What Being Unemployed is Teaching Me…

As being someone who is recently unemployed, let me share with you a few lessons I’m learning along the way:

• There will be a LOT of unsolicited advice from those who are currently employed.
• You WILL get a lot of looks and comments from people who think they know or even, understand your situation.
• There are a TON of hoops you have to jump through, just to get noticed, or even apply for some sort of assistance, once you’ve eaten through all of your savings.
• Depression is a total bitch, and gets worse by the minute if you even stop long enough to think about the “what-ifs”, if you don’t gain meaningful employment, and soon.
• On a positive note, your house could potentially be….immaculate. (If you’re anything like me, dear readers, being stuck in the house all day, even after you’ve beaten on every door, and sent out 30 resumes and made just as many follow up phone calls, you tend to get a little stir crazy, and start organizing everything from kitchen cupboards, to living room furniture. Sweeping and mopping, a chore that was once a week or even every two weeks *gasp!* now becomes a daily occurrence.
• You start to experience your neighbors daily little nuances, like the all day trash burning. (Seriously, my lungs can’t handle it! and WHY would they put the windows so they open facing the fire pit, instead of against it? All that does is trap the smoke inside my house. So you get the idea that the only way to get around it, is to close up every window, and sweat (because it IS summer), only to realize that all that does is make the house stink even more, because the stench inevitably still finds a way in).
• You become hyper-aware of everything that is coming due…and try your damndest to figure out how to stave off the collectors, or pleading with the companies to keep your lights on.
• You begin to daydream about what you COULD be, if you had the money and the time to go to school. (A writer or journalist. A photographer. A party planner. An architect. Someone who works for places that makes a HUGE difference in the world around them).
• You start to think that maybe, juuuust maybe, you’re asking too much of a salary (even though you know damn good and well that the salary you had, is just enough to get by)
• You start thinking of creative ways to earn money until you find that career (Uber driver, donating plasma, newspaper boy, even selling off your possessions).
• You find creative ways to save money; for instance: taking only 2 or 3 reusable grocery sacks to the market, and only buying the necessary things that will fill it. (milk. bread. that all-important migraine medicine…)
• Your self-esteem takes a downward spiral because with each passing day you don’t receive a call-back or an interview, you think you’re just not worthy, smart enough, or maybe too old to be considered a great addition to a new team.
• You do your best to smile in front of others and avoid questions like, “how’s work going?” (Because you know that if you mention you’re without a job, they are looking at you with such pity, that it makes you feel so embarrassed and ashamed).
• When people ask, “hey how are you?” You’re first response is, “well, that’s a loaded question”.
• Praying (at least for me anyway), becomes a much more regular occurrence, even more than before. I find myself constantly thanking God for my life, and everything in it. The good, the bad, and everything in between. I ask for guidance. I ask for support. I ask for the constant migraine to go away long enough to be able to think with a clear head.

Yes, being unemployed sucks. No matter how you look at it. I look at others, especially now, with such envy. Look at how much they’ve accomplished. Look at those lavish vacations they are taking. You got a new car? That’s great! You’re buying a house? Man, are YOU lucky!

It all goes right back to, how the hell did I manage to live a life that is just mediocre? Oh, that’s right. I decided to have kids. I got accepted to go to college on three separate occasions. I gave that up to be a “mostly” present parent. With that, comes giving up a better future, career wise. It means, I only have my experience to rely on and the recommendation of others.  It means, I have to work harder NOW to succeed, if I’m ever going to. Sure I could go now, but that means I have to work a menial job and find more hours in the day that I just physically don’t have to do so. Sure it’s a temporary thing, like 4 years at most, but the payoff is better, right? Call me lazy, call me stubborn. I call it severe exhaustion.  The mind is willing, the body is not.

But, At least I have my kids to show for my life, right? That’s something positive? They really ARE great kids, even WITH their flaws. They are beautiful and wonderful, even if that doesn’t pay the bills, at least I know I raised ’em right, on matter how much grief I got from others on my methods.

The question I get a lot is, “If you had the opportunity to live your life differently, would you? What would you change?” While I can’t change the family I was raised up in, I probably would have taken up the option to move in with my father, instead of staying with my mother. She tried, hard, God love her, she tried. But she was very distracted. I didn’t feel protected. I didn’t always feel loved. But, I had great friends. I grew up in a great church. High School sucked, and I never fit in. I was looked down upon as a statistic because no one knew my story. I probably would have never had the opportunity to visit my grandmother in VA every summer until I was 16.

