Butterflies

A couple of years ago, out of nowhere, the person that I had spent years of my life with suddenly vanished.  It was only days before Thanksgiving that he fell into some emotional paralysis and my world as I knew it seemed to crumble.  There would be years following of back and forths, ups and downs, but ultimately, we would never be able to recover.

Anyway, for that weekend of Thanksgiving I walked around in a state of complete wreckage.  I bashed into walls, literally, fell through floors, drank myself into a broken frenzy, cried, collapsed.  You name it.  However, throughout all of this time, someone was always with me.  My ladies stood guard, watching over.  Letting me grieve and keeping me safe.  At the end of that weekend I was standing in my kitchen.  Nic, on duty, was sitting on a stool, keeping watch.  I remember turning around and looking at her and saying, "I think you can go now.  I am ready to rest."  With trepidation she looked at me, "Are you sure?  I don't need to be anywhere, I can stay."  "I'm sure," I said.  And with that,  I allowed myself the time to close my eyes and stop.  I had mourned enough.  I had done enough damage to myself.  Which is the funny bit.  Destroying myself as penance for someone else breaking my heart.  I think I did that for years. 

I'd like to believe I don't do that as much anymore.  Though I sometimes think that time in my life won't ever pass.  Though it comes in haunting waves in the middle of a moment, it is now a more silent knock.  I am more gentle with myself.  Although 'he' is long since gone, the memory if 'it' still remains.  The 'it' I pray each day releases itself further and further from me so that something beautiful can find its way in.

Another Thanksgiving has passed.  I didn't bang into any walls.  I didn't fall through any floors.  Nobody had to stand watch.  I may in some ways have stood watch over others.  I laughed.  Maybe I shed a few tears but mostly I gave thanks, found gratitude and only let him creep into my thoughts when it was safe for him to do so.  I'd like to believe that year by year and within all of this time and space, I'm finally figuring it out.  I'd like to believe in butterflies again. 

That's all.  Thanks for listening.

Nuff said

Padded Cells

Today I had one of those vibrating moments where everything sort of whizzed around me and I felt all sorts of woozy and out of body.  It happens sometimes.  I won’t go into the details of the moment or what spurred it but it happened nonetheless.

In that moment, I sort of broke my own heart because I realized that as far as I’ve come, I haven’t really come that far - in that one tiny moment, I realized I was still holding on to something that I would be served greatly by if I could release it.

Memories are a dichotomy.  As much as they tell your story they can at times break you.  It’s the elation of remembrance and the burden of it all the same.  The other day I was laughing and then I walked by a painting that he had bought me and my stomach instantly went into that wretched twisty knot place and that was that.  And unfortunately for me – the memories are everywhere.  My home, my thoughts, my ocean.  Although I have woven them into the fabric of myself I find no comfort in accepting them.

I presume I see it all as this invisible blanket that covers me.  Sometimes it’s incredibly heavy – sometimes its light but it’s there, constantly, - weighing.  

I had written a lot about not knowing shit in your 20’s.  To be honest, I’m not quite sure I know shit in my 30’s either.  I seem to be running to stand still and spinning in circles all the same.  My life, as glorious as it is…and it is…is nowhere or nothing of what I thought it would be.  And, what scares me the most – is that I have no idea what it should be.  Although I appreciate the existential idealism that ‘you are where you are supposed to be’ I don’t know if I buy it anymore because ‘here’ kinda hurts and I’ve been ‘here’ for quite some time.  But it’s subtle and it ebbs and flows.  It doesn’t rob me of happiness, it just.....- weighs.

Awhile back I had sort of made a pact with myself to not share so much.  Not write so much.  Not be so open.  I’m not really sure why but I just felt compelled to keep things close and protected.  But perhaps by doing that I’ve kept too much in and it’s all become cluttered and chaotic.  I don’t know.  And likely that’s it…what this place is.  Not knowing.  Today I’m standing in the middle of the fucking ‘not knowing’ room and darlin’ – there aren’t any doors.

Basta.

Feeling lost in translation

He covets my mind a thousand times daily.  Cloudy.  Exhausted.  I am not sure if I will ever be able to unravel myself from him.  His energy surrounds all that I do.

It sucks.

You Don't Know Shit in Your Twenties: Act - Don't - React

I'm pretty sure I spent the majority of my twenties being reactionary.  Every emotion, every thought.  It became an acquired discipline as I got older to just fucking breathe.  Let things go.

In my twenties, everything was so monumentous.  It was so defining.  I had no idea, the older that I got, things would just 'be what they are'.  They would ebb.  They would flow.  They would change and evolve and except for myself and my reactions to it all, there wasn't a lot that I had control over.  That evolution creates a sort of serenity.  A knowing.  A peace.

