Tag Archives: love

Sleepless in Solana

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Easter Bunny!

I have always loved my blog: Loudmouthbirdie. I have sort of kept it a secret for years. Why Why Why I do the things I do. No one knows.Not even me.

Every morning I awaken to birds chirping excitedly like little mad hatters and I hear the ocean rolling in and out at nite. To top off the splendiforous symphony of nature,that beckons me to sleep and awakens me in the early morning glistening of daybreak, I let the musical sound of my windchimes blend it all together for a blissful recipe of mother nature’s glory.

I was sad last evening as I urged the ocean waves to lull me to sleep, as I had a big day ahead. I found myself sleepless in Solana, and decided to read something inspirational.

It worked soon enough, and as I peeked open my eyes in the twilight of the sunrise, I asked that the birdies chirpings of this day seep into my mind,heart and soul in a way that would caress and carry me through my new adventure called morning, with joy and hope and gratefulness. I felt as if I was riding a unicorn in the rainbow sky of new beginnings as I drank in the beautiful sounds of the outdoors.

I’m a fragile kid even though I am 64 in people years. I have had some scary attacks on my character as of late and I started to meander down the rabbit hole crossroads of “It’s probably terrible” and “It doesn’t martyr to me anyway ” street.

Well it is just so nice when you have kind people in your life and they leave you surprise Easter Bunny treasure hunt presents EARLY and then you get a whole other Easter package of wonderfulness in the mail EARLY and then your article on your new Children’s book,”Freddie and Bibelle” comes out a week EARLY and is full of charm and accuracy.

This is a special day. I am a lucky girl. I am loved, and as Loudmouth Birdie puts it…”Shower with love, watch blossom like flower.”

THE GLISTENING

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Glistening

Little children usually have a “manya” as we call it in my family. A security blanket, a stuffed lil animal creature, or some other colourful character, that they hold especially close and grip tightly with their little hands,  when they are feeling unsafe or frightened.  This is a good thing. 

When I “grew up” and became a Mom of my own child, I grabbed my refuge in “worry and dread” who became my new best friends for life. A soft little creature with a happy face looking up at me, would have been a much healthier choice.  I had good reason, of course. I became a single Mom unexpectedly. I had an irresponsible rascal, at the time for my child’s Daddy. The list goes on. Never the less….I was losing my soul. No one seemed to be doing what they were “expected” to do, and I was becoming a full time expert on what was best for everyone’s life….but my own.  My life was certainly at the very least…unmanageable, but I KNEW, if I could just MAKE the two men in my life responsible….my life would work! 

Fast forward to my son being a young adult. Handsome and charming as they come. I hoped and I hoped his talents and personality would overcome this big invisible black cloud that now came for him. This Deity that was turning him into something I could not name, but was making me crazy trying to control . I felt like a blind child in a dark forest, pleading for the light to shine thru  my wild,tear stained hands, madly waving for help from anyone, anywhere….a lost ship in the night,feeling we would both sink if we could not find a way out of this darkness. I consulted, with frequent terror, my two best friends, “worry and dread”, but they only made  for sleepless nights and worthless pleadings and bargaining chips that swallowed up what little dignity was left in each of our souls. Things  got much worse for both of us.  The time had come where  Truth was  finally about to exhale and burst forth the most fearful of thunder and lightening storms I had ever known.

It was February 28th Thursday. The Leap Year month. My Birthday Month. It was a gloomy  winter day’s  in San Diego, and my little boy was getting on a plane to Florida to go to DETOX. Would he make it on to that second plane? Would he instead…change his mind and drink his way back onto the streets or worse? Worry and Dread were pounding away in my head. I will always remember  getting that phone call from “Mike”. “I have your boy and he is safe now.” I fell to my knees sobbing with glistening streams of hope and thankfulness. 

 Those days before Detox,he spent five days at my home.  Had to drink tall Coors Lite Beer the moment upon awakening to just feel undreadful. We walked the streets, putting his life in boxes and  my tears in my sleeve. Closing up his music studio was pretty emotional for us both. I prayed for him on my knees at the foot of his bed. I wept. For Gratitude. My son was alive. He made many crying confessions to me. His turmoils came tumbling out of his tear stained face like marbles rolling out of a glass jar and scrambling to find shelter. He was not covered up any more.  He grabbed on to his “Manya” and for those moments….his Manya was his Mama.

