I am profoundly moved by music ( as noted in the post entitled My Life Has a Soundtrack). In all the songs that have come and gone there has never been a song that has said everything I feel....until now. (there's a link to hear it at the end of the post). Lyrics mean a great deal to me. Words. I stammer over them at times. I trip and fall all over myself when I get nervous. When I made the decsion to walk away from everything I've ever known, it was empowering and terrifying because I had to find the courage to speak. to find the words and the courage to face my fear. To stand up for myself. To find my voice.....MY voice.....and say Enough.
There is a picture in the background of my Twitter profile page. It's a picture of me in a long black coat. It was taken years ago, but it landed me a opportunity to sign with Elite. I was so excited for the opportunity! My dream of being able to live in NYC was finally gonna come true. But it never came to fruition. I was *told* that we would not be moving to NYC on the "off chance" that I "might" get work as a model. That because it wasn't an "actual" job we would not move our family, and there was no way he was going to raise "his" kids in NYC anyway.
I cried alone, in the precious hours of early morning when the house was asleep, every night for a week. Then, as I always did, I put the dream back on the shelf where I had pulled it down from, and buried it. I was not pretty enough to get work as a model. Let alone talented enough to work on Broadway. He was right, it was foolish for me to believe I could. He was my husband, I believed him. He had my best interests at heart....right?
This was my mentality every day for 15 years. Tonight Mel said to me, " I thank God every day for RCMH." This confused me, and she went on further and said, "If it wasn't for that night, you wouldn't have had the strength to make him leave." The truth is much more than that. I tried twice before, and wasn't strong enough. I didn't have the support system then. The confidence in myself that I could be anything more.
Ultimately, there is one defining moment that gave me hope that I could be more, do more. That I mattered. In that one small moment last summer, I met someone who for the first time in my life made me feel........beautiful. It is the moments that matter. No matter how short. I do not take ANY of them for granted. and every "moment" since then plays in my head every day like a song. I see them all. I hold them close, and if I never have any more of them, although my heart holds out hope, it's okay. The memories I have make me feel beautiful all over again, which helps me believe in myself. Those "moments" have power.
I have had time to think about what *really* matters to me. What is it that is my purpose in this one precious life that I've been given. So much guilt passes through me on how much time I've wasted. I have to remind myself EVERY day that the only thing that matters is today. If I wake up...then it's another chance for me to get it right, and I am thankful for the breath that allows me to try.
Mel has told me several times, "You are more than tutus and toe shoes." It's her way of telling me that she won't let me settle. I am thankful to have her in my corner......even though she's trying to shove me OUT of it. lol My biggest fear has always been that I would not be remembered after I'm gone. I don't seek fame, for it is fleeting, and I don't seek money other than what I need to survive. All I want is to work hard, to use the gifts I have been given to the best of my ability, and to know that I mattered to someone. That I loved with everything I had and that love was returned, and it was blindingly beautiful and passionate and true. That I left something behind.
There was a saying written above the door of our H.S. choir room that has stuck with me all these years.
"The talent that you have is God's gift to you, what you do with it is your gift to God."
I am looking forward to the moments that finally allow me to share the gifts I have been given. Yes I have been through many different versions of hell in my 36 years, but whatever time God grants me to have left on this earth I will spend it being the best ME I can be. Through it all......I am alive, I am strong, I am beautiful, I am perfectly imperfect, I am free, I am standing.....I am here.
http://youtu.be/yPORjvHlMbU .....and yes....it's on my life's soundtrack. :)
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Sleep is for Amateurs...
I've never been much of a sleeper. Some people can start to think about something, and allowing their mind drift, quickly fall asleep. Not me. I start to think about something then my brain gets too busy and keeps me awake. It usually takes me a good 45 minutes to fall asleep and when I do it is never for more than 4 hours at a time. I never sleep well the first night in a strange place and if I'm only staying in that place for one night? Fuhgeddaboudit. If I *do* manage to get a full 8 hours, it's never uninterrupted. Ever.
When I was little we lived in a small white house with a huge yard. We owned the lot next to us. I think at one time it was my parents dream to build on to the house. That never happened. Instead we ended up moving into a house that my Grandpa Leo built. They had moved down the street into a smaller home and we moved into their house. It's the house I spent my H.S. years in. The house we lived in prior to that is the one that holds happy memories. Well, mostly happy.
My two sisters and I shared the upstairs of the house. There weren't definitive rooms. Instead there was an alcove that my older sister used as her room and it was separated by a couple of sheer curtains. Then there was an open space with a wicker table and chairs and a long bookcase that served as a divider to the space that my younger sister and I shared. Our beds sat parallel to each other. They were meant to be bunk beds but the room had an A-frame ceiling and was too low to set them up that way.
My favorite part of the "room" was the window seat across from the foot of the bed. It had a light blue pleather cover and the window opened to a slanted roof where we would go out and sit sometimes at night. Well my sister Theresa, or T as we call her, would go out and sit. Most of the time I'd just swing my legs out the window. Heights and I aren't friends.
It seemed to me that we had an early bedtime in the summer because I remember it always being still light outside and it would drive me crazy, because if it was light outside then there was still time to do stuff outside. We would never go to sleep when we were supposed to. Instead we often times would play "sock baseball". We'd roll up socks and one of us would pitch and the other would whack it across the room with their hand. That was my favorite indoor game. Even at a young age, I was afraid that if I fell asleep I'd miss something good. lol
I didn't know it then but, those years trained me to be able to take care of my babies. Especially my son. When we arrived home from the hospital, I had no strength. I was exhausted and felt very alone. It was a happy time, for me and my son. But, I had no help. Oh his Father was there, annnnnd that's about it. My days were long and my nights were even longer. My son refused to sleep in a crib. The only way he'd fall asleep was was by laying on his belly against my chest. So most nights I'd just lay awake and listen to him breath while I sat propped up on pillows. His Father was impossible to wake up. If someone were ever to have broken in, it would be up to me to defend us. Not joking.
