Two minutes

You have fifteen minutes to shovel. The driveway isn't bad, just a dusting. But it will give you a chance to get the dogs outside and keep the snow from piling up. You don't have to look pretty... Just slap on a hat and some big boots. Grab the shovel. What do the dogs have? Oh, it's a milk jug from the recycling container. Shovel. The dogs are in front of the house, someone must be walking by. Oh, it's a Shepard. Call the dogs back to you. The Shepard is chasing them into the yard. The owner is yelling a name that doesn't belong to my dogs. He looks worried. Must tell him my dogs are friendly, run around to the back yard just in time to see...

     The German Shepard nails Charlie to the ground. 

      He's biting him. 

      He picks Charlie up off the ground. 

      Charlie is in his mouth? This isn't play...oh. My. God. 

      Find a stick!!!! Find something!!!! He's shaking Charlie oh my God what is that noise Charlie is making?!

       He's killing Charlie. 

        Don't go near this. That dog could turn on you... This is nature...

       But I was just shoveling...

       Nick is outside. No. He's running at the dogs. He's trying to get them apart...he's going to get hurt...

       Charlie is going to die. Get ready. This is going to be ugly. Pick how much of this you can forget you saw and stop looking when you've reached that point. Prepare yourself to hold him while he dies. Be there for his last breath if this dog doesn't just carry him off somewhere. There's going to be guts and blood. I can smell the blood from here. Don't think about how much of your dog is gone focus on his spirit and making him as comfortable as you can...

       This needs to happen faster. If you're going to kill my dog, do it already. I can't handle his screams... I've got to do something. There's nothing I can do. I. I. I can't move...

        What?

         They got him free?

        Get him to the house!!! He runs inside and you're calling him frantically. Looking for a blood trail through your house but you can't see one. Did he fall apart somewhere and you didn't notice? He's got to be under the bed but he's not. I've never heard my voice sound like this, shouting his name. Doesn't he know how important it is?

         He's downstairs under the table. 

         You can't see him because your eyes are pouring tears. Nick is telling you to calm down. You're terrified to look at the wounds, you can't see the insides of your pet...

        It's not as bad as youd imagined. 

        It's still not good. 

        You drive to the vet crying harder than you thought physically possible. It's hard to tell which one of you is producing more primal sounds, you or the dog in the back seat. 

       Charlie will survive this. 

        You're grateful for Nick helping stop the a attack. For the vet assistant that tells you you're parked just fine even though your car is in the middle of the parking lot. For the tissues. For the kindness. For human cures on animal bodies. That the kids weren't home or outside. 

       You spend time flashing back and sobbing, and every time it happens, you make it your business to forget some detail, some one thing that you saw. 

        There's no shower hot enough for you to wash the smells off. You throw away the clothes-they're ripped and torn and blood stained, but most of all, they smell like that smell...

        ...When your mother was butchering a deer on the table... And you were young but it didn't smell like anything you'd ever experienced... A mix of the iron and adrenaline in the blood... Now with the smell of dog spit... And that is in your head, in your nose. You wreak of it. Your car is permeated in it....

       And you just keep falling apart....

         

       

     

Not the same...

       When I was young, I knew I was different. Maybe because my parents gave me a funny name and then spelled it funny, or because I was *that* kid with weird textile issues that made me wear skirts and knee socks until I was a teenager... I'm not sure. I do know that other kids didn't get me. It was hard for me to make friends or feel like I wasn't sticking out of the crowd. 

       All of the "celebrate your uniqueness!" posters plastered on the walls of my classrooms couldn't fix it either. No Dalmatian with rainbow polka dots was going to convince me that I should revel in my strangeness. My mother would shake her head and tell me that it was ok to be different. I just wanted to fit in, to be a part of the crowd. 

      Then high school hit, and boy if I didn't find my freak flag and just wave that shit silly...! I embraced my strange, got weird and  guess what? Was told I was looking for attention when I really think I was just trying to fit in with some (any!) brand of different. If I wasn't gonna be like "them", the shiny happy people, I at least wanted to know I was not alone. 

    Now I'm 29. I'm the kind of weird that's had time to really marinate in it. And many times, I know that I'm a unique blend of strange that can only come from being severely  honest with yourself. Few things in my life are conventional... Some of them I chose, and some were just part of the hand dealt to me. And! 29 year old me knows-it's very ok. My dad perceives this as me being a leader. My kid thinks it's cool that I'm not some fuddy-duddy like his friends parents. I look at my life and there's peace. Finally. Peace. 

      And part of this is knowing that some people don't get me still. Even as adults, some minds are too narrow or too afraid to be comfortable with the paths that others have chosen. They might feel like it's their place to guide or judge. They say things that are rude and unwelcome, and sometimes plain mean and hostile. Sometimes it's in front of my kid. At family functions. By my family, even. 

        And I want to shield myself in hardness and tell them to fuck off. I want to yell, "shame on you!" and wrap this hurt in something that doesn't look weak or affected. I want to stop going around these people, at the very least. Family or not. 

      But that's not part of my dealt hand. 

      Because even living a life you built and love comes with some adversity. 

       And if I'm going to be wrong...

      It's going to be in the rightest way. I have people watching me. Little ones. Big ones. And like it or not, how I respond to you fuck faces out there actually makes a difference and determines who I am. 

          You'd better believe I don't stoop to anyone's level. After all, I am very different!

          So. You go your way and I'll go mine. Is one way right and the other one not? I don't believe so. I'd hope my kids don't, either. Maybe they'll be your brand of normal, or maybe they won't. As long as they're true to themselves, you best believe this mama bear has got their backs. Part of this is teaching them (showing them) how to behave and rise above the muck. To appreciate the people who love and support and encourage. To understand that it's not on them when others act and speak offensively, intentions be damned. To appreciate and love people, warts and all. While we're at it, let's add some sparkle and be kind to each other-extend the love and the light. We all have lessons to learn, and you never know who could be your next teacher. 

       It's not easy walking into a room you're not comfortable in, but when you have skin that you are comfortable in-well, that's a barrier nobody can touch. 

        

Passing the Tortch...

There is something to be said for knowing when to stop...

I'm grateful for the time I've had at a certain account of mine. I'm thankful that they stuck with me after I split from my former company; that the bar owner had enough faith in my business decisions to retain my services.

However, I can look at something and know when my time is up. Not only that, but I am lucky enough to have a protege who is ready and so very capable of achieving greatness as my successor!

Tonight will be my last time DJ'ing at a certain location. I'll do half of the show-more for my assurance than anyone else, I'm sure-and then hand it over to the very capable and incredibly talented DJ Hipsie!

I feel like she will grow the business more than I could at this juncture. The goals I set out to achieve were quite lofty, and I can acknowledge that I didn't hit them. I feel that she has the potential to exceed my goals, however. With her passion and drive, she has the great chance to excel. I'm very, very excited for this new direction!

So, we grow! We learn, we trust, we listen to feedback and we reply the best way we know how. Tomorrow, I will formally address this issue. But tonight, I had to get this out. Tomorrow, we focus on preparing DJ Hipsie for greatness... for making sure she's ready for the next level! I'm so proud very proud of everything she's achieved-and so very excited to see what she can do!!!!

So Much Happy

I get it.

I get how you can look at someone and see their flaws and all, and still love them with your whole self.

I get how someone can come into your life and make you want to be a better person, a better parent, a better partner. How you could want to build a life with them. How it feels to have someone with you who can weather the storm, support you and encourage you.