I never thought in my wildest fears I would have detox,rehab,sober house, dual diagnosis, relapse…be part of my everyday vocabulary. Terror ran thru my bones as this was territory I had never traversed…but hope rang in my heart and I held on tight to that one. 

I found my way back into the 12 step meetings. This time it was Alinon. I had been to them all, for I had many an “Alcoholic” in my life, but NEVER (never say never! ) thought I would be back because my son was an addict. After all I had  “educated” him about this very thing!  Ha!  So you think you go to ALinon because of the addict in your life, and you soon discover that YOU are a big part of the problem!  And you have your own disease!  Mine was being a “helicopter”  “Worry and Dread” Mom.  Now I have tools. I have people who know what I am feeling. I have people who know what a dangerous neighborhood my brain can be…with the thoughts and “fix it” attitudes that “catastophize” all situations whether they “need it” or not. 

There was a relapse. It even involved racing to the emergency room, and then detox for the second time. His choice. I did not lash out. I did not scold. I did not even cry (until after…new for me!). I prayed. I had compassion. I listened. The more I listened…the more he gave. The more I listened….the more he talked of his pain. The more I let him have his dignity…the more he thanked me for being there and loving him.

I have had some big tests. I was going on a big trip that I was really looking forward to, the nite I discovered he was drinking again after 6 months of sobriety. I stayed with him which meant I was up all night and travelled on 3 planes all the next day. I MADE that choice. It was not done to me. I am no longer a victim and he no longer has to feel guilty because of me.  He has taken up boxing. He loves it. He looks marvelous. He is learning. We are BOTH getting better.

 Sometimes I have slight regret. IF only…..the “If only’s…..” set in. But it passes fast. Because I know if I could have NOT been a helicopter Mom back when he was little and bad things DID happen…..I WOULD have done things differently.  I think we can’t help but wound our children in some ways no matter how hard we try. We are not PERFECT little human beings. As Oprah says….”When you know better…..you do better.”  My son knows now where to go if he gets in trouble with himself again. He has worked hard on himself and he continues to, and I see it. The light is back in his eyes and his smile and he has a musical lilt to his step. I pray every day for his continued sobriety, success, health and happiness. I now know it is HIS Journey. I cannot do it for him. ANd that is REALLY SO RELIEVING!  I need to focus on my own life and my own dreams that I still have passion for. The more I respect myself and do what I love, the better it is for him. 

I was travelling up to the third floor in the elevator the other nite, and as the doors opened, I saw this strapping young man standing there. Full of smiles. He literally glistened in the moonlight. I thought to myself….”Oh, how nice! Another handsome young boy moving in here”.  I said a polite hello, and went to step out of the elevator when I saw his outstretched arms and realized it was my son!!!!  “Hi Mama!” He said as he grabbed me for a big hug!  I was apalled that I didn’t know it was him at first!  That has NEVER happened in our whole lives that I didn’t recognize him. The puzzlement stayed with me all week. Then yesterday at a meeting it hit me.  I was very busy with my judgements, my blame, my fears about his behaviors that were so scary and life threatening as this is a very deadly disease, that he “LOOKED” different to me all these months. He LOOKED like my fears….he LOOKED like other people who I have felt have hurt me in the past. The moonlit night at the elevator I saw HIM. His soul. His glory. His everything. The good, the bad, the ugly…the truth. I saw ALL of him. And I loved ALL of him and all of Me. We are Glistening.

Red Snow

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I was cold, like chilled to the bone, all day today. Fair enough. It was a rainy cold day here in Paradise San Diego. Abit unusual for us Sun Worshippers. It turned out it was a VERY unusual day. I was just taking my Aussie for a brisk walk in the night, trying to shake off my desolate feelings of the day, and a teenager flew by us on a skate board with his rap music blaring, and I thought…”Good for you!” for fleeting by me with the Real YOU!  Expressing yourself! So important!  Seconds later another young lad came  rolling along, almost skipping across the pavement,  like the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland who always muttered…”Im late! I’m late! For a very important date! “…and yet his happy little words to me were “Merry Christmas”!  As I returned to our little village courtyard I saw the  twinkling lights of Christmas adorning many doorways and I heard the faint familiar sound of children laughing and for at least the twentieth time today I started to cry.

