Venus’s Long Moonless Day & Relationship/Dating Series Post 1: Grieve First, then Find What’s Next in Your Story

Ah Venus. What more appropriate planet in our Galaxy to kick off this series on dating and relationships, or lack thereof, since this planet is named after the Roman goddess of love and beauty?  Right? Uh huh.

The second planet from the Sun, Venus is the second brightest object after Earth’s Moon. It has a similar size and mass to Earth, so they are often called “Sister Planets.”  Like Uranus that I spoke about in the previous post below, Venus rotates in a retrograde fashion, in the opposite direction to the sun. It has no satellites, meaning no moon! Yes, Venus is not in a relationship with any satellite. It has no co-dependent, symbiotic-like thing hanging around it to keep it company as Earth has Moon. And Venus seems to be doing just fine on its own in its own ironic way.

Venus is the hottest planet in our solar system with temperatures of over 870 degrees Fahrenheit—its atmosphere is made of carbon dioxide and extreme greenhouse effect heats up its surface. This is well hot enough to melt lead, people.

A weird little quirk about Venus is that a day on Venus, at 243 Earth days, lasts longer than its year, which is 224.7 days. A 243-day day. Well Dang!

If you weighed 115 pounds on Earth, you’d weigh 104.3 on Venus. If your birthday was today, August 5, and we use the year 1970 again, you would be 74.7 years old, and your next birthday would be September 24, 2016.

It’s telling that a planet so known for its symbol of love and beauty is also uninhabitable, with long long long long uber windy searing hot unbreathable days, and not even a Moon to gaze up at. Double Dang.

I could gaze longingly out the windows of the Lil Log Spaceship as I skirt around a symbol of love and beauty before jetting off to somewhere safe. Or, I could figure out how to completely alter myself so I could inhabit this hot uninhabitable planet.

Or, I could spend some time alone in the Galaxy until I figure out: What do you really really want, Kat? Who are you so you can know who you want in your life?

And most important:  What’s next in your own life story, Kat? Don’t you want to ask yourself that, too? And then find out?

Because if we become involved with someone too soon after being involved with someone else, we risk not finding out what’s next in our own stories but instead once again become entangled in someone else’s story.

So if I want to visit Venus, I will be equipped with the materials I need to explore its surface on my own terms. And if I cannot figure that out, I won’t go until I do.

(And nowhere in this post am I referring to the “Men are from Mars; Women from Venus” stuff—my post here has nothing to do with that.)

To start off this series on dating and relationships, I must tell you that being Lonely isn’t the end of the world. Sure we can melt on Venus, or be blown by raging winds, or slog through a 243-long day, but if we have to go there alone to discover what’s next in our stories, then we survive it. Because we must. Because we should. Because being alone is NECESSARY for us to move on and forward and tally ho!

If you are fresh out of a relationship and immediately jump into dating, how is that healthy? Where is the retrospective?  Where is the respect for that previous relationship—and if there is no respect, then why not? Where is the grieving period? Yes, grieving period. You are experiencing the death of something. I don’t care if you are telling me, “But it was a terrible relationship! We crashed on Venus and melted to smithereens!” If you were in a relationship, you must grieve its end. Even if only to grieve the “Idea” of that relationship.

If you were in a relationship that often made you happy, you must grieve the companionship, the intimacy, the veritable Two that becomes One. If you were in a relationship that was often stormy and chaotic, you must still grieve the moments of exciting madness.

If you felt you were a better person in this relationship than without it, then your grieving will be acutely lonely and sad. If you felt you became someone unrecognizable—someone you no longer wanted to be—in a relationship, you still must grieve, even if you are grieving over how something that seemingly held such promise ended with such messy crapitude.

I don’t care if you tell me you hate the person you were with and would cheerfully sock them in their big fat nose—if you do not deal with the grief to the end of a relationship, the death of something, and you rush headlong into dating, or worse into another relationship, you are setting yourself up for a world—a galaxy—of troubles. Yes yes yes, there are exceptions to every Rule in Life, but those exceptions are just that: Exceptions. Exceptions are rare.

Exceptions sure hurl us into a lot of trouble, don’t they? How many times do we hear, “So and so did this and such and it worked out perfectly! They’ve been together 5 million Venus days and each day is better than the last! Oohhhh, I want that! If they have it, there’s a chance I can, too! Ohhh!” Yeah. Trouble. Because sometimes those Exceptions lead to Expectations that lead to Justifications that lead to Oh Shit What Have I Done? And yes, okay, sometimes they can lead us to magical wonderlands in a galaxy far far away.

You willing to take that risk with what’s next in your story?

Do please believe me that taking time to lick your wounds and consider just what happened to you and to your partner is imperative for the health of your next relationship—if you decide ever to go there again! Ha! And you will. One day. And that One Day should be after you are strong and healthy. It should be after you consider YOUR OWN role in the “Just what happened here” planet.