There are no answers.  I spent so many years of my life plaguing myself seeking reason.  Sometimes there is none.  And as you progress in life you begin to realize that resistance to the belief that you are exactly where you are supposed to be regardless of the discomfort, is futile.

So you succumb.  You succumb to realizing that not everyone or everything will ever be as good as you want it or them to be.  You succumb to realizing that sometimes, there are 0 answsers, only acceptance.  You succumb to accepting that love doesn't come in the form of a neat little package and most certainly, serenity doesn't come in disregarding the voice within. And you succumb to the fact that all of that, in it's annoying, uncontrollable everything, is all good. 

And so you learn to act.  Not react.  You learn to be, not be provoked.  You learn to judge little and accept more.  You learn to become situationally aware because you realize that it isn't all about you and your moments....it's about much more.  It's about two wrongs not making a right and a peaceful nights sleep knowing you did good that day far out trumping demon's the day after.  It's about just doing the next right thing for you and those around you - because well, that's what we're here for. 

And so you learn to age with grace instead of combat.  Because it makes more sense that way.  And as much as I spent so many years arguing against my future - I feel ok now....because I finally began to listen to it.  Find quiet.  Find gratitude.  Act.  Not react. I didn't know that for decades.  I do now.  It was worth the wait.

That's all.

Thanks for listening.

You Don't Know Shit In Your 20's - Sex

Ok, we might as well cover the good stuff first.

It's simple. Whatever good sex you think you had in your 20's won't remotely compare to the sex you have in your 30's and beyond. I could end the topic there as anyone over 30 understands my point but to enlighten the younger generation, I'll share some insight.

It's a well known fact, women reach their sexual prime in their 30's. I presume there are a million hormonal reasons however I tend to vibe more for the cognitive. Mentally, we are just in a better place. We get our bodies, we've overcome a magnitude of neurosis and we're good with what we want, how we want it and we have no problem communicating it. I assume this goes for most men as well.

In your 20's there seems to be more of a groveling gratitude and haste to sex. In your 30's...not so much. It can become a bit more of an art form as you've been honing some skills and well, let's be honest, you've now had years of practice (sorry Mom). Many men have told me over the years that women can't have 'casual sex' as we're 'emotional creatures'. My retort is simply the stare of complete boredom as I realize they haven't a clue.

Women can have casual sex - most especially as they age. It's never really been my thing as I'm more of a serial monogamist but there have been a few mishaps here and there - a girl has needs too. But here's the thing, as we age, we become well aware that emotional fulfillment doesn't exist in a quick romp and we are quite in tune with the fact that a sexual connection doesn't equate to a life partner so we are adept at taking those moments for what they are - a moment and not a reason to veer off the path of soul mate hunting. We lose the drama and fantasy of our youth.  It's refreshing. 

I remember in my 20's thinking...Ohmagodthisisthebestsexeverrrrr...meh, not so much. Those who carried the title then have now fallen quickly of the pedestal of lovers of yore because as I've gotten older, the people that I have chosen to be with well, are older, and they just know what they are doing. And, they have done it well.

Sure, do I miss my ripped 20-something year old bod flashing in the moonlight - absolutely.  However I'll take wisdom of my body and mind and some softer curves and corners any day.  My lines are my history, and my history is sexy. 

So there, you have it.  Sex only gets better after 30.  Something for the wee ones to look forward to. 

You Don't Know Shit In Your 20's - Prologue

Last summer Becky and I were sitting on the beach. We were talking about our lives, 'aging' as it were and what not. What we concluded was that for all we had believed, we actually didn't know shit in our 20's and it was only now, in our mid-thirties that we were coming into our own. As we sat there and laughed we talked about how perfect a book would be summarizing all that we had believed to know, to only evolve later into more definitive truth. The good, the bad, the ugly. So, this is the beginning of an attempt to document conversations and revelations within myself and amongst friends.

Now, let me qualify something. There are loads of 20-something year old's who know a great deal. Many are old enlightened souls and know more than most. This is a generalized statement about myself, my friends and not an opinion of the entire 'Generation Y, Echo Boomers, Millenials' or whatever the hell they are called now. So take it all with a grain of salt. When I write, I write about my personal knowledge and experience. I won't pretend to determine the aptitude of an entire generation.

So, this is the beginning...The opening of the door to let the free flow of thought commence. I presume some topics I will have a lot to say, others, well it might be one line of insight. Someone has to document this stuff - might as well be me.

More to follow....thanks for listening.