Life  to me today, felt like it should stop.  For me. For the world …For Everyone. Twenty Eight People were massacred today at an Elementary School In Snowy Connecticut. That was the last count that I heard.  The red blood cries of innocence,made their last  terrifying plea, screaming out wildly for their Mamas and Papas. No one could help them. It was too late.  The Families of Connecticut will no longer have a White Christmas this year. It is stained forever with the blood of their children. Their hopes and their dreams. The treasures of their lives were  Snatched and  Vanished  forever by senseless murder. It’s extra evil and chilling that it is Christmas time. It is an endless  torture, I cannot fathom.

When I first awakened, I had a feeling, as I sometimes do, that I needed to get some kind of  breaking news that was taking place. I always squirm with this knowingness and sometimes try to crouch away from the huge urgency I feel, but I always end up relinquishing my power and acquiescing to the invisible.  I never know what it is, but I usually know it is going to be disturbing, so I usually sigh before I find myself with the remote in my hand. But it is like the mind of writers, and actors, and painters….I have no choice…I must see. I must know. So on came the big screen of television. The big feeling in my stomach that started to arise in me as I watched and I listened to CNN, unfortuneately only grew worse as my day wobbled  on.

It started with one casualty and last count it was 28. Mostly children were 5 and 6  years young. First graders.  Hunted down with flying bullets and the darkest evil imaginable. We have had these mass killings in schools before. I remember the first time. Colombine. Even tho it happened in a state far away, I could not think about one other thing until I had my own son safe  at home in my arms again.

This horror  happened in Connecticut: The beautiful, SAFE, affluent, full of helping  community neighborhoods and old Yankee pride and constitution, Nevermind being known for having most of the best school systems in the nation.  The “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” kind of value systems is what we were all surrounded with in lovely, beautiful Connecticut. Family Oriented…..Full of Christmas, and all Holiday Celebrations, and old steadfast, great manners. This was and I thought, always would be,  my Connecticut. I never gave that a second thought. Nothing could take that away from me.   This was my home. This was where I grew up. My childhood memories of frolicking in the rolling hills, ice skating on all the ponds and lakes, listening to the frogs and crickets at night. Catching fire flies. This ….is life as a kid on the East Coast. Until today. Like 911 changed us all. Today will change everything.

Yes we need to look harder at gun control. Yes we need to see what really happens to brains when they have concussions, and accidents. Yes we need to get a hold on drugs and addiction  in our country. Yes we need to eat healthy food and not self medicate with alcohal and prescription drugs. But what about neglect?  What about denial? What about  covering up or delaying that uncomfortable conversation with your children…your teenagers?  What about being too busy making a living and struggling in this economy to really listen to what our children our troubled with? What happened to the value system and manners I grew up with?  What happened to catching fire flies with your kid?  It seems we cuddle and swoon over them as the adorable babies and toddlers that  they are and then the uncomfortable times come.

How do we handle the “uncomfortable?”  Do we live right next to that river in Egypt called “denial?”  What grade do we give ourselves as parents? Do our children feel completely SAFE and loved by us?  Can they really TALK and COMMUNICATE with us, or are we too busy?  Who was this 20 year old who blew himself and everyone else away?  Away to where by the way? Did we listen to his cries for help? Do we know the red flags?  Did he feel like he belonged? Did he feel heard and seen in a loving way by his Mom and Dad?

Where will these little Angel Children of the Morning, Go?  Where can I go to weep with them? I am so sad and forlorn. I am so angry. I don’t like it when tragedy happens and there is no understanding. There is no explanations. There is just unspeakable heartbrokeness. We are at war in our own country. Our children are killing children. My parents would be so heartbroken if they were still alive. What happened to us?

