I am, I will, I do.

My mother passed along that phrase.  As I have been reading her father's diaries, I see that "doing" has always been important within her family.  Day by day, my grandfather listed his "done" list and rarely do I read of his emotional side.  It's important to recognize my family's emphasis on filling a day with chores.  I find myself doing the same thing and with that, I find myself feeling guilty if I've let an hour pass without accomplishing something.

And now the crux of the issue...I'm struggling to give myself permission to simply take the time "to be."  The research is clear and arguments against it are useless as history proves the theory correct.  Great insight and discovery happen when the brain is allowed to rest from its multi-tasking fury.

I am, I will, I BE?

Besides my family's influence, my own motivation is to set and reach goals.  With that comes unconscious planning and I'm off to complete tasks.  Since I deal with my wildly fluctuating creative instincts, I'm comfortable with starting and pausing tasks but not to the point that my surroundings are disturbed.  Instead, I keep a mental "junk drawer" that calls my name and propels me back to work.  As a stay at home mother, my home appeared clean and orderly, the children well kept, the husband and pets content, and I was the calm mother and wife.  Unfortunately, we know that the fairy tale of living that life is more horror story.  I buried my disappointment and stress when life's daily events went awry.  My coping skill was denial. Since I wasn't bringing home a pay check, I tried to do every other job possible to maintain the homestead as my contribution.  That meant there were a lot of daily disappointments and I was hyper sensitive to my husband's criticism.  Yes, he was "only trying to help me do it better" most times, but with the overwhelming amount of work that I put on myself, I could only hear that it was wrong.  We certainly needed communication assistance but alas, it never happened.

Perfectionism remains my struggle.  Although I have made tremendous strides in keeping it at bay and accepting its influence in my life, the side effect is guilt.  Intellectually, I know that it should not be so...mentally, I back away from certain behaviors...emotionally, I attach guilty feelings to my non goal achieving activities.

Just BE instead of Just Do It?

Just BE.

Guilt free.

A worthy goal....

Literally Speechless

It seems I'm becoming more "speechless" than not when it comes to understanding how the opposite sex handles relationships.  Friends and family warned me that it might be better to stay in a bad marriage rather than confront the dating scene in midlife.  My ex husband even used it as an excuse for us staying together rather than confronting the ugliness.  

My observations in the last couple of weeks have me wondering if midlife men have gone mad.  I might surmise that it's just the ones I meet were it not for the fact that so many other women speak about similar circumstances.  

And what is the common theme that keeps popping up in these stories?  Fear.  And it's not the women's fear!  I had NO IDEA that so many men operate with fear as their guiding emotion.  Not love, not passion but absolute fear of being vulnerable and open. 

I guess I'm showing up late to this party of knowledge.  My perception now seems rather quaint and outdated...I truly believed that at this stage of life, it was we single women who were the most fearful.  After all, our looks fade, our careers have suffered while rearing families, our health begins the long transition of menopause, and we tend to be the main caregivers of our aging parents.  Amid that, it's often divorce that has catapulted us to this point and there is the messiness of broken hearts.  

Tonight I learned that a man who was wooing me no less than six months ago had married.  He had been quite forthright that he felt pressured to marry his previous girlfriend regardless of the fact that he didn't feel "in love" with her.  And so he had begun again because he didn't like being alone.  Hmmmm?  Who does?  But I don't use that as an excuse to date someone and listening to my inner voice, I asked a simple question and his answer..."No, I don't think I loved either my ex wife, my old girlfriend or any woman.  I just don't think I can do that."  It was really quite easy for me to not see him again after that.  His last entreaty was at Christmas but not one that I cared to return as his attitude of fear was the same.  

I find out tonight that he has just married the girlfriend he didn't love.  She now has a husband and he doesn't have to be alone.  I will be the cynic and believe that fear guided them both to the altar.  Perhaps this is success  as both their needs are met and I will not judge their union.

