RAW

I am wondering if I should plan an entire funeral or is a memorial service more appropriate.   I have lost my 'sparkle', my glow, that swing in my hips that says "I know you're looking, but you know you're not ready".  I miss my sassy, sexy, brassy self.  I miss my inner Mae West, my inner Bettie Page.  They just left, no forwarding address and the phone is disconnected. 

I wanna cry.  I just cannot believe it.  I don't know what to do to convince them to come back and stay.  I miss my sassy self.  I miss that womyn who KNEW that her love was 'the business'.  That womyn who walked into a room with confidence because she knew what she carried with her; good or bad, she had a sense of her worth and didn't feel less than anyone.  Now, don't get me wrong, I know when someone else has something going on to which I cannot hold a candle, and I admire that in others.  I think its wonderful.  My value was not diminished by any one else's light!  I knew that if I fell in love with someone, they were getting a full, beautiful and passionate love. My space was worth being in. I knew that when I went to work at anything, the instruments I needed were finely tuned.

Somewhere along the way, I left those finely tuned instruments out in the rain.  I neglected myself.  I lost something.  Now, I am hesitant paralyzed.  I feel that nothing about me is.....anything special.  I don't feel that anything about me is worth anyone else's time.  I used to be the sexy thick womyn; the one who could blow your mind any way I wanted. Now, I'm just the fat, nerdy broad.

I'm not trying to have a pity party. Just need to get this out.  And since I am the only person reading this, it may make me feel better to just get it out.  I am not the person I was 3-5 years ago.  I know I should change, but it's supposed to be for the better.  Isn't it?

I feel that I have lost everything.  The sexy, sassy, confident, good girl/bad girl I used to be is no longer here.  Believe me, I keep searching.   Should I offer a reward? It would be worth it.  I must have done something to deserve this, but for the life of me I cannot think of anything for which I haven't apologized.

No, I am not as low as I was a few months ago, but I have to keep reminding myself that I am still raw.  There are few, precious few spots that aren't raw.  The healing is long and hard. This is my coldest winter ever.

If anyone finds my inner Mae West and Bettie Page, my Mama-Mojo, please send them home.

Please.

Peace,
 Stormie

Kindred Spirit

Kindred spirit please know that I see you, through the tears and the pain. 
Kindred spirit please know that I hear you, through the wind and the rain.

This pain we know, not many have felt: the depth of the emptiness
      and the breadth of the sorrow.
This dispair that comes wandering in like a vagabond or
      blowing in like a storm.

How can we explain the struggle it is to remain rooted in the midst of a tsunami?

    After the roar of the winds leaves in its wake pain, devastation and an exhaustion which seem eternal.
    After the roar of the winds is silence...

a strong, loving, comforting voice says:(Isaiah 40:28-31)




28Hast thou not known? hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the LORD, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is weary? there is no searching of his understanding.


29He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength.

30Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall:

31But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.



Who are we to doubt His word?

I will blame it on spring

Ok, I will blame this post on Spring. Northeast Ohio winters can leave me quite desperate for sunshine and fresh air. Yesterday was the first real kiss of spring. I was out without a coat.

I am positively giddy. Who knows for how long, and I dare not question why. This is so much better than...not being giddy.

So, I was playing with my poetry magnets tonight. I let my eyes fall on random words. (You know the mind is a very dark place sometimes.) This is the unedited copy of what I saw:


Make me...

chant.

scream.

shake.

frantic.

delirious.

water.

consumed.

pant.

gorgeous.

cook.

tell.

easy.

fast.

rain*.

yours.


See, I really should edit myself 99.5% of the time. Though at 2:50 AM I am far less likely to do so.

Since this was what I came up with first the rest of the words seemed worth exploring...but, the further I went through them and the more I wrote...let's just say I don't want to start any fires.

Refueling

I am guessing that I should apologize for not really feeling like blogging lately.

But I won't.

I don't feel like it (apologizing or blogging).

I am sad and angry. I am lost and lonely.

I am trying to enjoy summer, so far I only love the rain and fresh fruit.

I am trying to keep my head up.

I don't feel witty, or clever, or insightful.

I just am not good company of late.

I really don't want to talk about the problem, so it leaves me with little to say.

So, I will say that I miss you all. Which is strange since I don't really know you. But there is something to be said for sharing these posts, divulging the personal to perfect strangers and finding in that a kinship.

I mean I have a wicked green thumb, and all my house plants need emergency surgery. I am just very...tired. Tired is not the correct word, but it's what I find myself saying lately. Even though I have actually been sleeping well.

As a trivial aside, I will add that I recognize that carbs do not help me at all when I am like this.

I need to refuel. Nourish my self.

