New Year's Letting Go....

Today has been a really tough day....I didn't think it would be; but, a new year rolling in means that you are leaving behind what came before.  Letting go is sometimes the hardest part of moving forward.  My future is unclear....I'm facing it on my own...yes, I have friends and people who care about me and I care about them...I am facing my unclear future alone though.  So, here is what I will be letting go, in order to bring positive change into my life....I'm scared to death:

1. Farmville...it's time
2. Forgetting to wear my rubber bands on my braces...yes, I'm 43 and wear braces
3. My credit cards...I've already taken care of that
4. Dating for a year....this will either be a blessing or a curse
5. Most of my belongings...I'm buried in stuff
6. Not exercising...I actually like to exercise, but it is the first thing that I dump in a busy day
7. Worrying about being in a relationship....if happens, it happens...but I'm wasting my time worrying
8. Perfection...another waste of my time
9. Pretending that I don't have a learning disability....an additional misuse of valuable time
10. Hanging on and in for people who don't want to be with me....for any reason
11. And...I want to let go of 10 more pounds, but I'll take seven....

I know this is the time that everyone adds things to their list of "To Do's", but I think maybe I've kept a really long list, for a really long time....I'm tired...bone tired, and I want life to look different...maybe, I just want to see it through different eyes.  I'm going to let go this year....and, remember to wear my glasses, so that I can see things...they look super hot with the braces.....

Here's to your New Year and letting go....

My Life as Farmville.....

As you may know, I am choosing my blog topic as it comes up on a daily basis.  This morning a friend was teasing me and stated that he thought my blog was going to be all about Farmville...if you are my friend on Facebook, you know that I play it every day, because I am basically a dork.  The day has progressed and I have been thinking that Farmville could be directly correlated to my life; so, I started breaking it down.....

When I thought I was happily married, I didn't play Farmville, because I found it trivial and stupid.  I heard an argument in a break room, one time, in which one person was upset with the other person, because they had promised to feed their dog...they didn't and the dog ran off.  I thought they were talking about a real dog....until they announced that they were deleting them as a Farmville friend.

Then, my marriage began to deteriorate and I found myself drawn to the Fb game, because I could keep order and have the instant gratification of growth.  As my life worsened, I became obsessed with moving my sheds around, lining up sheep and harvesting all of my trees at the same time.  By the time my ex walked out, I was checking my harvests incessantly, frustrated that nothing was growing fast enough or the way I wanted it to....

Now, that I am divorced...completely single...due to the sweet smell of desperation that has worked it's way into my pheromones and I am diligently working on my muffin top with a bag of chocolate truffles,  I believe that Farmville is a metaphor for my life....I might even be trapped in Farmville.  The following are my fears and questions about the possibilities in this epiphany....

1. Fear-I may have too many locations that I am working at the same time.  I used to focus on one farm, but now I race back and forth between my English farm and the Winter Wonderland and don't really finish anything.  In fact, I forget that I've already been to England and keep going back, as if I have Farmville OCD.  The piles of projects in my house look like my farms.
2. Fear-I have become overly obsessed with sheep....just in general.
3. Problem-I talk to my cats about Farmville and ask them what I should do next.  Their responses matter about as much as the fact that I'm actually trying to decide what I should do next on Farmville.  Neither one will solve the problem of world hunger. Why am I trying to get advice from my animals...on anything?
4. Question-Is is mentally stable to pull out your calculator and figure out which vegetable planted will offer the most coin, and then act on those figures?  I'm dyslexic with numbers anyway; so, my coin count is as low as my bank account....
5. Question- Is it really safe that I'm friending everyone and anyone who requests to be my neighbor?...I don't know anything about them....wow...a lot like the dates I've been saying "yes" to...
6. Fear/Question- If I don't plow my fields regularly, will my berries wither?  I think you know what I mean...  ;)
7. Fear-  I have no Farm Cash....I think you know what I mean...
8. Fear- All of my farms look jacked up.....you're catching on
9. Fear/Question- Why do I feel the need to keep everything that I receive?  I might be a hoarder....
10. Fear- I have no plan for the future of my farms.....
11. Fear/Question- Am I overly obsessed with the fact that my farms are a mess or should I try to create order out of chaos?  I mean, none of my neighbors are coming over and straightening out my farm....
12. Fear- I am farming all the wrong things, because I can't ever seem to make anything right...I don't have all the ingredients....
13. Question....and Fear- What the  &^&^%  are Glacier Roses?  Should I know this too?!  Another failure in awareness, on my part....