It does make me feel more earnest about my own journey though.  Fear kept me trapped in a relationship for half my life but it will be love that guides my second half.  I will work doubly hard to cast aside my cynicism when fear rears itself BUT I will pay great heed to my inner voice when it warns of insincerity.   Perhaps the only love I will get to hold will be that of my family and myself and yet, hope endures.

A Thinker

As I've reopened my life to writing, I find myself confronting past fears about my thought process.  Staring down my path, I seek answers to the questions that have haunted me for  8 years now.

Can I be the "thinker" that I once was?
Do I have the brain power to rev up my creative engine and am I able to effectively deliver my thoughts?
Can I be smart enough, clever enough, and fast enough to take this journey of pen to paper?
Most of all...am I allowing perfectionism to stall me as it has done before?

Airing these questions provides some relief.  Up to 50% of MS patients struggle with cognitive issues and it's well documented that menopausal women of my age enter "brain fog."  Hormones or lack thereof....  Bleh!

I concede that since I do not know which part of me is struggling cognitively...MS or Menopausal...then I simply must cast my doubts aside and get on with my endeavors.  Perhaps not knowing what to blame is a blessing in disguise and instead, I just join my fellow baby boomers who grouch about losing their memories!

Today, I found an interesting article concerning the creative mind in relation to intellect and mental illness.  A quick summation is that I neither have to be a genius nor crazy to get on with my creative process.  Fortunately, just having a few of either in the family gives me enough cred that I'm in the correct gene pool.

A little crazy + a lot of smart can = a family that produces creatives.

Secrets of the Creative Brain

Follow along, oh wise reader and see if you too may be part of a creative and crazy family!  Smiles!!

A dark and rainy night...

They tend to be the worst...rainy, dark, lonely nights are when I miss him the most.  And who might he be?  I do NOT know.  One of the assignments I was given years ago involved listing the attributes of someone who might fit in with my life.  Before I divorced, it was a "want" list for my ex-husband that requested a common meeting ground of these qualities.  He never gave me a list and stated that he was happy with exactly who I was...but that wasn't true and I wondered why it was so difficult for him to voice his preferences.

Was it because he felt I couldn't live up to them?  Perhaps he was so dedicated to the institution of marriage, he simply could not think beyond his partner.  But he must have thought something as the magazines and movies were filled with fantasy women.

I'm fortunate enough to be living in a REALITY now and as I look back almost a year ago when I was writing it, I'm happy to see that little has changed.  I am clear about who I seek but unclear of my path to him.

The List

Good Fences

My imagination takes me to wide open spaces today as I troll through my recent Scotland photos.  We hiked 90+ miles on mostly private lands and had we not taken care of the gates, many sheep and cattle might have escaped.

We were in awe of the trusting nature of these land owners.  They have a "trekking" culture in the U.K. and it seems their main concern was for the safety of their animals from rogue dogs.  We didn't come across constant signage reminding us of NO LITTERING or LOITERING.

It was quite the opposite as we felt most comfortable to remain anywhere for as long as we wanted.  The good fences they built for their livestock extended to the good nature of their communities.  Pubs stayed open late for us, inn keepers came to the trail heads to check on our progress, and drivers adjusted their timing so that we might not be too far from schedule.

The personal boundaries/fences that one might think the stoic British are apt to keep in place disappeared when we needed help.  It was a refreshing reminder that a welcome from anyone is warm when expectations are met from each side.

Good fences make for good guests?

STRONG FENCES

We build our own fences
We build them high not low

We build our own fences
We build them steel or stone

Our gatekeeper faces keep
Us in, You out

Our steely cold eyes flash
A warning, Keep Out

Stony cold countenance
Close mouthed, closed heart

We build our own fences
And die from the start

Waiting

Rules player or radical?
Gut instinct or gut wrenching?

The sentence I just erased was grousing that I seldom like blazing a trail...sounded like a good southern girl sentiment but it was wrong.  I'm not sure why I still downplay my fearlessness.  No one is making me fit into that mold anymore and truthfully, I haven't conducted my life as such.  But I have been quiet about it and have often passed off my adventures as someone else's idea.

