Thursday, April 19, 2012

Part 2 Change


When we say things like "people don't change" - - - it drives people crazy. . . . Because change is literally the only constant in all of our lives.  Energy, Matter, Chemistry, it's always changing, morphing, merging, growing, and dying. It's the way people try NOT to change is un-natural, they way we cling to what things "were" - instead of letting them be what they are, the way we cling to old memories instead of forming new ones, the way we insist on believing, despite every indication that anything in this lifetime is permanent.   Change is CONSTANT.  HOW we experience change,-that's up to us. It can feel like death, or feel like a second chance at life, if we open our fingers, loosen our grips, go with it, it can feel like pure adrenaline, like at any moment, we can have another chance at LIFE.  Like at any moment, WE can be born all over again. 
(Quote taken from an episode of Grey’s Anatomy). 

High School Friends - - -Steve and Christie - - -and   Joe.
In May, I just got thru burying one of my friends from high school.  I was friends with his wife Christie all throughout Junior High, and always knew her husband – the Jock, Steve.  Steve was a really nice guy. Steve always had a smile for me, albeit a shy one, he always had one.  I will always remember Steve, in that Glenbard South Letterman’s Jacket, with a smile on his face. Steve died in May, he was admitted to the hospital one day, the next, his organs shut down, and he was dead.   Steve’s death made me stop, look, listen and think.   Half of my life is over!  Gosh, I don’t wanna die without LIVING first.
Joe was a neighbor of mine as I grew up, he lived about 2 blocks away.  I have known Joe and his family since Junior High.   Joe was lucky enough to own a place out in Ocean City Maryland, complete with a boat.  Joe and I had recently re-connected thru this wonderful website called Facebook.  Joe and I “hit it off” online.  -- Joe and I had many a discussion, about life, about everything in general.  We were fast becoming good friends.   Joe even went as far, as to invite me out to his place in Ocean City for a weekend.   I said “Yes - --when time will allow” - --time never allowed.  Joe passed away suddenly, and I will never get the chance to see my friend again.  Joe died a very rich man, he died – loved by everyone, he died with friends.
A beautiful life that came to an end
He died as he lived, everyone’s friend.
In our hearts memories will always be kept, of one we loved, and will never forget.

Friday, February 11, 2011

45 - Lonely, Married and Dating

This blog is being written, because I needed to find a thing called PEACE.  My Peace from within.

I needed to start living again.  And what you are about to read might be poignant, and RAW, you might find yourself judgmental, however, it’s my journey from the Summer of 2010.  All names have been changed, to protect identities.  I have been given permission by all of the gentlemen I have had the pleasure to meet.  And I must say - - -I don’t have ONE regret - - -not one.  

I am 45 years old.  I’m married to a husband with brain damage, and 2 kids with ADHD.

I have been married for 24 years.  For the past 10 to 15 years, I have not been “touched”, passionately kissed, physically loved, or even remotely felt beautiful, by the man I said – “for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, until death do we part”. . .  

When I married at age 21, NO ONE – told me how lonely marriage can be.  NO ONE.

I am otherwise known as STUCK.

I am Married, and terribly lonely.  I can’t be the only one that feels this way - I just can’t?  Am I?  

I cried.  I so cried all the time.  I cried myself to sleep at night, when once again, my husband of 24 years, refused to touch me or worse yet, pushed me away.   I cried in the shower – begging to GOD - Asking. . . “Is this all my life has to offer”?  Cause if it is, I can’t go on this way, much longer.   “Please GOD, please, let me know what to do”.

You see, when you ask your educationally “brilliant” husband – who obviously finds his computer sexier than you, to - - -“please pay me some attention, please hug me, are we ever going to have sex again”?   and he turns around from his ever important computer and says “Shut the fuck up, and quit your bitching” - - -I right, then and there, decided to NEVER – EVER ask him for attention of any kind again.   That hurt – it hurt so deep – that forever – my love life has been damaged, I knew that I was never going to be number 1 on his list, ever again.

On January 6th, 2010  - (my birthday) -  I wondered - - -what was I going to do to keep busy now?   I have already done the culinary school thing, I don’t teach cooking classes any more.   I don’t want to continue on with nursing school, and become a P.A.   My kids are teenagers, and are wanting me around less and less, and quite frankly, after I broke my wrist in Hilton Head a few years back, my tennis game has “gone to shit”.    Since I can’t afford more “education” at this time, I asked myself - - -“Self?  What am I going to do this summer”?  

My Grandfather taught me how to golf when I was 13 years old.  I remembered how peaceful the golf courses were, and how much fun it was.  I pulled out my sticks, wiped them down, went to the driving range and was “hooked”on golf, once again - - -even though I am really bad  - otherwise knows as a “hack” - - --I so want to be a better golfer.  I so want to be a better person.  I really want to begin to LIVE again.  Really LIVE, really feel, really experience, what LIFE has to offer me.

My days of curling up on the bathroom floor, sulking in bed, and feeling sorry for myself, asking GOD – “WHY”?  -are over - - - -If I’m going to live damn it - - -I’m going to really LIVE - - - -Watch out World - - -Here I come  - - no more being invisible - - No more – not going noticed - - -I have turned into Girls Gone Wild? Yes, maybe I have ,– but  - But I want it all.   The good, the bad, and the ugly - - -I want it all.  I REALLY WANT TO LIVE.  

There is much more to come. . . . .stay tuned.