Posts Tagged ‘regrets’

Contempt

February 1, 2018

Prior to investigation.

Sometimes I don’t even know I have contempt for a situation until it happens.

Then, when it does, I’m incredulous, like, wait, what, oh no, this is completely different from I thought and I am an asshole.

Yoga for example.

A lot of contempt.

But fuck.

It’s a good work out, my body feels better when I do it, and my mind clears out.

But for a very long time I looked at it as privileged white women spiritually bypassing to look hot in skimpy clothes and post pretty pictures of themselves on Instagram.

I sweat a lot when I do yoga, I also swear, and there is nothing pretty about it.

And.

Oh yes.

Sometimes I even cry.

Heart openers will get me, I don’t even know some of the poses are heart openers until after I’ve been doing them and then the instructor says something and I’m like, oh, that was it, that was a heart opener.

Sometimes I think my heart can’t get much more open, but God seems to have other plans and my heart gets stretched out some more and I’m left wallowing around in pain again.

Which it was pointed out to me this evening, is the touchstone of spiritual growth.

I actually told the person to fuck off.

I was super defensive and super tender and super vulnerable all at the same time and then I disclosed what has been happening, in general terms, and started crying.

Ugh.

I just didn’t want to be that person crying over something like this and the truth is.

I am that person crying over a heartbreak and a loss and I’m grieving and I’m so super fucking sad it breaks me sometimes and I just lose it.

And then.

I pull it back together, pony up, wipe my face, slap some lotion on myself, tears are drying out my skin like nobody’s business, and I get back on with the daily deal of living and doing the deal.

It’s not easy.

Sometimes I just want to crawl under the covers and weep until I pass out.

I haven’t really stopped crying for the last two and a half weeks.

Two weeks ago I had the conversation that would change it all.

Two.

I was thinking about that as I walked home alone and got cat called by some guy at the 7-ll on the corner who told me I was beautiful and had great hair.

Thanks.

I am having a good hair day, but I’m not really interested in telling you my name.

In fact, when he asked, I replied, “going home alone,” and kept walking.

I’m not into dudes that hang outside 7-11’s with open containers of booze.

I wasn’t when I was drinking, I’m certainly not the fuck now.

But yeah, my mind, preoccupied when I realized it was two weeks ago today that I had the beginnings of the conversation that would lead me to where I am now.

I hadn’t seen it coming, and it seems I should have.

Should, would, could, all the ways I can shit on myself.

I should have done this, I could have done, that, I would have, but.

Excuses and ways to blame myself and hurt myself and wallow in victimization.

I take responsibility for my actions and I feel their effects.

It has not been easy to do what I did and I feel like I’m dying half the time.

I am also doing something I have never done before so I have absolutely no idea how to do it.

I rely on the council of others, and pray a lot, and cry, and try to be nice to myself and try to not just smash my head on my table.

Like if I could have figured it out, made things work, I would have.

But.

I don’t know how to do that, I didn’t then, I don’t now.

I have a sense that I have to be honest, in a deeper way then I have ever been with myself.

I have an idea that the pain has not stopped, that it will in fact, continue for a little while yet.

It’s like settling in for a long winter, this season of grief.

When you let go of the thing you love most, the person you love most to choose to do something different, it’s going to hurt.

At least.

That’s been my experience.

It’s hurting.

It hurts.

It hurts so bad I can barely write this.

And yet.

I do.

I keep showing up to this damn stupid page as if it will make it better.

Kiss it and make it better.

Please.

I suspect that there is something here, though, a process, that helps mitigate the pain of the situation, a way through.

Just like she told me, “there is no way through but through.”

I just have to feel everything.

It’s a gift.

These feelings.

I may not always believe that when I am doubled over crying into my hands, but when the tears slow a little and I have a modicum of space, I know that I can appreciate the pain, that I can see the richness there, the beauty of it, the deep knowledge of how hard I love and was loved.

Am loved.

Do still love.

Still love.

I am still in love.

God.

That hurts.

That just screams at me.

I had to stop there for a moment, fresh tears to wipe from my face, a tightening in my chest, the feeling of not being able to breathe, the fear of losing the best thing that I have ever experienced and knowing that I made the decision to do so.

I did it.

I am responsible.

I needed something different than what was being offered.

And though I couldn’t come to it fast enough or in a tidy way, in a linear, logical, marked out intellectual way, I got there, I got to a place where it stopped working for me.

And when I did I saw what was not working I couldn’t deny it any longer.

Although, fuck I tried.

I had to change.