I probably wouldn’t have gotten molested as a child, or raped at 16, or be a teen mom to a mother of 2, by the time I was 19.  I wouldn’t have been blamed for the break up of my mother’s 2nd marriage. I never would have met my first (abusive) husband, or lost a baby. I never would have travelled up and down the east coast. But…I would have had a stable family growing up. I may have been closer to my siblings, than I am now. I would have gone to college. I would have driven at a younger age. I wouldn’t have turned tricks and I certainly wouldn’t have been homeless, or forced to live in the middle of nowhere (literally, the closest town was 15-20 miles, and it was a one-stoplight town with no grocer or eatery, just a post office and a few buildings).  I would certainly be a lot better off than I am right now.

I realize that, while things would be way different if I had done things differently, my life would not have affected those around me either.  I wouldn’t have been there for my brother when he needed me to be. I wouldn’t have been there for Cat, as she experienced some of her trauma. I wouldn’t have had the kids I have now. I wouldn’t have made great friends.

My life feels like a total train wreck so often, I need to remind myself, that my life really has touched others, in ways I’ll never know.  I often forget that there IS a purpose for me, I just haven’t figured out what that purpose is….yet.  I can’t see the whole picture, but I feel like there just has to be something good coming…eventually.

So, I ask, as I always seem to do, please keep me in your prayers and send good thoughts and positive vibes my way.  I’m spending wayyy too much time in my head, and really need to be able to focus on getting my life straight.

Until next time, readers….

~Mama

 

Forced to Reflect

It seems like every so often, I get a bee in my bonnet (as the saying goes), and I’m compelled to write.  For me, writing is a cathartic act, and one of futility. It seems that most of my inspiration comes spewing forth in the midst of crisis, as is the case with this particular blog post.  Today I write this, in the hopes that it gives me some relief, and a moment of clarity; just enough so that I can move forward and make positive changes.  Consider this as my moment of purging my mental sickness, and the writing is my prescription to emotional well-being.

Backstory: I swore in 2017 that 2018 was going to be my year. Let me say that again: MY. YEAR. And as it happens, it started out, incredibly. I had a beautiful man, a real and true gentleman.  I had accepted a position at an up and coming deconstruction firm. I finally bought myself a well-deserved, economical and updated vehicle. I even started the long-awaited divorce proceedings.  Yes, 2018 was really shaping up to be the best year I’ve had in a long time.

Things were coming along nicely; we celebrated my youngest grandchild’s first birthday, and my Marine came home for a visit. I was able to go on a trip to Utah, to celebrate my bestie’s 40th birthday. My guy whisked me away for a lovely weekend in the islands. We  had gone to several plays and shows. I was able to “afford” living, meaning I was able to pay my bills on time, and even had a little money left over to save.  I was finally feeling like I was able to breathe. After 40-something years of being stressed out, things felt…right.

Then, one by one, things started falling apart. That great guy? He left me. No real reason to it, he just decided he wasn’t interested anymore. That great job? They let me go. (It was one of those, “last one in, first one out” situations. They couldn’t afford to pay me what I was worth, so they gave me the boot).

My old boss begged me to come back to work for him. When we spoke about it, he refused to pay me what I was asking, even though he just lost an employee. (Really, all I was asking for was a slight increase, to make what he would have been paying her, for that position. He refused and said I could make it up in commission, but that’s not a guaranteed income, and I couldn’t rely on that).

I found temporary employment for a large conglomerate who shall remain nameless, but as I quickly found out, they refused to pay me a better wage, took away my weekends, informed me that there would be no reprieve for the holiday AND OT was mandatory. This is not the type of schedule I can work, due to family obligations, and my health situation.

Let me not forget to mention that while I’m over here struggling to find employment, my son/daughter, has to have surgery for an illness that was on-going, but didn’t rear it’s head until now. Combine that with his baby mama/life partner, being in and out of the hospital for another cyclical vomiting episode that leaves her weak and dehydrated, they have no one to care for my granddaughters.  At least I can help them with that…for now. Since they are without a vehicle, I am able to get them back and forth to the doctor, and take the girls a little more while they recover.

During all of this, about the only thing that went right was my divorce, even with a slight hiccup in the courtroom (their computer system crashed), I was finally granted freedom from the “spawn of satan”.

So, here we are today.  Jobless. I’ve applied for countless positions. But, I’ve been made to feel bad by someone very close to me, who seems to lack a filter when it comes to speaking their mind. Granted, this person was extremely apologetic, and understood the error of her ways, but her words resonated with me for a long time. I feel very ashamed that I’m back here, with no way to support my family. I feel like I’ve let them all down.