I tweeted the other day to Joe Mac. The guys had a couple of days off for the 4th and he had gone home to his wife and kids. Spent his first night with their new baby girl. I applaud him. As tired as all the guys are from this tour he still took care of his daughter. So when I said, " Hard working Dad,a job to get back to, and still takes care of his wife by taking care his child. Men like that aren't a myth?" I meant it. In my world, they are. Nothing is sexier to me than a guy who is so amazing to their kids. Even sexier is watching a man who is amazing to kids that are not his own but belong to the woman that he loves. My bestie has that now and I am thankful she has him. My friend Sherri has found an amazing man like that and will solidify their family soon.
Mel asked me not that long ago why is it I can't sleep and have I always been that way? My answer was that I've always been that way, but really started the day my son was born. Drives her crazy though because not only am I a night owl, I'm also a morning person. I don't wake up grumpy. Even if I have a migraine. And once I'm awake, I'm up. I can't go back to sleep. It sucks during those rare moments when a miracle occurs and I sleep straight through a whole 6 hours. It's like an eclipse. The last time that happened? January. Mel and I were in NYC for a week. If she wasn't there to have witnessed it, I don't think anyone would've have believed me.
When we were on the NKOTB cruise, this past past May, there were deck parties every night and after that we would go and have ice cream at 4A.M. with our friend Roxi. We would get passing comments throughout the day, such as "I can't believe you two were STILL dancing. You closed it out every night. Did you even sleep." First of all, get me on a dance floor and you're gonna have to pry me off of it. Unless the DJ sucks. *raising eyebrow* lol I'll stay, but I just might not dance as much.
Little did I know then, that had I not stayed up all those nights as a child, I would not have had the stamina to stay awake with my son, nor the stamina to have the schedule I did all winter, and I definitely wouldn't have the stamina to go all night on a deck, on a boat, in the middle of the ocean for four nights straight. Of course it helps when you love who you go all night with. When you have that, the time goes by way too fast. ;)
So I call those early years of my life "training". I'm "pro" now baby! lol I smile at those nights as a kid sitting on my window seat, and playing "sock baseball" with my kid sister. I was right you know.......if I go to sleep......I'll miss something good. :)
When I was little we lived in a small white house with a huge yard. We owned the lot next to us. I think at one time it was my parents dream to build on to the house. That never happened. Instead we ended up moving into a house that my Grandpa Leo built. They had moved down the street into a smaller home and we moved into their house. It's the house I spent my H.S. years in. The house we lived in prior to that is the one that holds happy memories. Well, mostly happy.
My two sisters and I shared the upstairs of the house. There weren't definitive rooms. Instead there was an alcove that my older sister used as her room and it was separated by a couple of sheer curtains. Then there was an open space with a wicker table and chairs and a long bookcase that served as a divider to the space that my younger sister and I shared. Our beds sat parallel to each other. They were meant to be bunk beds but the room had an A-frame ceiling and was too low to set them up that way.
My favorite part of the "room" was the window seat across from the foot of the bed. It had a light blue pleather cover and the window opened to a slanted roof where we would go out and sit sometimes at night. Well my sister Theresa, or T as we call her, would go out and sit. Most of the time I'd just swing my legs out the window. Heights and I aren't friends.
It seemed to me that we had an early bedtime in the summer because I remember it always being still light outside and it would drive me crazy, because if it was light outside then there was still time to do stuff outside. We would never go to sleep when we were supposed to. Instead we often times would play "sock baseball". We'd roll up socks and one of us would pitch and the other would whack it across the room with their hand. That was my favorite indoor game. Even at a young age, I was afraid that if I fell asleep I'd miss something good. lol
I didn't know it then but, those years trained me to be able to take care of my babies. Especially my son. When we arrived home from the hospital, I had no strength. I was exhausted and felt very alone. It was a happy time, for me and my son. But, I had no help. Oh his Father was there, annnnnd that's about it. My days were long and my nights were even longer. My son refused to sleep in a crib. The only way he'd fall asleep was was by laying on his belly against my chest. So most nights I'd just lay awake and listen to him breath while I sat propped up on pillows. His Father was impossible to wake up. If someone were ever to have broken in, it would be up to me to defend us. Not joking.
I tweeted the other day to Joe Mac. The guys had a couple of days off for the 4th and he had gone home to his wife and kids. Spent his first night with their new baby girl. I applaud him. As tired as all the guys are from this tour he still took care of his daughter. So when I said, " Hard working Dad,a job to get back to, and still takes care of his wife by taking care his child. Men like that aren't a myth?" I meant it. In my world, they are. Nothing is sexier to me than a guy who is so amazing to their kids. Even sexier is watching a man who is amazing to kids that are not his own but belong to the woman that he loves. My bestie has that now and I am thankful she has him. My friend Sherri has found an amazing man like that and will solidify their family soon.
Mel asked me not that long ago why is it I can't sleep and have I always been that way? My answer was that I've always been that way, but really started the day my son was born. Drives her crazy though because not only am I a night owl, I'm also a morning person. I don't wake up grumpy. Even if I have a migraine. And once I'm awake, I'm up. I can't go back to sleep. It sucks during those rare moments when a miracle occurs and I sleep straight through a whole 6 hours. It's like an eclipse. The last time that happened? January. Mel and I were in NYC for a week. If she wasn't there to have witnessed it, I don't think anyone would've have believed me.
When we were on the NKOTB cruise, this past past May, there were deck parties every night and after that we would go and have ice cream at 4A.M. with our friend Roxi. We would get passing comments throughout the day, such as "I can't believe you two were STILL dancing. You closed it out every night. Did you even sleep." First of all, get me on a dance floor and you're gonna have to pry me off of it. Unless the DJ sucks. *raising eyebrow* lol I'll stay, but I just might not dance as much.
Little did I know then, that had I not stayed up all those nights as a child, I would not have had the stamina to stay awake with my son, nor the stamina to have the schedule I did all winter, and I definitely wouldn't have the stamina to go all night on a deck, on a boat, in the middle of the ocean for four nights straight. Of course it helps when you love who you go all night with. When you have that, the time goes by way too fast. ;)
So I call those early years of my life "training". I'm "pro" now baby! lol I smile at those nights as a kid sitting on my window seat, and playing "sock baseball" with my kid sister. I was right you know.......if I go to sleep......I'll miss something good. :)
Friday, July 8, 2011
This Moment's Peace...
