT, which is even better than happy. Content makes me feel like everything is lined up the way it should be. I think I am scared that its going to get taken away from me. How do I get over it? When will I realize that this is what might be the start of the next part of my life? I should just relax and breathe....

So, if Fuzzy Face tells you that I MOVED to Arizona, he's lying. Its just a visit. I'll be home soon.

My Fiiiibromyallllllgia....

Meet Wally. He is the visual representation of my chronic pain. Did you know that the meaning of the word "walrus" in Eskimo is "tooth walker"? Walruses pull themselves out of the water with their tusks, hence the name...As anyone with a chronic pain condition will tell you, there are days when you literally feel like you are dragging yourself around by your teeth.

There is that all too familiar burn in your muscle fibers almost constantly. The lightning shooting through your limbs unexpectedly. The slow wearing down of your mental and physical reserves as you pull, push, and force yourself through all the tasks in your life. Your body is refusing to do what you ask it to, and what it COULD do mere months ago. That dull ache is waiting to greet you in the morning and looks forward to following you around all day.

I think this is why I invented Wally. I guess I think that if I can put the pain outside myself and give it its own personality, it no longer defines me. Then the aches, pains, shocks, throbbing, burning aren't a part of me. It's Wally. He hurts from dragging himself around by his teeth, for God's sake! My friends will tell you that he even has his own voice. Think of an old gramma that has smoked 2 packs a day for 45 years with a Fargo accent. It is gavelly and low, and he tends to sound like he is running out of breath.

Maybe I have finally dropped my basket. My way of compartmentalizing this condition...or well, all of my conditions...may be totally unhealthy. I may not be facing the reality of my situation. But in actuality, who wants to think about a life of aches and pains along with COUNTLESS medications to keep you mildly sane through it all? Not me, that's for sure. I want to be able to enjoy my life. Even if I have to share it with a walrus.

Random Thoughts

I am kind of a slob. And sort of a slacker.

I don't think that kids are fun or cute until they are over the age of 2.

I have dreams of being a nomad and cruising around the country in a Winnebago.

I am scared to have my gastric bypass surgery.

I have never had a man send me flowers. Not ever.

I want to be the girl that "Crazy Love" by Van Morrison was written about.

I am a hopeless romantic. And hopelessly hopeful.

If I ever get married again I want an emerald engagement ring. Emeralds are more rare than diamonds anyway, and they are almost 100% conflict free.

In my head I still feel like I am about 19.

I want to know how to dress myself better...Someday I will be the "cool chick"

I freaking LOVE Tejano music.

I know I write about him a lot but, I think my boyfriend is really handsome. Like in a, "How did I manage to land that?" way. Seriously...I have a visceral reaction to him.

I hope I never allow myself to be bullied again. But I don't want to develop a "F the world" attitude either.

I don't want to be a floor nurse forever. It kicks my ass on a pretty regular basis.

Tattoos are truly an artform.

My best thinking is done in the small hours of the night.