I hear the voices of the past in my ears, judging me as they have before.  It physically hurts to think about it as I uncontrollably replay it, over and over. PTSD is a total bitch. Her sisters, anxiety and depression are even worse.  The hole I’m in doesn’t feel good at all, no matter how many times people tell me, “don’t worry, it’ll be okay”.  The last people to tell me that, screwed me over so bad, that it pushed me to the edge of darkness, the likes of which I’ve never seen before, and hope to never see again.

So, I fight. I push. I cry. But, I don’t give up. I have to find employment, somewhere, and soon. I really want to go to school, but I don’t have four years to spend on it. I don’t have the energy to work and go to school. I can only rely on the experience I have, and hope that’s enough for employers to really give me an opportunity to flourish. If I could go to school, I would study languages, theology, art history, and ASL.

I think back to when I was accepted to not one, but three different colleges for their art program. I think about the circumstances that prevented me from accepting those offers, from my mother being sick and in the hospital for three months or so, and no one to care for my siblings, to being a single mom and not able to attend college because I had four small children to care for (working full time, having a large family, AND going to school just was too big a task to take on alone).

I have worked most of my life.  I have managed to make ends meet, one way or another. Even when we were homeless for six months, I didn’t give up. I couldn’t. Everything I ever did, I did it for my children. And here I am, once more, doing things for my family. I still have one minor child at home, (for at least 6 months). I am struggling. Again. This brings me to my question…

Why do some people seemingly have better luck, than others?

Are they more or better prepared? Are they afforded certain luxuries and perhaps, more privy to better info than say those who were never told or shown?

What makes it so some people fight their whole lives to get on top, only to barely make a dent in the ceiling, while others are able to glide right up there and see above the crowds?

Am I not fighting hard enough? Am I not worthy of great things? Or…did I just draw the short straw?

I hate to use the word envy and luck, because it sounds so sinful and prideful. But, in some cases, I am envious of others “luck”.  Case in point, I know several felons who spent 20 or more years in prison. Recently (and some not so recent), their term came to an end. Once they were out, they were given opportunities to succeed. And those men? They aren’t just surviving, they are thriving. One owns a local business, and is close to the Mayor of our town. The other is getting ready to buy his own home and recently started his own business. Sure, they have to follow a little more rules, and check in with PO’s and jump through some additional hoops. I’m sure it’s not easy, but it’s got to be easier than what I’m dealing with. They even have women that stand by them!

Hell, even my own sister, who basically caused my mother to lose her house that she worked so hard to get, who gave up 3 of her 5 kids, who is married, and has a great life (at least, she perceives it this way), is seemingly way more successful than I am. She’s been forgiven, by the family. Yet, They won’t forgive me, because I won’t apologize for my life, or my “wrong-doings” that had zero effect on their lives. The prodigal daughter returned, and because I made a choice to protect MY child, I’ve been shunned, despite all my efforts to try to win their approvals. This seriously boggles my mind.

I begin to question it all; what makes that felon or my sister, any more deserving than I? Why do they get handed a golden ticket? Why do they get an opportunity to prove themselves, but someone on the outside, who’s spent more years struggling than succeeding, any more undeserving of those same opportunities?  Do I have to commit a major crime or ruin a family, just to get them too?

They say, “Keep your head down, work hard. Have faith, take risks. Learn all you can and you’ll have great rewards in the end”. So, I do that. I keep my faith. I work hard. Damn hard.  What do I have to show for it? A big family. No money, and I’m on the verge of possibly losing it all (for a second time), but I have a big family. I have my kids. My grandkids. I have a decent circle of friends. But those friends all have the material things needed to survive. A home. A car. Savings. No real worries about losing any of it.

So…what am I doing wrong??  I know I’m not alone in this struggle, there are probably thousands, if not millions of people like me, who struggle daily, if not more than me. There is no fairness in life, and it’s total bullshit that things can’t be easier, for everyone.

Fact is, I am a twice-divorced, single mother of 4, who’s been raising babies since I was 16 years of age. I have been working for a long time, and I’m falling down the rabbit hole again. I’ve no continuing education, no long term relationship, and for what it’s worth, I’m feeling just…ordinary. I don’t have any stand-out qualities. I feel like a total failure. I’ve done right enough by my kids, but in all other aspects, what have I done, to make a mark on this earth? Not a damn thing.