Just as I am when I play Farmville these days, I am overwhelmed with my lack of understanding and ability to rectify these situations....

And, to think, I just started playing Castleville....I'm screwed....

It's My Party and I can Cry if I Want to....

So, I started the day with the intention of writing something totally different...but, as the day progressed, I found myself faced with some comments that changed my focus.  Some of the comments were directed at others and a few shot my way.  In the end, it came down to the fact that a lot of people get really uncomfortable when someone is going through the grieving process.

Last year, when my best friend, who was my age, quite literally dropped dead, many people I knew avoided me, even my ex thought that I was an embarrassment.  I took one day off, cried privately and still went to my college graduation the day after her memorial service.  And still, one person actually confronted me about cancelling my graduation party because the service was on the same day.  I mean, how ridiculous could I be?

When my ex walked out on me, after having sex several times with some other girl, while I was working two jobs and washing his laundry, there were those who avoided me like the plague...I wasn't even talking about what was going on, and they could smell the pending divorce pain on me.  I didn't run from friend to friend, and talk about what was happening at all the office parties.  I know that when someone walks by and says, "How are you doing?", they mean for you to respond with "Wonderful!"

Quite frankly, difficult times are called that because they are flippin' difficult.  And, no, I don't believe that, in the grand scheme of things...with people being murdered...high crime...catastrophic tidal waves and earthquakes, that God is carrying me down the beach or rocking me to sleep at night.  I think we both know I'll get through this and that it's okay if I'm not okay for a bit, as long as I don't purposefully hurt someone else.  He/She has much more important things to do than focus on my hurt.  And, since I have free will, He/She will let me work through this over the next year and not limit me to 15 minutes of pain.

It's okay if I resent my ex for lying to me and cheating on me; it won't last forever.  It's okay that I have reached out to meet other people (men, in my case) and been hurt when they said things like, "I just want to have sex" or sent me pictures of their "junk", after pretending to be interested in me, as a person.   Or, that I was devastated when someone I have cared deeply, deeply for, for over 25 years, contacted me said, " I love you," and then told me that I was "too much, too soon and too fast," after we had talked very frankly and calmly about being together, and then stopped talking to me.

Am I hurt? Of course, I am.  Do I feel like a fool? Hell, yes. Will I get over this? Of course, I will.  Will I take a chance on someone else? Hell, yes.  But, I'm not going to pretend, for anyone, on my time, that I'm not wrecked....that I haven't lost and lost and lost this year...that I am not covered in mud...that my heart hasn't been ripped out of my chest and bitten in half...that I haven't thrown myself off the cliffs of taking chances, only to smash into the rocks below....I will not be quiet...I will not make you feel more comfortable...I will not lie...I will not disappear....

This is my party, dammit, and I can cry if I want to.....and, you can too, if you want to come over....

Control.....

Remember in 1989, when Janet Jackson came out with her album Rhythm Nation 1814 and she had that huge hit Control....all of her songs were about power and hearing herself roar.  Then, it came out that she was secretly married to the guy from DeBarge...then she divorced....then she lost weight....then a boob job...and a nose job...another huge album...then she gained weight....then she lost it...more plastic surgery...another album (not so huge)....more failed relationships...enough plastic surgery that she started looking like her brothers...then Justin Timberlake ripped her boob cover off at the Superbowl (and she had that crazy star thing around her nipple).

I went back and looked at all the names of albums and none were titled My Jacked Up Life, with songs like Someday He'll Change, Maybe I Could Be More Perfect or What's Wrong with Me Cuz I can't Keep a Man.  She spent a lot of energy and money trying to convince the public that she had Control of her life.  I think there is a distinct possibility that Janet and I were separated at birth.  Granted, I have never had a hit album, plastic surgery, been married to anyone from DeBarge or been even in the same location with Justin Timberlake, I have the feeling that we are at least soul sisters.  