I get how you can look at two children with no common genetics and years separating them and see the first gentle strands of the ties that will bind them. Watching them play together, even hearing them argue.

I can see how in some cases, there's no denying your feelings-even if they're strong and foreign and scary to you. I understand now what it feels like to want to strengthen and nurture these bonds, individually and as a whole. To be acutely aware of what you're putting in (and taking out) of your relationship. Effortless? Not always. But it's the best work...

Maybe it's not, maybe it will be. Without trying to project or look out into the future...I can say I'm happy and blessed and grateful. What it is right now is great and I'm thoroughly confused by how something so wonderful could be happening to me.

this is not a haiku...it should be, though.

Compared myself to someone else today.

Gave myself a complex.

Lesson learned.

I'm just gonna sit over here and be me. With all my flaws, my flabby self. My ideas, my goals, my thoughts and perspectives...

And the people who like me?

I know they'll be liking me for exactly the right reasons. <3

And the ones who don't?

Oh well!

Because life is too short to live any other way than authentically.

And also?

Probably gonna start saying "I'm awesome" a lot more again :)

Because I am.

And you are, too!

The Pit

"Fear has its use, but cowardice has none..."  -Mahatma Ghandi

Alright. Let's get real. This post is going to feel like a wool sweater to me...but I have to get it out of my head and pour some things out of my heart. It's necessary. I can't go on any other way...

When I was 16, I joined a community theater project. I was the youngest cast member and it was so exciting to me, and it couldn't have come at a better time. Throughout my teenage years, I struggled with depression and self esteem issues and with this, I felt validated that I was good-truly good-at something. It was an outlet that introduced me to some wonderful people who helped me find Cydney. The show was mostly a comedy except for this one sad song nestled in the middle. As a cast, we struggled with it until the director (who was also writing the script) told us one rehearsal that truly funny people often struggle internally with the darker subjects in life. These words have helped me so many times during my journey. It's ok to feel the harder feelings... it helps you appreciate the good ones.

I don't know what did it this time. The last time I felt like this I was going through the beggining of my divorce. While at the doctors office for some complaint or another (turns out depression can make you physically hurt) the doctor asked about my husband and I lost it. Tears everywhere. I'm pretty sure it took her all of five seconds to diagnose me as depressed and write the script for an anti-depressant. I stayed on that for a solid six months or so while I worked through my feelings and issues (which took about half of that time, but anyone who's ever been on these medicines will tell you that the side affects and weening take much longer than you anticipate). This was 2010.

I've made it three solid years. I'm patting myself on the back.


Things are good this time, which is what is scaring me. M is well, getting good grades, healthy and making progress (so...postpartum depression, eight years after?). My business is running solid and smoothly. Money isn't so tight and goals are being met. My family is well. My relationship is the most healthy, stable one I've been involved in quite possibly ever. Seriously. Things are really well!

I have no idea why I feel like this. I recognize that I'm just looking for things to be distraught about. I'm taking positive things in my life and trying to find the bad side to them, which is the opposite of what I usually do. So really, I'm at a loss. A friend suggested the moon cycle, which I suppose isn't that outlandish... but I'm sad. Deeply. Like, could sleep for days, don't want to go outside, having trouble singing,  s.a.d. sad.

I'm missing people whom I've lost touch with. Starting in January, it felt like there's this campaign to make me realize I'm a terrible person. It's even different groups of people. After a while, you start wondering if they're right. I'm feeling like I've been run through the gutter with all of the stuff that's been posted about me online... that there are people out there who have never met me but truly believe that I'm a horrible person, or maybe they have met me and I'm now the scape goat for why their life fell apart (I cannot be that powerful. I refuse to accept that I am that powerful.) It's even more scary to me that there are people who I've tried desperately to be nice to who have said mean and hurtful things about me and-here's the real kicker-my child.

Going to funerals has made me think about things in a different way, and I'm sad that I didn't get to say goodbye and thank you to people who deserved my gratitude-I just didn't make it in time. I'm terrified that I'm going to start losing more people, even though I know it's inevitable and that's just how life goes. I'm scared to get close to them, though, because it will hurt more. Wait, I'm not sure if it will. Either way, I wish I could tell people to not die until I'm ready for them to go. Which would be never. That's not selfish, Cyd...

Your blog is nowhere to discuss your medical issues, but I will say this: I have every reason to be grateful. Two weeks ago, I was terrified. Alas, I am well.

And I get it. I truly do. I need to stop caring about what people think of me. But I listen because I feel like maybe there's constructive feedback nestled in there somewhere. I would love to be the best me possible and to make myself better. This isn't it, though. People are starting to notice that something is wrong.

Maybe I'm just grappling with change. Six months ago, I never would have thought this would be my life. While most (if not all) of these changes have been positive, maybe I'm just trying to get my feet under me again...

So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to give my dog a bath. I'm going to take a cat nap before I pack up for the weekend. I'm going to go surround myself for the next four days with people who make my world a much better place. I'm going to church tomorrow morning-I don't even care where. Maybe I'll try and convince my friend of male gender to go to the Red  Wings game tomorrow. I'm going to do my shows to perfection and not let anyone see past my makeup. And Monday, I'm going to help throw the best Memorial Day Party ever! (it's a big deal-we're getting our people together!!)
  
 And if I still feel like this on Tuesday, I'm calling the doctor.


Thank you for reading this. <3.

PS... To my friend, who sat on a bench and held me while I spilled my guts: I love you dearly, and I'm sorry for giving you this secret. It's more than one person deserves to have placed on their shoulders... please, don't feel like you have to keep it anymore. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. For listening, for understanding, for encouraging... you mean more to me than you'll ever know. <3

Things That Made Today GREAT!

So, about a week and a half ago, I lost my keys. Literally, all of my keys. I had to have the vehicle re-keyed because we couldn't locate a spare. I started using my son's house key so I could get into the apartment. The only keys I hadn't replaced were the laundry room and storage room key for my apartment and my mailbox key.

Today, I finally caught up with the maintenance man (his attendance is kind of spotty) and got my laundry room and storage room key replaced! Winning! This alone made today great!

What made it better (besides all three washers being available-SCORE!) is that once I got into the laundry room, hanging on the community cork board was... MY KEYS!!! The original set!!!! WITH MY MAILBOX KEY!!!

Which I kinda (not gonna lie) didn't want. Because...well, bills suck. Even if I can pay them. They make my money pile smaller, and I like bigger money piles.

With a mental drum roll, I unlocked the magic bill box to find... junk mail, junk mail, card, junk mail, card. Boy scout food drive bag.

No bills?! After a solid 9 days (that's eight mail days)... no bills!!!

One greeting card was a congratulations card from my insurance agent. That was kind of neat! I hadn't gotten a "Yay you own a business!" Card yet! That goes in the scrap book...

And the other card was a mother's day card from my son. He sent it from my sister's house the last time they watched him. I literally teared up. It meant so much to me.

Here I sit, doing laundry and hanging out with the dog, waiting for the kiddo to come home and planning a camping trip for my birthday. Life is so sweet...