Nope, I am closing my ears to your saying, “But my partner was a train wreck! He/She was *fill in blank with putritude*!” Well, even if you only have to answer to my, “Then why were you with them? What attracted you to the putritude train wreck?” Because as adults we do all make our own choices, don’t we? You can tell yourselves you were fooled, or blind with love, or blind with lust, or unaware, or lied to, or whatever justification you need to feel better about yourself, but reality is that there were two people in that relationship and neither one of you is was were perfect. Yes yes yes I understand there are some people who are Bad News and good decent people are swept away by events and personalities that surprise and fool and trick—another Exception. If that happens, then the healthy person quickly extracts themselves from that situation, right? Right! If not, then why not?

If the partnership had beautiful, and mind-blowing, moments, then the grieving and retrospective will be fraught with entanglements. Because you’ll miss those things, and you’ll want to feel them again, and you’ll want to feel them again NOW NOW NOW! I urge you to stop. Take a moment. Take bunches and oodles and millions of moments. Take some deep breaths. Learn to live alone for a while. Learn what it feels like to rely on You and You Only. Learn to be independent. Become strong. Become healthy. Find out What is Next in Your Story, without entangling yourself in someone else’s story—until it is Time.

Now, of course you want the support of your trusted friend(s)—who doesn’t? But even they can only help you so far as you are willing to help yourself.

Consider the reasons you were with your previous partner and then extract what worked about it—file that away for future reference. Then consider what did not work about it, extract that, and file that away in another file for your future reference. Be brutally honest with yourself. We humans have a funny way of denying reality and focusing only on what we want to hear/believe/see that feels comfy cozy to us. You must be so brutally honest with yourself that it hurts—deeply hurts—to consider. And I don’t mean just about your previous partner, but brutally honest about yourself, too. Perhaps you really did do all you could do and you tried with all your big beautiful heart, but, does that mean you did not have some responsibility in the demise of your partnership? Only until you are brutally honest will you flesh out what’s really going on in the head and heart and desires of You.

Though we won’t talk about No 9 right now, will we?

The good, the bad, and the ugly should be examined.

Diving headlong into another relationship before you’ve grieved the last one, before you’ve extracted the “Whys Hows Whens Wheres” of it all, will set you up either to look for what you are missing from the last partnership, or set you off to find something/someone completely different/opposite. Neither one of those missions is healthy, strong, independent-thinking. When you are ready to date again, you should be dating not with the idea of finding someone to replace the other person. Or finding someone to fill some hole in you. Or finding someone who will make you feel different from the last person. Or finding some warm body to keep you company.

Being with someone just so you are not alone is exactly the wrong reason to be with someone! It’s a sucky shitty reason. And it is certainly a Not Fair reason to the people you involve yourself with.

My last relationship was very intoxicating. And I grieved it. Not for days or weeks. I grieved for months. I stopped telling myself, “I should be over this. I should this. I should that.” Instead, I let myself feel all the horrible sad feelings. The tender moment feelings. The powerful intimate moment feelings. I let myself feel rage, too. Depression. Anxiety. Loneliness. Fear. I allowed myself to feel all the terrible awful things that we want to deny. Because we try to Feel Good all the time. Because we are told to Suck It Up. Because we are told to Get Out There Again! Because we are told strength means something different from what it really does mean: Strength means we must first feel weak and then build ourselves up again. Strength means facing all the shitty crappyness and feeling all the shitty crappyness without denying its existence so hard that we shove it into the Black Hole where we think it’ll disappear forever. Oh, it’ll find its way back up in some quasar supernova explosion—and in the most unexpected and un-wanted moments and times of our lives. It’ll find its way to you when you think you are happy again because you want to be HAPPY! so bad you won’t allow yourself any discomfort. *Shaking my head no*

There were many things I missed about Being Two. My Lil Log Spaceship became so quiet I could hear my own anxiety-ridden heartbeat. I wandered about as a ghost would, sad, lonely, scared. Suddenly, I had to figure out everything on my own. Suddenly, all the bills were mine. Suddenly, there was no sex, no intimacy, no kiss, no touch. Suddenly, there was no one to talk to. Suddenly, I ate alone, slept alone, did every single thing alone. I grieved. I assessed. I contemplated.

But, my friends, I did not jump out there and start dating just to fill up a hole left by someone else. And I’m still not dating. And I will not date until I know I am Ready. And by Ready I mean when I am completely strong again; when I feel like Myself again—myself as a whole independent mind and body. I will know when I get there and I will not rush this. I cannot. I should not. And neither should you.

The other day I looked into the mirror and thought, “There you are.” Because I am discovering myself again. Yes, I am Lonely Woman, but this Lonely Woman life is exactly what I need to find Me again. And once I am ready to date again, I will make choices that are healthy and strong. And the men I date will be healthy and strong. If they are not, then I want to be able to know that quickly so I’m outta there. You must be a healthy and strong person yourself so you can recognize one who matches you in strength and independence. You must find Respect. So you find Self Respect first.