My quietly released album, Moved All Over the Nation 1989-2011, is packed with such hits like Wasting my Money with Online Dating, How Much is that Stalker in the Window, Husband is in Someone Else's Bed and the chart buster 25 Years and I Still Don't Believe He's Jerking Me Around.  For all of my successful work with my clients, all of my gifts of deescalation techniques and negotiation skills, for the life of me, I can't seem to get any control of my personal life.  I'm presenting well in public, but my life feels upside down.

I have tried everything I could think of to rectify and gain control over my life, and still it continues to fall apart.  I'm afraid to joke that my body parts might fall off, as well, because there is a hint of possibility that I will walk outside tomorrow and my arm will fall down in the dirt.  The craziest part of this past year has been having my clients tell me that they are striving for a life like mine.  I can't bear the thought of bursting their bubble by telling them that I just clean up well.....actually, I do tell them that...they just don't believe me.

I do know how my clients feel though.  They may have different situations, but, by the time they make into my office, their entire lives have fallen apart.  I know how that feels, and cleaning my bathroom twice a week, lining up my shoes, straightening that picture on the wall isn't going to make my roller coaster ride stop until the finish....and, it drives me crazy not knowing where the finish line is, if I will be with someone or alone, where I will be living, will I get my Master's and is it possible to find a partner that doesn't take more than they give....

If I could just get control....

To Be or Not to Be....that is my Question....

When I was a young girl and all the other girls were talking about how one day they would get married and have kids, I wanted to be a motion picture director and my hero was a young Steven Spielberg and a long passed Alfred Hitchcock.  My mother followed men all over the place, was the "married in six weeks woman," while tossing her daughters to the side for any man that came along.  I swore I would never be her...

Even as a teen, I wanted a boyfriend but shyness, looking too mature for my age and always being the new girl in school kept me from really dating until I was almost twenty.  Even then, I didn't imagine myself married and thought of myself as always being alone.  Then, I had my first relationship, and all the talk was that a long relationship ends in marriage...a bit of an odd terminology, don't you think?  I didn't marry....several more long term relationships...I didn't marry...Then I did marry, and the relationship still came to an end.  Throughout all of those experiences, I always worked on my career, with great success.

Now, you are probably thinking, that I didn't turn out to be my mother, and instead, I fear intimacy....I think  I turned out just like her.  I've been married many times, without walking down the aisle, and I didn't know it until after I said, to a man whom I have held a torch for about 25 years, "I'll give everything up for you....everything to be with you."  I am my mother.  I may not have mental illness and I may not have her abusive behavior, but I am my mother.

Why would anyone be willing to give up everything for one person, because why should you have to?  In a day in an age when I can run into a coffee shop to write a quick blog that can be viewed by anyone in the world, check my bills and return phone calls on two different phones....why would anyone have to give up everything, and why would I say that?  This person of 25 years had never given anything up for me and, even though he had a habit of popping up throughout the years, never had done more than just that...pop up and re-enter my life, then leave.

So, what happened to the girl who wanted to be a motion picture director?  At what point, did I go from wanting to be something to wanting to be someone else's something?  Which person is really me, the girl or the woman who covertly mimics her mother's behavior with men and relationships?  Are they both me, or am I trying to force myself into the mold of a woman in a relationship and not really meant to be in a partnership, unless there is a payroll attached?  Is it a good thing to be on your own, or do I want intimacy and not have the skills to maintain it?  Ah....to be or not to be with someone....that is the question.....I really want the answer...

Wanting what I can't have.....

Why is it that we always want what we can't have?  Or, more appropriately, why do I always go after those who don't really want me?

For two days, I have just allowed myself to "be,"...to enjoy those around me.  I was creative and thoughtful with my gifts.  I didn't try to impress anyone. I didn't overdress, overspend and didn't try to dazzle with my intellect or wit.  I was a helpful and low maintenance guest and I did not over stay my welcome....and, I was relaxed.  I wasn't trying to accomplish anything.  My nervous tics disappeared...yes, I have developed some over the past decade..no, lifetime.  It was simple, uncomplicated and I was wanted...so, what is it about not being wanted that is like an aphrodisiac for me, especially with men?