First Response

Last night, I listened to my neighbor scream at and abuse the mother of his child. It was five minutes of me going from thinking I heard something to be able to hear word for word what was being said and understanding that the loud thump sound was her body hitting the wall. Instinctively, I changed from my pajamas into regular clothes and grabbed my cell phone and headed for the door. I got outside just in time to see him marching to his car. I just wanted to make sure he left, so I watched him squeal his tires. That's right, buddy. Go cool down, is what I wanted to think. It would be the rational, I've-never-been-through-this feeling... Instead I stood there, clenched fists, wanting to sock him in the back of his head and throw him around.

 I know I should have called the police, but it was over when he left. I was afraid it would make it worse for her. List reasons. I'm sure most of them would be correct to a certain extent. I'm writing this now wondering why the hell I didn't. Also, though, I know it wouldn't have changed anything. It just makes life harder.

Everyone says that desensitization is the what happens when you've been around something bad long enough. Maybe that's it. Obviously, I'm not going to inflict my own form of justice. That's just stupid. So basically, what we have here is inaction. I've done nothing to help this situation that I've just witnessed, and by passively sitting here, I've allowed it to happen again.

If I believed I was in charge of everyone's actions or that I actually had that big of an impact on their decision making skills, I'd totally think I'm a horrible person.

What I did do was knock on her door. I didn't know if she would answer but she did, holding her baby and sobbing. I asked if she was ok; told her not to worry about it when she apologized for the noise, and told her that if she needed anything, anything at all, to never ever hesitate to reach out. I told her that it's not a judgement thing-that I 'get' it, and she's more than welcome any time, day or night. That I was concerned for her and her kids. And that the things he said weren't true, even if I don't know you at all.

I'm crying writing this. Next time, I'll call 9-1-1, no hesitations. I talked to the maintenance man for the property and gave him a heads up in case of other noise complaints (the people here love to complain about noise). I'm baking muffins, and as soon as that slime of a man leaves, I'll take them over to her.

No matter how small I am, no matter what I can or cannot change. No matter where I've been or what I've done or what has happened to me... I can reach out to someone and let them know that they are not alone. We are all in this thing called life together, and I am-in every way, shape and form-very much right here.

Ugly Things

Someone posted a pic of a female comedian with a caption (that was quite funny and something I totally related to). Every *single* comment thereafter was negative, and not about what she said at all. They attacked her look, her mannerisms, her funniness quotient. And I'm sitting here upset for someone I don't even know. What is so threatening about a woman who decides to be funny instead of pretty, or in this case-both?! And when does being a public figure make it alright for people to just attack for no real reason at all? I keep being disappointed in the way people deal with things.... :( Everyone is someone's somebody. Would you like it if those things were said about yours?!

 The internet is a funny place. You can say whatever you want, good or bad. You can knee jerk response all over the place, and since everyone knows your best reactions are always in the heat of the moment, Captain Internet makes all of those words available for anyone to see, ever. Seriously. For.Ev.Er.

 Obviously, this hits a little close to home for me as of late. And that's cool. It was a necessary lesson to learn; my skin needed a little thickening. I can guarantee you that I survived, that I'm well, and that I'm actually better off for it. As much negativity was floating around out there, you should see some of the positive things as well. I hope everyone has people in their lives who step up and support them privately. It literally means the world to me when someone reaches out to me. I don't know if I would have been this appreciative a month ago.

 I know I can get a little hippie-ish in my wants for peace and everyone to get along. I also know that the adversity I've faced throughout my life has made me capable of handling what comes my way. The cliches are nice to hear, like when someone tells me that the only reason people lash out like that is because they feel threatened? That's pretty cool. It beats the hell out of me actually thinking I am a terrible person! My mother always told me I was a force to be reckoned with (I think she was the first one to figure it out, actually. I've been told this a lot of times along the way!). So, yay!? Except it's never EVER been my intent to be this powerful person who should be feared or acknowledged out of fear. Honestly, I wish everyone understood that. I never try to tear people down. I refuse to live like that... I think we all can be successful and be the best people we are capable of being! So, what's to feel threatened by, exactly?

Ideally, though, people would stop attacking what they don't understand. One of my goals as of late is to take time to understand a situation as much as I can. See the angles of it. Appreciate the opposing side's views and reasoning. Consider if I am, in fact, wrong. Grow. Isn't the goal always to grow?

At the end of the day, maybe this is part of that woman's journey. Maybe it's good to see ugly things written about yourself. Consider and conclude, change what you must. Grow. I just hope she has people in her life as awesome as the people in mine. <3

Mexico

He stood in a cantina and told her many times
"Lets run away to Mexico!"
And his eyes and his beard said maybe he was joking
because they both had people and things to do
so they'd do their own thing from across the room
and close the place down when it was time
He'd hand her the envelope and she'd run to get home
Someone she loved was waiting...

Then they found a common goal in saving a sinking ship
although who's to say what ship was sinking...
and when the envelope was passed it was to a girl sitting
not a girl running but
a girl thinking and planning
about saving a sinking ship that they both were on
or maybe two sinking ships, who's to say...
while the someones that loved them were waiting...

And the girl who liked to shine started waiting for the dark
and discussions and plans of parties and such
about watching as he spoke of the things he loved
and the things that loved him
and the things that he'd run to Mexico to escape
while the girl watched intently and saw with her ears
a sinking ship who'd run to get home
someone he loved was waiting...

Until one day, her ship sank too
but she never saw the fatal blow
and was left to wonder, will I be ok
am I really what they all claim as they sit and say?
And he held her with his eyes and wrapped her in his words
reassured her of what she'd be the last to know
He knew the ship that sank was meant to fail
How else would they make it to Mexico?

Once in a while you get shown the light in the
strangest of places if you look at it right
the song lyrics took on different meanings
as he'd quote them cryptically to all who mattered
but one read every word and understood
and waited on her raft as all good friends should
The holes in his ship were letting in water too fast...
Haul water as he may, his ship wouldn't last...

Mexico's too hot, he told her one day
More of a woods man, in an Eagle Scout way
where else could we go to disappear?
And it hit them both, they could stay right here.

The fix it man knew what had to be done
Some things can't be saved no matter how you try
And life's too short to watch the one you love
try to move on when everyone else is wrong
Because her person was waiting there at the Cantina
With more than an evelope at the end of the night
Let sinking ships sink while they sat til dawn
the one they loved was right there all along...

It's not how they were built, not what they believed
But they'd be remiss to throw a gift like this away
And so running but not running, off they went
Building a ship they hoped would never sink
In the meantime they saved the one ship they could
Its a strange sort of happiness knowing it is what it is
People will question, it's not for them to know
how they finally found their own Mexico

Pills

It's starting to happen. My little eight year old boy is growing up. And in a strange twist of everything I thought I believed-I'm helping him, instead of trying to keep him my little baby forever.

We were sitting on the swings yesterday generally goofing off when he asked if I still loved him. Why on earth would he ever question that?! I reassured him I most certainly love him still and wondered about what made him think like this.

"You don't treat me like a baby anymore," he looked down at his feet.

"Of course I don't! You're eight years old now. We did the baby thing, where I picked you up all of the time and taught you colors and shapes, what things were called and what they did. We've learned how to roll over, to crawl, to walk, to run, to skip, to jump and how to ride a two wheeler. You can make your own sandwhiches and you know to look both ways and listen for cars before you cross the road. You help me by taking out the trash and the dog when I ask you to. And more importantly, you've started to be able to stay at home by yourself when I need to make a quick trip to the store. That's huge!"