So, my dear ones, though I am not dating right now, I have dated in the past. And, I have been talking to, and listening to, people who are or were dating, and in my next post in this series, I am going to explore some Dating Do’s and Don’t’s. Some of these were real eye openers—just when you think people would have common sense, and decency, and showers (haha!), well, they do not! Ha!

---

My next give away is Kat’s Choice. That means I get to randomly choose something to send to you. Yup, you just have to trust me . . . and of course you can! Can too! I’ll choose the names to draw from comments, “likes,” and from FB comments/likes, as well. Thank you!

No repairs or whatever today since this post ran a little long, but next week I’ll have more on simple repairs/tools, etc.

---

If you like Southern/Appalachian/Family Saga fiction (sometimes with a supernatural touch), then I hope you will consider one of my novels (or short story “snacks”) by clicking on this link to my Amazon Page. I appreciate your support!

And I thank you, my readers.

 

Advertisements

Pluto: too tiny to clear away obstacles? (& Repair for the Day)

At one time Pluto, though the smallest in the solar system and the farthest away (as far as we knew), was a Planet, a regular old planet and a part of the Nine Planets we all grew up reciting in school using a mnemonic, such as: My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas (for more, click on this site: Mnemonic Devices Memory Tools ). But one fine day Pluto was flung out of its A Part of the Whole planet status in our galaxy, left to drift there in the cold and dark.  Oh people rooted for it and that made Pluto feel hope, but it was still alone out there. Perhaps because scientists felt so sorry for Pluto in all its lonely isolation, they upgraded it to a Dwarf Planet. A consolation prize that didn’t lessen the sting so much as make Pluto feel its pride surging up but its feeling of belonging surging down.

Though Pluto’s status in the galaxy changed, Pluto had not changed other than the natural changes that occur with any living thing—and one could say that planets are not living things if there is no life there, but that’s a subject for another day. Pluto was doing as it always did, so far away in its own little world. Pluto is so difficult to explore and know about, since it’s so far away, that it is often misunderstood—and even so, it relays its heart on its pale face (and you can see and read about that heart on Nasa’s Site), sending messages of please love me! I am worthy! While at the same time keeping its distance away from all the others. A strange contradiction.

A Dwarf Planet is called this because it is so little it cannot clear other objects out of its path. Oh, my friends, how we do relate to that. In our One Status, tucked inside our spaceship, we see obstacles of every size and though we may feel mighty, we can’t seem to clear the way—and we see the other planets big and important doing what we struggle with and that only make us feel smaller and lonelier. We begin to feel this ineptness creep up on us. That inept feeling erodes and causes us to flounder. It’s all too much!, we wail. And, it is. No platitudes from well-meaning friends and family helps. Yes, they mean well when they say the supportive things they say out of their own helpless way of helping you. But it means nothing when you are struggling to clear the way through the galaxy’s bombardment.

One day on earth is 24 hours. But on Pluto? One day is the equivalent of 6 and ½ days. Time drags on slowly and methodically, though at the end of it, how much was accomplished? It feels as if we squandered that six and one-half days. We pass by Earth and see all the busy people accomplishing in one day what it takes us almost a week to do—because it’s all on us. Because no one has our back. Things pile up. Housework, food shopping, bill paying, dog care, work. And repairs to the ship (see below!). We’re pocked by the obstacles smacking us senseless and we cannot clear the way because we are so tiny.

It’s very cold on Pluto. 375 to 400 degrees below zero cold. It’s icy. Cold, dark, icy. Who would love
that? It is only icy because it is so far away from everything and everyone else. Isolation. But yet, there is that big heart. There is that grit. There is that tenacity despite its smallness.  There is that, I am Here! I am HERE! You will not discount me! Goddammit! You will see me! You will respect me!

On Pluto, you can eat whatever you want and hop on those scales and laugh your ass off. Pass the ice cream! Pass the cookies! More chips and dip please! Because 100 pounds on Earth is only about 7 pounds on Pluto. So, my lovelies, the nights you are alone watching rerun marathons of Grey’s Anatomy with all that love and kissing and sex and people interacting and hope and loss and the whole messiness of life and death, you, One You, are eating an ice-cream bar with enough calories to run a couple marathons around the perimeter of Pluto. And if you have not tried Magnums, and I mean the ice cream you sillies you, then travel in your spaceship over to Earth to the nearest store and find them. But know that they will taunt you from the freezer—call out to you, entice you. And you will answer because you crave the enticement, the taunting. You must save them for a special treat because once you return to Earth from Pluto, the weight difference will astound and amaze, and my friends, we must stay healthy! Magnuming ourselves into bad health isn’t the answer either. haw!

So how do you navigate your One-ness world? How do you clear objects out of your path even if you are told you cannot or you tell yourself that you cannot, or reality is you in reality cannot? You rise out of bed. You make your bed. You wash your face. You comb your hair. You turn on the coffee pot. You eat breakfast. You put one foot in front of the other and you Do. You try not to look at the other planets who hang in the air with all their importance. You show your heart and hope that one day that heart will be a beacon for Something More. But until then? Until then you try and you try and you try some more. And in the failings come success. Even small successes are accomplishments that will make you feel empowered. All by yourself.