In closing, I’m going to keep doing me. Keep pushing forward. I’ll keep the faith and hope and continue to pray fervently, that something amazing is going to happen in my life, something is going to give, and things will come to a head, and will make it so I won’t have to struggle so much. In the meantime, I’ll keep loving on my babies, and their babies too. I’ll do my best to be a positive light for them. It’s all I got.

Until next time….

~Mama

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

New Project?

While sitting in church yesterday, there was a mention made about the St. James bible. Ever hear of it? Yeah. Me either.  So, I delved into it a little further and found that it was a project that was started by a guy who wanted to do a handmade bible, pictures and all. (and since I’m no good at giving specifics, or making sure it’s accurate, click this link). Anyway, the pictures of this thing are absolutely beautiful.  I think I heard something about the cost of one being like $145,000.00 So crazy to think something like that would be so expensive, but then again, the amount of time and detail it took to create, is probably worth the expense. But I wouldn’t know.

Anyway, this bible got me thinking, how many times have I wanted to have a visual when it comes to the stories? Sure I could look it up, there’s tons of them all over the internet and in childrens bibles. But, I got a notion in my head that hey! I’ve done some painting, more abstract than anything, but enough that it shows emotion. (If you’re interested, here’s a series I did):

Transcendence I

Transcendence II

Transcendence III

Anyway, I wondered if I could let that creativity flow again, thru abstract painting and zentangle. I adore doing zen’s and think it would be quite an interesting – albeit long – project.

How about you? Do you ever get a wild hair growin’ that makes you just want to create (un)organized chaos? Not that the bible is chaotic, per say, but you know what I mean? Just go crazy and let the passion flow? Yeah. That’s where i’m at right now. I’m not sure how far I’ll get, but I’m going to give it a go and see what happens. A day of being creative is better than not being stagnant.

Until next time, darlings.

~Mama

Finding my Boaz…

Are you familiar with the story of Ruth and Boaz? If you’ve never read the story, let me give you a brief synopsis. Basically, Naomi is married, and has two sons. Ruth marries one, and Orpah marries the other. (Yes, her name really was Orpah, and yes Oprah Winfrey was named after her, but chose to spell it differently after it was mistakenly mispelled, it just stuck).  After a great famine, all the men-folk die and left the women widowed. Naomi decides to go to Bethlehem and tells the DILs to stay behind. Ruth convinces Naomi to take her her with her to Bethlehem, but Orpah is convinced that she should not go and heads back to Moab.

So, Naomi and Ruth are without money and Ruth ends up doing some work in the grain fields.  While there, she sees this really well to do guy named Boaz who just happens to be passing by  as she’s “gleaning” the grain fields. (not to be confused with gleaming the cube. haha) There’s a part in there about where Boaz says to leave some grain for Ruth, and be nice to her too.

So, Naomi gets wind of it, and really wants Ruth to marry this guy, manages to convince Ruth to sneak into where he was and lay at his feet while he slept. Ruth, who pledged to do whatever her MIL says to do, goes in and lays at his feet.

Boaz, was really surprised by this, and wants to marry her, but long story short, there’s another person who has first dibs, but this other fella wanted some sort of land that Naomi had, and had little interest in taking Ruth. So, this dude gives up his “claim” on Ruth, and this left Boaz free to marry her. As the story goes, they lived happily ever after, and had a son, who was the grandfather of King David.

Okay, so shoot me if I don’t have all the little details all correct, but that’s basically the jist of the story. Why have  I chosen to write about this story? Because I am currently in a situation where I may have found my potential Boaz.

When I read the story of Ruth and Boaz, I see a lot of compassion, empathy, and hope. Love is the bi-product of these, because in the end, they get married and the rest is history. If it weren’t for Boaz, she may not have been able to get the extra grain, and being a single gal, working the fields, she may have been poorly mistreated. He offered her empathy (God’s divine intervention, perhaps??), even if she wasn’t aware of it just yet.

He ended up being her “kinsman-redeemer”, because early on, when she went to work in the fields, he noticed her. She was hard-working, took care of her MIL when no one else could. Ruth, showed compassion towards her MIL. She didn’t choose to go back to her own mother and father, she stayed with her MIL and supported her. God saw favour in that, and it was said that she would be rewarded.

Basically, what I’m gathering from this story is that, if you are patient, and do the right thing, God will reward you. Her first husband died. She made a promise to take care of her MIL, she worked hard, and stayed faithful to her promise. But with a little divine intervention (as I mentioned earlier), her MIL AND Boaz both ended up helping her with those blessings & rewards of happily ever after.