"But it doesn't feel like you love me as much,"

"I most certainly do. I think I love you more every day that goes by. It's just a different way of interacting. If I were to treat you like a baby now, eventually, you'd be embarrassed. What if I never let you ride your bike around the big circle? You'd get tired of riding up and down a short little sidewalk. As you grow, I have different goals for you. I know you're going to be a teenager soon. Right now, you still pay attention to the things I have to tell you and you understand the reasons why I'm telling you them. Things like, 'don't open the door to anyone unless they have our secret word' or 'don't go too far away from me in case something happens and you need help-I need to be able to get to you'. Right now I'm taking a short trip to the  grocery store, but when you're 16 and I have to work at night, you'll probably want to stay home without a babysitter. Right now, you are riding a two wheeler and you go faster than I can walk beside you, but soon, you're going to want to walk to the park with your friends. The rules I'm giving you now are the basic rules that you'll have all the way up til you leaving my house and becoming an adult. It's easy to coddle you, to love you and wrap you in my arms and never let you go and just cover your cute little face with kisses. It's the hardest kind of love to learn to loosen my grip a little and understand that I have to set you up for the rest of your life. Even when I do wrap you up now and cuddle and kiss you, you only last a minute or two before you're fighting me to escape. Every time, I let you go because I love you and want you to become the best M you can be,"

"Like baby birds flying,"

"Exactly like that."

And then I wake up in the middle of the night to hear the very distinct sound of vomiting, and I rush to put on my robe and get in the bathroom to help my heaving child... thinking, why didn't he call for me? How did I not know this was happening?!

when I reach the door, he throws a hand back at me to push me away and says, in between heaves, "Mom! I've got this! Stay away, I don't want you to get sick,"

And I'm left, holding myself in the hallway and refusing to let him shut the door because I need to rub his back or get him a wash cloth...or just something...anything..

When it stops for a minute and he looks at me, eyes wide, and says, "Mom, I've been throwing up because of my allergies and asthma for years now. I throw up all the time. I'm used to it. I don't need your help right now,"

And because we've had this discussion just hours before, I learn to sit back and let him handle it. To be amazed and proud of him for being strong enough and capable enough to want to go it alone. I watch him clean himself up, clean up the bathroom (not that I'm not going to blast the place with Lysol as soon as he goes to bed) and get a garbage ready for next to his bed. I sit quietly and let him do his thing until he's ready to be tucked back into his bed where he looks up with me with the same big eyes and says..

"mom, I'm scared."

"of what, baby?"

"People die of vomiting!"

"You won't die, baby."

"It's hard to breathe,"

"That's why we take allergy medicine. It stops our bodies from producing this mucus that you have a hard time handling,"

"I think I'm going to stop fighting you about taking pills,"

"I think that's a great idea,"

"Mom? Thank you for letting me do this on my own,"

"I get it, baby. But when you need help, I'm right here,"

"Now I know why you talk to Grandpa so much,"

"Really? Why do you think that is?"

"You know you can do it, but your parents are always there for you to talk about it with,"

Right on, Bambino. Right. On.

Thank You Note

It has come to my attention that I am a very lucky girl. At 28, I've only lost one grandparent-my maternal grandmother-when I was six years old. I remember small parts about her funeral and large parts about how I missed her and wished we could talk. As an adult, though, I realize how blessed I am to have only experienced that one loss.

I just returned home from the wake for my son's paternal grandfather. Of course, my son (at eight years old) wanted to go. He's inquisitive by nature and compassionate. I wondered how much he wanted to be there to support his father. Family is of utmost importance to M, and while I was cutting his hair he was telling me how he doesn't know why his daddy hasn't cried yet. We all grieve differently, I explained.

I'm proud of my son. He handled the situation with a maturity far beyond his years. He communicated appropriately when he needed to step outside for a break and asked if he could be positioned so that he may not see his grandfather laying in the open casket. He greeted people properly, shook hands, hugged, expressed sympathy... all things that his father and I had neglected to warn him about. M even had his first experience with a weird relative! Let me tell you, I was laughing!

We explained that this is what these times are for. All of the people showed up to remember his grandfather and tell stories about the good times they had with him. Stories that communicated his warmth and passion for drag racing; his dedication to his band, the Chicken Chokers. Some laughed, some wept. Everyone had their different way of coping.

My son's father asked if I'd like to visit the casket, and of course, I did. I knelt and thought about what this man had meant to me. No sooner did I begin to sort through it, I felt two little knees kneel down beside mine. M was ready to say goodbye.

I told him that we could pray together, so we bowed our heads. I gave thanks for the man who fathered my son's father. Who loved his grandchildren and always included them in his passion for drag racing. And then it hit me like a ton of bricks: if it weren't for this man, I'd never have my son.

I was barely eighteen the first time I walked into Palmer's Tavern on 5&20. I had just gotten kicked out of another bar for being underage but I didn't want to go home. I walked into that old dive bar and pulled up a seat and gave my drink order to one tall, blond haired man with amazing blue eyes. In an act that he'd joke about regretting ever since, he didn't card me... and so it began. Him and I would become friends and when I had gotten myself into an unseemly situation, he stepped up and became so much more. The relationship taught me about love and boundaries, self respect and bar tending. Most importantly, it begot one blue eyed, blonde haired little boy who would become my entire world and purpose for existing.

That bar belonged to the man laying in the casket in front of me. He had hired his son to work for him... that son fell in love with the underage girl and together they created the most caring little boy. Now the four of us were together for the last time. Without that man, my world would have been entirely different. How do you say "Thank you" for that?!

It feels weird that this amount of gratitude took so long to surface. I'm sure M was none the wiser about the thoughts speeding through my mind... I was there to help him grieve. Never did I anticipate having to grieve for my own reasons. I wish I had made it to see him before he passed, but I doubt that I would have figured out how grateful I was until now. We get so caught up in daily drama. His son and I parted ways in a very messy fashion that took years for us to mend. I had thought about seeing him in Hospice but my mind flashed to thoughts like, what if he doesn't want to see me? or what if the family doesn't want me there? In the end, there's death. Its final. Non negotiable. I'm sorry that I didn't get to thank this man, but I have to believe that what I told my son is true: somewhere, he's smiling, knowing that we remember him and are thankful for the time we had and the memories we made. There's no divide great enough to disconnect a heartfelt connection.

Danny: From the bottom of my heart... Thank you for everything.

Perspective

I've been eluding to the fact that there seems to be a lot of drama in my life right now. Last night, it felt like a few things had come to a head. Three different situations ended up with me getting yelled at for things I could not possibly control. Alcohol was involved. Emotions were flaring. While my night ended perfectly for me (I am well cared for), I was at a loss for what to do when I woke up this morning to texts and fall out...

So I grabbed a notebook and started writing. This is what I do. It's cathartic and wonderful, and even if nobody reads my words, they are no longer trapped inside of me. In that way, I'm free...

I was finishing my second or third piece about something or another when the kids came home from school. M and Z rushed into the door, dropping back packs and discarding their coats in record time. As usual, I asked how their day was and was bombarded by a completely different set of problems.

While on the playground, Z was tackled by the class bully who proceeded to pull out a pair of scissors or a pocket knife and cut his shoelace.

Focus. There's a kid on the playground with sharp things in his pocket.

He's using them to intimidate(?) or threaten(?) the boys.

Thank you that nobody is hurt, I silently pray.

I need to call the teacher, is my next thought.

Which of course is what I did. We had a great constructive conversation and discussed what would be happening tomorrow for this bully kid and what the teacher will do for my son and his friend to make them feel safe again.