Right now, I am as blank as the watercolor paper in my art room. So, I may link to someone who is actually clever, or post a picture or an old posting until I shake this off.

I felt I owed an explanation.

P.S. I do have a few comments about Rosie....but she gives me such a headache, it can keep.

102 Things.

1. I am very opinionated (just wanted to start you out slowly; no big surprises).
2. I am a mom. I take it very seriously; this is very funny to my daughter.
3. I used to be a watercolorist. I desperately want to be one again.
4. I still analyze the colors of things I think I could paint:sexy eyes, beautiful skies, or my neighbor's beautiful and riotous flowers.
5. I sometimes forget to relax and loosen up.
6. Sometimes I can be extremely silly, especially when my daughter is around. Hence #2.
7. I love to sing while I drive.
8. I love to read.
9. I like most kinds of music.
10. I think my dreadlocks are damn sexy!
11. There is nothing sexier than an intelligent woman.
12. I procrastinate. It's almost a science.
13. I love to dance.
14. I enjoy going out to the bar, and watching the drama unfold (so long as I am not in it).
15. Kissing is very important.
16. Cuddling is more important.
17. Despite all the bumps and roadblocks, I really do believe life is beautiful.
18. I have very few, close friends.
19. Ignorance annoys me.
20. This is why G.W. annoys me.
21. NO, I am not my daughter's friend.
22. I love learning new things.
23. I used to dream of being a doctor.
24. Now I dream of playing doctor.
25. Irises, lilies, and gerbera daisies are my favorite flowers.
26. I cry during sappy movies.
27. Sometimes, I laugh until I cry.
28. I do not handle my anger well.
29. I swear fluently.
30. Sometimes, I 'mother' people who aren't my daughter. I am working on this.
31. I was a jazz fan before I could write.
32. I am a southpaw.
33. I have very few people who I can count on when I am down.
34. I love my profession.
35. I can be surprisingly shy.
36. When I drive, I try to take the most beautiful route, whenever possible.
37. Music is vital.
38. My XM Radio is irreplacable.
39. I have finally stopped counting my childhood scars as my shame.
40. I love shopping for purses.
41. I really like people who own up to their mistakes/issues.
42. It is not easy for me to let my guard down and be loved.
43. I am very independent, though I love it when I don't have to be.
44. I love to write but am very reluctant to share my writing with others.
45. I allowed my creativity to be a casualty in a senseless war. I am hoping it makes a full recovery.
46. I wear my heart on my sleeve.
47. I am fiercly private. (Can't tell it by this blog, can you?)
48. I am curvy, fleshy, zaftig. And still sexy. (wink)
49. I am fluent in sarcasm.
50. I used to be quite proficient in Korean, 18 years ago.
51. I want to learn french and russian.
52. I am shamelessly addicted to caffeine.
53. I have a green thumb, but am intimidated by gardening.
54. Cleveland depresses me. Not just the climate but the mentality of many of the people here.
55. The person who hurt/betrayed me most is my ex-partner's daughter. After loving her with my whole heart for nearly 8 years, she introduced me as her "mother's partner" one evening. It was a slap in the face and the end of our relationship. I left her mother not long after (for other reasons). After four years, I still cannot look at her.
56. I try to maintain a relationship with my mother because I still carry guilt about being estranged from my father when he passed. I do not want to go through that again.
57. I am not a risk taker.
58. I want to move to a different climate, a warmer climate. Much warmer.
59. I want to design a line of greeting cards and make my own calendars.
60. I didn't learn to really drive until I was 23.
61. Sunrises are magical.
62. I think math is fun.
63. I believe in ghosts.
64. Arrogance is a turn-off.
65. I like westerns (unless the indians are the enemy), tennis, football and golf.
66. When I read books to little kids, I love to make up voices for the characters.
67. I cannot watch horror films.
68. I believe in God.
69. One of my childhood dreams was to become an actress on Broadway.
70. I can carry a tune...........if there is a handle on it.
71. I like trying new recipes.
72. I do not know how to play chess. But am determined to learn.
73. I am horrible at pool, darts, basketball, and bowling. But, I enjoy being able to laugh at myself when I play.
74. Depression is a very frequent companion.
75. I am terribly stubborn.
76. I am bossy. It's mostly an occupational thing, I tell people what to do.
77. I rarely think I am wrong. But, will admit it when I am.
78. I love it when I get to the point in a relationship when I am no longer very self-conscious about getting undressed in front of my love, and it does not matter if I shaved. This takes a bit of time.
79. I am not materialistic.
80. It is not easy for me to give myself completely in a relationship.
81. I want to horrify my suburbanite neighbors by painting a mural on my garage doors.
82. I get excited about learning new things.
83. I cry when I watch mushy movies.
84. I find that the people I like most are often readers.
85. I can be obsessive about words, I like to use the exact word I want. Dark won't work if obscure is what I am looking for. I won't say blue, if something is turqoise.
86. I have lived in my house nearly 2 years and my bedroom walls are still white.
87. Have I mentioned that intelligence is very sexy? Mmeow!
88. I like my own company.
89. I was molested by an older cousin at a very young age.
90. I drive fast; not recklessly but fast.
91. I can go a week without eating meat.
92. I was very quiet as a child; and I always had a book in my hand.
93. I love living near Lake Erie. I find the water relaxing and peaceful.
94. If something is bothering me, I often get quiet and think about it for a couple of days before I say anything.
95. I rarely overtly flirt. I am often surprised when I am hit on.
96. Most days, I would rather listen to music or read than watch television.
97. I am very affectionate.
98. It has taken since February for me to complete this posting. I don't think I am very interesting.
99. I do not like being in a crowd of people where I only really know one or two people.
100. I don't like being single, but that fact won't make me stay.
101. I blush fairly easily.
102. I am a grandmother. My granddaughter, Jada Rose is my joy. I would level this tired city for her.