I have wasted more money, more time, more energy, more tears, more thoughts, more sex, more grooming, more conversations, more everything on men, who clearly don't want me...for longer than seconds.  The only men who have latched onto me have been ones who saw me as trophy (for whatever reason, I'm not really "trophy woman" material), and, as soon, as I show any strength of character...we run into major problems.  Then, I will continue to pursue them...not stalker style...just pursue...have "feelings" for them....make myself available for their every whim...At this moment, I feel like an embarrassment.  It's embarrassing to admit this, out loud or in writing, right at this moment....what is wrong with the way that I think?

I am talking about my relationship with men only because I am a heterosexual woman, not because I think there is anything wrong with men.  I believe that many men struggle with this too; so, this is not male bashing...this is me taking an embarrassing look in the mirror and being appalled at my desire to be with someone...anyone that I can't have...because they don't want me.

Once again...I don't have a clue...(quoting the words of someone who will never be with me)....

The 12 Days of Christmas (After my Divorce)....

****Disclaimer:  I know my blog is a bit late tonight, but I spent a wonderful day with wonderful new family and laughed a lot.  I feel that there is nothing like humor and laughter to take the sting out of some of the realities of a tough year.    A lot of laughter went into this carol.....

(To be sung to the tune of the Twelve Days of Christmas....)

On the 1^st day of Christmas (after my divorce) my ex gave to me, a missing Christmas tree.

On the 2^nd day of Christmas (after my divorce) my ex gave to me, two mismatched sheets and a missing Christmas tree.

On the 3^rd day of Christmas (after my divorce) my ex gave to me, three pets to feed, two mismatched sheets and a missing Christmas tree.

On the 4^th day of Christmas (after my divorce) my ex gave to me, four ambiguous text messages, three pets to feed, two mismatched sheets and a missing Christmas tree.

On the 5^th day of Christmas (after my divorce) my ex gave to me, five platitudes, four ambiguous text messages, three pets to feed, two mismatched sheets and a missing Christmas tree.

On the 6^th day of Christmas (after my divorce) my ex gave to me, six overdue bills, five platitudes, four ambiguous text messages, three pets to feed, two mismatched sheets and a missing Christmas tree.

On the 7^th day of Christmas (after my divorce) my ex gave to me, seven in-laws un-friending, six overdue bills, five platitudes, four ambiguous text messages, three pets to feed, two mismatched sheets and a missing Christmas tree.

On the 8^th day of Christmas (after my divorce) my ex gave to me, eight maids he milked, seven in-laws un-friending, six overdue bills, five platitudes, four ambiguous text messages, three pets to feed, two mismatched sheets and a missing Christmas tree.

On the 9^th day of Christmas (after my divorce) my ex gave to me, nine awkward silences, eight maids he milked, seven in-laws un-friending, six overdue bills, five platitudes, four ambiguous text messages, three pets to feed, two mismatched sheets and a missing Christmas tree.

On the 10^th day of Christmas (after my divorce) my ex gave to me, ten pounds of oatmeal?, nine awkward silences, eight maids he milked, seven in-laws un-friending, six overdue bills, five platitudes, four ambiguous text messages, three pets to feed, two mismatched sheets and a missing Christmas tree.

On the 11^th day of Christmas (after my divorce) my ex gave to me, eleven pipes a leaking, ten pounds of oatmeal?, nine awkward silences, eight maids he milked, seven in-laws un-friending, six overdue bills, five platitudes, four ambiguous text messages, three pets to feed, two mismatched sheets and a missing Christmas tree.

On the 12^th day of Christmas (after my divorce) my ex gave to me, twelve financially hard months, eleven pipes a leaking, ten pounds of oatmeal?, nine awkward silences, eight maids he milked, seven in-laws un-friending, six overdue bills, five platitudes, four ambiguous text messages, three pets to feed, two mismatched sheets and a missing Christmas tree.

Family....