Alone again tonight and observing these two cats play out what I'm thinking...one sits shyly by the opening in fear of pushing open the door.  The other?  She charged through as usual and joins me listening to the birds and enjoying the breeze.

Just as people, their personalities and histories play a part of their present behavior.  I can't know what they went through before I adopted them just as I can't fathom the pasts of new acquaintances.  Waiting for a tentative new behavior is maddening when I can see what's best for them but I wait with the expectation that patience will embolden their bravery.

Friends who need to be pushed out of their comfort zone, children who need to be pulled back from recklessness and parents being urged to indulge themselves...it's comforting to know that I'm needed and helpful that I can quietly provide some guidance.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

QUIETLY

Quietly waiting,

We sit and observe

Our time slipping away.

Patiently tapping,

We watch one another as

A move is deliberated.

Skillfully shifting,

Our vision becomes clear

And a door emerges.

Breathlessly stepping

Together on a path

Made for two.

Walking quietly,

Side by side

Into one.

,

Affirm

I can't help but laugh looking at this feature from Iyanla Vansant as it's indicative of my funny life when it comes to being single.

Affirm - If my choices do not bring forth the best in myself and others, I am free to choose again.


The Dating Game or Let's Make a Deal?  Choosing a mate as an adult versus the 23 year old child that I was back in the day...it's enough to make a girl/woman/ingenue toss up her hands in despair!  Instead, I'm advised to forget the tossing and just keep knocking at the doors of potential.

Undaunted, I do and I will.  I'm being told by many friends that they went through this process in their twenties and that I should allow the process to play itself out.  Interesting but not necessarily the correct process for me.  After all, I didn't go that route and ended up with a mostly successful marriage, children nearly launched and two adults who are finding their own peace.  Also, I didn't allow emotion to blow up the bank, disrupt someone else's home place or put unrealistic demands on my ex.  But who can really be whole after a divorce?  The void that caused the divorce still demands to be filled.

And so I keep moving onto the next door with pure hope and earned skepticism in my heart.  I'm not planning a decade long excursion of trying to find the ultimate man who fits every single category.  Unrealistic.  Instead, character and chemistry make for the best match.  They must coexist and with that, we shall go behind closed doors....  winkwink

Hammer Time

The week is at an end and it is far different than its beginning.  Purpose, initiative, action have set in firmly and I'm facing a lot of quiet times to meander down the writing path.

Starting an important project has always filled me with dread.  It's not because I cannot complete it or even make a success of it...it's what I must give away in the process of doing it.  Parts of me are chipped away and tossed into the creative soup that I seek to make.  There are those who take on tasks with mediocre commitment and then, there are we others who seek excellence for our endeavor.  We give completely to our chosen path.

The life altering projects in my life have been done well.  I research and plan with a final outcome of success already in mind.  As it evolves, I'm at the ready to alter steps so that the project itself is never in danger.  Education.  Love.  Career growth.  Family stability.  Health.  Fitness.  Divorce.  Reboot.  

Before I understood my ambitious psyche, I struggled with perfecting the steps of a process.  I have learned and am now able to approach life projects with a panoramic view.  The sight beyond the horizon?  It's already in my mind's eye and several paths present themselves.  Fortunately, I now know that if one path is blocked, it's not a tragedy to step back and take another.  That is the gift of age and experience.  The wolf we feared breathing down our neck is imaginary; mid lifers know that true knowledge and fulfillment come on the journey to our final destination and rushing causes missteps.  All our little projects, large and small build a joyful foundation and hammer in hand, I'm ready to chip away and write myself away, away, and away.

Begin

Much thanks to Jennifer Weiner for her wise thoughts.  Just begin.  And although the writing spurts have gone on four decades plus, it just may be that the spurts are becoming gushers and so, I begin.

The children might raise their eyebrows at this point and remind me of my oft repeated statement:
"Once begun, half done!"

Dear Sareet will smile and tell me that she expected nothing less as hurdles in my path provide pauses rather than stops.

And my Grandfather Clint's stubby pencils, tiny notebooks, and succinct blurbs about the weather mixed in with musings of family and farm continue to inspire me to capture words daily.