I had a job interview yesterday. Is it my idea of a dream job? Nope. Is it forever? Nope. Is it for right now? Yup. During this last year I went from 3 jobs down to one. The one I kept was that of a lunch room supervisor in a suburban middle school. One of my Aunts is a band director there and when she heard I was looking for something part-time she told me about the opening, I interviewed and was offered the job the same day.
Basically my roll was to make sure that the kids behaved in the lunch room and out at recess. There were good days and there were not so good days. My Twitter followers were around during the year to hear some of the stories about my days there. I had nothing to do with the food or food prep, so the lunch lady song didn't apply to me.
I have spent most of my life working with kids in some way shape or form. For those that don't know I'm a dance teacher by trade. (see post Why I Teach). I love kids. I relate to kids. I understand kids. The job I'm being considered for is at an indoor inflatable playground for kids. Otherwise known as "My bestie's worst nightmare". It was a good interview, and I like a challenge. It will definitely be that. I do not lack patience. If anything, I have too much sometimes. It has hurt me on occasion. I digress.
It's a management position, which is good on a couple of different levels. One, I have 15 years of retail management experience. Also, I don't do well with idle. The busier I am, the better. And while Mom has ear plugs for me already, I welcome the noise. It keeps my mind busy. Sucks that adults can't go and jump around in the inflatables though, cause duuuude. How FREAKIN FUN WOULD THAT BE?! (Yes, Mel... I'm THIS many! lol)
If I get this job, I won't be returning to the middle school. It's bittersweet, but right now I need more than part-time. I need to work and provide for my family. It's important to me. Not working since school has let out has killed me. Financially and physically. I have felt a lack of direction. Of no use, and a failure as a parent. I know they say men take great pride in being able to provide. A big part of their self worth comes from this. I think the same can be said for some women. I would be among those. I sent a tweet today that said, "We teach our children not only with words, but through our actions." My father may drive me crazy, but one of the things am proud of, is that through his actions he has taught me self discipline, and instilled a strong work ethic.
I am not one of those women who are in search of a "Sugar Daddy". Never have been. If I don't earn it, I don't want it. Which is also why I have such a big problem with feeling like a charity case. Very seldom do I ask for help. If I can't do it on my own, then I don't wanna do it. My stubborn pride gets in the way at times. Happens to us all I believe at one time or another.
Anyway, I got a call today and am going in on Sunday for a second interview. This is a good sign. And a step in the direction I want go. It's a job that puts me around kids, and that brings me joy. And it will help me provide for my kids, which is the bigger goal. Yes, their Father pays child support, but that covers what it it's supposed to and I want more for my kids. No I didn't ask for alimony, because I don't want a dime from him. I just wanted him to take care of his kids. Asking for alimony is just one more way he would have control over me. Unacceptable. Been there, survived that.
So yesterday was a good day. Today is a struggle, but my migraine finally went away and the night is young. Tomorrow? Well, I won't worry about that, because worrying about tomorrow's troubles only takes away from this moment's peace. *deep breath* Right now, in this very moment, I have that, and for now, it's enough. :)
Basically my roll was to make sure that the kids behaved in the lunch room and out at recess. There were good days and there were not so good days. My Twitter followers were around during the year to hear some of the stories about my days there. I had nothing to do with the food or food prep, so the lunch lady song didn't apply to me.
I have spent most of my life working with kids in some way shape or form. For those that don't know I'm a dance teacher by trade. (see post Why I Teach). I love kids. I relate to kids. I understand kids. The job I'm being considered for is at an indoor inflatable playground for kids. Otherwise known as "My bestie's worst nightmare". It was a good interview, and I like a challenge. It will definitely be that. I do not lack patience. If anything, I have too much sometimes. It has hurt me on occasion. I digress.
It's a management position, which is good on a couple of different levels. One, I have 15 years of retail management experience. Also, I don't do well with idle. The busier I am, the better. And while Mom has ear plugs for me already, I welcome the noise. It keeps my mind busy. Sucks that adults can't go and jump around in the inflatables though, cause duuuude. How FREAKIN FUN WOULD THAT BE?! (Yes, Mel... I'm THIS many! lol)
If I get this job, I won't be returning to the middle school. It's bittersweet, but right now I need more than part-time. I need to work and provide for my family. It's important to me. Not working since school has let out has killed me. Financially and physically. I have felt a lack of direction. Of no use, and a failure as a parent. I know they say men take great pride in being able to provide. A big part of their self worth comes from this. I think the same can be said for some women. I would be among those. I sent a tweet today that said, "We teach our children not only with words, but through our actions." My father may drive me crazy, but one of the things am proud of, is that through his actions he has taught me self discipline, and instilled a strong work ethic.
I am not one of those women who are in search of a "Sugar Daddy". Never have been. If I don't earn it, I don't want it. Which is also why I have such a big problem with feeling like a charity case. Very seldom do I ask for help. If I can't do it on my own, then I don't wanna do it. My stubborn pride gets in the way at times. Happens to us all I believe at one time or another.
Anyway, I got a call today and am going in on Sunday for a second interview. This is a good sign. And a step in the direction I want go. It's a job that puts me around kids, and that brings me joy. And it will help me provide for my kids, which is the bigger goal. Yes, their Father pays child support, but that covers what it it's supposed to and I want more for my kids. No I didn't ask for alimony, because I don't want a dime from him. I just wanted him to take care of his kids. Asking for alimony is just one more way he would have control over me. Unacceptable. Been there, survived that.
So yesterday was a good day. Today is a struggle, but my migraine finally went away and the night is young. Tomorrow? Well, I won't worry about that, because worrying about tomorrow's troubles only takes away from this moment's peace. *deep breath* Right now, in this very moment, I have that, and for now, it's enough. :)
Thursday, July 7, 2011
The Rain...