It is Christmas Eve and I am not lonely....I know that, maybe, you thought I would talk about being alone.  I live alone, with my two cats (please, no cat lady comments).  Yes, I have already cried this morning, silently and quickly, and I can feel the things that are absent from my presence.  I am no longer surrounded, during the holiday season, by in laws who exited during my divorce, and my colleagues all "check in" on me, to make sure I'm okay. So, yes, I "feel" the difference of the holidays, in a way that I haven't for a long time.

I have no biological family of my own that I am in contact with and my surroundings are completely different. I've already admitted that I am broke, broken, have discovered that I hear what I want to hear in my intimate relationships and I am starting over in a multitude of ways. But, please don't confuse my revelations of my weaknesses for lack of confidence in the things that I do have....I do have a family.

In our society, we tend to connect family with biological relatives, and, for most of us, our real family is not related to us in any way.  I am writing in a warm living room, in front of a lighted Christmas tree, eating too many M & Ms and intermittently laughing out loud with my family, who started as my friends.  I have received phone calls all morning from other family, who started as friends, to extend invitations, almost demands, that I come and stay with them.

In truth, this is the first year in a long time that I have been allowed to completely be myself, and, although it will probably take me this entire year to find myself again, I am happy...I have found my holiday spirit, and I am not in hiding.  I am absolutely drinking too much with my family and emotional eating with those whom I care about.

I know that I am loved.  I know that I belong and I know who my family is.....and I love them too.

Can you hear what I hear?

I want to thank the individual who commented last night...their thoughts led to my own, as I fell asleep wondering what I might write about today.....

Part of facilitating the groups that I work with and the clients I help is listening.  In fact, that is 50% of what I do and the other 50% is action oriented.  I do this every day...40 plus hours a week and have done so for over seven years.  I listen...I watch the body language...I empathize....I mentally step into their shoes, to help them find a solution.   So, why am I unable to do that in my intimate relationships?  This is not an insult to myself, but it is a serious question.  How is it that I can hear what my clients ask for, beyond their words, and with the ones who are closest to me, I only hear what I ask for?

I believe that I believed so hard, that I created faith, when I was surrounded by faithlessness, as a child, that I am still doing it.  I'm still living in the crisis of my youth, the war zone, where I mentally counted the days, hours and minutes, as I waited to walk through the flames of my home life into freedom at eighteen.  No one knew what I lived in and through....I decided that no one would ever look at me and see the pain, the daily violence and the terror.  I decided that I would create a vision...my vision...of what I wanted others to see, when they looked at me.  That's survival, and I'm a fighter.  In the process, I decided not to hear....at home, at school, at play, in public...nothing would get in the way of my decision and my survival and my creation.  The iron will that it took to do all the things I have accomplished and still accomplish cannot be completely or properly defined.  I was a rock...rocks don't hear...they don't need to know of fissures or cataclysmic events that will obliterate them.

Why am I so surprised every time that my most intimate relationships crumble?

If something soft, new and tender is crashed into by a rock....it breaks...it's killed...it can't survive.  One rock can stand for eternity completely alone...it doesn't need "rock friends" or a "rock lover" to survive.  The very thing that makes it possible for me to accomplish amazing feats for my clients and prove everyone wrong about what I can accomplish obliterates those I care for around me.  I decided a long time ago that I didn't "need" the people around me and for good reason.  But, if you practice a skill long enough and it becomes an integral part of who you are, when does it stop, if you no longer "need" that skill?

I don't know...I don't know the answer.  In the words of someone I care for..."I haven't a clue."  What I do know is that where I am at right now is that I only hear what I want...in everything...with everyone....but, mostly  with the ones I love.  There aren't enough people that I love who have survived crashing into me that I can afford to not answer this question....soon......

Not just broken...but broke

I remember facilitating group after group and it always seemed that each conversation always led naturally to the next topic.  Last night, I admitted something that I have never admitted before, and it was...freeing.  Then I read the post again this morning, afraid that it was filled with misspellings and inane comments; instead, I found myself stuck on what I said about buying thrift items every time I hurt....you know, thrift items actually start to add up, if you are in pain all the time.  I have a lot of cool stuff and I am flat broke.