This is a real problem. Kids. On playgrounds. With sharp things= Real Problem.

The stuff last night? Cake walk.

A wise woman who teaches me many things makes a great point about feelings: Feelings can make us believe that we should act a certain way or do certain things...but they are fluid! Feelings change! Sometimes in a heartbeat, other times with space and distance. Letting a feeling dictate your behavior seems silly once you realize this. The consequences to your actions being fueled by your emotions will be around far longer than the actual feeling, more often than not. Feel them, yes. Experience them and learn what you need to from them, but let them go and never give them enough power to control you. I'm trying to remember this in my daily life and it's helped me make better choices. As an adult, we figure we've worked through this by now. That just doesn't seem to be the case. I struggled with it immensely...having someone bring that one fact to light has made a huge difference! For my friends, the people I love, for the people I'm trying to love... I wish they could see that last paragraph.

This issue with the kids forces me to put down my notebook and pen and focus on what's really important.

Popular Opinion

What happens when a sticky situation becomes your reality? What if it took a severe reputation beating for you to have what makes you happy?

I suppose that many people tell astronauts that they are crazy for pursuing a dangerous dream just to float among the stars…

It’s kinda like that. Ok, maybe not as extreme… but there are two events in my life that are inevitably hitting the spotlight that will challenge peoples ideas and feelings about me… and the only thing I’m struggling with regarding both events for is that reason alone. People are going to leave Team Cyd.

I’m still choosing to go forth with both instances. I believe they are right choices, divinely guided and born of hard work and dedication. I’m being given a gift. I’ve walked through my hell and this is me coming out on the other side-I truly feel right about both of these choices…

Even if they’re not the “popular opinion”.  

A good friend got me thinking about this last night. They, of course, have decided to not care what people will think. I feel like I can trust this person’s opinion since they have walked a very severe plank to be able to stand by my side. It’s inspiring to look at their path and what obstacles they’re facing and know that they feel the same way as I do: it’s for the best reasons. They have it significantly harder than because this situation has altered every facet of their life. And they still want it. I’m blessed and grateful; humble enough to know that all I have to do is accept that I cannot please everyone all of the time. I need to stop living for the popular opinion and enjoy the moment!!!

It makes me think.... Whatever your truth is, sometimes living in it and owning it doesn’t make you the most popular person. Living your truth and owning it fully far outweighs the consequences, though. The people who are about to fall by the wayside obviously aren’t my friends anyways. The ones who support me (even if they don’t agree with my decision)-those are the ones I want around me for life.

So, big things happening in the next couple of months, I feel. This astronaut is already on cloud nine…. 

Peace!

It seems like I'm supposed to learn to stop being upset. This past month has been so interesting to me. There's been all of these situations that I've felt so helpless about and it seems like my go-to method of coping is to get upset. Anxious. To try to think through or analyze the situation until I can wrap my head around what's happening.

Instead, the message I'm getting lately is this: some things are not meant for you to understand. Some concepts are too big to grasp at the moment they're being presented. If you know this, you can find peace in it.

Lately I've been recognizing these patterns with relationships in my life. I'll feel like I'm being wronged at the exact moment I realize how I'm wronging someone else. It's a strange type of awareness. In 2/3 of the situations, my actions were not necessarily the cause of the affect (if that makes sense). Obviously, when your actions are the cause you can address them. Make amends if possible. If not it can kind of feel like you're kind of the un-innocent bystander. None of my actions would have changed either of the outcomes. In one situation, I was hurt. In the other, I  benefit greatly. Same mirrored situation-nothing I can do to change either case. How interesting is that, that a full circle moment comes around within a time period where it's impossible to ignore?!

So, I'm listening. My heart is open, my mind is attentive. I've known for quite some time that "What's meant to be will be"... it's a different type of awareness when you understand that the plan is not always your own and adopt a mindset of peaceful acceptance.

Friends

"I am so frustrated right now...let's get one thing straight. I do not need more friends. I love people, I love talking to them, learning from them, sharing ideas... Some people I get along with way better than others. But none of these people would tell inaccurate information or downright lie about me. This doesn't make you a friend. It makes you someone to whom I'll smile and say hi, but you'll never have a real conversation with me again. I don't give people chances to know me very often-the ones that do should feel special, since it's really difficult for me to open up. Betray that, though, and all bets are off. I'm so upset right now..."

I wanted to make this a status update on facebook when I realized how much my own Karma was being reflected at me.

It's been a really interesting week for myself with relationships. Single me is forming new relationships with people who are so diverse and interesting, it's really an awesome thing. It's given me the chance to meet some really great people and exercise my ability to open up and share, which is something I find more difficult to do but have been getting extremely rewarded for. The depth and quality of the people in my life is becoming a thing for which I'm extremely grateful. There's so much to learn from them, and I'm learning how to say no, and yes, and tell people what I need and expect and am willing to give.

And then something happens where my computer blows up with messages because a drunken person has told people inaccurate information (that's the best way to word it and still give them the benefit of the doubt) that has hurt people. Here I am in the center of something where I've done *nothing* wrong. I've behaved appropriately and respectfully with integrity in the situation and to be rewarded, someone has downright used me to start trouble.

I'm sitting here hurt and confused and lost, since I've shared a significant portion of myself with this person who has offended me. I've opened up and shared and welcomed them into my home even.

I don't have an explanation which is probably one of the more confusing parts of the equation. This person didn't stand to benefit from the spreading of the misinformation.

It's all navigational skills...

And then I realize that this is very much similar to something that happened this past weekend.

I hurt someone, albeit unintentionally. It was someone whom I had worked very hard to become friends with. To make matters worse, this person was professionally supportive of me and had helped me gain enough confidence in myself so that I could do what I needed to. They were there for me, encouraging me, helping me get outside of myself and take myself less seriously. The Garfield to my Odie. I said something I shouldn't have said to a person I shouldn't have said it to, and I hurt my friend. I wish I had navigated the situation differently. I wish it hadn't looked as shady as it did, or like I stood to benefit from it. I wish I had more experience in this-my intent wasn't bad, but it was severely misguided.

We work so hard to foster these new relationships. We build foundations and pray that it won't get us hurt or into trouble...but we forget that people are capable of miscalculations and errors. We're not always the most logical beasts roaming the planet when emotions get mixed in...

That's why we forgive. Address the situation. Ask for clarification. Was it a mistake? Was it just alcohol? Is someone else lying about the someone who might've been un-truthful? We make our decisions and determine if we're willing to risk it with this person again, and either way, we note the lesson learned.

Whether we're the ones learning it or teaching it, we make corrections and we move on...

Progress

Someone  told me recently that it takes three years to truly know someone.

Three.

This is an insanely interesting thought to me, considering that most people think that if you're not married by year three, you're doing something wrong. Most of the relationships I see around me go something like this: Meet Mr./Ms. Awesome; see each other; date each other; move in together around the 1 year mark; engaged around 1-2 years, and married by year three.

But you don't really know the person yet.

If you think about it, how long do you spend in a relationship before the person gets to see your real you? I mean, the one that doesn't do dishes before he comes over, or has been known to get the mail while coloring her roots? Personally, I'd be embarrassed if someone saw any of that happening much before the six month mark. But that's how I live! Am I trying to hide the real me? No, but I am trying to let you meet her slowly...

Which means that it definitely takes a man more than six months to know me...