The name of the grade school I went to was All Saints. It was an old building with it's own church on the same lot. It was a very small school that held grades K-8 in one building. I didn't go to Kindergarten there. My Dad was stationed in Germany then so I went to Kindergarten on the american base in Wiesbaden.
I graduated 8th grade with 7 other kids. Yup. That's right. There were 8 kids in our 8th grade class all together. Would you believe I still talk to most of them on occasion? I then went to Dowling Catholic High School with over 400 kids. Cutlure shock to this shy kid? That would be an understatement. I spent the first semester in various stages of panic. The last panic attack I had was the first time I seperated from my now ex. It was not pretty. I was on the phone with Mom at the time. She talked me through it. Not a memory I want to talk about so moving on...
Where I *was* going with this, was the first time I ever danced in the rain. I was in the third grade. My teacher's name was Sister Marie. She was one of the nicer nuns. It was Sister Francis that made a failed attempt at trying to get me to write with my right hand. She did get me to straighten out my left hand though. I don't write like normal southpaws. My hand doesn't curve. We can thank the ruler thwapping for that.
We were outside for recess one day, and it started to rain. To try and give you a visual, the church and the school sit parallel to each other with a wide slab of concrete between them. There was a box for four square and a couple of hop scotch areas and a jungle gym behind the church. On the other side of the school building was another big slab of concrete where we'd play all the games for P.E.. Tether ball, dodge ball, that big parachute thing, kick ball, etc. You weren't "supposed" to go over there during recess. *side eye*
Sooooo....when the rain started, guess where I was? I wanted to be able to dance where no one could see me. Now, keep in mind this was before I even started taking actual classes. I didn't want anyone to make fun of me, so I'd go off and dance where no one could see. Unbeknownst to me, when the rain started, Sister Marie stood in the doorway of the classroom ( Her room had it's own seperate entrance) and called all the kids in. Not entirely sure why she didn't find it odd at all that there was a child missing. lol
I remember so vividly this moment, that I can even tell you that I had on a knit rainbow striped top and that those stripes were horizontal and not vertical. I have no idea why I remember that detail, other than it was one of my favorite tops because the purple in it was the brightest color of all of the stripes. I was out by the tether poles dancing and singing when the rain started. I was so absorbed in what I was doing that I didn't realize that it was in fact raining. Then...it started POURING. Any normal third grade girl would run squealing inside. Not me. I've never really fit "the mold". I have ALWAYS been a misfit. Still am. Only now, people call it being a leader. I just call it being me. A work in progress.
The second it started pouring.....I danced all over the entire black top, belting out Singing in the Rain. and the crowning moment was when I ran toward the tether ball pole, swinging around it like Gene Kelly. Then I splashed in 7, yes, 7 whole puddles! Working my way towards the church when all of a sudden I noticed there was no one else outside. Oops.
So I went back to the classroom and knocked on the door. Sister Marie opened the door, took one look at me, grabbed me by the arm and yanked me inside. The kids who weren't laughing were sinking into their chairs, embarassed for me. I didn't care. Up until that moment, I was the happiest kid on earth.
To this day......put me in the rain and let me dance.......and I'm the happiest kid on earth.
And the day I *finally* find someone who loves to dance in the rain as much as I do........I'll be the happiest woman on earth.
Note: I want to dance to this song with someone in the rain...... http://youtu.be/b1B5FP8LKlQ
I graduated 8th grade with 7 other kids. Yup. That's right. There were 8 kids in our 8th grade class all together. Would you believe I still talk to most of them on occasion? I then went to Dowling Catholic High School with over 400 kids. Cutlure shock to this shy kid? That would be an understatement. I spent the first semester in various stages of panic. The last panic attack I had was the first time I seperated from my now ex. It was not pretty. I was on the phone with Mom at the time. She talked me through it. Not a memory I want to talk about so moving on...
Where I *was* going with this, was the first time I ever danced in the rain. I was in the third grade. My teacher's name was Sister Marie. She was one of the nicer nuns. It was Sister Francis that made a failed attempt at trying to get me to write with my right hand. She did get me to straighten out my left hand though. I don't write like normal southpaws. My hand doesn't curve. We can thank the ruler thwapping for that.
We were outside for recess one day, and it started to rain. To try and give you a visual, the church and the school sit parallel to each other with a wide slab of concrete between them. There was a box for four square and a couple of hop scotch areas and a jungle gym behind the church. On the other side of the school building was another big slab of concrete where we'd play all the games for P.E.. Tether ball, dodge ball, that big parachute thing, kick ball, etc. You weren't "supposed" to go over there during recess. *side eye*
Sooooo....when the rain started, guess where I was? I wanted to be able to dance where no one could see me. Now, keep in mind this was before I even started taking actual classes. I didn't want anyone to make fun of me, so I'd go off and dance where no one could see. Unbeknownst to me, when the rain started, Sister Marie stood in the doorway of the classroom ( Her room had it's own seperate entrance) and called all the kids in. Not entirely sure why she didn't find it odd at all that there was a child missing. lol
I remember so vividly this moment, that I can even tell you that I had on a knit rainbow striped top and that those stripes were horizontal and not vertical. I have no idea why I remember that detail, other than it was one of my favorite tops because the purple in it was the brightest color of all of the stripes. I was out by the tether poles dancing and singing when the rain started. I was so absorbed in what I was doing that I didn't realize that it was in fact raining. Then...it started POURING. Any normal third grade girl would run squealing inside. Not me. I've never really fit "the mold". I have ALWAYS been a misfit. Still am. Only now, people call it being a leader. I just call it being me. A work in progress.
The second it started pouring.....I danced all over the entire black top, belting out Singing in the Rain. and the crowning moment was when I ran toward the tether ball pole, swinging around it like Gene Kelly. Then I splashed in 7, yes, 7 whole puddles! Working my way towards the church when all of a sudden I noticed there was no one else outside. Oops.
So I went back to the classroom and knocked on the door. Sister Marie opened the door, took one look at me, grabbed me by the arm and yanked me inside. The kids who weren't laughing were sinking into their chairs, embarassed for me. I didn't care. Up until that moment, I was the happiest kid on earth.
To this day......put me in the rain and let me dance.......and I'm the happiest kid on earth.
