Minutely Maternal

I saw an old friend from college today for lunch...with her three kids, and 4-child stroller, and large SUV to fit the 3 kids and 4-child stroller, and dipper bag, and bottles. Ever conversation we started was quickly interrupted by attending to kids throwing forks, how cute it was that they said thank-you, and snacks ever 20 minutes to delay onset screaming. But they were cute as a button.

I found myself in a "Sex and the City" moment where I, being stylish in my heels, dress, cute scarf and bag, met said friend in jeans and a sweatshirt with "binkies" coming out of every pocket. And these aliens that took captive my once giddy, friendly friend turned her into this attentive person that spoke not much more than a few sentences of adult conversation I could understand.

However, she seemed to know herself very intimately and for what she stood for very fervently. I became surprisingly intrigued and envious of this. I imagine myself standing over a tomatoey stew at the stove while the kids are playing in the kitchen nearby, husband home from work and an evening together with the family, taking baths, laughing, and feeling accomplished at the end of another exhausting day.

But sometimes I feel as if I'm trying to make myself feel something that I don't. I'm trying to convince myself that I'm maternal when in fact, I am very scared of having kids. Yet, when I got to hold the happiest, cute, little 5 month old baby girl, and she looked me in the eyes and then buried her soft almost hairless baby head into my chest, something inside me thought, "ok, maybe I could do this after all."

Innie or Outie?

Jason questioned me the other day asking if I considered myself an extrovert or an introvert. After taking many-a-Myers-Briggs tests throughout college and thereafter, I had always considered myself an extrovert for a few reasons:

1. I don't need a lot of alone time, rather I go a bit mad
when I am alone for too long of a period

2. I thrive on the company of others and really
enjoy being with people

3. To fully process something going on in my life,
I need to discuss and get the opinions of
just about everyone around me.

4. I really don't think I have enough self
confidence to be on my own.

5. I scored "extrovert" on the test.

However...lately when in a group I am tending to shut down a bit. Now, the "group" I am referring to has itself claimed to be difficult to have a voice in. But, I don't fight for a voice. Well, I take that back. I fight pretty hard and then just give up and don't try again. It's rather frustrating. Especially when I am so longing to connect with these people and haven't exactly had all the free time in the world to do so one-on-one and no one will listen to me and then I feel like a weirdo when someone finally asks my what I said and it has no relevance at all. So, I am left not connecting and feeling rather frustrated. And therefore feeling that I am not wanted, considered, or cared for. Which in all my wrestling am trying so hard to defeat those feelings of self worthlessness.

But, it is a bitter struggle I might say.

So, I am still left questioning if I am truly an innie or an outie...what are you?

P.S. What is with spell check on this gosh darn thing? How did a misspelled "relevance" get nothing close but lavender???

Wrestling the Beast

I am a girl.

I hate things about myself.

But lately, I have been really struggling with being ok with myself. Love is a little too far to stretch at the moment.
I would even settle for like.
Or complacency.

Does everyone feel this enraged, this utter misery with oneself?

I hate the way I look.
I hate my face
I hate my body.

I hate my sensitivity
I hate my anger
I hate my tongue.

I hate my art
I hate my words
I hate my hands.

I hate my laziness
I hate my wallowing in self-pity
I hate that I am writing a list of all the things I hate about myself!

There has got to be something else going on. What is it? Why do I wake up and look at myself in the mirror every morning and decide it's just a better idea to not look at any reflection for the rest of the day.

You can't just say it's hormones, can you?
I can't just believe it's society's influence of what's "perfect" or not.

I have struggled with this my entire life. I'm too large, I'm too plain. I'm too ordinary, too un-special. How I am supposed to believe that God loves me just the way I am if I don't even like myself? How is my husband supposed to want to be with me and get excited on his way home from work that I will be there if I don't even want to be there with me?

Sometime I just feel a little hopeless...

One could argue here that I am not happy because I am not done growing.
But that's just bullshit.

So, I will cast this out into the great cyber-abyss and say:
"I want to be better."

And then a glimpse of hope peers through the dark clouds and I remember what I do have, what I do love:
This beautiful changing of the seasons
My wonderful, loving husband
Friends (who have actually not stabbed me in the back*)
Trees
Ocean
Harley
Ice Cream.

So, here goes another day.

*This has actually been a very difficult thing for me to wrestle with: these friends that love me and see things in me that no one else has ever seen. Every single one of my close friends in the past (no, I am not exaggerating here) has betrayed me, hurt me so deeply, or left my high and dry so to say. I cannot say that I am at the point of trusting fully again. Constant feelings of "they don't really like me" or "they don't really need me" or "they have each other and obviously like one another better, so why would they ever really like me?" thoughts are constantly popping up in my head. I try my best to see the truth, but ask for patience as I learn to really trust again.