HIS TRIBE

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Today is Black Friday. This year it began last night ~ Thanksgiving evening. That does not sit well with me. I want to be the Control Freak of the Universe and tell everyone they need to stay put and feel grateful for their blessings on Thanksgiving and not rush out to get the best deal!  Ha! I guess they didn’t get my memo…..But that is really hither nor thither to my story.  Now that I will be turning sixty TWO in a few months…Rather than think of myself as getting “older” or elder or whatever other fancie schmancie word we want to call it….I’d rather think of myself as “a baby new to the sixties”, since I am at the lower scale of the sixties…60,61,62 versus almost 70, I think I’ll just go with that.  Funny, now that I think about it…the “sixties era”…was one of my favorites and one of the most history making, in my lifetime up until now.

I’ve been thinking a tremendous amount about my Mom and Dad as of late. I’ve talked with my sisters and they mention that they have been too. The Birtwell Tribe is one of the closest, classiest,craziest families I know, and I am so lucky and proud to be a part of this Tribe.. My Dad always called us his TRIBE. My Dad had so much love in him that I can see now, looking back. He had nicknames  for  Everybody and EVERYTHING! And so we all joined in with our own  lil nicknames as well.  Breakfast was “Pear bee Pear”.  Stephanie was Stettin. Barbara was Runty. Mary Jo was Pokey Jo Jo. Greg was Pesto Grego. Dean was Mr. O. I have many…Cacoo, Wowie, Caln….David, I don’t remember any for him….I know my Dad is David and his nickname was Did…then their were the sayings….”Go Child Go!” from Mom. “Rise and Shine” as she would lift open the blinds and wake us up for school. “Chintsy” if she thought someone was not generous with their time or money. My Dad called the boys that came a calling, to take us girls out on a date…”Skin Flints” if he didn’t care for them. Then there was “Baba Nan” which you would go to “The John” for….and when everything went awry which it always did..there was a defeatest slow… nod of the head, coupled with a faint smile from my Father, saying…”Nothing is Sacred Around here!”…..

In times of turmoil, my father use to say….”You can’t put an old head on young shoulders” .quoting HIS Father….the wise old Englishman. My Mother and Father were beautiful on the outside. Both of them. On the inside, they were generous, wise, and wanting the very best for their children. They raised seven children, with steadfast values, a great appreciation for the Arts and Culture,Athletics,( especially Tennis and Swimming) as well as a great respect for  the Ocean and Beach. A great love of food and keeping the kitchen clean, and “pitching in” and doing your share of chores were always a part of our everyday lives.   These jobs they volunteered us for, were usually set forth on the “Intercome” that each of us had in our bedrooms…announced with full Marine Flavor, by my Dad  at 7am on a Saturday Morning…The exact nature of our chores were revealed with  full reverie in  full detail and we were assured at the end that we would be going nowhere until each job was complete and passed inspection!  Ha Ha!   They gave each of us the  opportunities in life,that we leaned towards,  so that we could go out into the world and be a success as we grew up.I got piano lessons, ballet, and enjoyed many  Broadway Musicals. I was very lucky.  My Father whistled so loud, you could hear him down the street! He loved music. Both of my parents did and I would catch my Mama singing along to alot of songs, and my Dad played the piano “by ear” as does my son. 

Our home was always bustling with life. There were not so good things that happened as well, as is true  with any Tribe, and I had an especially hard time when those rumblings occurred, as like it or not, I am a very sensitive person. Sometimes I don’t like it, but mostly it makes me a kind, loving, compassionate human. I wish I had more of a choice about it, but I don’t

  I suprisingly left the nest and went out west to explore life and  college in the  Colorado Rockies. I’ve lived betwixed  and between and amongst,  alot of  beautiful places since, and  I’ve never moved back to be close to my brothers and sisters who are all  still on the East Coast. I now reside on the West Coast in lovely San Diego with my strapping young man of a son, close by.  We have lots of nieces and nephews and now THEY are all starting to have babies.