I'd like to blame my financial situation completely on my ex walking out as if we had been dating for a year in high school and all we had exchanged were letter jackets and class rings; but, it's not completely his fault.  In fact, one of the great things we enjoyed together was second hand shopping, which we did to such excess that there is a 20 x 20 foot building filled to the rafters that he owns and I'm bursting at the seams in a three bedroom house with only me and two small cats.  We both were addicted to finding treasures to fill the void and squash the pain.  I have all of these "things" and they all represent a painful moment...I'm living in "House of Pain," and it is not a show that anyone wants to watch.

So, here it is Christmas, what used to be my favorite holiday and I'm emotionally laying under a pile of stuff that represents every slight, insult, eye roll, heavy sigh, lie, sarcasm and blank stare that I received in my marriage.  It just looks like a lamp, end table, painting, nick knack, stack of books, record albums, but I can't afford to buy presents for people I care about.....

I just went through one divorce...it looks like I'm going to have to go through another.  This one will just have an auctioneer involved that isn't related to my husband.....

Maybe I should invite my ex to the auction....I hear he's not that happy these days....

Broken....

A couple of weeks ago, someone who I care for deeply, told me that they believed they were "broken."  My heart "broke" for them, as they talked about their fears.  I debated their concerns and, in my glass half full way, attempted to persuade them that they weren't...that there wasn't anything missing....that they had so much to be happy about and that I was there for them, if they let me.  I pushed. I prodded. I pleaded.  I was not going to let them give in to the idea that anything about them was "broken" and, at the same time, convinced myself that I could "fix it" by just being in their life.  I spent four days with that person, and of all the things that were discussed, laughed about, explained or enjoyed, "broken" is what I brought back with me from my trip.

I'm a problem solver...that's what I do for a living, and people have always come to me, for just that job.  I don't even care how much money I make solving problems.  In my spare time, I do crossword puzzles and word searches.  When I was growing up, I solved the problem of my mother's mental illness and a childhood of abuse for both of my sister's by standing between them and her and taking the swings.  I make a living standing between "broken" systems and "broken" individuals and help them find their way out.  Any holiday that I have spent alone, which have been many since the age of eighteen, I solved the feelings of loneliness by volunteering at shelters that held "broken" people.  In my intimate relationships, I draw "broken" fixer-upper partners out of the woodwork and settle in for the battle of keeping them in my life, because I won't give up or give in.

I fight amazing fights, win huge battles, am a force to be reckoned with, have been told over and over again that   I have the ability to accomplish things that no one else has ever done.  My ex husband told me that some people do outside the box things, but that I live outside the box, and I accepted that as one of the few compliments he gave me, in our relationship.  I even solved the problem of my divorce from him, by maintaining my composure at work, with friends and talking about how he meant well and was really a good man, just "broken."  I prided myself for not breaking.  When my best friend died last Christmas, I still bought presents, graduated from college with honors, worked 40 plus hours per week, never let anyone at work see me cry and still attend her memorial service.

But, here are the cold, hard facts:

 I can't do anything without loud techno music pounding in my ears.  I, at the very least, have to have the TV on and when I lose a station on the radio, madly search for another.  I have to sing at the top of my lungs in the car, while listening to loud, pounding music.  I am losing the hearing in my left ear, because I have to turn everything up so loud.  I have to have a list of projects, and one of the projects always involves an item that is "broken."  I find it impossible to not multi-task.  I never finish everything, so that I have time to do nothing.  Every time I hurt or there is a problem in my life, I go to thrift shops to buy "broken," used items to bring new life to.  Almost everything that I own has been tossed by someone else.

None of this makes me a bad person; in fact, I am applauded for my thrift, wisdom, caring, knowledge, optimism, tenacity and creativity.  And, then I saw it as I walked past the mirror this morning, in the silence...

I am broken.

Worried.....

A bit worried today...walked past my mirror, on the way out the door to work and found that my attire bore a very close resemblance to Joe Pesci in Goodfellas....not even Johnny Cash....Joe Pesci.  There was a bit of concern at work that I might be selling cigarettes out of the trunk of my car and my supervisor asked if I sold furs that fell off the truck "by accident".  All of this came after I found myself logging back into a dating site (that starts with the letter M) just because I couldn't stand the silence of my phone.