That is what Pluto does. That is what Lonely Woman does (mostly). That is what we who are One in the galaxy must do.

---

Repair for the day: If your garbage disposal in the spaceship quits working, don’t immediately start wondering how you will replace it. Instead, grab a flashlight and dive under that sink and look for the Reset Button. Yes, if you did not know, there is a reset button on your garbage disposal. I found it, and it worked, so I didn’t need to do anything else. Before you go resetting, you’ll need to make sure there is nothing stuck in the disposal causing it not to work. Please do not go sticking your hand in there until you not only turn it off, but find the plug to unplug it! I once chewed up an entire glass in the disposal and had to unplug it so I could dig out millions of shards of glass. But I did it! And I did it this time, too, by not letting panic take over: Where will I find the money to replace this? Who can I trust to install it? OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG! (More on those thoughts another time). I simply hit Reset.

There are other troubleshooting ways to fix your disposal on your own. It will give you a feeling of power to be able to fix what goes wrong in your spaceship, without having to travel to one of the Big Important Planets to find someone, or pay someone, to help you. Again, please make sure that if you are sticking your hand down in that dark nasty abyss, you turn off the disposal and unplug it. Two videos to help you: Short One with only Music & Visuals & Longer One with Voice Instruction.

Next week, I will have a give-away. If you did not receive anything from me last week and you should have received the Kindle Copy because you “won” it, then please contact me.

Introduction to the Galaxy

The Milky Way Galaxy. Home. It’s not very big, as galaxies go. Though, progress intrudes as it often does—the Milky Way is moving towards the Andromeda Galaxy at seventy miles per second, and what was One will become a bigger messier Two that becomes a strange unknown One. Much as we humans do—we hurtle towards one another knowing the collision will be beautiful and fiery, and end in our spiritual or romantic or sexual (or all three) deaths. Perhaps before that happens, the sun will have already swollen to a red giant and, well, we won’t survive that either. We have no choice in the matter—death comes, so we must do the living, hurtling towards what we think will make our lives more exciting, bigger, better, sexier. Often, if we are careless, hurtling towards hurt—hurt(ling).

Oh but do not fret, for the aforementioned collision is millions of years away. Or, as in the case of Human Endeavors, it has already occurred and there is quite the mess to clean up and the resurrecting of Life not as it became known, but as it will become. Advice will be given freely: Think Positive! There are people who have it much worse! You can do it! It’s not so bad is it? Buck up and stop whining!

Looking out of the spaceship window, there is a vastness of sky interspersed with Stuff. Though one would think traveling into space would be a silent and black existence, it is not. It only seems that way for the Lonely Woman when eyes turn too far inward; but yet, even then, the brain is as the galaxy is—full of gas, dust, black hole, planets, moons, and stars, never still, ever-changing. In the midst of it all, one cannot see to think clearly with the dust and gas so thick, yet there are wonders there, beauties, discoveries. There is also the Hidden inside the black hole that one does not want to be too close to. Why, you may ask?

The massive black hole is a greedy dark mouth that devours all the beauty and wonder and light. But yet, you wonder, inside the blackness, where no one can see, the wonders and beauty are still there, are they not? Still, you know the danger of Black Hole. No one really understands it, and that makes it bigger and badder. It is ravenous, dark, moving, surreal, dangerous, scary. Even before you enter the Event Horizon and are sucked in, you are drawn to it, drawn to it, drawn to it, drawn to that strange awful blackness.

In this galaxy, there are over 200 billion stars, maybe up to 400 billion, and that makes up only part of the home of the Earth home. Back on earth, there are about 7.5 billion people—the world could possibly support 9 or 10 billion. (Go to this World Population Calculator and see how the number changes yet stays the same as it calculates births and deaths.) And yet, for the Lonely Woman, there is One. And the inside of the spaceship has a silence so loud it bangs upon the eardrums a tune that says: Alone Alone Alone Alone Alone Alone Alone, to the tune of the heartbeat. Turn your head this way and that, and find the spot that turns off the sound, brief respite you’ll cover up with alcohol, silly inane tv shows, work, or long walks in the atrium side of your ship.

The thing about being alone is people are afraid of the vastness of it, or ashamed of it, or think that it means they are somehow Not Quite Right. But often, the Lonely choose it. Because they must. One must learn to be alone before one can learn to be, well, not alone. So while it is a choice, it also has its challenges.

Earth is noisy, and Lonely Woman recoils, retreats to the safety of the ship. Yet in space, it is not as silent as one would imagine. Though sound is not as it is on Earth. Sound in space is eerie—it is the sound of loneliness, beautiful but frightening—it is a sound that both entices and repels. You want to listen, yet you want to run away from it. (Visit this website called “Can You Actually” that has YouTube videos of the sounds of planets, including Earth.)