A poem, a pondering, an analysis, a review...all a start to something that I know I must do.

Begin.

A Feathery Leaf

Hurdle one complete.

Coffee Kindness

It's official.  Sweet little old men give the best compliments.  From "champagne girl" at the wine shop to "cute chick" at the coffee shop, I'm wrapped in love from the elderly.  And since it seems my other research was driven by drink, I looked at the benefits of today's coffee run.  With the combined effects of a daily glass of wine and cuppa joe, my brain hitting the 50 year mark might be in better shape than I imagined!

Caffeine Love

I can't get enough information at this stage of life concerning wellness.  Each study/report/experiment is worth the time for discovery.  With bodily health we have strength to concentrate on our emotional and mental well being.  Adversity will come and preparedness should help the healing process.

Healing with a cuppa joe, an occasional champagne, and lots of little old men for compliments...sounds like a plan!

Champagne

When the ego takes a hit, it's nice to feel a soothing balm.  And the balms come from the most surprising people at the most opportune times.  Thankfulness then is due to the gentleman who referred to me as "a champagne among women" rather than the whiskey I'd thought myself to be.  lol

After all, whiskey ages so nicely and fits with my Kentuckian persona but champagne...what are its attributes and how might I use its balm?  Upon research, I found this happy result:

All groups were then subjected to high levels of neurotoxicity similar to what the human brain experiences during inflammatory conditions. The study found that the groups pre-treated with exposure to Champagne had a higher level of cell restoration compared to the group that wasn't. The study's co-authors noted that it was too early to conclusively say that drinking Champagne is beneficial to brain health but that the study does point researchers to more exploration in this area.

I have tried to savor champagne only on special occasions.  Unlike whiskey, its bubbles release into my laughter and my happiness buzz is quite speedy...great big smiles with that!  Perhaps it's worth a toast more often with the thought that drinking it is good for my health.  winkwink


Champagne Girl

May I compare thee to a cheerful glass?
With color like your hair
And tickles on your lips

May I taste your happiness?
With sweetness near
And a haunting kiss

May I stroke this smoothness?
With skin so supple
And peaking mounds

May I open your bottle?
With strength and care
And give you moans because I dare

Hello Day

I'm always enchanted by the pure magic of time and reflection.  Moments passing in a blur are for the younger set; I drink them in as they happen and hope for 50 more years of this wonderful phenomenon.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hello Day

What brought me low
Cannot continue so
And that's because of you

We shed the shadows
Of your night and
Welcome morning new

Too bright for some
Clouds just right
You are an artist true

Hello Day
You're quite a sight
And now my heart's not blue

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What a gift this beautiful day to remind me that I am not defined by sorrow.  Instead, my choice is to climb past the broken and walking wounded who do not choose to stand up and move forward.  I cannot understand their fear and fortunately, I'm at the stage of life where I no longer care to understand it.

Philosophers, saints, leaders have spent centuries trying to answer the question of WHY some souls stagnate and flounder.  For me, the lessons of moving onward were early and harsh but oh, I would not change a thing.  Instead, those days have prepared me to keep lifting foot after foot...letting my heart beat in hope for a someday love...forgiving myself over and over and all because I have lived through hardship.

Each DAY is my new beginning and my continued gratitude that I CAN welcome it all with a smile.

Nothing Good Gets Away

Thank you again, John Steinbeck.

How clear your advice this morning...how appropriate as the sound of the "less than good" scurrying away into the void feels me with regret and yet, I am left again with the sun still smiling on my face.

Smiling changes brain chemistry.  Sunshine makes the shadows that we leave behind and behind us is where they belong.  I cannot fathom staying behind with them.  It's not my nature and as those who know and love me can attest, it is with nature that my heart sings.

The Circle of Fathers

I always imagined that the kind of father I longed for was a fairy tale character.  Curiosity rules as I observe father/daughter interactions in public.

Are they happy together?  Do they talk and dream and plot silly things?  Will he support her decisions and will she forgive his mistakes?

