Sunday of Hope

Today marked the first Sunday in Advent. The sanctuary was decorated, the chrisom tree lit and the first purple candle on the Advent wreath illuminate by a family in our congregation.

Things had been going well here... life clipping along, forward momentum achieved... and then it all just stalled out, life on hold - waiting, waiting, waiting. While in church today and then while chatting with a friend I was reminded of what is taking place over the next few weeks - reminded that there is a purpose, a comfort, in the reflection and preparation that can occur if we only clear our minds and focus. I remembered I had written the following at some point during the past year so I've resurrected it - it's a good reminder for me... especially right now. At the time I wrote it I was thinking in terms of a relationship, and while that's still part of it there really is more to the story than that... so...

Perhaps this is my season of Advent too...

The word advent comes from the Latin adventus which means 'coming.' In church during the Christmas season we spend the four Sundays prior to Christmas Eve celebrating Advent. We wait... we watch... we prepare. We know something wonderful is coming. Each Sunday we light a candle. Each Sunday we reflect on a different emotion, a different state of mind, a different attitude: Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love. By focusing on these things we ready ourselves for the wonderful gift of Christ.

So maybe this is what I am doing - readying myself for the wonderful gift that is to come my way. The only snag is not knowing exactly what that gift is supposed to be. If it is what my heart desires then it is a life, a relationship, a family, that can be shared. In all honesty I don't think I am meant to be alone. I don't think I am wired for it. I like being in a relationship. I've been on my own for a long time.... I can do it, I am used to it, but it doesn't mean I like it. I do feel like something is missing in my life - not from a reference point that I need a man to make my life whole... but I do want someone with whom I can share my life - the hope, the joy, the love, the peace. Don't worry, I am not going to run out and pick up the first bubba who pays any attention to me though. I know what I want from a relationship - I know what I don't want - and I refuse to settle for any less now. But the fear still remains that I will be alone - a mentality that says to me I never really ever get what I truly want - a mentality that I am destined to have this happiness forever out of my reach.

Therefore my Advent Season has begun I suppose. Maybe if I focus on hope and peace, on joy and love, then perhaps I will be preparing myself for the gift to come my way. It's ok to anticipate it... it's ok to dream about it, long for it even. But the trick, as I see it, is to not get bogged down in it. Preparing doesn't mean sitting stagnant. Preparing means moving forward... gathering the tools and the supplies needed to enjoy and appreciate the gift when it arrives. I like thinking about it like this - I like thinking in terms of hope and peace, in terms of joy and love. I like thinking that focusing on those things, preparing my mind and heart with those emotions can do nothing but serve me well when the time comes. The gift I receive will be met with the gift I have to give.

I Am Woman

Outward beauty is not enough; to be attractive a woman must use words, wit, playfulness, sweet-talk, and laughter to transcend the gifts of Nature ~ Petronius

I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to be a woman. This thought, this question, has been the last residue of the gunk I've been carrying around from my ill fated marriage... it's the last wound yet to heal - perhaps because it's the deepest most critically placed one. Somewhere in all the lies and manipulation and neglect I lost my womanhood. In my mind I became a type of androgynous 500lb bearded lady circus freak - a funny image I know but that's what I saw when I looked in the mirror. It didn't matter how perfectly I put on my makeup - it didn't matter what clothes I wore - it didn't matter how I wore my hair. It didn't matter that down deep inside of me where all good things are supposed to matter I was a good person. It didn't matter I was witty and smart. It didn't matter I was loving and kind and patient. It didn't matter I could be sassy and flirty. It didn't matter I could cook a fantastic dinner or raise good kids or make love with my whole heart. Nothing I did, nothing I was mattered or made a difference. He rejected me anyway - that potentially fatal wound to the heart

There is in every true woman's heart, a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity, but which kindles up and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity ~ Washington Irving

He just plain didn't desire me. For years, probably the last four of our marriage, sex became a near non existent thing in our relationship. We'd try - or I should say I would initiate... and nothing would happen. He just physically wouldn't/couldn't respond. I would smile and say it was ok, that I understood - a pain stabbing into my heart, a pain I hid from him. I'd go back to my celibate existence... waiting for the right moment - the perfect opportunity to try again. Months would pass and I'd think surely it would be ok. Surely he'd be able to and then we'd go through the whole scene again. He'd say nothing worked - not solo, not movies, not magazines - it isn't you he'd say it was him... and once again I'd smile and offer reassurances - all the while feeling less and less attractive and sexy - little pieces of me falling away and dying....

