Well...

Well...Where do I start? I realized with the last couple of days friends needing me I needed to recharge.  Regroup so to speak.  What I didn't realize is how much I needed to.  For two reasons, actually.  One is adjusting to a new normal.  It's a necessary new normal.  Too many complications make for a bumpy roller coaster ride.  It doesn't mean I don't mourn it somehow, in my own way.  Probably because I may never really get answers to questions I haven't even figured out myself yet.  And the other is having a flashback last night.  With Jeremy's studying for this important test I want to be able to help him relieve stress or just be there for him.  It was Thursday night and in a cute way it is a thing he looks forward to because he gets so involved with the studying.  But last night triggered something.  Not nearly as bad as last time.  Last time sent me to counseling.  Something I should have done long before that.  But crying on the bathroom floor does make me wonder what was happening to me.  I was already vulnerable to dealing with the new normal.  90% of me is good.  It's that 10% that's getting me in trouble.  And something happened the other day to make me lose my footing.  I was keeping things in a neat little box.  I had a system.  And boom.  And I feel like I have to start over to create this box.  Then, the flashback.  It was more of an emotional memory.  I can't remember details.  I just remember having this feeling of "serving" to survive? Luckily, I have anchors.  Some know the full extent of why I felt like I was having an emotional breakdown.  Some knew part of the story.  Either way, the anchors help to keep me afloat and not fall into the black hole.  My rabbit holes make it easier for the "that voice" to come out.  I'm still trying to figure whose voice it is.  I guess I will always assume it is Javier.   I'm glad I am not of the school of thought of self harm.  But I can see how people get there.  I see the psychology of it...if that makes sense.  So here I am. Vulnerable.  Jeremy couldn't understand why I write this blog and tell intimate details of my thought.  I always saw it as a way of to help someone.  My thoughts are not unique here.  I'm sure many people have felt this. It's just not something we talk about.  Mental health is just not a topic we discuss in society.  It would help to remove the stigma.  Because I do feel alone in this right now.  And I shouldn't.  I have people who are willing to listen.  Willing to be there for me.  As morbid as this sounds, I recognize I will be missed dearly when I die.  I am loved.  That is not even a question.  But these negative thoughts rage on.  They get the best of me sometimes.  Which is why sometimes I need to block the world out and listen to music.  Although, today did have the Oh Geez..these songs are speaking to me.  Especially a certain band I hadn't even known existed until recently.  Then the positive takes a shot and my intellectual side reminds me, this too shall pass.  I refer to as detoxing.  The emotion, in and of itself,  is not a bad one. But my handling of it has been.  I've learned that I need a manual.  I need structure of things.  I sometimes grumble that Jeremy is so emotionally closed off at times.  Then, I thank him for it because it helps me to have thicker skin and force myself to push things off.  It's actually a good system.  It sounds bad. I know.  But having an emotionally unavailable man in my case can be a good thing.  The good part is that Jeremy does have his moments where he lets go.  And those are moments I cherish.  And that man loves me immensely.  So writing this is therapeutic.  I will probably cry more today. I already have.  I mourn something that might have mostly been in my head.  I mourn an unknown.  Or not. I don't know anymore.  The good part out of all that messiness is something so substantial it's worth all this painful process.  It's the most important part of why I have to detox.  So there you have it...the thoughts in my head right now.  I feel a little mental right now.  But there is a light at the end of this tunnel.  And that tunnel is what I am holding on for dear life.  When something is worth it, you just get through the process.

Too much serious

I had a different blog topic picked out.  I was going to to discuss comfort zones and pushing myself to release myself from the chains of a comfort zone.  But too much serious.  Instead, I will talk about nothing really.  Sometimes nothing is exactly what you need.  We run through life like chicken without heads.  We're sleep deprived. We don't treat ourselves right.  Much less other people sometimes. A conversation with a friend brought up they made a show about nothing.  So nothing is something.  Sometimes you're nothing is something.  Because you helped yourself to get back to you.  Too much serious can make a person mad.  And crazy is functional but mad is something else.  So nothing, it is.

No sunlight

When some days you feel like you give... and give..and give And you just feel like you've been strung. I don't want to be happy voice today. I don't feel like spouting positive. Maybe this is too much to ask from the world. That they think before they act. Or maybe no sunlight has done enough damage on me. Time to unplug. If I can. I try so hard to connect with the world. But when I feel this way..I never know how to proceed. Other than....unplug.