In return, I received five messages, from five different guys who are, oddly enough "widows" and can't spell.  The message that really reached out to me was "i lik too be intamit at nite by fire."  (This is an actual quote from a message...seriously)  I am considering contacting him, because he may have that certain "Quest for Fire" quality that I am looking for in a man....and, he might be too stupid to run away....or entertained by a lit match....

I think I'm hurting today...I mean that's where I'm at...and, I'm terrified that I might be able to accomplish everything I want in life except a relationship.  I'm rapidly erasing every aspect of my former life, my name and relationship, and I'm wondering....will I disappear too?  Will I recognize myself in the mirror?  Or, am I just "bustin' my own balls" about leaving behind a failed relationship, with someone that I never really knew but could spell....

Thank God!  I just got a buzz message on my phone.....

Month # 1 Where I'm at Now

So, I'm single, actually newly divorced.  That wasn't the plan.  I'm not sure exactly what the plan was, but it wasn't to be single.  "He" found a gal two decades younger, who was okay about "hittin' it" with a married man and she also enjoyed kegger parties.  How could I compete? That about covers the history of my divorce...the rest is just "woulda, coulda, shoulda" stories.  I'm sure they will come up over this year of blogging, but, for now, it's wasted breath.

Having moved past that humiliation, I moved into dating again..a new humiliation, in a new decade, with new rules and "Girls Gone Wild" as a dating guide.  That's where I'm at...right now.

Today, I'm am the victim of what I now call "Gangsta Love."  Forgive me, but I work mostly with individuals who have been incarcerated and the metaphors and terminology I have picked up from them is about as real as it gets...and usually, right to the heart of the matter.

Gangsta Love involves a drive by lovin' that takes you by surprise and it's really your fault because...well...you were in the wrong hood.  You know, you're walking down to the corner store for a RC Cola and a Moonpie and the Love Gangsta comes around the corner in his car, usually a tan Camry, looks normal, has his buddies with him, leans out the window and pops a "love" cap in your ass...it hits an artery, leaving you in a puddle of your own humiliation.  All you were thinking about was where you were headed and now you're just laying on the ground staring up at the sky, wondering what just happened.  They're in the know and you get the blow....

What the hell is that about?  It's especially enjoyable when it's someone you know...that way you're waving at them and grinning while they take you down.  When did this start happening? Or has it always been that way and I just never put myself out there before. By the way, I am currently blogging, while in a puddle of my own humiliation...I never reached the Cola and the Moonpie.

Day 1 Backstory

I question everything...the good, the bad, the ugly.  In my work, this helps people; but, this past year it seems that my questions have attached themselves to me and turned my life upside down.  The risk of asking is getting answers...how do you wade through all of these answers, deciding which ones apply to you and which ones are just leeching onto your leg...and, well, they belong to someone else?

So, after a year of wading through the mud and the muck and doing my best to not be swallowed up by the universe responding to my barrage of questions, I am going to see if it takes a year to recover from...a year...you know, that sort of year...the year with a "kick me" sign taped to your butt.  This isn't about being a man or a woman, and I can't promise that I won't have sarcastic days or painful or just plain funny; but, I can promise that I will be honest....So, here I begin....

A couple of years ago, I started working with people in the community in program titled The Getting Ahead Program.  Every week, sometimes daily I worked with men and women as they slogged through their lives and created real, tangible plans for themselves...(this is the serious part of the blog).   It was amazing how they  worked through a curriculum to discover themselves and make their desires reality.

As I witnessed person after person create new lives, mine began to fall apart...not just in chips or flakes, but in chunks...huge rusted chunks of debris.  Each time I thought I had reached the end of my surprises, another vibrant failure took place....maybe not failure, just another tar pit that I had fallen into.  With each colleague and friend that I entertained with my daily humiliations that I shared, I kept thinking "I can't be the only one that this happens to."  I'm not...all of the people I worked with had their own stories, and we laughed together as we shared.

So, I'm going to start just like my groups did, breaking things down month by month, with a monthly theme, and we'll see where this takes me...well, us.  I definitely want to hear your opinions, your stories and let's keep it real....here we go.....