Turning from the window, thoughts turn to the basics: how to navigate a busy galaxy when it is but you at the helm of your spaceship? And that is what this journey will be. Effectively, or sometimes ineffectively, navigating the galaxy as One, which includes that of Home Earth. What will you eat for One? How will you repair the spaceship as One? Where are safe places to go, as One? What to do when no one has your back but you? What if you are sick? What if . . . what if . . . what if? How to . . . how to . . . how to? Why, how, when, where? Thus, yes, the name: The Lonely Woman’s Guide to the Galaxy.

I hope to help. Or at least commiserate when I cannot help. And, perhaps you out there will offer your own solutions and ideas for how you navigate the Galaxy—not just as one, but as one of the billions of shining stars out there in this Milky Way Galaxy.

And today, to speed us off on our journey, as promised, I have a give-away. While I won’t always do it this way, and it will not always be a book from me, or a book by someone else, for I would grow bored with that, I do not want to seem as if I’m ‘trolling for comments,’ which I am not; so, that written, today, since it’s the first day of our journey, I will offer a Kindle copy of one of my books to the first three commenters (your choice of books, and to do with as you will – give away or keep). If you comment and do not wish for a copy, it won’t hurt my feelings, just say so. Lonely Woman does not get her panties in a twist about such.

I hope you will join in. How ironic that this blog could very well be the loneliest of places, as well? Ha! I can navigate around that, too. Yes.

 

 

 

 

 

Workout Writer: How Bad Do You Want This?

I’m exhausted! A few hours of non-continuous-multi-interrupted sleep, and an anxious but excited brain (more on what’s causing that later). Today I’m supposed to haul myself to the gym, in the rain, with my tired but anxious excited brain, and do an aerobics then weight training workout for at least an hour and a half. Do I really want to? (ZOMG! I just stared at my keyboard for waaaaay longer than cool trying to find the italics maker—um, Kat, the italics maker is at the top of your screen, where it’s been for the upteen years you’ve been writing on word, and to infinity and beyond. Lawd. And I thought this was Wednesday. And I keep losing my train of thought. And a bird keeps chirping and I both love it and want to throw a rock at it. And my brain has cotton-clouds floating in a sea of mush. One coffee down and it ain’t touching the WAKE UP AND BE ALERT button yet.)

I am light. My body is under my control. But my brain is wackadoodle doo doo

Well, since I’m one of those weirdlings who loves to exercise, perhaps I really do want to—this is the answer to the question above. Yeah. My thoughts are organized, y’all! Haw! But really all I want to do right now is climb back in bed and sleep a few hours and worry about the gym another time. After all, I’m in good shape, right? My body is strong. My heart and lungs are fit. Welp, y’all: how did I achieve that? Not by climbing back in bed and going back to sleep knowing the workout will not be done, since there’re other things I must accomplish today, as well. This reminded me of a post I’d written a few years ago when I was re-shaping my workouts, and my body–it was supposed to be a post for Wednesday, but who cares? Tuesday, Wednesday–meh. Laugh. I know I’ve reposted or rewritten many a post lately, but my world is soon changing again–and in that change comes the flood of words, the vomit of words, the torrent, the Mt. Vesuvius of bellows of writing of words to ensue, because . . . because . . . I can’t even breathe it out right now. Later.

So, my beauties, that day, I was completely exhausted and didn’t wanna workout—thusly, with a few tweaks, y’all—

—during my run/treadmill aerobics, I wanted to stop multiple times. I didn’t want to challenge myself. I wanted Easy. To go along at this slow steady pace, or better yet, walk, or better yet, jump off and go do something else. I became so frustrated with myself, that I yelled in my head like a red-faced coach, “HOW BAD DO YOU WANT THIS? HUH? HOW BAD DO YOU WANT THIS?” And all of a sudden, I knew I wanted it BAD! I bumped up the speed and tore off on the treadmill.

During one particular song, I pushed off on my leg and hovered in the air before slamming down, and did it again and again. As I hovered there, it felt as if I were suspended about a foot in the air, when in reality, I probably only came up a few inches—but the Perception was I felt myself higher. Does it really matter if I only came up a few inches? Or is the Perception of what I felt I accomplished a just-as-important reality? I like to think the latter, for it inspired me to take it further and farther, to run stronger, to push myself past the point of what I thought was my limit.

HOW BAD DO YOU WANT THIS?

Take what I said above and apply it to your writing life, or your musical life, or your artistic life, or your work life, your home life, your Life. How bad do we want what we think we want the most? How hard are we willing to work for it? How often are we willing to feel uncomfortable? How often are we able to face a disappointment and still go on? And how much are we willing to push ourselves past the point where we think we must stop? And when we push off, hover in the air, feeling powerful and strong, do we let that wonderful Perception spur us on to do more and better and stronger? Or do we say, “Eh, I was really only inches off the ground. No big deal. Other people can jump higher. Eh.”

How bad do you want this?

Bad enough to sweat and push and sprint and, as well, sometimes to feel pain and set-backs and exhaustion but pick yourself up and do it again. And again. And again.