I wonder these days….why I left. I’ve yearned to be with my Tribe ever since my own little family shattered away into little pieces years ago.  The husband left and I had to re discover the meaning of family as some “new kind of normal”. Single Momhood. One child and one  me. So different then how I grew up, or how I wanted it to be.  I missed the chaos, loud music, and “bickering” but mostly I missed and still miss….the huge big LOVE.  It carried me thru everything. My parents and siblings gave me so many pearls, and diamonds. My siblings and I are very close and I adore all their children and their childrens children, but it is mostly from afar…and it just isn’t the same.  The Holidays always bring about these yearning sad feelings in me, but I don’t usually write about them. Alone, and lonely, are words I want to hide away from myself, but this year, I am going to embrace whatever is there. Maybe it will bring me back “home” more often. Maybe it will bring forth the miracle of how I can be an East Coast West Coast Commuter kind of girl. Maybe something different besides tears and yearnings will spring forth for me this “Christmastime in the City. “

The East Coast is freezing in the winter. I don’t like that. I love the snow tho. I love the quaintness and strength of the East Coast. But mostly I love my family so much. Each and everyone of them…the in laws…the out laws…the children the wives …the husbands, the babies, the new babies….We have a HUGE Tribe  now, and I know they all love me too. Love is always the answer for me. More love.  

I hope you, my reader…have a Tribe. Maybe you call it something else. I hope you can appreciate the pearls and diamonds of  YOUR Tribe. And I hope you can go to them when you are hurting. I hope before I leave this planet I can leave a legacy that is truely worth the  sacredness of the “Birtwell Name” for  I salute my Mother and Father for their  dedication, their perserverance, their love and strength and bravery, their whimsical humourous ways…that gave us all alot of great “generational handmedowns” for generations to come. 

The Most Beautiful Snow Dog

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The only thing “good “about “bad.”…is getting that tingling feeling , when you let out a big sigh, and part of you knows…..”The worst..is over”. It’s not lollipops and sunshine yet, but it is no longer dread, and sobbing, and constant questioning…”Did I do the right thing? “. It is no longer the feeling that someone lit off a firecracker in your eyes and it hurts just to keep them open,because they have been gushing out waterfalls and buckets of fears, and sadness, and obsessive thinking, and  “Will I really be able to handle this?” Will I be ok ?  Will I be able to actually live on?  How will I navigate this new life? Kind of like divorce. Kind of like labor pains. Kind of like nothing else ever. Knowing it is the right time to let your beloved family member go …to hopefully a better place……I vowed I would never ever do this again in my life. One dog…in one lifetime was enough. Otis was beyond his last legs when I was tear and fear stricken, and  took him to the vet all my myself, more than 25 years ago.  I didn’t want him to leave me. I didn’t want to suffer more then he was suffering. “When you know better…you do better. ”  Or do you?”

Back and forth I ranted to myself.She wasn’t “Sick “enough. After all she could still walk. She couldn’t make it to her two favorite places any more, and she couldn’t wait sometimes to get outside before things came out of her. But she always ate her food. Labs LOVE to eat!  Labs love to play. Labs love the ocean. Things were revving up in a bad way for her all of a sudden now. I knew it was only going to get worse. Did she want to experience herself like that?   Did I???? I kept her dreadfilled Cushings Disease at bay for over a year and a half. My love…Soozie’s love…Coda’s love….and CUSHEX DROPS…..brought miracles and relief to her body, and she was able to fight off alot of the horrible things that tried to hunt down her body …but Peachie Girl has always been one strong, tough cookie, and she never complained about a thing, which also helped me believe she could just live on forever like the mouse in “The Green Mile”.

I could see in her eyes….when her dignity started to leave her. After all, she was a show dog in her younger years, before we were lucky enough to have her join our family.  We had to actually “untrain” some of her habits and teach her how to have a little more fun in life, which she took to immediately!  Now she had lost her ability to walk very far at all…just navigating the hallway to the elevator to get outside, was becoming fear filled for her. She had a few “accidents”. Not many. But I could tell, she was just mortified. Her face was losing it’s vigor and she started having that vacant..nobody is home look, every now and then.

I decided I was a terrible mother. I decided I had not done well by her. “If only” became my mantra. If only…I could have taken her to the beach every day…maybe the disease would not have come after her so hard. If only I didn’t work so much and had the time to take more time with her. If only I hadn’t listened to the Doctors …If only I knew the horrible side effects of prednisone years ago when she had to take so much for her constant ear infections…….My son reminded me that we must play with the cards we are dealt. Soozie reminded me of all the great things I have always done for Peachie…gotten her the right meds to keep her comfortable for so long. Giving her great healthy food, taking her to the Park and the Beach whenever I could. I was always rushing home to make sure she could go out when Soozie wasn’t able to….