I think the best bet is to start off as friends first. The only time this happened with me was with my son's father. Him and I were great friends for about four months before I even considered becoming something more with him. While the relationship was tumultuous at times, we are still friends. All in all, we have an amazing son, the ability to co-parent, and we're always there to help each other out. Took a long time to get this way, but I've known him now since I was 18. That's almost 11 years.

I definitely wouldn't marry him, though. Honestly, I think it took us probably about four years before I really felt I knew him. By then, we already had a child and a home and were engaged. I felt very strongly about not wanting to marry him, though. That told me a lot.

When I did get married, it was to a man whom I'd met nine *months* prior to our wedding day.

We lasted nine months married. Since we didn't live together before the wedding, it only took me two weeks of cohabitation with him to realize how wrong I had been about his character. Heartbreaking.

It's only after this most recent relationship ending that I really sat down and thought about it: I haven't been single since I was 17. Longer than that, really. There's always been a "next", and I never took the time to grieve. I've been so afraid of ending up alone or worse, ending up cold and bitter and jaded that I just jump into the next relationship. This cannot happen any longer. While I don't intend on living my life alone or pushing suitors away, I do need time to figure out who the hell I am, who I want to be and what I want out of a partner. I need to not only have my list of things to look for, but also know what I cannot accept or deal with. I need to figure out how to still be my happy self in a relationship-independent of the relationship, not reliant on it for my fulfillment.

And now three years doesn't sound long enough...

This is My Assertive Voice

Once upon a time, there was a DJ. She delighted in her job and socializing with the crowds at the places she would host karaoke. In fact, talking to different people about different things made her night feel less like work and more like socializing, and she loved it. There was always the chance that she would learn something new: a new place to hike, a new viral video about to go big on YouTube...

I'm still her.  I live for our chats at shows-you all teach me a lot! You broaden my horizon and sometimes, my way of thinking about something. I love talking about music or outdoor activities...skiing absolutely fascinates me! Sticks on your feet and then down a hill!? Tell me more! Where can I learn? Who's the best instructors? Where's the best beginners trails?! How about hiking, or my goal to hike all of Hi-Tor this coming summer. Let's discuss the campgrounds you took your family to-which ones your kids liked best....where I'd need a tent, or where I should splurge on a cabin, because the bears are braver...

Let's talk about dancing. Movies. Places to go to dinner. All of these things matter now-I have free time, and people are starting to ask me to go places with them. This past year, I was introduced to Improv in a big way....that would've never happened if someone in the crowd didn't take the time to talk to me about it. Now, I consider myself an avid fan and go to shows most Saturday nights before my own. It's a great pick me up in the final stretch of my "work week", and I'm a happier person after every Improv show.

Tell me your crazy theories on the universe, or energy, or spirituality. As long as you're not pulling me away from the job and understand that I have to change music and adjust levels, yes! Let's talk!

But please. Stop talking to me about the Bass Player. Stop treating me like I'm hurt or wounded or an emotionally injured person right now. I'm wearing make up and pretty clothes. I've done my hair and put on perfume and jewelry. I'm fine. I'm fine enough to do my job, anyway. When I am not fine is when you want to talk to me about his Jade plant, or what you see him doing, or how you think he's feeling. When I'm not ok is when you tell me how happy we looked and how much he told you he loved me. You weren't there when he looked me in the eyes and said he wasn't sure he ever loved me at all. You cannot possibly know how much it hurts when you tell me about the conversation you had 24 hours prior to him telling me that, when he told you how wonderful of a girl I was and how he hoped I'd keep him forever. I know you might be trying to figure out what happened, and I am, too. I know we looked happy and that there was a great love between us and now it's confusing that it ended. I get it. You're lost about this. I am, too. I can assure you that I'm dealing with it, that I'm sorting it out the best I can. It's almost been a month, now. The shock should be wearing off. I'm trying to move on, and you can help by helping me leave him in my past.

If I wanted to know how he was doing or vise versa, him and I would be talking.

Instead of telling me how sorry you are for me, hug your person closer. Realize the one thing that this has taught me the most: Love the person you're with like they might not be around tomorrow. You never know. Life is strange and scary and love is no exception to that rule. Be kind to each other. Treat each other as if you want to keep each other-we can all walk away; changes of the heart can happen in less than 24 hours. 

I'm glad we had this talk. Now, go google a good joke so you can tell me it the next time we see each other :)

I love you all.

Toughies

One of the great things about having the house where the boys  gather after school is that I'm learning information I never thought I'd be privy to. Mostly because I never realized that boys operate much like girls when it comes to crushes and feelings. At seven years old, most of these boys can identify their feelings and express their thoughts extremely well...presumably before society tells them it's not ok to cry, to hurt, to worry. After all, they are boys still. Not men, yet.


In our predominantly single mom community, M has befriended the one kid at the bus stop who still has both parents. My son's split time schedule between his dad and I is especially confusing to this boy, whom we'll call Z. When it's come up in front of his mother about how M will not be able to play since he's at his fathers, Z's mom has told me that Z often asks questions that can be rude and uncomfortable about divorce, and to never feel like I have to answer them.

I think I'm the queen of Rude and Uncomfortable Questions. Just come to work with me any given night. You'll know what I mean!

Today, as I was prepping the kid's healthy veggie snack after school, Z noticed a picture of M and his dad that I have on the fridge. This picture has gotten a lot of attention from people who've come over. Most don't understand why I have the picture there, so I'm used to explaining that this is M's home, too. His dad doesn't stop existing or being his dad the second he comes home. What's more, it's my favorite picture from a very happy time in all of our lives-M is just a baby, and it's his first time in the swimming pool at our home. His dad is holding him in the water, and they are both beaming. It's an amazing picture.

"When did you and M's dad get a divorce?" Z asked. And because I've never been one to shy away or lie...

"Well, we were never married. But his dad and I split up.."

"When I was almost three," M chimed in.

"Why?" Z looked puzzled.

"They weren't very nice to each other," M answered.

Z looked at me for confirmation. "We weren't very kind to each other, and it was making us terrible parents. Now that we're apart, we focus on M much more," I explained.

Z looked down, looked at the fridge, looked at the ceiling. "I think my parents are getting a divorce," he started, and then ran down the list of reasons why he could see his parents getting broken up soon.

So this is why he's asking, I deduced. I know I've only been child rearing for about eight years now, but I've always answered M's questions honestly, openly and as kid appropriately as possible. It's always paid off. Kids tend to ask questions about behaviors that confuse them and are relevant. I have a hard time glazing over the answers to these questions because I'd rather encourage them to reach out for help, to seek advice, to have a voice and feel comfortable with it. Sometimes people have problems with it, but as long as it helps the kids...

I came up with the best answer I could, explaining that it must be hard to have those feelings, and it's probably even a little bit scary. However, every parent's relationship is different-just because they might not be getting along, that's a normal part of relationships. It's not always lovey-dovey. Sometimes, it's a lot of work. No matter what, his parents love him and want what's best for his family. And there's nothing to be scared of. I doubt that his parents will split, but even if they do-he'll be just fine. M is just fine.


And he hugged me and thanked me, then ran off to play the Wii.

I'm still not sure if I overstepped my bounds-it is someone else's child-I hope I helped him see that even the "worst case scenario" sometimes isn't that bad...

Purple

Group Meditation, round one.

Today's thought of focus was: "Who are you, truly."