I’ll tell you what giving up or giving in gives you: Not a danged thing but regret. And the flipside of that is this: you can work your ass off and still not reach all of your goals, but I can guarantee you’ll have accomplished more than you ever dreamed you could if you do not give in to negativity and fear and doubt. You’ll have jumped up, hovered higher than you ever thought you could soar, grow stronger, faster, more determined. Note the accomplishments and savor them, for even the smallest goal reached is A Goal Reached. Why do we disregard even the smallest of goals? They weren’t so small when we were arching towards them, were they?

How bad do you want this?

Hurtling forward . . . .

This is a repeat of a post from March of 2007  – How damned appropriate that I stumbled on it now, when just about everything in my life is rushing forward so fast that many things will be left behind. It’s so apt, I had to re-post it . . . .

———————————-

Ever have that feeling that perhaps things are moving faster than you are, but then, at the same time, you realize it is you who is moving faster than those around you, some those, not all those.

 

And particles whiz by your head as you hurtle, and you become afraid . . . and there are those who will chide your fear, but do not worry, for maybe they are ahead of you, but at least you are moving . . . moving . . . moving.

 

Left behind are ones who will miss you, and for once, you can’t worry about that, for there are shiny things ahead, shiny new things . . . and maybe they will be sharp and give you pain, but how do you know, until you hurtle there?

 

Ever have that feeling that things will never be the same again, that some action or thought or being will forever alter everything you tried to hold tight to yourself, until you give in and let go. And you feel excitement mixed with a scattered horror?

 

Ever have those feelings?

—————————-

I’ll be back soon with another post from my “list,” below, from my “never say never” post.

• What not to do when you are alone and vulnerable
• When you are the one you says, “I want a separation”
• When you have said you “never” have writer’s block and suddenly you cannot write
• When you have to leave a place/an ideal/a way of life that you thought was “forever” because you said “never will I leave this place/ideal/way of life
• When disappointment in people attacks—when you realize the people you thought would call never do, and the ones you never thought would reach out to you do.
• When the word “lonely” expands beyond and above what you ever thought it could be
• When you think you cannot, absolutely cannot, face something—but then you do
• What happens next?
• At my age! . . . the prospects of dating and all that jazz (and being called a cougar—? Um, what?)
• Etc.

Stop! Five “don’ts” when you are feeling vulnerable (and five “do’s”):

All righty then. From the list in the “never say never” post below:

1. Don’t drink too much. Okay, allow yourself that one night where you slug down some vodka and dance around the living room to techno trance (for the first 30 minutes) before feeling  sorry for yourself and throwing a mug against a tree and railing against your fates and . . .  and then just don’t . . . don’t allow yourself to drink yourself into a stupor where you curl into a ball in a chair and sob and fall asleep and wake up with your mouth dry and your pea-headed brain full of cotton and then unsteadily climb into your bed where you wake the next day feeling like crap on a stick that’s been beaten against a tree. Don’t. Find another way to cope. For that alcohol habit is not one you want to find yourself embedded in. No scenario has you drinking too much and then going, “Sure am glad I did that! I feel great now! All my problems are SOLVED!” Yeah  . . . no. And especially do not drink and text . . . .
2. Don’t text whiny self-indulgent messages to anyone but your most trusted BFF (or post Facebook updates). No one wants to read that shit. No one wants to see your dark depressed underbelly. Believe me dangity do, that if you DO text/message/FB update with your whiny ramblings, you will forever regret it. Yes you will. YES YOU WILL! Do whatever is necessary not to bare your darkened squishy brain ramblings to anyone other than that trusted bestie. Later, when you are back to your strong kickass self, you will rather that you had not let people see a side of you that you’d have rather not—you will forever wonder if they now see you differently and not in a completely positive self-respecting I know my worth way. Remember, once again: NO ONE wants to read that shit—not even your BFF, but the contract of BFF’dom says they have to, so they have to suck it up. Only them, and you’d do the same for your BFF.
3. 

   well, sheee’it

   Don’t further isolate yourself by further isolating yourself. Give yourself a little time–a week? two? three? four? oh oh-five? six? oops . . . seven? erk . . .  to push all the nasties out of your system, and then it’s time to stop wallowing. Get out with friends. Go for a drive. Invite someone(s) over. Workout. Smile at people. Talk to people. Be aware of your surroundings and remember where you once found joy. Remember that things are not all BAD, just different, and if there is some BAD, then remember it will not last forever unless you give the bad POWER—don’t give away your power. Find excitement in that different—isn’t this what you wanted? *Did you think this would be easy?*

4. However, pertaining to Number 3, don’t spend time with people you don’t give a rat’s big ole ass about or who don’t give a rat’s big old heiny about you, just so you won’t feel alone. Self-Worth! Say it to yourself, in your head and then aloud: I know my worth! I am worthy! Look about your psyche-house until you find your self-worth and self-respect – are they under the bed, all dusty and rusty? Pull them out, dust them off, and let them back onto your life. Say it with me: I am worthy; I know my worth. You do not NEED people or company or that “friend” or that man or that woman or that crowd—be with the ones who give you joy, or are fun to be with/around, or you complement each other’s psyches or whatever. “I am worthy; I know my worth.”
5. 