As I sit here and write this, I think to myself about the events over the past two years. I’ve remained true and faithful to God, I haven’t really dated, and I’ve put my faith first. I’ve grown spiritually, as well as mentally. I am, for all intents and purposes, in a very good place in life, and I’ve become very comfortable in my own skin. (If you know me IRL, you must know that this is a huge victory).

One day last week, purely by chance, my “potential Boaz” appears in the dark of night, to help me with a situation. Since then, I have managed to attract his eye a little more and have, as of yesterday, gotten to know “PB” on a slightly deeper level.

Like Ruth, I am still, at the mercy of another, and it could be an easy or difficult fix. Time will tell. In the end, I believe that 2017 will be the year of great discovery; with the closing of one story, and beginning of writing a new one. I believe that because I took time to reset my life, and refocus on my faith, my family, and what I truly want in life (what has been prepared for me!), is going to be the big payout in the end for me and mine.

At this point in my life, my faith won’t falter, and my prayers will still be said. The good Lord above will continually be the guiding force in my life.

This morning in fact, as I stood in the shower, it all came flowing out of me.  I asked for guidance and wisdom in all things, especially with my “PB”.  I couldn’t even tell you where the words came from, but they sure did come fast and furious, and provided me with a sense of preparedness and calm.

How about you? Have you found your Boaz, or your Ruth? What lessons have you learned from your experience?

Here’s to finding Boaz, and here’s to keeping the faith.

Until next time, darlings….

~Mama

Opened Eyes

 

Show of hands. How many of you have friends in different countries? Including my family I have approximately 18. From England, France, Goma, Morocco, Germany, PR, & Spain.  Of those folks, I have met 5 of them in person. The rest I know from social media.  While I may not be an intricate part of their daily lives, I am always intrigued with their culture, and I really hope to meet them all one day, in real life.

As the world gets seemingly more violent, my curiosity of these people grows, especially about my Muslim friends. I worry for all their safety. I pray for them, every day, that they are safe and secure. You can say, that I worry about all of them really, but things just seem to get worse, with each passing moment.

We were asked in church recently, what we would do, if our country was in upheaval. Would we succumb to what the government forces us to do, or would we stand up and fight.  Me, forever worrying about my children, blurted out, “I would be more worried about what my military boys would do, would they be conflicted and hesitate, or carry thru with the orders they were given, because they are military men. A lady sitting next to me, gently reminded me by saying, “That is their path. What would YOU choose to do?” I was dumbfounded. I looked across at the man sitting in front of me, who happens to be from a very tumultuous part of Africa, with a typical American look on my face of, “I don’t know”. I almost felt like, he wanted to hear a better answer from me. (Not that I was trying to impress this man with my answers, by any means).  So, here is this man, who had been wrongly jailed for his beliefs and works of good deeds. He’s seen things I couldn’t even imagine, all because of the corruptness that is his “world”. And here is me, a girl who’s lived, a very sheltered life, considering, with no real thought given to what could potentially happen if things went a totally different way with our own government. I sheepishly looked down, as I was really embarrased that I had no real answer to this question. That was 2 weeks ago.

I know “preparers”.  Do you? They take the time to build up their stock-pile of emergency goods, weapons, bug-out bags, and more. As someone who doesn’t make a lot of money, I know that if any major disaster hit, I would be pretty much screwed. Why? Because I don’t have the financial resources to prepare for an emergency. I live essentially, paycheck to paycheck. As Americans, I believe the mindset is different for emergency situations, than say someone in the Middle East. Over there, their whole life is overturned by bombings, war, hardships, and more. They don’t have the means to be prepared, but yet, they somehow manage to survive. I often wonder how. Americans see these things that are happening everywhere else, and what do they do? Either they take the time to prepare, or live in a huge state of denial. A mass majority of us who don’t have the means to prepare, but are well aware of a potentially desparate situation, are freaking out.

My answer to the question in church? What can I do? I don’t even know where to begin. What are my options? Do they have to be violent? Honestly, I cower in the face of danger, hell I am still traumatized by some of the tough situations I’ve had to endure, which by comparison to what the rest of the world goes thru, is a cake walk.

I can’t help but picture a situation like in the 80’s cult classic movie, Red Dawn. I’d either be shot, or put in a camp. I would become a big ball of jelly in the face of danger. Or…would I? Fight or flight, right? Would I go into protective mode, for the sake of my children, or would I loot a store, grab everything I could get my hands on, and run, screaming into the hills? A person could go crazy just thinking about all of the “what-ifs”.