I got comfortable on the floor and sat legs crossed and closed my eyes. I relaxed myself and let my mind journey inward and saw my heart, opening like a locket. Inside were all of the things I was striving to be, all of the things I truly want to send from my core. In one compartment, there was the helpful and willingness parts of my soul. They looked like trinkets, shiny, dangling like pendants on gold metal chains. I could hold them in my mind's hand, feel their weight and importance to my soul. I put them back carefully.

There was the leadership compartment of my heart; how I feel compelled to lead, like I've been given this position in my life to lead others to their best selves, or a more happier, peaceful place.

The core of my heart was my mother role. How I have nurtured my son, how I can better develop in that role and raise him to be a man of good will, peace and secure in his spirituality.

And then I saw the ugly compartments. The planning and the expectations I hold to avoid disappointments by myself and others. I saw how I create paths for people unwittingly on either my or their part, and how controlling that is, and how it leads to the resentment I feel sometimes when things don't go "my way". Like a key unlocking a lock, the gears in my heart started to click internally, to glide along each other and guide me.

One word: Accept.

Without acceptance, every notion is contrived. I need to release those ugly parts to be free to be my best self. I need to look them square in the face and say that there's no room in my life anymore for these thoughts and behaviors, and I need to release them. For me to achieve what I would like to in this life, for me to find peace within myself and be able to help others, I needed to roll this ugly in a ball and set it free from me. No more expectations mis-labled as hope. What will be will be. What is, is. The truth is non-negotiable and absolute.

Just then, it was like a dark curtain falling over me. Slowly, radiating from the middle, were deep purple pixels that turned into a screen of purple. I found my truth. I'm on the right path.

What a great session. I cannot wait for next week :)

Keys

Grab your coat, put it on. Ok. Shoes? Check. Purse? Packed and on my arm. Where am I going? Let's Google the address really quick on my phone before I leave the house. Oh! Don't forget your keys hanging on the key rack! Got the address in case it's not in the GPS... let's make sure the door is locked...oh look! The new neighbor! Go say "hi"!

My new neighbor (ok, her grandmother) was having troubles with getting the door unlocked, so I ran over to help her. And shut the door in the process. Without putting my keys in my pocket first. DUH.

In the end, I couldn't help the grandmother because the lock seems to be broken. I couldn't help but think as I was playing with the key in the lock how lucky my new neighbor was to have someone so close to give her spare keys to. You could just call up and say, "Hey! Locked myself out! Can you come over?" and five minutes later, boom. You're in.

It wasn't until I was walking away to my car that I noticed I'd left my keys in my apartment.

Two steps after that, I remembered the plan I had put in place.

When the break up happened, I got my spare sets to both my car and my apartment from the bass player. I really had no idea what to do with either, so I put the spares to my house in the car and the spare to my car in my house. I figured as long as I had a valet key on me, I'd be fine.

Yesterday, I proved myself right. Not gonna lie, there was a certain satisfaction in knowing that I could get myself out of the situation faster than I could have phoned a friend, hoped that they were available, and waited for their arrival.

I'll be just fine :)

Tick Tock...

I made it to 6:15 without crying today. That's progress.

I've made it through a weekends worth of shows. Nobody even knew how I felt.

I've sat at a table with my family, all couples, and ate dinner with them. Watched them hold hands and be all lovey with each other.

I've listened while people said the cliches... that I'm better off without him; that it's just a different path.

I giggled politely when someone made fun of his choice, even though I wanted to punch them in the face.

I've washed countless pounds of mascara off of...well, everything. My eyes leak and I don't even know it's happening.

I've walked the dog, exercised, took showers, baths, read books, shaved my legs, waxed my brows...

None of it makes a difference when you're filling the tires of your car up with air (like he told you to) and unscrewing the cap he put on your tire valve, remembering the story he told you of how he bought a bag of 100 valve caps once and walked around parking lots, replacing people's lost ones.

If we had anything at all, it's sitting on top of my chest. The weight of it is crushing.


Time. Time, time...

Get Set, GO!

I will have you know, I'm alive. I'm surviving, and dare I say, I'm thriving.

Don't get me wrong-I was alarmed when I woke up this morning with a rare phenomenon that I will call "Break Up Hand Syndrome". Here, I took a picture:

Don't judge. The camera adds 10 pounds.

Scary, right? I hadn't even known I'd been crying. Even so, I'm damn impressed my eye make up has made it far enough to land on my hand when I thought that the tissues had collected so much of it already... On the plus side, BUHS is easily cured. By soap. I have lots of soap!

This is where I need to tell you that so much good has come out of this situation. I never realized how many people cared, or the caliber of my friends. I might be single, but I assure you, I am not alone!

After all, wasn't I posting about how "Bachelorette" is not a bad thing? Now I get to live what I write! Yay!

What it boils down to, and what I tell myself when I start getting teary over what could have been and how we lost what we had, is this: It doesn't matter. He made his choice.

He reasoned that I'd be strong enough to get past him, that I'd be incredible enough to make it through this.

I can't say that he's wrong...

Somewhere between crying my eyes out and screaming at the wall, I got it. All of it doesn't matter. He made a choice. I can't change it, beg it differently, or persuade. Nothing I do about this will make any difference-it's done. What I can do is be grateful for the time we had, for the discoveries he helped me make about myself, for the friends he introduced me to. I can enjoy my apartment, my dog, my son. I can spend hours at the library picking out books, and many more in the bathtub surrounded by bubbles while reading them. I can write without interruption, I can stop waiting for someone to get here, to call, to text, to love me. Fleece sheets? They're so on! And I slept like a baby last night in them...it was incredible!

I've never been single long enough to find my stride-I've always been looking for a family for my son. I'm missing the fact that I have provided my son with a great family! His father and I get along incredibly well, I watch my son's half sister on their days off of school, and we even have a pet that he calls his brother. He spends time with his Grandparents and cousins, sees his Aunts and Uncles regularly. We have a home that warm and lit and he has a friend that lives in the neighborhood that he plays with every day. If I can learn to appreciate it, this will be an incredible upbringing for my child!

So, dust off the laptop and start writing, not just blogging. I refuse to allow the loss of this great love to be in vain!

DOA

I'm gonna miss the facial expressions I could read across the room. The eyes and how they looked at me. I'm going to miss the 3am dinners and someone who was on my sleep schedule. I'm going to not know what to do without having someone with back up cords available! Or who understands my speaker stand snafus...I'm going to miss hiking waterfalls and making up words together, or how he said I was the most beautiful with my hair loose in air dried waves and no make up. I'm gonna miss his hands, the way they fit mine.

I'm gonna miss how he talked to my dog, how he played with my kid. How he could go into any situation with me and make it comfortable. ..

I didn't think I'd be unlocking only the bottom handle of my door when I got home-alone. It dawned on me he still has my keys...my spares to my apartment and car. Oh God...who's gonna keep my spares? Because for the first time in...who knows how long...

Cydney is truly alone. Single. Without a willing man-friend.

Because love dissipates in a 12 hour span. It can disappear! Poof!

It doesn't make sense anymore. None of it does.

I can't throw any more "nice" at the situation. I did it. I stayed true. These decisions, these actions, they're not mine. I'm left with a heap of emotions accrued over a seven month period of time. I get to sort them, try and figure out what was real and imagined, what I'll do differently next time.

I hope his band makes it big. I hope it more than makes up for the fact that my Lemme just asked me to Let him go. And because I love him, and to love means to release...