After much crying, and many sleepless nites, I was able to decide I had to get myself and my selfish wants of keeping her with me no matter what….out of the way. I had to let her keep her dignity, and have an incredible time before she left the planet to hopefully go on to a place with less pain, and more mobility. This was most difficult for me. I felt like a murderer. Who do I think I am to decide her life’s fate?  When I realized….that she was unable to do her favorite things anymore….when I realized that if I were in her position…what I would want…when I remembered my core beliefs about life and death and that I don’t think this is it….I think we recycle into something else that is familiar …surrounded by beings we have known…yet a new world to learn and cultivate….I was finally able to choose. That didn’t mean the voices in my head stopped chastizing me….but it did give me a little more resolve. I prayed. I cried. I prayed. I decided.

We took Peachie to the Beach and she frolicked as best she could, in the waves with her beloved master since she was a puppy….my son. She ate ice cream. Haggen dazs. Vanilla. We took her to the vet. They were kind beyond imaginable. They gave her a sedative to help her go to sleep. She started snoring REALLY LOUD…which made us all laugh unexpectedly and broke the silence of sadness in the room. She gave us that gift. Then she left. She was finally able to rest. I swear she flew off somewhere really fast! She was relieved. Right before she left us, she nuzzled up to my son so tight…..she adored him more than anything in life. It felt like she was giving him everything she had left of herself and her sweet soul.

I miss her. I went to give my other pup dinner tonite and I just automatically reached for her bowl too. I know I will be doing those things. I still have cringes and crying jags. I get really sad. But I also feel happy when I look at the photos of her last day at the beach and how happy she was …playing with my son…I know I will miss her for the rest of my life here on earth. I know I will for I still miss my Oatie Boy. But I suppose…these are the agonies and the ecstasies of love. I feel like an orphan somehow. I am not sure how to move forward now, but I know if I am easy on myself these things will come forth to me. She will help me. I know she will. She will always be my favorite “Snow Dog”  who I will always cherish in my heart forever and ever.

Love Peach. Peach is Love.

Pasta Pretty

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Any Pasta….can make you feel pretty again. Really. It’s true. Any pasta, made with love, can help you forget all your troubles, forget all your cares, lickidy split!  “Try it! You will like it! “

Lately, it seems that all I do is write about food! Nourishment for the soul. I guess that is what I am needing for now. How about YOU? 

I came home from work tonite, feeling sassy…not quite “Stella in her groove” yet. Kind of..”.I’m almost there”…if only I could……THEN I will be happy!” kind of mood. So….of COURSE…my pasta had to have lots of sultry seasonings, like capers, pesto, sunflower seeds and WINE!  The more I kept tasting the fruits of my labor as it kept sizzling over the flames….the better I felt.  Perhaps it was the wine. I like to think it was fate. I felt triumphant as I watched it all come to life in one big happy bowl of  over flowing yumminess as it slid it’s way into my beautifully designed, Pasta bowl. 

Perhaps it was …the long ago memories. Way back when. My son’s father left us.  The blue eyed boy…. he was very little. I was very scared. Our best friends moved in with us. We were all fledglings, or refugees or broken souls or something quite dreadful and foreign. But we became a new kind of family. Brought together by betrayal….and necessity. We…the Mommies, were too shell shocked to cook cool stuff. We had all we could do to not cry into the  spilt milk….the raising of these boys. We talked. We cried. We took them to the circus. We made Easter Eggs. We cried. We picked each other  lilacs and savored the fragrances of hope. We made Pasta. We made “kitchen sink”, elegant at times, ho hum, incredible….Pasta! The boys always loved it. We always ate it. We didn’t eat much in those hapless days of pain, but we always ate our pasta. We told each other we were beautiful. Pasta made us feel pretty amidst the tumultuous  job of navigating a new way of being for these fatherless boys. Hooray for Pasta. Hooray for Pretty. Hooray for strength and capers…..seasoned with LOVE!

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Outsider. Lone Wolf.  Hiding in dark corner crying.

Old. Feeling Older. 

Out of shape. You let yourself go. Too late now. Too late for anything now. 

Little Kid…Listen! Listen! Listen to me!  Listen to “little me “inside! 