And the day I *finally* find someone who loves to dance in the rain as much as I do........I'll be the happiest woman on earth.
Note: I want to dance to this song with someone in the rain...... http://youtu.be/b1B5FP8LKlQ
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Twice blessed....
For those of you reading these daily posts and who also follow me on Twitter, you may have heard me talk about my Mom. Some of you may also be slightly confused as my Mom passed away in 1990. In 1991 my Dad remarried. Didn't know it then, but this woman would end up being my saving grace in so many ways. While technically she is my Stepmom she has never been that in my heart. She is and will always be Mom. She has now been in my life longer than my real Mom was.
I have been at war with myself. We've well established that. For me, the only way for me to go....is through. That's how I've always been. It may be muggy for a while as I process things and turn things around and over in my head, but eventually I flip a switch, knock back into my heart and off I go. That's where I am now. Moving forward through my heart. And all it took was one email from my Mom to fill it up and send me moving again.
There are some who, if told, "You can't do that." They respond with a "Oh yeah, watch me." My daughter is that way. Ever since she was little the quickest way to get her to do something was tell her she can't do it.
Then, there are others who need the opposite kind of encouragement. "You CAN do it!" They respond with a "Are you sure? You really think so? OK!" That's my son.
I am somewhere in between. Some things make me say, " Wanna bet? Watch me." Then there are other things that make me say, " I don't think that's possible. Too many things working against me to try."
The following is the email convo I had with my Mom today. She still hasn't come home after walking out on my Dad on Monday. They're pulling a Ross and Rachel. "We were ON A BREAK!" lol Her response is why she is so AMAZING and how easily she can make everything OK. (Blue is her favorite color so she always responds in blue. )
From: Schuler, Jenny
Subject: how you doin'?
To: Ann Marie
Date: Wednesday, July 6, 2011, 2:48 PM
I have been at war with myself. We've well established that. For me, the only way for me to go....is through. That's how I've always been. It may be muggy for a while as I process things and turn things around and over in my head, but eventually I flip a switch, knock back into my heart and off I go. That's where I am now. Moving forward through my heart. And all it took was one email from my Mom to fill it up and send me moving again.
There are some who, if told, "You can't do that." They respond with a "Oh yeah, watch me." My daughter is that way. Ever since she was little the quickest way to get her to do something was tell her she can't do it.
Then, there are others who need the opposite kind of encouragement. "You CAN do it!" They respond with a "Are you sure? You really think so? OK!" That's my son.
I am somewhere in between. Some things make me say, " Wanna bet? Watch me." Then there are other things that make me say, " I don't think that's possible. Too many things working against me to try."
The following is the email convo I had with my Mom today. She still hasn't come home after walking out on my Dad on Monday. They're pulling a Ross and Rachel. "We were ON A BREAK!" lol Her response is why she is so AMAZING and how easily she can make everything OK. (Blue is her favorite color so she always responds in blue. )
From: Schuler, Jenny
Subject: how you doin'?
To: Ann Marie
Date: Wednesday, July 6, 2011, 2:48 PM
From: Ann Marie Thomas
Sent: Wednesday, July 06, 2011 3:01 PM
To: Schuler, Jenny J
Subject: Re: how you doin'?
Sent: Wednesday, July 06, 2011 3:01 PM
To: Schuler, Jenny J
Subject: Re: how you doin'?
| Well other than being broke and feeling like an utter failure in the parenting department, I'm golden. My resume is now being revamped by my friend Jenn in NYC. I'm fairly certain the fact that it sucks is why I can't even get an interview anywhere. I have a blog, but just this week I decided to write everyday. Last night's entry was about the trip Theresa and I took to Boston with Dad. It made me realize even more than I did before that I have always been a big city East Coast girl. So, as terrifed as I am, I'm continuing to look out there for work. I have no idea what I'm gonna do if I find something, but they always say you miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take. Part of me, is afraid that I won't find something here OR there, but my heart and gut tell me that's where I'm supposed to be. If I keep ignoring my heart like I have for the last, oh I don't know 15 years or so, I'm never gonna get to where I'm meant to be. And I don't just mean location. Does that make any sense? It's Mel's bday today, so Jen and I took her to Mama Laconas last night. It was fun. Haven't said a whole lot to Dad. How are you? From: "Schuler, Jenny" To: "'Ann Marie Thomas'" You’ve always been an East Coaster, I saw that when you were 16, you just didn’t have the “life” experience to survive there, then. NOW YOU DO!!! So go for it!!!!! When you find something if I can help figure out the details with you, I will!! Being broke, hey it’s easier to balance your check book! This comes and goes, don’t beat yourself up. And Parenting….the word failure was invented so we could describe how we feel sometimes, but this too, passes and somehow they still love ya!!! J I’m fine, actually kind of enjoying the “break”. If I didn’t live just two blocks from Mom it wouldn’t even look weird, so my story is I’m there for a visit and I’m sticking with it!! When I do come home, and I will, the first Sunday family dinner will be a BD party for Mel, my other daughter. See you can feel like a failure as a parent and then all of a sudden everyone wants to be your kid…go figure!! Now, stop picking on yourself, and go dance in the yard!!!!!!! Love ya Momma So.......NYC it is! :) Am I scared? Damn straight. Will it stop me? Not this time. In my life to have two amazing women I could call Mom and for another chance at making a long lost dream a reality? Twice blessed indeed. I don't know where it will take me, but It's gonna be one helluva a story one day. ;) |
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Farfegnugen, Kitaro and the moment I fell in love with Boston...
Otherwise known as "Who the hell let's a 16 year old drive on a NYC expressway?!"
After my Mom died (for that story read the post The Cheese in my Cheesecake), things were obviously a bit strained at home. I struggled in school. I'm fairly certain I only passed Chemistry because the teacher felt sorry for me. I honestly don't remember anything the rest of that school year. In an effort to try to bond with my younger sister and me, and to try to get our heads back on track, Pops decided that it would be a good idea to take a road trip.