 I'm letting him go.

I'm gonna cry tonight, just for a minute. Because I feel like I should, like an obligation...
...even though I looked at him last night, and he no longer felt like home.
I'm gonna wake up tomorrow morning and change my sheets. Establish a new routine. Eat lunch with my sister and my son-thank God I have them. I'm gonna think about the friends I met through the bass player and how they invited me over at 1:30am for drinks and laughter tonight when they heard the news. I'm going to thank God for the positive, and I'm going to let go. I'll think of all the time I have now. I'll go on dates and laugh at unfunny jokes and wonder why the person I  could see myself growing old with decided he didn't want me anymore.

"thank you for being with me while I got on my feet,"

"Thank you for letting me be. Now don't let this knock you off of them,"

...and because he always gave great advise...I'm gonna follow it, just this one last time...

Spread the Good

For the past few weeks, my son has been coming home with stories about kids who were bullying him. It started off with being pushed down one day on the playground. Thankfully, his teacher saw and put an immediate end to the physical part. But then it turned to verbal bullying-calling him names, even telling him his head looks like a penis.

His head does not look like a penis. I might be biased, but as I pointed out to my son, we've seen penises. We can see his head. They don't look the same!

In any event, he's gone to his teacher, then the principal of his school regarding this issue. Sometimes the things they've done works for a minute or two, but never very long. Since it doesn't seem to behoove either him or I for me to go to the school and knock some sense into the little pecker heads, I've been trying to figure out how to tell my son to deal with these bullies. Which is difficult, since I spent a significant portion of my childhood trying to find the answer to that very question.

What I know now as an adult is that the kids that bullied me either did so out of envy or spite. That I had something they didn't, and rather than befriend me, the only tools they had in their emotional toolbox was to make fun of, ostrasize, and belittle me.

Unfortunately, it worked.

That's where I've been struggling to figure out what to tell my son, since "It gets better" doesn't seem to be working for him.

And then I'm faced with a real life situation as an adult where I'm forced to look at a situation and say, "Oh crap...I'm being bullied...by adults!" Suddenly, I'm face to face with my son on this one thing; a bi-generation act of karmic fuckery that makes me see the light a little more clearly than I ever had before.

Bullies say things that are mean and unkind. Usually, there's more than one of them, and they taunt so loudly that it's hard to hear yourself think sometimes. Worst off, they tell you that "everyone else feels like this", and since nobody ever really stands up to disagree, you start wondering... oh God...What if they are just telling me what everyone thinks?

Today, I looked at my son real hard and told him what might be the one thing that takes the sting out of their words: Everyone does not agree with what they're saying. A bully will want you to believe they do, because that means the bully isn't wrong for what they're feeling. The reality of the situation  is this: keep doing what you're doing. Be the best you that you can be. Strive to know yourself, understand yourself, and take what gifts you find that you've been given and spread them out! If your gift is being kind, be kind to everyone. If it's making people laugh, find someone with a frown and brighten their day. Eventually, you will be too busy spreading around the good parts of you that people will either not notice or not care about the bad. It just might be that the meaning of life is to spread the good you find within yourself.

I'm crying as I write this because I'm so sad to say that I feel like I lied to my kid. It doesn't always get better. Being told nobody likes you hurts whether you are 7 or 27 or 97. But you must know that they are wrong. I must know that they are wrong. Because I look into my sons eyes and see how compassionate and caring he is, how sensitive and understanding and thoughtful he is, and I know that even if he is the one thing I've done right, he has made my entire life worth living.

The Bachelorette

Dear MLK Jr.,

Thank you for giving my son's school a reason to close for a day so that I might have the following stimulating conversations with his half-sister:

Me: "Whatcha doin'?"

A: "Missing someone..."

Me: "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Is it your mom?"

A: "No, it's my boyfriend. We haven't seen each other since last weekend,"

Me: "You're 11. Does your dad know you have a boyfriend?"

A: "Yeah. He asked why. I told him I didn't want to end up alone like him. Or you, for that matter."

Conversation Points Total: A=1 point. Me=0.

A: "Wait-you have a boyfriend, right?"

Me: "That's not the point, whether I do or don't, I don't need a boyfriend. And I'm 28,"

A: "Do you think you'll want to live alone forever?"

Me: "First off, I'm not alone, I have your brother, M, and Charlie the Dog. I'm never alone. And second, I just figured out how to adjust the heat settings on my hot water heater. With or without a man, I will be just fine. Every woman, girl, lady...should feel this way! I don't need a man..."

A: "You didn't answer the question,"

Me: "I like companionship. I like having someone to talk to, to learn about, to think with. Do you do those things with your boyfriend?"

A: "No. We mostly play Pokemon."

Me: "So, he's more or less just a friend,"

A: "NO! We're gonna get married when we're 18. We've talked about this. I'm as good as engaged."

Me: "What if there's someone better for you?"

A: "If you think like that, you'll be alone forever. Maybe that's why you're not married?"

And because it's not nice to tell an 11 year old to eff off, she wins another conversation point.

A: "When do you think it's ok for me to kiss my boyfriend?"

Me: "When you're 25. I'm pretty sure that's what your dad would like me to say here,"

A: "But you're a GIRL. I need GIRL advice!"

Me: Sigh. Look out window. Contemplate running away from home. "Uh...you might want to talk this over with your dad. I know I didn't get my first kiss until I was Thir...I mean, Sixteen."

A: "But that's years away!"

Me: "Right?" Exactly. Score 1 for El Cyd-O.

And then finally, because I felt like she was missing a very important link here....

Me: "I used to think I needed a man. I grew up seeing my parents divorce and then remarry. I missed the family structure and wanted to have the perfect family for my children. When your dad and I split, it was devastating-for all of us. Neither of us wanted to do that, but it had to be done. After that, you know-he had girlfriends. I got married. I'm sure he was happy with the girls for a while, and I know that the day I got married was the happiest day of my life (besides the day I had your brother, obviously). I thought I needed a man, just like I'm sure your dad thought he needed a woman. Eventually, he broke up with his girlfriends; I ended up getting a divorce, and that brought on a whole other slew of issues that I had to deal with. For the past three years, I have been learning how to do things without needing a man, and let me tell you: it's so much better. I know that I can do things on my own and be okay. Every person needs to know that. I know I can pay my bills by myself, take care of my family on my own. Those are lessons you can't learn if you constantly have someone by your side. Having someone to share your life with is secondary. You need to love yourself first,"

A: "So...you don't need a man?"

Me: "Nope. I'm good. I have a tool box, even."

A: pauses. "What man is ever gonna want a woman who is more of a man than he is?"

Martin Luther King, JR... I have a dream. I have a dream that girls don't grow up thinking that your life isn't complete unless you are a wife. I have a dream where it is still acceptable for women to want to fulfill your natural gender roles (Become a wife, mother...a homemaker, if they so choose), but understand that if your life does not follow that path, you will not perish. I want to live in a world that accepts that it's ok for a woman to be alone; one that understands that the worst kind of "Alone" happens when you are in a room full of the wrong people. No, we do not have to abolish marriage or bash the happily married, but we need to be accepting of the Chosen Single-the Bachelorette. Nothing is wrong with us. It's just a different path.

And when someone accomplishes this, hopefully their children will have a day off of school, too. I dare say that this is just as important. It is, after all, another form of equality.

With Gratitude,
Cydney