A really plain woman is one who, however beautiful, neglects to charm ~ Edgar Saltus

So there I am left: neglected, abandoned, discarded, confused. I'd never really been told I was beautiful - not by my family, not by my husband. I've always tried with my own children to compliment them on their appearance - to tell them they are handsome or pretty - to express it as a matter of fact. No one should ever grow up not believing in their own attractiveness. I remember the first time someone said I was beautiful. I had taken my baby daughter for one of her checkups and the doctor had just finished examining her - she was sitting on my lap and he was holding her hand and he just very reverently said, "She's very beautiful..." and then he looked up at me and softly said, "...just like her mother." That was new to me. If people before had ever considered me attractive they'd never told me. It was unfamiliar territory for me and I think I stammered a "why thank you" in reply. He may have just been being polite - but there was something in the way he said it that made me feel he meant it - and it made me feel beautiful. I've never forgotten it... not the words or the look or the feeling. It's amazing what a profound impact something so simple can have on someone.

Man loves little and often, woman much and rarely ~ Giorgio Basta

So by the time my ex husband comes home and decides he needs time for himself - needs to live alone and separate on a more permanent basis, I am already on the edge... already doubting myself and questioning my attractiveness... wondering what's wrong with me... feeling like less than a woman - feeling like nothing really - feeling like a husk, a shell. I'm lonely, in dire need of physical touch that's paired with an emotional connection. I'm empty. And then I find out the truth; I discover in a very undercover, clandestine way that my poor impotent husband was, in fact, having an affair. It wasn't him... it wasn't him at all - it had never been him. He was capable - very capable - of having sex... of, forgive my crudeness, getting it up. It was, actually, in fact me! It had been me all along - he could only lie beside me limp and unresponsive because he didn't find me attractive. It was then the transformation was complete... I'd officially become the most ufuckable person on the face of the earth.

Women are meant to be loved, not to be understood ~ Oscar Wilde

It's been two and a half years since he left, a year since the divorce, and I'm still carrying around this shit. I've slowly reclaimed much of my life but this, this is the trouble spot for me. I still carry this around - sometimes I look in the mirror and I still see the shadow of the 500lb bearded lady circus freak staring back at me. She just won't completely go away... she taunts me, tells me I'll always be alone, always be unlovable, always be unattractive, always be unworthy. She saps my strength and keeps picking at the wound and that's why it doesn't ever heal. I have to find a way to shut her up... send her back to the sideshow with all the other freaks - banish her skanky ass once and for all. Any ideas?

I will never be the woman with the perfect hair, who can wear white and not spill on it ~ Sex and the City ~ Spoken by character Carrie, played by Sarah Jessica Parker

I'm an exceptional woman and I am flawed... and it's within those flaws, those imperfections, that I attain the unique essence that is me. I can be such a silly little goober... I have quirks and little habits - sometimes funny, sometimes annoying, but all me. There are many qualities that make me, as a human being, a great person. I know I have value... something I've worked hard to rediscover - I've practiced a lot in the mirror, Stuart Smalley style, "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and, doggonit, people like me!" And in a funny little pitiful way it's worked. I no longer doubt myself like I did... no longer question my who I am or what I want or where I want to go. I know all these things now... but one thing still remains elusive and out of my reach...

When a woman is openly bad she is then at her best ~ Latin Proverb

There is this other side to me... or really this other component to who I am and it's all tied up in being, essentially, a woman, and expressing that and exploring what it all means. I am a coquette - a flirty little tease... and I love that part of me but she's been lost...There is such a bad girl inside of me... she wants out and I don't know how to unlock the door - she's so fragile, so breakable - and I don't know how to let her grow and explore and thrive without shattering into a million pieces. What if the next hurt can't be healed? What if the next hurt does her in? Then the rest of who I am is lost too. She doesn't trust her beauty or her attractiveness. She doesn't know if it's real or a falsehood - it might all be just pretty words said to soothe and placate her. She's felt so damned disposable and what she truly fears is that she really might, in truth, actually be... she might actually be worthless as a woman... she might actually be the most unlovable, unfuckable freak on the planet. That fear is what lurks... hovers in the back alley of my mind...

The great question that has never been answered and which I have not yet been able to answer, despite my thirty years of research into the feminine soul, is "What does a woman want?" ~ Sigmund Freud

I could have told good ol' Sigmund the answer - I've talked about it before here. A woman simply wants to be cherished. She wants to know that who she is - in her totality as a woman - is loved, appreciated, desired. It's not about being appreciated to be complete... it's about an already complete woman being accepted and valued for just that - being complete. I want someone to be able to see me - ME - and find that sensual and alluring, comforting and kind, witty and wonderful. I want to look into someone's eyes and see me reflected in them... not his reflection of me. This is the last frontier for me... the last vestige of healing - but maybe this part of me has been the biggest causality in the war. Maybe it's lost to me forever... perhaps I'll never know how it feels to be cherished above all others... cherished in the only way a woman can be by the man she loves - the man who loves her.

So there it is done... my day long blog entry...

As Long As You're Mine...

Here...