My own daughter struggles confronting the fragility of her relationship with her father just as I did.  How did this occur and why couldn't we break this sad circle?  The answer lies with who I chose to marry and how I played out similar scenarios with him - a complete cycle of ineffective communication.

John Steinbeck wrote a beautiful letter about love and its effects to his eldest son Thom.  For a man who had finally found peace with his third wife, it's particularly poignant and sweet.

New York
November 10, 1958

Dear Thom:

We had your letter this morning. I will answer it from my point of view and of course Elaine will from hers.

First — if you are in love — that’s a good thing — that’s about the best thing that can happen to anyone. Don’t let anyone make it small or light to you.

Second — There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you — of kindness and consideration and respect — not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release in you strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn’t know you had.

You say this is not puppy love. If you feel so deeply — of course it isn’t puppy love.

But I don’t think you were asking me what you feel. You know better than anyone. What you wanted me to help you with is what to do about it — and that I can tell you.

Glory in it for one thing and be very glad and grateful for it.

The object of love is the best and most beautiful. Try to live up to it.

If you love someone — there is no possible harm in saying so — only you must remember that some people are very shy and sometimes the saying must take that shyness into consideration.

Girls have a way of knowing or feeling what you feel, but they usually like to hear it also.

It sometimes happens that what you feel is not returned for one reason or another — but that does not make your feeling less valuable and good.

Lastly, I know your feeling because I have it and I’m glad you have it.

We will be glad to meet Susan. She will be very welcome. But Elaine will make all such arrangements because that is her province and she will be very glad to. She knows about love too and maybe she can give you more help than I can.

And don’t worry about losing. If it is right, it happens — The main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.

Love,

Fa

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Nothing good gets away."  

I will take Steinbeck's fatherly advice and remember that although he isn't my father, his words matter and nary a fairy tale need suffer.  :-)

Wallace Arrives

We keep them hidden...our old selves from our new.

A simple question triggered an emotional onslaught as my lost girl peeked out again.

SUNDAY MORNING
Stanza 2
Wallace Stevens

Why should she give her bounty to the dead?
What is divinity if it can come
Only in silent shadows and in dreams?
Shall she not find in comforts of the sun,
In pungent fruit and bright green wings, or else
In any balm or beauty of the earth,
Things to be cherished like the thought of heaven?
Divinity must live within herself:
Passions of rain, or moods in falling snow;
Grievings in loneliness, or unsubdued
Elations when the forest blooms; gusty
Emotions on wet roads on autumn nights;
All pleasures and all pains, remembering
The bough of summer and the winter branch.
These are the measure destined for her soul.


The days of a single poetry stanza bringing forth deep emotion had disappeared, right?  But no, just delayed....

As a young woman in her mid 20's, I had no care for the speed of life.  The faster, the better as silly youth dictated regardless of how much suffering needed to be healed.  Rushing through pain was all that I understood to salve it and yet, the rushing of hurt did not make for a mended heart.

And so I delved into Wallace to find a release and there I first discovered my philosophy of heaven.  Without any formal churchgoing, I sat alone and tried to make sense of religion.  No one I knew talked much about heaven but hell was a constant threat.

Life was all about punishment; escaping eternal agony was a top priority in my poverty stricken and depressed community.

But I could not believe in their darkness.  Instead, to get past my hurtful youth, I contrived that perhaps I was already in heaven.  Glimpses of my personal hell, my often self-imposed misery convinced me that the ultimate direction to heaven was simply to pay attention to my beautiful and blessed surroundings.  It existed around me if I cared to take notice and this part of Wallace's poem clearly explained my musings.

...gusty Emotions...pleasures...pains...destined for her soul

Cheers to Wallace!

And then I remembered....

The most fabulous thing about this time in my life is that I get to have FUN with myself and that means I'm then happy to have FUN with another.

It's easy to get distracted as friends, family, former lovers, etc. thrash about with their own ideas concerning my bachelorette status...tsk tsk tsk...methinks they might be envious because my biggest concern isn't them but myself and my own contentment.

Because I remembered, life alone or supported can be fun....