While I’m thankful I live in a country where war doesn’t happen on our soil very often, or government upheaval isn’t the norm, I can’t help but wonder, how do these people that do live in those types of environments manage to find the strength and courage to fight? What can I do to show my support for the innocent? This question has weighed heavy on me as of late, because I feel like I should be doing something to help. I feel like I need to get my passport, get my shots, travel abroad and make a difference. Or hell….just travel a few states over and help the water warriors protect the land. But what stops me is that, oh yeah. I still have a minor living at home. I have grand children to tend to. But…is that enough? Is that what my purpose is in life? To raise kids and be a safe haven for them, or is it to put on my boots and travel to someplace that I can make a real difference in the world?

The more I talk to my friends abroad, the more my eyes are opened to what really goes on in the world, and I have to say, some of it is quite frightening. I really have led a sheltered life. I don’t want to live this way any more. I want to do something to help others find peace.

I’ll be 42 in March. Why is this significant? Because I feel like I should be further along than what I am. I feel like I should be making more of a difference in the world, but honestly, I don’t feel like I am doing much. To really push this point across, I am constantly reminded of this by an inscription on my bathroom mirror, to ask myself this question, “Am I living a life fulfilled and with meaning? What am I DOING to make a positive difference in the world?”  This question drives me insane, every day. What AM I doing to make a difference? Some days, (okay, a lot of days), I feel like I’m not doing anything at all. But then, I look in the face of my sweet little granddaughter, and see how her eyes light up when she comes in the door, or when I read her a book, or hug her tight, I am making a difference to that one person. I am showing love, and my hope is, that love will be an example for her to show love to others, despite skin colour, religion, sexual preference, etc.

You think I would be content in that, but still…I am feeling a tug, like there’s something more I should be doing. I will continue to pray for those across the globe and in my own backyard, that evil deeds will come to an end, and we can all live in peace and harmony. I will show compassion to those who are different than me. I will let God lead me in my journey on this earth, and pray that in the end, I really did live a life fulfilled and with meaning, and that my journey, was at the very least, an inspiration to one person, if not more.

~Mama

Post Election Thoughts from a “Non-Voter”

Yesterday, I mentioned that I made the conscious decision not to vote. This is my right, as an American citizen.  To recap, I choose not to cast a vote, because I don’t really understand politics, nor to I wish to make a choice based on mis-information, or incomplete information, or information that has been strewn across the media, in such a way that it is more about slandering each opponent, than it is about facts. Instead, I choose to support whatever candidate is elected into office.  I choose to pray for our nation, our people, and our future.

Just because I don’t vote, doesn’t mean I don’t get to feel deep concern for our nation, it doesn’t mean I don’t get to gripe about the choice that was made, not that griping does any good anyway, but sometimes just voicing it feels a little better. And at this point, I am gravely concerned.  My family is a hodge-podge mix of people of colour, race, religion, sexual orientation, etc. How will this affect them? How will they be treated now that (for all intents and purposes), a bully has been elected into office?

I believe, that if he sticks to his plans of making ‘murica great again, and doesn’t bash people in the process, then I’m okay with that. He has a duty right now, to provide leadership in an already screwed up world. Like a parent to a child, he needs to provide us some sort of comfort, and set a good example. (Be a light of hope, and not a wind to extinguish the candle).

All I will say at this point is, I am pretty shocked, like the rest of the world. I am spending a lot of time in thought, prayer, and meditation for not only our country, but all of the nations of the world. I pray that those nations, don’t judge all Americans, based on this one person. We aren’t all like this.

I intend to fill my social media sites, with positives, love, hope, and peace. I plan to show love to every person I meet. I plan to be kind, and set a good example for my children, my grandchildren, and any youngster I come across. To me, it’s more important to show love and respect, and show just how much it can make a difference, instead of focusing on how being a bully can seemingly get you what you want.

I hope you do the same.

Do I really need a bucket list?

I (as most people it seems), have a bucket list consisting of things I really want to do before I move on to the next world. But is it really necessary?

I loathe lists. Lists are easy to make, but difficult to muddle thru, even with something as fun as a “honey, don’t forget to do these things before you die” list. For some people, making lists and following them are super easy and help people feel more organized. I look at a list and I get totally overwhelmed. But I digress.