Me

I am in a poetic mood of sorts.  Did I ever tell you how much I love poetry? And Opera.  And the violin.  Where did I get this side of me? I love the Trinity Knot. It's my version of a cross.  I love the claddagh symbol.  I'm a whimsical person.  I recognize I have to be an adult sometimes but I'm a Unicorn, rare and unique. I love tea, and coffee, and cats, and wine. And chandeliers. Books make me happy.  Music does something for my soul.  Friendship is everything to me. Especially since some friendships are family to me.  I love unconditionally.  I love Jeremy.  I am without a doubt so in love with that man, it's ridiculous.  I'm also in love with fairy tales.  Places that maybe only exist in my head. Maybe only people that exist in my head too.  I love Burgandy.  And Purple.  I still don't know how I don't own a tiara.  Fans make me nervous sometimes but I have learned to live with that anxiety.  I have strange anxieties.  But I at least know why they are there.  I loathe the word victim.  Yes. I am a rape victim. But I survive...and thrived.  I try to live life as authentic as I can.  As truthful as I can.  I don't lie very well.  I experience life in such a childlike wonder.  Food makes me...erm happy.  We'll go with happy.  I love when someone makes me laugh.  I'm a sensitive person.  Moscato is my favorite wine.  What Dreams may Come may be one of my favorite movies but Ever After is a close second.  Then again, it might be too hard to narrow my favorite.  My middle name is Elva.  I always wished it to be Marie.  I love Celtic music.  My favorite destination to go is Ireland.  Carnations are my favorite flowers.  I like sparkle and glitter.  Geeks and dorks are the best kind of men to me.  Intelligence is sexy to me.  Kindness melts my heart.  I cry at movies...a lot.  I have healing hands.  My hugs are magical.  I used to be amazing at basketball.   I love Star Trek and Star Wars.  I'm convinced 2=2+5.  My Epilepsy while very frustrating because of the toll it takes on my body...I feel has come to be a blessing.  I love helping people.  I love that people ask for my insight.  I have a Forrest Gump Complex.  Favorite thing to have is chocolate and strawberries.  I don't know if this was poetic but it was unedited.  I just started typing...because I could.  And this is just a little about Me. Sometimes I'm just as surprised as you are what brews in this mind of mine.

The Voice

What is the voice that tells you how you matter? It's an interesting topic that has come up a few times.  I'm still trying to figure where the negative voice comes from.  I default to Javier because it seems like it was more prominent there. But I imagine there is more to the story.  When you hear it over and over again, whether positive or negative,,,you start to believe it.  I watch my friends in awe.  These amazing people that while they  are my friends, they are much more than that.  They are my family.    And for the life of me I allow my negative side to question why my insight would even matter? And then my logical side takes over and reminds me that I have much to contribute.  But even I had to receive positive reinforcement.  I had to be told what an amazing person I am.  Most days I believe it.  There are still some days I question it.  Today is not one of those days.  Today, as I wrote my affirmations to my loved ones I smiled.  I smiled because I recognize that I make a difference on how they feel.  That my words matter.  That I matter.  Jeremy and I sometimes have this awkward dance that we do when we have emotional mishaps.  He sees things in black and white.  And I respect that.  But I see things more in grey.  And for that we clash at times on schools of thought.  He is a very intellectual man so in the past I have gone on default mode and assumed he was right.  Now, while I do respect his opinion and many times it does have a chance to be right, I really do look at the fact...I am not wrong.  2=2=5 because there are variables that I see that are hard to show up on evidence.  Or it's hard to show your work.  I get it.  But sometimes I don't always need an answer, to really know the question.  It's hard to explain where my brain goes.  If feelings had an equation my psyche might understand how to answer that.  Nonetheless, I wake up each day with a new purpose.  And my purpose is to be an emotional cheerleader.  Sometimes I need to back off because my empathic side might need an energy recharge.  Emotions can be so raw and exhausting.  But I am an emotional cheerleader.  I provide a loving home for my husband.  So that he feels like the King.  Because he is my King.  But after that, I'm a sister, a mother, a friend, an other, a daughter, an aunt.  I'm a teacher. I'm a therapist. I'm a poet.   I'm many things.  So that voice, that inner demon that wants to come out sometimes.  Well, today...you can go fuck yourself.  Because the angelic sound of my encouragement is reigning upon the negativity that resides sometimes within ourselves.  And if I am going to be here for my loved ones, I better have my shit together...so to speak. lol