So that following summer, we loaded up into my Grandpa Leo's Farfegnugen contraption and headed east. This thing was like a van/camper. The top raised a little and there was a bed up there and the couches converted into a bed below. It was basically a mini RV. If I could find a picture of one I'd show you. Anyway, the plan was to go to Boston. He was trying to make me happy. I applaud him for his efforts, however driving for 12 hours I was ready to grab my suitcase and get out and walk the rest of the way. Have you ever heard of Kitaro? Look it up. My Father insisted on playing it the ENTIRE trip. Said we should expand our music interests. Dude. Seriously, look it up. Pretty for a few songs, then....22 hours later and you want to stab your ears with a pen.
Needless to say we made it to Boston. Yup. We went to Dorchester. In fact we drove around Dorchester for two friggin hours because I insisted that I could find Donnie. I was 16 years old people. What the hell did I know?
I remember driving past Fenway Park, and thinking how cool it would be to go to a game. Pops played baseball in High School, which is why I ended up playing little league. I was the only girl on an all boy team. The team name? The Bears. And yes we sucked (*nodding* Go ahead. Laugh it up. It's totally fine). I LOVED to throw, LOVED to run, HATED batting. All those things still hold true. The memory of playing catch with him in the backyard just popped into my head. I'm a southpaw, but I only write and eat with my left. I do everything else with my right. So I would catch left and throw right. Sorry, I got sidetracked . Moving on...
I don't remember where we camped, or even sleeping much. Never was much of a sleeper. Brain is too busy. Bits and pieces of campgrounds along the way flash in my head, but I can't quite grab onto a solid memory of them. I bet my younger sister could, or Pops for that matter. He'd remember that kind of stuff.
We took in all the historical sites and ended up stopping at Faneuil Hall Marketplace and eating at one of the outdoor cafes. I remember just sitting there, and watching all the people and SO much entertainment! I wasn't sure where to look. Except at the clowns I wouldn't look at the clowns. I intensely dislike clowns. The first time I had ever seen street musicians was that day. Watching them perform was the moment I fell in love with Boston. It wasn't the all the historical places we had just seen, although they were cool too, but it was sitting there surrounded by a world of performing artists. I felt like I was meant to be there. I can't tell you what they played, but I just remember how happy they were, and how happy they made me feel.
Even now, if I still myself, close my eyes, and take a deep breath I can smell the food and hear the commotion. And flowers. I remember a lot of brightly colored flowers. Looking back now, it's probably why I fell in love with NYC. Of course I still have to get over my fear of driving in NYC, but I blame Pops for that one. He decided on our way home we should make a pit stop in NYC and somehow decided that it was a brilliant idea to put me behind the wheel of the friggin van on the expressway. I don't know which one. All I remember is almost tipping the frakkin thing over because I was taking an off ramp way too fast. Why? Because I was scared shitless that's why. Genius Pops. Friggin genius.
After that fiasco, and on the way back home I remember making the decision that I HAD to go back. Couldn't get it out of my head. I fell for a boy from the city and his city made me fall in love with the arts again. I decided that fall that I was going to go to The Boston Conservatory and major in dance and minor in music.
That dream didn't happen though. That's a different story. Perhaps another time...
After my Mom died (for that story read the post The Cheese in my Cheesecake), things were obviously a bit strained at home. I struggled in school. I'm fairly certain I only passed Chemistry because the teacher felt sorry for me. I honestly don't remember anything the rest of that school year. In an effort to try to bond with my younger sister and me, and to try to get our heads back on track, Pops decided that it would be a good idea to take a road trip.
So that following summer, we loaded up into my Grandpa Leo's Farfegnugen contraption and headed east. This thing was like a van/camper. The top raised a little and there was a bed up there and the couches converted into a bed below. It was basically a mini RV. If I could find a picture of one I'd show you. Anyway, the plan was to go to Boston. He was trying to make me happy. I applaud him for his efforts, however driving for 12 hours I was ready to grab my suitcase and get out and walk the rest of the way. Have you ever heard of Kitaro? Look it up. My Father insisted on playing it the ENTIRE trip. Said we should expand our music interests. Dude. Seriously, look it up. Pretty for a few songs, then....22 hours later and you want to stab your ears with a pen.
Needless to say we made it to Boston. Yup. We went to Dorchester. In fact we drove around Dorchester for two friggin hours because I insisted that I could find Donnie. I was 16 years old people. What the hell did I know?
I remember driving past Fenway Park, and thinking how cool it would be to go to a game. Pops played baseball in High School, which is why I ended up playing little league. I was the only girl on an all boy team. The team name? The Bears. And yes we sucked (*nodding* Go ahead. Laugh it up. It's totally fine). I LOVED to throw, LOVED to run, HATED batting. All those things still hold true. The memory of playing catch with him in the backyard just popped into my head. I'm a southpaw, but I only write and eat with my left. I do everything else with my right. So I would catch left and throw right. Sorry, I got sidetracked . Moving on...
I don't remember where we camped, or even sleeping much. Never was much of a sleeper. Brain is too busy. Bits and pieces of campgrounds along the way flash in my head, but I can't quite grab onto a solid memory of them. I bet my younger sister could, or Pops for that matter. He'd remember that kind of stuff.
We took in all the historical sites and ended up stopping at Faneuil Hall Marketplace and eating at one of the outdoor cafes. I remember just sitting there, and watching all the people and SO much entertainment! I wasn't sure where to look. Except at the clowns I wouldn't look at the clowns. I intensely dislike clowns. The first time I had ever seen street musicians was that day. Watching them perform was the moment I fell in love with Boston. It wasn't the all the historical places we had just seen, although they were cool too, but it was sitting there surrounded by a world of performing artists. I felt like I was meant to be there. I can't tell you what they played, but I just remember how happy they were, and how happy they made me feel.
Even now, if I still myself, close my eyes, and take a deep breath I can smell the food and hear the commotion. And flowers. I remember a lot of brightly colored flowers. Looking back now, it's probably why I fell in love with NYC. Of course I still have to get over my fear of driving in NYC, but I blame Pops for that one. He decided on our way home we should make a pit stop in NYC and somehow decided that it was a brilliant idea to put me behind the wheel of the friggin van on the expressway. I don't know which one. All I remember is almost tipping the frakkin thing over because I was taking an off ramp way too fast. Why? Because I was scared shitless that's why. Genius Pops. Friggin genius.