Perspective

Fear of being abandoned

Fear of being smothered

It's an odd fact that these two rear their ugly heads simultaneously in a relationship as our "other half" mentality takes over and convinces us that we're incomplete without a partner.  The "first half," our original self, pushes back and demands autonomy, independence, and control of our destiny.

Being split down the middle while battling these "selves" gets easier as we age BUT it's annoying.  Women from both sides of the camp ponder the possibilities and stress about a final answer.

I've found that discussing this topic with women is as fulfilling as arguing the Democrat/Republican perspective, religion, or any number of divisive issues.  No one's situation fits the black and white answer that society demands.  Instead, we're as stretched as a used band-aid losing our "sticky" with each argument and experience.

BALANCE has never been more important than in midlife as we embark upon acrimonious paths and battles raged between and among the sexes.

The totality of our peace depends upon finding a sweet spot with someone who is open to the "two selves" struggling to find acceptance with oneself as well as with another.

Precipice

I'm not proud of my cowardly feelings when looking at future's edge.  Truth be told, I just can't paint a pretty picture of my pure and simple fright.

"Jump into the unknown, step forward with the pain, embrace the mystery...."  I've chanted those mantras time and again to get past my cowardice.  It worked but it still doesn't mean I liked abandoning security.  I'm not even sure why I keep pushing myself to be uncomfortable.  Maybe I'm aware that one aspect of my being has not been pushed enough and finally...finally, I'm ready to approach the edge and challenge my pock-marked brain to exercise its intellect once again.

At life's midpoint, I'm happy with my physical prowess.  I am sure in my ability to continue my path to lifetime fitness.  Emotionally, my development is on a great trajectory for growth and maturity.  With the aging of my parents and children, I'm positive that I will be tested but I'm comfortable with asking for help and I'm secure with the relationships I have in place to help me handle life's unexpected dramas.

Physical.  Emotional.  Mental.  That final piece of the triad has gone untested for so long that I fear it has atrophied to an unrecoverable point.  My mental acuity has taken the hardest hit from my monster, MS.

I have to explore the unknown aspects of my ravaged brain.  A neurological psychologist helped me with the baseline 3 years ago or should I say he dropped the "brain bomb" in my lap.

Black holes.  Some of my lesions turned into what the MRI techs call black holes which simply means that NOTHING shows up on the scan.  It's lost...forever.

"But you look so good."  "I can't believe you have it!"  "Oh, yours isn't so bad."  "I forget things too.  No big deal."

Black holes.  I grieve for them.  I wonder what part of my memory/knowledge disappeared and I'm frustrated that I can't know what I    do    not    know. . . .

My limbs are intact.  I'm mobile.  I'm lucid.  I am ABLE rather than being DISabled.

Yet I grieve at having black holes and feel guilty for the grief.

Grief.  Guilt.  Fright.  I'm tired of hosting them on a daily basis in my back room psyche.  Exorcising these demons means I must exercise my brain and face my deficits.  Scary place...grey matter with black holes.

But into its depths I must go and find the release valve.

#fearlessMS

Whole Spirit

Passive aggressive...temper tantrums...detached from their own personal truths....

It's a hard thing to face.  I went out with these men and had great affection for them and DID NOT listen to that inner voice that said CAUTION.

And the CAUTION sign wasn't about the kind of men they chose to be but about the kind of woman I was choosing to be...simply by being with them.

I was choosing to indulge their relationship "ideal" versus my own.  By letting my own worthiness fall to the wayside, I fell victim to my lack of confidence.  I fell victim to my own perceived inadequacies and I didn't stand firm in my convictions.

But each fall has subsequently been shorter, less painful and the healing came faster until no healing was required at all.  Instead, I accepted my mistake, forgot about flagellation, and moved away and forward.

Facing the sunshine means not caring about my shadow anymore; it also means facing the storms and believing that I will emerge as a whole spirit.

I can be whole in spirit although my psyche became a bit tattered over the last decade.  All those less than perfect parts of me can integrate now because I have learned that I can heal and those scars...they're just growth...not failure.

Whole
Spirit
Me