untitled

I don't know what to title this posting because I really don't know, right now, where I am going with it.

For Thanksgiving, my mother cooked most of the food and brought it to my house for dinner. The deal was I was to cook for Christmas. So, I called mom, verified that she was still coming and set of to purchase and cook.

I cooked food for about 8 people, even though I knew there would only be 4 of us eating dinner (holiday meals are no fun without leftovers). I had to be at work at 6 AM Christmas morning, so I cooked a little 2 days before, then most everything else on Christmas Eve. Whatever I did not cook, my daughter finished on Christmas while I was at work.

I called my mom's cell phone at 4:30 PM on my way home from work, got her voice mail and left her a message. "Hi Mommy! Merry Christmas! The food should be ready, I am about 5 minutes away from home so I hope you're on your way. OK, see you in a few minutes, I love you. Bye."

My mother NEVER called me back.

Not only did she not call me back, she did not come over for Christmas dinner.

She did not call the day after Christmas either.

My mother called my house on Wednesday, two days after the holiday and said:

"Hey. How long have you been up?"

"Well, all day."

"Oh, well, I'm gonna come by and drop some stuff off. I will see you later."

When she arrives, she offers no apology (which at 38 years old, I know better than to expect) and no explanation. I still have not even heard the words 'Merry Christmas' from my mother.

She is all grins like nothing happened.

So she puts gifts down.

I give her the gifts that have been under the tree for the past 2 days. I finally manage to calmly say, "We missed you on Christmas."

She says " Oh, I went with Sister to one of her co-worker's. He has a nice house. We had prime rib and duck with orange sauce. But, I didn't try the duck. It was really nice."

I am standing in my living room in front of my mother and daughter and I want to tell her to get out of my house. I want to know what the fuck is wrong with her and I want to ask her why she could not have told me that she really had no intention of coming to my house for dinner.

What did I do to her that spending Christmas with strangers was so appealing?

What the FUCK is that about?

I felt embarrassed. I look stupid looking for my mother to arrive at my home for dinner and she doesn't show up.

No, this is not about how it looked.

It is about how I felt.

For quite some time now I have felt that my mother has no use for me. I mean, yes, she's proud of me and loves me. She knows if something happened I'd be there for her. She knows she can trust me to do any financial transactions and would give her my last. My only purpose for my mother is to be there for her in case she gets sick.

But, she has no real use for me. She could take me or leave me.

Actually, to be perfectly honest with myself, she could leave me.

And has.

I mean, how low on her list could I be if I did not even deserve a phone call.

And, yeah, I know....WAHHH! Right? I am crying like a little baby, but FUCK!

I am talking about my mother.

I am angry.

I think I am fair to be angry.

But it becomes unhealthy because I am angry with myself. How many times will I allow my mother to just do whatever to me and I accept it?

How long am I supposed to remain open to her?

How am I supposed to trust my feelings to her?

How do you only close the gate halfway?

I am kind of an all-or-nothing kind of woman. You're either in or your out. I trust you or I don't.

But with my mother, I love her, but I don't trust her.

I wanted to push the issue and tell her that she hurt our feelings by blowing us off for Christmas, and I did not. I knew that it would just lead to an argument.

But, what did I really avoid? I mean, I am angry with her anyway. I don't want to see her or talk to her. I am just LIVID.

She never apologizes. I have never gotten a straight apology from my mother. Her apologies are always Pyrrhic victories--you win but it costs much more than you would ever gain. What would be the point in that?

I feel like I did as a child, just so frustrated by her and like I belonged to another mother. I just had to belong to someone who had real feelings and empathy.