After that fiasco, and on the way back home I remember making the decision that I HAD to go back. Couldn't get it out of my head. I fell for a boy from the city and his city made me fall in love with the arts again. I decided that fall that I was going to go to The Boston Conservatory and major in dance and minor in music.
That dream didn't happen though. That's a different story. Perhaps another time...
Monday, July 4, 2011
What Two Fights in Twenty Years Taught Me...
I spent my day today in various stages of boredom. Read for a while, then floated around in the pool for a while. Took a shower. Watched When In Rome again. Popped onto Twitter for a bit. Ate a couple of slices of pizza. Listened to my parents argue and watched as my Mom put a few things in her car and leave. My strong, outgoing, lives by her own rules Mom had finally had enough of the man who was constantly trying to get her to live by his.
As I was floating in the pool, I reminded myself of the one person that has been a constant presence in my life. Even though we had lost touch for 15 years, she was always with me. It also brought to mind, that in the 20+ years we've known each other we have only been in 2 fights. They were both in this last year, and they both lasted less than 15 minutes before they were over and done. lol
Here is the story of those two fights.
Fight #1.......Downtown Chicago.....last year for Rock the Block 2....
Mel and I were in Chicago last year for Rock the Block 2. We were downtown with our friends Tracy and Dawn L and I had just finished taking a huge step in facing my fear of heights. I'm still terrified of being high up in open spaces but my indoor fear is conquered. Go me! We were down in the gift shop of the building formerly known as the Sears tower. I had made the mistake of not letting my bank know that I was going to be out of town and consequently had been having problems using my bank card all weekend. I don't use credit cards and who the hell carries cash anymore?
I had picked out a couple of things for my kids, went to pay and it wouldn't take my card. Which was weird since I had just bought my ticket to the skydeck upstairs. Whatever. I decided to leave the trinkets for my kids, when Mel decides to get them for me. I have a slight issue with feeling like a charity case. Of course that was just in my head, but I'm a stubborn one. I immediately began protesting when she shoves the bag at me and says, "You are not going home without gifts for those kids, now just take the fuckin bag and be happy about it."
I snapped. In my head, I heard my ex barking orders at me. I turned around and said, "Don't ever fuckin tell me what to do. Ever." Then I turned around and stormed out of the store with tears streaming down my face and began pacing the sidewalk. Not only did I just stun my best friend, but I'm pretty sure Tracy and Dawn L. were quite taken aback as well. Not a good moment for a bad memory to sneak up and bite me in the ass. Ten deep breaths later and I went to her, put my arms around her and told her exactly what was going through my mind the second I snapped at her. We stood there on the sidewalk, in the middle of downtown Chicago, each of us crying, and we hugged it out. That was it. Fight over.
Fight number 2.......NKOTB Cruise 2011...The Libido deck.....Pink Night.
Mel and I were up in VIP. That wasn't said to brag. I don't do that shit. I say it, for those that were on the boat to picture where we were when the fight occured. At the beginning of the the festivities I was making a valiant effort to get close to one of the railings in order to see what was going on. She decided to fall back, fighting her claustrophobia. I stood, looking through people's heads at nothing. Literally, nothing. All of a sudden this really freakin hot guy passes in front of me. I kinda sorta froze. Avoiding eye contact and trying to catch my breath. Seriously if you could've seen this guy. Made my heart stop. I could feel him look at me as he stopped to talk to a few people as he passed through. Dude probably thought I was ignoring him. He would have thought wrong of course, but how was he to know. It's totally fine, cause apparently I had another chance to see him a few minutes later. I had just discovered that one of my dearest friends, was also up in VIP and when I saw her, I called out, "Jenn! Where the fuck you goin?!" I then walked over to her and squeezed the shit out of her.
Of course, it was later when Mel told me that the fine man that had passed me mere moments ago, was comin right at me and I walked right by him to get to Jenn. I had NO clue. Oblivious. Again, the dude probably thought I was blowin him off. Nope, I was just blind. Sad sorry state of affairs. *heavy sigh* I lost track of him after that.
Anyway, I'm getting off topic. Mel and I ended up sitting back in the same spot we had the night before. We had fun people watching, especially the people who were on the boat docked next to ours. The night got rougher the more people had to drink. The more they got drunk, the stupider they got and the more my patience wore thin. At one point Mel got up to go talk to a friend. A long overdue conversation that I am SO happy she got to have. I sat for a while alone, and then made my way downstairs to the bathroom. I think Donnie and Jordan were down on the platforms entertaining the masses, but I can't remember. I was too focused on not falling down the stairs.
I came back up. There was someone behind me and someone else I knew behind her. The person directly behind me decided to stop at the top of the stairs and block traffic nearly knocking the person I knew back down the stairs. At this point my shoulders were tight and my claws were out. I asked the girl to move so others could get up the stairs and her drunk ass lurched forward spilling her drink on my shoe and then dug the heel of her shoe onto my foot as she pivoted around to find a better spot, shooting me a dirty look as if I was commiting a crime by trying to create a safe passage for people to get back up the friggin stairs.
I found Mel back at our spot talking to our now favorite Rose Tours security guy. I was frustrated about what just happened and simply said that I wanted to throat punch a chick and chuck her overboard. Our new friend told me to settle down and before I could even tell them what had happend, Mel hands me my sail and sign card and says, "Here. I gotta go. You're crabby and I need some air." I looked at her, ex in my head and snapped. "I'm not fuckin crabby! Some drunk ass chick just spilled her drink on me, stepped on my foot and almost knocked someone down the stairs!"
Mel shoots back, "I gotta go." She then turns on her heel and walks away. So I'm left standing there going, "What the fuck just happened?" I ended up talking to Jon's body guard, Todd, for a bit, who said I'd been walking around like a wet tiger for the last thirty minutes, and said I needed some "tea and crampets". The dude made me laugh. Claws retracted. Mel came back upstairs, I immediately wrapped my arms around her and apologized for my behavior. Told her how frustrated I had been, and that me snapping at her had more to do with me being "told" how I was feeling. We stood there and hugged it out. Fight over.