Conditioning

It's something I have to work with.  I don't like the idea of conditioning. But it happens so often.  My first priority is Jeremy.  It's a condition of  being a good wife.  I always want my husband to feel loved and appreciated.  But then there is family.  And I don't mean my biological one.  I mean the people I hold close to my heart like I do my life.  That when they hurt, I hurt.  I hurt for the others not in the "family" circle but honestly, I can't feel their pain and for reasons known and unknown not where they want me either.  You have to want me there.  By accepting who I am.  And not judging me.  I digress.  So this conditioning comes from experiences in my past.  Some maybe even from my first marriage.  My family means everything to me.  And if for some reason they don't know how much I hurt for them...then here I am voicing out.  But I can only do so much.  I've been conditioned not to step out of my boundaries.  I've been conditioned that it is not right to "meddle".  I'm stubborn.  So sometimes I go by the rules. And sometimes I don't.  I never know which way to turn.  It can be exhausting to figure out when to play by the rules and when not to.  Because everyone is different.  Certain things bother Jeremy while others find it appreciative.  I gauge where people are comfortable on me loving them.  I'm a bowl full of love.  It's what I am conditioned to do. Love unconditionally.  Even when I get rejected.  The workings in my mind sometimes.  I don't show how frail I really am.  I have to be a tough cookie.  I need to be here for everyone else.  It seems to be my role in the world.  This came out as a prose of sorts. I don't know if I feel this to this extreme extent.  But I felt like today's blog should be raw.  It should be unedited.  It should just be unfiltered on where my heart can speak of sometimes.  Because sometimes you need more than words to show someone or someones they are the most important people in your life.

Everyone has a story

My parents' generation has the Kennedy Assassination.  We have today.  Everyone has a story.  Here's mine.  I was spending the night at my Grandma's house.  And I say Grandma because really and truly, in my eyes I only had one.  But to be fair, my Grandma Agnes. I loved that woman.  I have a great relationship with my Mom but this woman was like a second mother.  Who has the luck on that? And she was sick with Pancreatic Cancer.  At the time we didn't realize she was in Stage 4.  In any case, there I was when I woke up to a phone call from my Dad. It was a little after 9 a.m. He woke me up asking if I had seen the news.  He didn't realize until that moment I had been asleep.  I went to the living room where I saw my Grandma staring at the screen.  Funny how some moments just slow down.  In my memory box in the brain, that's what it did.  I turned around and saw the commotion on the television.  I came in around the second plane crashing.  I froze, in my tracks watching what seemed like a horror film.  And yet, there it was...reality.  Someone has penetrated American soil...Twice.  For a rape survivor, this sometimes can take on symbolism.  At least for me, it does.  Being empathic to a point about these things makes me feel more.  It drains me.  And days like this, I isolate myself.  My energy is low.  I was engaged to Woody Moser at the time.  I started panicking.  I wasn't sure where he was.  And just as I was starting to think the worst, my phone rang.  Woody called.  He couldn't stay on long but he wanted me to know he was okay.  He wasn't near the commotion.  For all the consequential fighting and war of words this man and I had over the course of our marriage...this is a moment I always thank him for.  Even now. He knew my trigger.  Strange how current events on television don't reflect the one day we stopped worrying about ethnicity.  We were just there for each other.  Jeremy told me he was at the Doctor's office for an ultra sound Ashley.  So that's my story.  My Grandma passed away in 2002.  I flew in 5 days before she died  .I was holding her hand when she died.  The story doesn't quite end there.  My marriage was in trouble by the time the first anniversary came around.  But that day I decided to make peace.  I was trying to make peace with a woman I felt was a thorn in my marriage.  While I had problems with Woody already and she wasn't the only reason we divorced...she was the reason he called me up and chewed me out.  I'm not sure if he asked for a divorce right then.  I just remember it was a Thursday.  I had just gotten off work.  I found out from friends this wasn't a sudden thing.  He'd been looking into it.  I tried leaving him before his deployment.  But he stopped me and said maybe me going home was a good idea so we could cool off.  Makes me wonder...but it's in the past.  So there's my story. That song from Alan Jackson resonates in a strange way.  I heard that song and wrote that email as a peace offering.  Almost a way to say I give up.  I was trying to save my marriage.  I may be divorced but I don't believe in divorce.  I believe in working problems out.  I guess that is why through thick and thin I don't worry about Jeremy and I.  Our love and respect for each other makes us figure out how to make our marriage work.  And we fight like any couple.  But we always figure it out.  I really did marry my best friend.  He allows me to be my authentic self, wherever that road lies.  He allows me to take a path that may be less traveled by..... for my happiness, my sanity, my well being.  And likewise. So everyone has a story.  And not just for this day.  Everyone has a story on why the tick.  It's up to us to find that story out.  Friend, Family...sometimes even Foe.