   *I Kiss You*

   Beating yourself up? Don’t. Stop it. Yes, even if you’ve done the above. Give yourself a big fat break for being human. Beating yourself up will only make things worse. Even if you are the one who made the decision to dive into dark terrifying unknowns, who cut ties, who said, “I do not want this anymore,” why are you punishing yourself?  Why are you saying, “Oh well, this is what I get. This is what I deserve for shaking things up.” Nope. Not reality. Be your own BFF for a while. Use this quiet solitude time to discover just what kinds of guts you have. Recognize how you are doing exactly what you wanted and needed and considered for quite some time—and did you really think it was going to be easy? Hell no! Not much worth doing and having and obtaining ever comes “Easy.” Be kind to yourself. Love yourself. Give yourself some credit for Going For It, whatever that is, despite the initial feelings of grief and terror and stark-raving-madness.

DO!

1. Do find gratitude—every day. Every morning take a deep breath and consider just what you are grateful for. And throughout the day, remind yourself what you are grateful for! Don’t forget to let out that breath. Ha.
2. 

   exercise outdoors when you can

   Do get out and breathe in some fresh air; and definitely get some exercise. Your body and your brain will love you for it, and you will feel GREAT. I promise you this. If you have never exercised, then take a simple walk, and then another, and then another, and one after that, and another after that, and feel your body grow strong and your brain feel centered.

3. Do live in the NOW, not some future. Remind yourself throughout the day to calm the voices in your head, stop for a moment, and BE IN THE NOW. What scents are surrounding you? How does your skin feel when you touch it? How do your lungs feel as you fill them with air? Your feet as they connect to the ground? Find the NOW, the present, this very moment in time, and savor it. The future will come soon enough and it’s rarely exactly how you envisioned it.
4. Do reach out to your BFF(s) and your family. You can allow yourself a few whiny self-indulgent messages to the BFF (and maybe, MAYBE a trusted close family member), but after that, work with your besties and/or family on solutions to how you can transition from Old Life to New Life. There will have to be some grieving of the old life, even if you were ready to move on.  So . . . .
5. Do allow yourself to grieve. If you don’t, then you are only denying what was once an important part of your life, no matter whether it wasn’t all healthy or perfect or wonderful or enlightened, it was still YOUR LIFE. Grieve the old as you step into the new.

 

Now. Go kickass.

The phrase “I will never . . . .” is a coiled snake ready to bite us on our asses

How many times have you used that phrase only to have it come back later and bite the shit out of your ass? Now, that doesn’t mean the biting isn’t going to be a good thing—maybe you needed to be bit on your ass to propel you in to some kind of motion. Maybe you’ve been stagnant, bored but not recognizing that, or meandering around aimlessly, or unhappy with a situation but in denial.

Maybe you said “never” with the fever and fervor of THIS WILL NEVER EVER CHANGE and have just been bitten on the ass and aren’t sure if that bite will propel you towards something better, or just as good, or towards—THE SCARYASS UNKNOWN! *cue dramatic thunderous slightly dark music*

Or perhaps, my friends, you told someone, “I will never,” and you didn’t really mean it. It isn’t that you lied, it’s just that you could not face up to the truth inside of you—buried there deep, where only the snake biting you on the ass could cause a draining away and revealing of your truths. You said the words because to admit the other words would cause pain and turmoil and disruption and feelings of failure and that SCARYASS UNKNOWN looming. You said them so the other would believe and not be hurt, yes, but also to force yourself to believe so you wouldn’t do the hurting.

We do have our “Nevers” that are iron-clad. For example, “I will never kill another human being,” but then, is that true? If someone were going to fatally harm me or mine, wouldn’t I kill the shit out of them? “I will never jump off the Empire State Building!” Okay, that seems pretty safe. But what if I’m up there and there’s a fire behind me and no escape—I  either have to jump or burn up. I’m jumping! Okay. Well. Huhn. “I will never stop loving my son and granddaughter!” There. That’s a never that holds forever true! But those iron-clad “nevers” are few, even when we think they are not.

Then . . . .

Now . . . .

“I will never grow out my hair.” “I will never write erotica.” “I will never sit around crying like a big baby because I’m a tough-ass bitch.” “I will never leave *insert something or someone here*” “I will never give up/give in/give to/give back . . . .”

Oh, my friends. The phrase “I will never . . . .” is the universe’s big laugh at you; it’s the coiled snake ready to bite you on your ass; it’s the swallow those words you spoke because, guess what? Never became “oh shit, it’s happening/happened/going to happen.”

Maybe that snake did surprise you. Or, maybe you sat on that badass snake so it WOULD bite you! Maybe you pretended you didn’t see the snake and just stuck your bared ass right in its face and taunted it while pretending you were going about your business all la tee dah.