I'd say 2 fights in over 20 years is pretty frakkin good. I have discovered that the trigger for me to snap, is someone telling me how I feel or telling me what to do. Today's meditation while floating in the pool, brought these memories back for a reason. It made me realize that someone else who is important to me, has the same triggers. I'm learning kids. The day you stop is the well, never.
As I was floating in the pool, I reminded myself of the one person that has been a constant presence in my life. Even though we had lost touch for 15 years, she was always with me. It also brought to mind, that in the 20+ years we've known each other we have only been in 2 fights. They were both in this last year, and they both lasted less than 15 minutes before they were over and done. lol
Here is the story of those two fights.
Fight #1.......Downtown Chicago.....last year for Rock the Block 2....
Mel and I were in Chicago last year for Rock the Block 2. We were downtown with our friends Tracy and Dawn L and I had just finished taking a huge step in facing my fear of heights. I'm still terrified of being high up in open spaces but my indoor fear is conquered. Go me! We were down in the gift shop of the building formerly known as the Sears tower. I had made the mistake of not letting my bank know that I was going to be out of town and consequently had been having problems using my bank card all weekend. I don't use credit cards and who the hell carries cash anymore?
I had picked out a couple of things for my kids, went to pay and it wouldn't take my card. Which was weird since I had just bought my ticket to the skydeck upstairs. Whatever. I decided to leave the trinkets for my kids, when Mel decides to get them for me. I have a slight issue with feeling like a charity case. Of course that was just in my head, but I'm a stubborn one. I immediately began protesting when she shoves the bag at me and says, "You are not going home without gifts for those kids, now just take the fuckin bag and be happy about it."
I snapped. In my head, I heard my ex barking orders at me. I turned around and said, "Don't ever fuckin tell me what to do. Ever." Then I turned around and stormed out of the store with tears streaming down my face and began pacing the sidewalk. Not only did I just stun my best friend, but I'm pretty sure Tracy and Dawn L. were quite taken aback as well. Not a good moment for a bad memory to sneak up and bite me in the ass. Ten deep breaths later and I went to her, put my arms around her and told her exactly what was going through my mind the second I snapped at her. We stood there on the sidewalk, in the middle of downtown Chicago, each of us crying, and we hugged it out. That was it. Fight over.
Fight number 2.......NKOTB Cruise 2011...The Libido deck.....Pink Night.
Mel and I were up in VIP. That wasn't said to brag. I don't do that shit. I say it, for those that were on the boat to picture where we were when the fight occured. At the beginning of the the festivities I was making a valiant effort to get close to one of the railings in order to see what was going on. She decided to fall back, fighting her claustrophobia. I stood, looking through people's heads at nothing. Literally, nothing. All of a sudden this really freakin hot guy passes in front of me. I kinda sorta froze. Avoiding eye contact and trying to catch my breath. Seriously if you could've seen this guy. Made my heart stop. I could feel him look at me as he stopped to talk to a few people as he passed through. Dude probably thought I was ignoring him. He would have thought wrong of course, but how was he to know. It's totally fine, cause apparently I had another chance to see him a few minutes later. I had just discovered that one of my dearest friends, was also up in VIP and when I saw her, I called out, "Jenn! Where the fuck you goin?!" I then walked over to her and squeezed the shit out of her.
Of course, it was later when Mel told me that the fine man that had passed me mere moments ago, was comin right at me and I walked right by him to get to Jenn. I had NO clue. Oblivious. Again, the dude probably thought I was blowin him off. Nope, I was just blind. Sad sorry state of affairs. *heavy sigh* I lost track of him after that.
Anyway, I'm getting off topic. Mel and I ended up sitting back in the same spot we had the night before. We had fun people watching, especially the people who were on the boat docked next to ours. The night got rougher the more people had to drink. The more they got drunk, the stupider they got and the more my patience wore thin. At one point Mel got up to go talk to a friend. A long overdue conversation that I am SO happy she got to have. I sat for a while alone, and then made my way downstairs to the bathroom. I think Donnie and Jordan were down on the platforms entertaining the masses, but I can't remember. I was too focused on not falling down the stairs.
I came back up. There was someone behind me and someone else I knew behind her. The person directly behind me decided to stop at the top of the stairs and block traffic nearly knocking the person I knew back down the stairs. At this point my shoulders were tight and my claws were out. I asked the girl to move so others could get up the stairs and her drunk ass lurched forward spilling her drink on my shoe and then dug the heel of her shoe onto my foot as she pivoted around to find a better spot, shooting me a dirty look as if I was commiting a crime by trying to create a safe passage for people to get back up the friggin stairs.
I found Mel back at our spot talking to our now favorite Rose Tours security guy. I was frustrated about what just happened and simply said that I wanted to throat punch a chick and chuck her overboard. Our new friend told me to settle down and before I could even tell them what had happend, Mel hands me my sail and sign card and says, "Here. I gotta go. You're crabby and I need some air." I looked at her, ex in my head and snapped. "I'm not fuckin crabby! Some drunk ass chick just spilled her drink on me, stepped on my foot and almost knocked someone down the stairs!"
Mel shoots back, "I gotta go." She then turns on her heel and walks away. So I'm left standing there going, "What the fuck just happened?" I ended up talking to Jon's body guard, Todd, for a bit, who said I'd been walking around like a wet tiger for the last thirty minutes, and said I needed some "tea and crampets". The dude made me laugh. Claws retracted. Mel came back upstairs, I immediately wrapped my arms around her and apologized for my behavior. Told her how frustrated I had been, and that me snapping at her had more to do with me being "told" how I was feeling. We stood there and hugged it out. Fight over.
I'd say 2 fights in over 20 years is pretty frakkin good. I have discovered that the trigger for me to snap, is someone telling me how I feel or telling me what to do. Today's meditation while floating in the pool, brought these memories back for a reason. It made me realize that someone else who is important to me, has the same triggers. I'm learning kids. The day you stop is the well, never.
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