It's been a cold, quiet, wet day... a hard rain occasionally breaking the silence with an urgent pelting at the window. It's Friday... a day to sigh, breathe out, unwind. I'm tired and anxious for sleep - a respite from the running of the week, thankful for being able to end on another high note - a soft success....

I've been feeling differently lately... perhaps it's the work, the movement, the concentration. I've found a point of peace, a place that seems sustainable. I don't have all I want - the job is taking a little longer to procure than I had hoped and I still feel like I have some things I have to juggle. But I've settled into something... I don't think it's a resignation... I don't think I've given up... I've sorta let go of some stuff, but other stuff still lurks - I'm not so much afraid of the lurking stuff anymore - I think I was but I've somehow come to a place where I figure it all has to have a point - a purpose - and maybe, perhaps, I'm just too tired to stress over it now. Who knows? I sure don't. Anyone else?

I think, maybe, I've let go of the urgency. A year ago I wanted it all fixed - I'd been through the hell, I'd survived it and I guess I figured I'd earned my stripes, so to speak. I'd have these conversations with God - they'd go something like this: Ok God... I did it, it's hurt - but I did it, I've faced it, I've kept moving forward even though I just wanted to stop and crawl into a ball... so now, God, I'm ready... I'm ready for all the good... I'm ready for the blessings ... so bring 'em on (head back, eyes closed, arms outstretched). And then nothing (one eye slyly peeking open). Ok... deep breath (eyes closed tightly again). And still nothing... but I don't feel that way anymore - oh I'm still waiting - and slowly things have happened... blessings appearing... fog lifting - the road ahead of me a little clearer... but it's all not there yet - not yet in crisp, vibrant focus. The difference now may be that I'm not "actively" waiting.... I'm no longer Linus sitting in the pumpkin patch, cold and shivering in the dark of night. I've come in to wait in the relative warmth and comfort of a sheltering place.

I admire all those people who've been able to just proactively find what they've wanted. Those folks who've been able to just set their minds on something and make it happen. It's not been that easy for me. I'm not sure why - perhaps there is a reason, perhaps my moment's not arrived yet. And I am happy for all those who've found it... I really am. It's hard being the one left behind though. It's hard knowing that wonderful exists... knowing it's out there but being unable to wrap my arms around it, unable to touch it, unable to settle into its warmth - it's hard knowing it's waiting for me too, longing for me, missing me. There has to be grander plan... if I don't hold onto that - if I don't have that faith then I'm sunk... I'll drown - and I can't do that now... not now. It's been much too long and hard a road.

I was so caught up in holding what I never thought I'd find...

Rambling...

On My Own...

Once upon a time I watched a show on television ... I was a teenager... it was a weekend - a Sunday maybe... and this movie came on television... it was Les Miserables and I remember just being enthralled. And yes I know, yes I've been told I must - MUST - see the it on the stage and I hope to one day. My hope is that one day someone who loves it will share it with me... it's a nice thought huh? I have lots of nice thoughts... as thoughts tend to do they stay safely tucked inside my head... safely locked away -unrecognized by the outside world. They live and survive and thrive in a quiet and soft cocoon - unaffected and unaware of distance and logic - reality and responsibility and priority. My thoughts believe anything is possible... they believe goodness always triumphs... they believe love is the greatest gift of all.

I've felt strange lately. Busy... which has been good... I like being busy - which has surprised me some but I like the movement and the purpose. I see and realize this could take over my life... which is something I feared at one time - I feared having something outside me become so time consuming but right now I don't see any other way... I have to do this. I only have to make sure I keep my daughter the center and the rest is up for grabs...

It's late... I'm not very eloquent in speech tonight. Sorry. I will be all by my lonesome Friday so perhaps I can find something more poetic to say... sweet dreams...

Election Day

I voted. I had played with the idea of not voting - didn't really see it as mattering much... I know I know... please no lectures. There was a time in my younger days I would have railed at myself for saying and thinking and feeling that but I am older now - more cynical about life and government and choices and people. But ultimately I decided to vote. I took daughter to school (yeah she had school today - so much for private schools and their choices) and then I went - no make up - sweat pants - wearing red and blue (which I promise was not planned). It wasn't what I would call crowded but it was steady. So I did it - my patriotic duty... God Bless America.

I won't discuss my choices... not sure who I voted for is really an important matter for this blog. There was one race I left blank... just couldn't bring myself to vote for a state senator running unopposed... not when he's the kind of person who feeds a mentality here in the South that does nothing but bastardize a pride in heritage. I mean he looks good - his family is polished and they take a great picture but the words that come out of their mouths are offensive. I have a definite belief in what I think government should be... but I won't allow my belief to be used to further someone else's agenda. There was a time in my life I would have voted a straight ticket... now my ballot is more diverse... maybe that's an aging thing.... maybe it's not. I think perhaps it's more an awareness of gray... gray in my life - gray in the world.

So I voted - voiced my opinion - exercised my right as an American and I'm glad I did.