Before it is too late! Before it is too late! Listen to me! 

“Mary Mary Quite Contrary…”

Your Garden Didn’t Grow.

You didn’t Listen

You didn’t Glisten….

And now you are….no more.

No more Lady Bugs for you. 

You chose your date..walked yourself to that gate…

And then You flew away in the  rope swing.

No one believed you would.

Love could not make you stay…any more. 

The Baby Cherubs fly their forlorn wings at half mast for you today.

They sadly knew…you couldn’t stay …

In the hell hole any more.

But me…I’m mad you felt this way…

The bits and pieces all astray…

The children will bury their Joy today

And tatter their dreams to shreds today

I feel the dark creep in….I do….

the dread…the lies…the hopeless feud…

But never could I dare to muster up a plan

to take this life  and go Ka Bam!!!

Never could I leave the ones I love…

Knowing how much the children grieve…

Oh No!  I could not steal their souls

I could not leave them to grow old…

But maybe you know much more than I…

So accomplished were you in your architectual ways…

You had so much but maybe not….

Your candle is out. Our world is darker now.

Your children must live on…and so must I.

Still mad with you for leaving us all

So now I can only bid you farewell…..

 


 

 

 

 


“Mary Mary Quite Contrary…”

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Outsider. Lone Wolf.  Hiding in dark corner crying.

Old. Feeling Older. 

Out of shape. You let yourself go. Too late now. Too late for anything now. 

Little Kid…Listen! Listen! Listen to me!  Listen to “little me “inside! 

Before it is too late! Before it is too late! Listen to me! 

“Mary Mary Quite Contrary…”

Your Garden Didn’t Grow.

You didn’t Listen

You didn’t Glisten….

And now you are….no more.

No more Lady Bugs for you. 

You chose your date..walked yourself to that gate…

And then You flew away in the  rope swing.

No one believed you would.

Love could not make you stay…any more. 

The Baby Cherubs fly their forlorn wings at half mast for you today.

They sadly knew…you couldn’t stay …

In the hell hole any more.

But me…I’m mad you felt this way…

The bits and pieces all astray…

The children will bury their Joy today

And tatter their dreams to shreds today

I feel the dark creep in….I do….

the dread…the lies…the hopeless feud…

But never could I dare to muster up a plan

to take this life  and go Ka Bam!!!

Never could I leave the ones I love…

Knowing how much the children grieve…

Oh No!  I could not steal their souls

I could not leave them to grow old…

But maybe you know much more than I…

So accomplished were you in your architectual ways…

You had so much but maybe not….

Your candle is out. Our world is darker now.

Your children must live on…and so must I.

Still mad with you for leaving us all

So now I can only bid you farewell…..