Here’s a few of the things I want to accomplish before I die:

• Learn several languages
• Study theology
• Own my own home
• Travel (duh) world wide, to really unusual places, like the Poles, and see the sun rise there
• Really, truly fall head over heels in love and have it stick
• Find God
• Be published in National Geographic
• Take a cruise
• Do something really meaningful for myself, not really sure what that means yet
• Knit something
• Learn origami
• Find my courage
• Tell all of my family, just once more, that I do love them, and wish them well.
• Finish my cookbook
• Write my story
• Meditate in Nepal
• Climb Mt. Everest (yes, I really want to do this)
• Meet new people and make new friends
• Do something meaningful that will make a difference in the world

Obviously I could go on and on, but this is just this small snippet of what I want for my life.

Lists remind me a lot of my Fitbit. I have a love / hate relationship with this damn thing. I feel horribly lazy and angry if I don’t meet my step goal for the day.  But when I think of that step number, I try to tell myself it’s a very attainable goal! Instead, it sends me straight into a panic and I become very overwhelmed. It’s such a big number, but when you break it down into pieces, it’s really not. But there it is, that number, staring me in the face. 10,000 steps. 5 long miles. Once I’ve hit that, I feel I’ve accomplished so much for that day. But then I think, shit, I have to do this all over again tomorrow??? Getting there is such a hard journey, so enter in the overwhelm, and basically lose my nerve and start to break down.  It’s the same feeling with lists.

Back to the bucket list. If I don’t do these things, have I really lived a life fulfilled, meaningful, and with purpose?  I mean, I have done so much already, It’s not like I haven’t lived out some of my dreams already: like from having children, grandchildren, having a gallery showing of my art, I was a dancer, I was a model, I’ve sung in choirs, I’ve played an instrument, I’ve been married, (not to anyone who was nice to me tho’), and so on. But there’s so much more I feel like I need to do, in order to live with meaning.

A list to me, is just a reminder of all the stuff I’ve accomplished, or all the stuff I haven’t done a damn thing to accomplish yet.  At the end of the day, will it really matter anyway? And if it doesn’t, what was the purpose of the list in the first place?

What are your thoughts? Is a bucket list a necessary reminder to accomplish your life’s goals? Do you have one? Do you feel like you’ve lived a live worth living? If not, what’s holding you back?

 

 

Comparing sexual experiences

I read a very interesting article today, about a young woman who took a vow of “purity” at the ripe old age of 10.  She waited until marriage to lose her virginity.  She talked about how she struggled with her identity as a virgin, and as a soiled, married woman, no longer pure. She talked about how she cried after having sex, and how difficult it was to break free of being “pure”, and how she assumed after having sex she would feel okay with it.  She also talks about how if she had to do it all over again, that she would have NOT taken that vow, and had sex much sooner.  Because of how she grew up, and the oath she took, she eventually lost her faith and is no longer religious or going to church because sexuality is a need and not a duty, and she didn’t know how to be a sexual and a religious person.  She made the choice to be a sexual one instead.

While I totally respect her journey, and I feel for her situation and how tough it must have been to wade thru all those feelings of feeling dirty and shameful because it was how she was raised up, I want to tell a different story.  My story is about religion, and sex as well, but I wasn’t asked to take a vow of chastity.  Instead, I was forced to give up my innocence at a very young age.

For whatever reason, I always managed to be a target for mens sexual desires.  I wasn’t seen as just a child, I was seen as something more.  My mother was angry with me a lot, and I think she, in some way, forgot about me and how I needed to be protected from these men.  Of course, one of these men she married, and had a hard time believing he was abusing me.  I think to this day, she still may not believe it, but years of therapy tell me otherwise.  But I digress. I’m not here to bash my mother.

I lost my virginity not too long after becoming a teenager.  I was “touched” by men, before I even had my period. Eventually, it was all I knew for attention. Give a man my body, and he will give me the things I want. Some days, I feel this is the only thing I”m good at, sex and fulfilling others needs. Didn’t matter if it was man or woman, I used my body.  At times, others took from me when I wasn’t willing, and I had no control over that. I became more reckless with myself, and even somehow became more in tune with how my lovers really wanted me for just my body, and nothing more.  I used it to every advantage I could.  While I look back now and see these events, I realize that some of it helped me to survive tough times, and other times, it made my emotional and psychological self a real mess.