OK, maybe the name of this posting could be childhood. or depression. or anger. I recall now my first depression. Winter 76/77, we had a tragedy in the family, my uncle died in an apartment fire. We all lived in the same building. We came home from shopping for a Christmas tree to find our building fully involved and no one could get to Uncle Lawrence's apartment. That winter and spring I was withdrawn and sullen.

I was clinically depressed at 8 years old.

When I tried to talk to my dad, my mother would shush me, because he was grieving his brother.

When I tried to talk to her, she would not hear me or I would not be able to find the words.

I felt so very alone. I wondered why no one wanted to know about me. I wondered what was wrong with me.

Some days, like Christmas evening, I wonder, what the fuck is wrong with me that my own mother would rather be anywhere but here?

This has offered some clarity. Maybe there is more to my Seasonal Affective crap than just daylight and chemicals? Maybe I need to figure out how to leave the gate partially closed. Maybe there are reasons for my insecurities and feeling less than.

I won't go all Freudian and blame everything on my mother, but hell, I can see that there are some issues that I used to pass over as 'how she is' or even worse 'i just get a little sad', but there is more to it and I deserve to be honest with myself and see the whole picture.

Whatever it holds I am finally ready to see it all.

And by all means, if my viewpoint is askew(or in any other way: all off*, all wet*, all wrong, amiss, awry, defective, fallacious, false, faulty, flawed, inaccurate, incorrect, inexact, invalid, misguided, mistaken, off, specious, spurious, unfounded, unsound, untrue, way off, wrong number ), please tell me.

I was wished courage for Christmas, I think I could use it already.

peace.

Synchronicity

There are times when I have terrible perceptions of myself. I will doubt even the most basic things. I have said this before, but I can cook a meal regularly, but every once in a while will question that I know how to properly feed anyone.

The universe has been moving for me in profound ways; in ways that I cannot say I believed I deserved. I have been attending church for the past month. Nearly every week, I get a message about my artwork. I have only mentioned the messages to two or three people. This past Sunday, as I was getting ready, my daughter told me I should start painting again.

"I miss your artwork" she said.

I nearly cried. I was beyond touched. I understood in that moment that what I had said with my art mattered, and not just to me.

For six (6) years my creativity was silent. I did not write. I did not paint. I felt that I had nothing to say. Nothing that mattered.

This morning, one of my co-workers said that I have fire and passion in my eyes when I talk about my art, and I put that same fire and passion in everything I do. I did not think that this man paid any attention to me other than the occasional conversation. I was blown away. I felt a little more comfortable about sharing it even more.

There is no such thing as chance. There is sychronicity. I went back to church because I needed a few things:a new love with whom I could be safe, secure, and open, to get in touch with my creative voice, and to feel safe in sharing that voice. There is power and grace in prayer. There is power in naming what you want from the universe. There are no accidents. I am being answered in abundance.

I am humbled and I am blessed.

peace.

Welcome to My Strip Tease or 4 A.M. Ramblings about Honesty

I came across a writing exercise which suggested introducing yourself to a stranger, in writing. You have a rare disease which prohibits you from being dishonest--tell the stranger who you are.

I looked at the words and thought about this exercise. I put the book down, and thought about the exercise some more. I 'slept' on it, then forgot about it. Actually, I did not forget it, I tried to forget it. I wanted to forget. This shit has been bothering me.

I am so very brutal with myself that just thinking of bearing it all for a stranger hurts. The thought of writing out all that I am, and all that I am not, for a stranger seemed terrifying.

I must lay bare all of my stuff. Which includes that which I work hard to make certain that hardly anyone ever sees, or knows. Who the hell wants to do that? Why in the hell would anyone want to do that?

Then, a revelation; I already do this. In this blog, I give a brutally honest, if fractured, self-portrait. I lay myself open to the world, and why? Initially it was loneliness and the need to write, communicate. To be honest, I needed to communicate with myself. After being blocked for over 6 years, it did not matter that anyone else could see it. It only mattered that I spoke my own truths. I needed a release. Writing this blog is my release.

I realize that I label, categorize, define myself more and more with each entry.

It may sound crazy. It may not be enough for someone to actually stick around to read, and I am ok with that. But, on the rare occasions that someone wanders onto this page and reads something by a stranger that they can relate to, then I have accomplished what I set out to do. It would be cool to be able to have coffee across a table, but I will take what I can get for now.

Most days it is enough to be able to put it down and hit the publish button when I am done.

So, strangers, welcome to my exercise. It is an on-going, work.

If I were to compare it to a strip tease then I would have to say each posting is another scintillating article, but really, no one would wait for a stripper to get through so many layers.

Last night I dreamed I decolonized my thighs, would be considered a 'wardrobe malfunction'.

I do own a pair of nipple shields.

How's that for revealing?