Band of Angels

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Sometimes…the willingness…to do whatever it will take to gain peace…not knowing how it will all come about, but making the decision anyway because it seems all goodness keeps aluding you, no matter what good action you take…that is, what gives you wings to finally fly….
I was willing to move. Into a small box with two dogs. No kitchen. Perhaps no windows. No laundry facility. Not close to the seaside.  Alone with the already aloneness desperate feelings of not being able to give anything to anyone anymore. Most especially myself. I called the people I love the most. Not to be fixed. Just to say it out loud and know I was loved. Thank goodness I still knew I was loved.  I guess AA calls it an addicts bottom.You zig out the back door and give up on yourself and life because the pain is unbearable any more, or you zig out thru the front door, naked, terrified,but chaotically determined in your shattered kind of dazed,stress filled confusion.
 My cell phone plopped itself in water 3 times in ten days. My Labrador needed emergency care. My car would not start anymore for anything. For the first time in seven months, I ALMOST had all the money to pay my rent on time until all these things happened in a two week string of black dominoes.  I always scraped together the $3.99 on sale Champagne, to remember to Celebrate life. The bubbly always made me feel that soon my happiness ship would arrive. Goodness had to be on the way for me. I would force it. I would..intend it….visualize it. I worked really hard for it. I was so melancholy blue. The young children laughing in the park, my pups, my son,my family, my Soozie friend and playing on the playground teaching the children I care for…about the wonders of nature…were the only glue that kept the living thread alive in me. It felt like a blue,cold,winter in my heart and soul. Money was always,always on my mind and not in a good way. I gave up on trying to “overcome” what life was giving me. The rash on my neck, the worry…the sleepless in Seatle nites…the exhaustion finally stopped me in my tracks.
Time to communicate truthfully to myself. I had no more warrantees left for cell phones and my contract was less then a month old. I couldn’t even try to control the fact that my rent money was gone, being spent on the traumas of my recent skirmishes. I had to move. I couldn’t wrestle this rent any longer. I told the people that needed to know. I felt an odd sense of relief, like when someone you really didn’t like much anymore, suddenly dies. I didn’t know my future, but I knew it would end up in a better place then the insanity I was wrestling.
And then the blue winged Angel came. Actually there was a band of them. My sisters. My family. My son. My brother Pesto and his wife.My Soozie friend. My sister in law who is really my sister. My Liessee, my great Auntie, my wild Helen, my Chee Wee girl. They all listened to me and laughed with me and loved me. I was given the most generous of gifts, that will help me climb back up into my life now and onto the saddle and actually be able to grab the reigns of my life back and gallop on into recovery. Recovering my Jewels. My stolen treasures. This incredible Angel is believing in me and the diamond she sees under the ground of debris. I am the luckiest leprichan ever!
I turned on what I thought was going to be the latest “News of the Day” because I am a junkie for this, and there instead was my story being acted out on “The Closer”. I was riveted. I tried to leave the screen. So much to do before work and all. But instead, the tears started streaming down my face. We have the same secret. The only difference is she is dead and I am alive. I realize now, that  my beauty  and innocence,as a young woman, “cost” me so much. And therefore…all my money challenges as of late. I don’t have to keep any more “Secrets” and I don’t have to protect any abusers anymore. I only need to protect myself and stay on a path of “safety”. I no longer have to “Pay the cost” of what I was a victim of any longer. I don’t have to have zero worthiness or self respect because of the things that were done TO me. I don’t have to pay any price any more. I am free. I can soar.  End of “SENTENCE.”

Radio Flyer Friend

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   It was Christmas Eve. Our first Christmas without his Dad. Our son  was two years old. His Dad left us. Here we were. The two of us. Alone together. My son always loved the color red. Still does to this day. It is his favorite. Whenever he saw a little red wagon breeze by with a boatload of kids and fun…he would point and say “Wag!”  I had to get him one.   They  were Radio Flyers. They were the Best Little Red Wagons, this side of the Mississippi!   They were Expensive In my eyes. I had been dealing with a whole new life of expensive those last 8 months. I always loved those Radio Flyers myself. His eyes would glint with surprise every time one passed us by.  They were always the gateway to freedom somehow.

I managed to go to our local specialty  store and buy what looked like the perfect model. It never crossed my mind that it would be in the big box, totally in pieces and I would have to put it together all by myself! Welcome to Single Mother hood and being many a time the  handy man, as well as wonder  woman! I did not have a clue. I had tools. I have always collected tools.But all these dis assorted pieces cascading out of the box, I had never even seen the likes of, nevermind knowing what tool to use where!  Out came the wheels, and the sockets, and the screws and the terrible directions. I tried for hours. It was Christmas Eve.

It was hard enough hiding my secret in the box, from my son. Running frantically into the den, I would  try one more quick time to make sense of the madness, before he toddled in looking for me. I would once again…fail miserably. I put him to bed. I started to cry. I went across the street to the older couple who adored my son. I asked if they could help. It was Christmas Eve…and it was late. Santa would be careening down the chimney any minute now with his tribe of reindeer.

Our retired gentleman friend came over, and  we worked together like Dr. and Nurse. Front wheels, check. Ratchet. Check. Screwdriver Check. It actually took us  a good hour and a half but then there it was! Glistening in the moonlite!  The coolest,slickest Radio flyer Wagon I had ever seen. I started to cry once again, while I was hugging my new hero for helping me create the best Christmas present ever!

I was so grateful that my son would have something he would cherish amidst such confusing sadness in his little life. We didn’t go anywhere for the next two years without the whole neighborhood clamoring aboard the little Radio Flyer . It truely was, and always will be, in my treasured memories…our new navigation system  of fun that lead us to where we are today. Happy. Strong. Joyeous. And Free.