And.

I did.

I made the decision.

I will live with the repercussions for the rest of my life.

Good and bad.

They are mine.

I have no regrets.

I loved fucking hard and passionately and deeply.

I have nary a regret and I don’t think that I ever will.

I just have a lot of sorrow to keep working through.

And more tears to cry.

Always those.

Always those.

So.

Many

Tears.

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Open Heart

January 28, 2018

I have felt pretty fucking raw this past week.

I have gone through a lot and I have not walked it alone.

Today.

Ah.

Today.

I finally had a day without crying.

I got emotional, I had moments where I thought I would.

I had some strong longings, really fucking strong, to reach out and engage, but I remember that I don’t do this alone and that I have been given a lot of suggestions about how to navigate through my experience.

It doesn’t make it easier, in fact, it seems to make it harder.

But.

I suspect that the pain will be worth it.

That I will be left with something magic and special and worth it.

As I was told today, “the only way through is through.”

I am definitely going the fuck through it.

And.

Yes.

I did go and get myself some tattoos.

And yes.

They did ameliorate the pain a little bit, focused it in one location, shut my fucking brain off for a little while.

I got lost in the pain, floated around in it, distracted by the sound of the needle and the threading pain on my breast bone.

But it helped too.

And I love my new tattoos.

I got my lucky thirteen star.

For my thirteen years of sobriety.

I have a star for each year I have been sober.

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I had my artist, Danny Boy Smith, at Let it Bleed Tattoo on Polk Street, make the placement.

I had thought of doing it a little lower, but when he put it underneath my ear I was quite taken with it.

Of course.

Holy shit.

That was distracting.

Having the needle so close to my ear, very distracting, it seemed to intensify the pain, the noise did, and I was very grateful that it wasn’t that big of a tattoo, he handled it pretty quick.

I had already gotten my other tattoo and was pretty pumped up on adrenaline by that, so the star didn’t hurt that much, it was just the sound of the needle and the vibration in my ear that was a little more intense than I had expected.

My first tattoo.

Well.

Fuck.

It hurt.

Yes.

It did.

I love when people ask if getting a tattoo hurt.

Duh, motherfucker.

Of course it hurts, come on.

Needles being driven into your skin, no really, it’s like getting a warm massage.

However.

I will say, my adrenalin kicked in super fast.

In fact.

I noticed it before I was in the chair, I was getting nervous and my body temperature went up, my fingers got cold and I got a little sweaty upper lip.

Fight or flight response.

Jittery stomach.

Despite making sure that I had a good lunch and I had it later in the day so that my stomach would be full while I got tattooed.

I can’t imagine anything worse than being hungry while being tattooed.

No thank you.

Anyway.

Yeah.

The adrenalin got up there right away.

The placement was on my breast-plate.

It’s beautiful.

I love the piece.

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I feel like it really tied all the pieces together and it just feels like I got the right placement and I really love the design.

It was based on a very special Tiffany pendant I was gifted.

One of my favorite things that I have been given this past year.

God.

When I think of the gifts I have been given.

I am amazed.

Even this pain that I have been walking through.

It’s a gift.

I get to feel it.

I get to feel the depth and breadth of my feeling.

I got to see how much I love.

I love a lot.

I love hard.

I love with reckless abandon and passion.

And.

Well, fuck, that makes me proud.

I’m alive and I wasn’t afraid to be sorry, I don’t have regrets.

Not a fucking one.

Rather.

I am grateful for all these experiences.

I have been given so much love.

The fact that I was hit so very hard with my circumstances shows to me the amount of love I have.

It is enormous.

It boggles my mind.

I used to pine for a love like this and then I got it.

And I was amazed.

I am amazed, at what I have gotten to experience.

And though I don’t believe that I am done grieving yet, I don’t feel like it’s a loss any longer.

Ok, that’s not true, it does still feel like a loss, but I know that it’s becoming more than that.

It is an opportunity to love more, to allow myself to step out into the light and shine forward and be strong and generous and kind and compassionate.

With myself.

With others.

I don’t know what my love path looks like, but I do not have any doubt that I won’t get to travel further along it.

Darling, reach out, and take my hand.

I will walk this path with my hand open, waiting for you to take it into yours.

I have faith.

Love.

I have so much faith.

And I know how strong I am.

For having walked as far as I have already.

I will be able to do this.

Grateful and alight for the experience of love that I have gotten.

In complete faith, utter and complete faith, that this love is not done.

It is infinite.

It is grand.

It is eternal.

All encompassing.