Just please don't hurt me.
There would be nothing left in me after that.

Seasons of my soul

Help, I have done it again.
Hurt myself again today.
And the worst part is there's no one
else to blame

Be my friend.
Hold me
Wrap me up.
Unfold fold me,
I am small
And needy.

-S.I.A.

Heart Matters

Little bird, I envy your flight.
So free, so light.
Flying anywhere you please.

Little tree, I envy your rigidity.
So resilient.
Your branch breaks and you grow back.
You grow stronger.

My heart aches and wants nothing more than understanding.
Oh, for it to be wrapped up and protected.
To make its own cocoon.
Nurtured, tended to like a new garden.

That it may blossom, spread its beautiful
big wings and be lovely.

Oh, temper. That you may set sail
and leave my shore.
Let you be no more than a distant
silhouette on the horizon.

Soul, where is your resiliency?
You demand more than you are offered,
taking more than asked.
Leaving no room in you for otherness.

Betrothed to this soul I could not choose
Bestowed a heart I could not protect.
Given a well that my eyes cannot contain.

My branches are broken
my wings are torn.

How I wish to fly and grow again.

Unexpectedness

It always amazes me when and where my soul will require attention. And by require, I mean: RE-QUI-RE! Last night Jason and I were watching Everything is Illuminated staring Elija Wood. It started out funny and quirky - all the good components for a good movie. And it was a good movie, I thoroughly enjoyed it. However, there is a scene at the end (which I might have to spoil a little since it won't make sense if I don't, but I'll try not to give away any details if you haven't seen it and plan on watching it) that demanded I grieve that I wasn't expecting.

A dear friend from my childhood and into college took his own life this past month. I hadn't talked to him in a few years, but he was one of those people that I always thought about and cared deeply for. In this scene I am referring to, this happens. And it's not expected - you don't see the person contemplating - they just come out and BAM - show it. One small glimpse, I didn't even have to see the full shot - and I spun into a full 5 minutes of wailing. I have never experienced this kind of thing before - the uncontrollable, unexpected, getting-dizzy sort of wailing. But, apparently my soul needed to grieve a little more than I had allowed, and wouldn't let me choose when or where.

Matt - you were such an amazing person. You had so much potential and ability. You were too much like me that you needed a lot emotionally. That's why we never would have worked. But you were one of my best friends, even if only for a little while. You listened and comforted when no girlfriend of mine would. You had a huge heart but just didn't know what to do with it. I'm so angry at you for what you did. So angry. Why?! I know you were just trying to make everyone else hurt just a fraction of how you've hurt for them, but you're stupid for doing so. So stupid.

A light at the end of the tunnel

It begins. I went to my first meet-and-greet counseling appointment yesterday. I have one more today and one next week at which point I will elect one lucky lady to figure me out.

I must say that even a small 30 minutes of nothing more than an introduction has lifted a small weight off my heavy shoulders. There is a light at the end of my very long dark tunnel and I can begin to see that some day: hope. Even the reassurance that my little monsters are not as little as I tend to categorize them as and that they are not perhaps one ominous bubble of my being wrong or unwanted spilling over into every area of my little life. I'm curious to find out what is really going on in this pea-brain of mine.

In other news: today is the last day in my life of being 25. I'm climbing over the hump tomorrow and on my way to 30! Also, I have begun a new blog here: http://devonpamela.blogspot.com/ because I keep wanting to write things in this blog that are not meant for the this blog.

Lists

Things I Love:

Late evening walks
Rose' on summer days
Plants
Soy ice cream
The ocean
Tropical places
Mid-afternoon cocktails
Snow
Gardening
The first signs of spring
Drinking Pina Coladas on the beach
Grocery shopping
Dressing up
Wine tasting
Sunshine
The color green
Fine cuisine
Animals (specifically: dogs and horses)
Hiking
Berry cobbler
Picnics
Bicycles
The smell of outdoors
Margaritas
Zoos
Making lists
Cooking
Fish
All things art
My husband
Aquariums and zoos
Beer Festivals
Flowers
Chips and Salsa


Things I Do Not Love:

Getting my oil changed
Rhododendrons
Bra shopping
Long chilly springs
Hangnails
Hairy hair traps
Bees
Eye boogies
Weeds
Sunny Christmas days
My car
My scattered nature
Zits
Flying in a plane
A messy kitchen
A disobedient dog

When soul is present, nature is alive

"When people observe the ways in which the soul manifests itself, they are enriched rather than impoverished. They receive back what is theirs, the very thing they have assumed to be so horrible. That it should be cut out and tossed away. When you regard the soul with an open mind, you begin to find the messages that lie withing the illness, the corrections that can be found in remorse and other uncomfortable feelings, and the necessary changes requested by depression and anxiety" - Thomas Moore, Care of the soul

Hmm, methinks. Could my soul be acting out because it's not getting what it needs? Soul, are you acting out? What is it then, that you need? Pray tell, for I would love to give it to you.