This is a practice I had been doing since my teenage years.  Granted I’m just about to turn 40 in a just about 4 months, but as late as this past spring I realized just how wrong this is, and how difficult a habit it is to break.  The people I’ve been involved with, well I know most of them were in it for the same thing I was; and that was to get a physical relief.  I did play house with a few of them, and thought that maybe that feeling will grow into something much bigger, much more spiritual and holy, but it never did.

I even tried my hand at marriage, (twice), because I thought, if I married these men, that they would just have to love me and my body and mind for something more than a carnal need.  I thought if I did all these “wifely” things, like cooking, cleaning, taking care of his needs, that I would be doing right by God too.  I was wrong, because I married with the blinders on. I refused to see just how awful these men were, prior to getting married. Or maybe I just wanted to look past their faults and change their evil ways.  I thought that by offering them my body, my services, I would be honouring God and them and keeping all the good things in check. It was the hardest lesson I ever had to learn.  I lost a lot of me by this practice, and in turn lost my faith in God, marriage, and relationships all together.

My first marriage used a lot of religion to get away with bullshit in his abuses. Like taking me whenever, regardless of how i felt, because i was HIS property and he could do what he wanted, whenever he wanted. I went along with it, because he was a lot bigger than me, and used intimidation.  He always said it was Gods way, not his.  This made me hate God and religion for a really long time.  I won’t go into much more of what he was like, because this is about sex, not about the way he abused me and my son.  But he used sex to his advantage, and told me that it was what I was supposed to do.  He went so far as to drug me up to make me “want” him.  It didn’t work so well. I left him after a year and a half of being together.

My second marriage was the opposite; he refused to have sex with me more than once on our honeymoon, and hardly ever looked at me when we should have been madly in love and wanting each other.  I found out later he was cheating on me.  Again, I hated God and religion for this, because husbands were supposed to crave their wives.   After the last knock down, drag out fight, I threw him out after 6 months of wedded….umm….yeah. Whatever you want to call it, it wasn’t bliss.

I never really gave myself enough credit, or self-worth to know that sex isn’t a tool to use to get what you want, but it’s something that should be shared between two people who really love each other. But I had really low self-esteem and wanted someone to rescue me, but I was the one doing all the rescuing, so I didn’t understand that concept.

There have only been a couple of times in my life where I shared myself with someone, mind, soul and body, and really felt a close connection between them and God. For me, during those moments is when I felt the most spiritual, the most loved by God, because it was real. It was true love.  It was a deep bond and connection, the way God intended it to be.

But I knew that I wanted that connection again, with the few I didn’t marry, and should have.

I don’t necessarily think sex is something to be hidden, but it is something to be cherished.  While the bible says only give yourself to one person, the only way I feel I can find out who that person is, is by connecting on a deeper level.  It starts with a glance, then an exchange of words. Eventually it leads to friendship, and the building of a foundation.  Eventually you either fall in love, or you just plateau and love as-is.  No real sparks.  Then we end up complacent and just give up on who is supposed to really, truly be there for us.  We rob that person of their true love, as well as robbing ourselves of it. But that’s free will, right?

This process seems to take a long time, but for some, the true soul-mates, know it right off the bat.  I envy those people.  But it does give me hope that my soul-mate is out there, waiting on me.  Maybe I have to go thru the life cycle a few times before we meet on this plane, but I think that once you do meet them, life is different. I mean really different.

Sex is a huge part of relationships, especially in this day and age.  Nothing seems vanilla anymore, and everything is really easy.  Problem is, people don’t want to work for it, they just want instant gratification.  Sometimes, the good ones do show up, and have the same desire to meet you on that spiritual level, and things are beautiful.  That’s what I want.

My point is, while someone could make the conscious choice to wait to have sex, they could be just as emotionally damaged as someone who didn’t wait.  Both scenarios are equally difficult, and the only way to really deal with sexual experiences, is to do it safely, and with someone who shows you complete trust and honesty. Otherwise, the experience will not be the way its supposed to be.  I don’t want perfect, but I want it to be worth it.  NO regrets, you know?

Today, I’m loving God, and while I am not in any sort of “real” relationship, (I have a boyfriend, but it’s a long story), I don’t not like sex.  I enjoy it. And I know how to do it and not feel bad about it anymore.  I don’t use it to get things, and I don’t just give it away to just anyone.  I am much better to myself, and I love me  While it’s proving difficult to find someone who loves and wants me for more than sex, I do have many suitors who want to give it a try. I am currently off the market, and they respect that.  So, we will see where it all leads.  Meanwhile, I will continue to discover what I want, who I will become and just enjoy the ride.  That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?

~Mama