A shining beacon.

A brightly lit heart.

Just like the inspiration for my new tattoo.

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A Quiet Night

January 1, 2014

And the largest cat on the planet just crawled into my lap.

It was like my laptop was a cat magnet.

Either that, or smart cat, it knew that the babies were in bed and it was safe to come out from where ever it was hiding.

It may also, smart cat, known that I have a thing for kitties.

And puppies.

And babies.

And there it is, my New Years Eve, strangely like last year, but wildly different.

Better pay, that’s for sure.

Though the overnight is not a thrilling thing for me to be doing, it is of a kind of service that I am glad to know I can do and also realizing that I won’t do again.

Not really worth it.

Sort of like house sitting.

Except, fingers crossed, I won’t be repeating the overnight again to learn the lesson like I did with the housesitting.

This cat is huge.

I think it could be found quite easily on Google maps.

This cat is so big I wonder if it’s going to sleep on my face and suffocate me while I sleep.

Hopefully not.

That would suck.

Sorry, you’re kids are not up and happy and fed, bathed, washed, cleaned, diapered, powdered, and entertained.

Your cat killed me last night when it sat on me.

I actually did get a little nervous when he/she/it crawled up on me, I don’t know that I have ever seen a feline this large (it’s also not large in the sense of a really big fluffy Maine Coon, it’s large, like, holy shit what the fuck do they feed it, Buddha cat large) and I was a little perturbed by how bossy it was.

PET ME NOW.

Ok, cat, just don’t smother me in my sleep.

Or make biscuits on my cheeks.

It doesn’t even seem like it’s New Year’s, but I was just sent a photograph of a friends baby on the East Coast up for a late night feed with the cutest little pucker on his face.

I got my New Years Eve smooch.

Nice.

Strange to think that a year has passed.

Last year I was in Paris.

This year I am in the Mission.

Life is funny that way.

Who knows where I will be next year.

Not making any plans.

Although, I did call my best friend in Wisconsin and say basically, pick a weekend, I am coming out to see you.  I figure it is far easier for me to visit then it would be for her, I count as one, she has three boys and a husband.

Far less to move across country.

And ticket prices don’t look too bad.

Ok, the cat is growing on me, a gigantic growth, but, it is warm and makes a nice soothing white noise purring sound, a small helicopter motor of noise on my lap.

I figure I can go out to her for a weekend, three, four days, as long as it’s not too close to Burning Man I will be fine.

The shifts seem like they will be continuing a pace and I will have January with close to if not completely full time work.  This Friday off, but tonight makes up for it, and I won’t be working the 12th and the 13th, but I will be taking PTO days for the time, so no loss of income.

And life, for me, really is just lived a day at a time.

I could worry about what comes next or just embrace that the right now is pretty damn good.

Which it is.

I am leery of the lack of sleep I will probably have, it seems inevitable that one or both the babies will awaken before I want them too, that is the nature of babies, but other than that, I am pretty much socked in for the night.

At least I won’t be navigating the Paris Metro system on New Years Eve in the rain.

That was a shit show last year.

Scary too.

Nothing says good times like a train car so packed with people that you can’t get off at your stop because too many people are trying to get on the same car you are trying to get off of.

Fortunate to not be claustrophobic, but that was intense.

And then being lost outside the train station, turned around, walking the wrong way in the Pigalle neighborhood, while it’s pelting down freezing rain.

Happy New Year!

This one promises, already, to be far mellower than that.

I may not even stay up until midnight.

Although, I find that unlikely.

I will, oh sweet Jesus, cat, don’t crawl up on my laptop!

It won’t make it.

Dear God.

I know cats prefer to be the center of attention, especially if one has a book or a computer in their lap, but that was a near catastrophe.

Dude.

Yeah, I am not even hating that I am spending my New Years blogging about an overweight cat and doing a nanny share overnight.

Nope.

I know that the less I fight what is happening, the happier I will be and there’s nothing wrong with the situation.

New Years can be a time of greatly overblown expectations.

I don’t have any this year.

I got paid for my time already.

I will be done at 10 a.m.

I will meet a lady at Philz in the Mission at 11a.m. on the way swinging by the bank to deposit my paychecks, then a pit stop for an hour or so at 23rd and Capp after which I shall ride my bicycle merrily back to the Outer Sunset and call it a day.

I may take a nap.

I may go walk on the beach.

I will say thank you for another year on the planet and I will be grateful that it is in San Francisco.

Home.

Excited for what the next year brings with nary a regret for what has been.

Happy 2014!


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