Oh, so you're not going to make this easy? I see.

Why do you pout? Why do you flare up in anger? What is the cause of such vile self-loathing? I don't think your motive is to destroy your being, but sometimes I think you would find that path easier than the path of illumination. At least give me a hint. Still no? This dance isn't going to be easy to learn, is it?...I didn't think so...

"Is there something in me that is like this pool? Do I have depth? Do my feelings and thoughts pool somewhere so off the beaten path that it is utterly still and untouched? Is there someplace wet in me, not the place of dry intellectualism but rather of moist feeling and green, fertile, shady imagination, far from human influence? Do I find myself in rare moments caught in a place of reflection where I have taken a break for reverie and wonder and there catch a glimpse of some unfamiliar face that is mine? If so, then Narcissus, the cure for narcissism, may be stirring in me...when soul is present, nature is alive." - Thomas Moore, Care of the Soul

So, ladies and gents, turns out I'm a negative narcissus. I am focused on self so much, but rather that in love with self, I am in loathing of self. So much so, that it consumes my being. I see my self as one big mass of emotion and quandary. However, there are specific traits if mine that are individual of each other and, may I argue, of myself? So, Moore says I must see these traits objectively and accept them for what they are. My first step, however, is to acknowledge that I have them, I think. I am in so much denial against having anger or a pouty part of me, that I disregard them as even being a part of me. They are rather, a blip in time where I become unconscious of my doings and this otherly part, my evil twin, the devil on my shoulder, whatever caricature she may have takes my mind and body hostage while she acts out in her unlovely ways.

However, are these really traits of mine? Or are they my soul - this otherly part - acting out? Throwing a tantrum like a child - wailing, screaming, rolling on the ground - all for attention? All these questions I am posing to myself, to my soul. I have only become aware that they exist, these questions, this objectivity to one's character. I am still asking, just thinking about what could possibly be an answer. We will see...hopefully.

On one last thought of these passages: I find it very difficult to grasp the idea of loving every part of me - proud of it or not. This notion that I am me, I am not ______ (fill in the blank, or the thousands of "blanks" that I've compared myself to in my lifetime), and I should love or if not at the very least try to accept these traits as a part of me, is a very weird and foreign concept. It goes against everything my perfect-driven mind has ever thought.

Home

Upon entering a peaceful field, golden in the sunlight and waving in the breeze:

I am home. My soul cries out when I am here. It belongs to this place. As I sit in this field of grass, now gold in color by the long days of brilliant sunshine, the only sounds I hear are the sweet chirping of birds, the hum of a passing bee and swaying and popping of the grass. It sounds like popcorn all around me. The heat of the sun, making them burst forth. I smile as my soul bursts as well. Why am I so drawn to fields like this? The golding sea of swaying grass that is almost my height. The breeze that gives them waves, surrounded on all sides by lush trees become the walls to my world. A barn off in the distance that is older than I ever hope to be. Maybe it's the stability - of standing the years so beautifully? Or maybe it's the protection from the outside world? Oh, how I want to run in a long, flowing white dress through this field. I want to race on a chestnut horse. I want to lay bear, feeling the sun beaming down on my skin. I want to swim through these pastures. My soul, I will find here.

I think I love these fields so much because my emotions and mind are not kept so busy by everything else around me. Once I leave these fields and travel into the forests, my mind's eye cannot stop looking, searching, looking, looking!! So that I can stop and hear it speak.

Greetings

Hello, Blog. Nice to meet you. I'm Devon. You will have to forgive my shy tendencies when meeting new people, but I hope to warm up to you rather quickly. Blog, meet my soul (hi). I have great hopes for your future together. You see, my soul needs to do a little more dancing, and I'm hoping that you can help me map out the steps. I'm not very good at dancing right now, but I hope to be flying through the air and doing pirouettes in due time. So, please bear with me as I learn the steps. I will try not to step on too many toes, but I can't learn if I don't bruise a few. So, again: greetings blog, I am very happy to make your acquaintance.