So. Little things are easy to talk about first. For instance, I remember clearly and distinctly standing at Hart Theater in Waynesville, North Carolina a couple years ago, talking to a theater friend who’d just cut her hair short, and I said (there’s a metaphor here, isn’t there?), “Yeah. I love mine short and will NEVER go back to longer hair. Ever.” Um. Yeah. Guess what? I not only grew it out, but longer than I ever thought I would have. But that night as I stood there smiling and confident, I really truly believed myself. I honestly thought the words “I will never  . . . .” were true and real and were never to be altered. I thought myself completely  happy with my shorty ole hair. I couldn’t see a day when I wouldn’t be satisfied with that look. Oh how we tempt the fates with our ultimatums and declarations!

Or, I remember standing by my mother, my face all sincere and true: “Nah. Not for me. I’m not going to write trashy erotica stuff! I will never do that. I will stick to what I write.” And then, three months later, on a night when I was full of vodka and bad intent and after I’d smashed a writer’s conference mug against the tree outside my little log house and yelled into the night, “I QUIT! I am NOT WRITING ANOTHER WORD! I AM PISSED OFF AT THE WHOLE BUSINESS! FUCK THIS SHIT!” (the snow hid my shame, until it melted – lawd), I preternaturally-calm opened my word document and wrote Seduction Cove and I laughed a vodka-infused laugh, and of course, I ain’t telling my mom. I also said, “I will NEVER tell anyone I wrote it–I’ll keep Tasha a secret.” Oops; didn’t happen that way. Mom, if you happen by here: I’m sorry. Dang. And now my writing world has altered. Where will I take it next?

I will never leave this beautiful place

So, my friends. There have been some changes in my life, and more are coming. I’ve spent the last six months or so (actually, the last two years after my father died—something about a parent dying sets a woman on quests and questionings and searchings)—wading through the molasses of change and discovery and heartache and decisions that changed my life and the life of others and etc etc etc – ET CET ER A!

I will begin a series of posts about my “nevers” and my “soon to comes” and my “already happeneds” – and I hope you’ll learn something from them, or be entertained, or nod or shake your head, or ignore it all—but I need to write it. That’s what I do. I am a writer. I write things out. And when I do not, I bother my friends with my whiny angst, or send texts that are full of self-indulgent whines that I later regret (that’s a post in itself). So write I will.

Some topics—and I will never stray from them (hahaha!) are:

• What not to do when you are alone and vulnerable
• When you are the one you says, “I want a separation”
• When you have said you “never” have writer’s block and suddenly you cannot write
• When you have to leave a place/an ideal/a way of life that you thought was “forever” because you said “never will I leave this place/ideal/way of life
• When disappointment in people attacks—when you realize the people you thought would call never do, and the ones you never thought would reach out to you do.
• When the word “lonely” expands beyond and above what you ever thought it could be
• When you think you cannot, absolutely cannot, face something—but then you do
• What happens next?
• At my age! . . . the prospects of dating and all that jazz (and being called a cougar—? Um, what?)
• Etc.

I’ll be back soon . . . .

Work-out writer: the sneaky hidden world of eating disordered thinking in women over fifty

The photo that started it all . . .

Last year I wrote a post entitled: “Does this obsession make me look fat?”

There’s been a lot of talk lately about eating disorders in women over fifty. Well, I would guess that while there are some women who are dealing with this issue for the first time, there are an awful lot more of us who have had eating disordered thinking most of our lives and have just hid it really very well or have had it under control. Then, according to what is going on in our lives, the eating disordered thinking may rear up its ugly head right as we think we are at our most confident and powerful: in our fifties, the time of our lives when we are feeling the most kickass, when we don’t care what people think, when we say what we want and live how we want. Imagine our surprise when eating disordered thinking sneaks up and bites us on the ass. What? Me? Wait a minute now! I’m not that teenaged girl any longer. I’m not that mixed up frightened little thing. I’m strong. I’m sexy. I’m ready to take on the world.

What the hell is going on?

The “experts” will tell you and/or your family and friends to watch out for these signs:

‘. . . there are signs to look out for that may indicate someone has an eating disorder. These include: precipitous weight loss or low weight; withdrawing from family, partner and friends; evidence of binge eating or purging; extremely low self-esteem and body esteem; not eating with the family; avoiding events where there is food.” (Taken from HealthDay by Steven Reinberg)

What goes on behind the eyes of a woman? Secret secret things.

Sure, those things are true for a certain group of women—but not for us! We aren’t like that. We’re out enjoying life. We’re reaching long-hoped for goals. We’re walking with our head up and eyes forward. We are feeling sexual power. We are power. If you looked at us, you’d see a woman who is in pretty good shape–not too thin at all. We may look pretty danged good “for our age” – hell, maybe for any age.

But there is the sneaky hidden eating disordered behavior that no one may ever know.

We’re told that eating disorder in aging women is because “fifty is the  new thirty; seventy is the new fifty,” and yes there may be some truth to that, for some women. Not us!  We have taken care of ourselves; we feel awesome; we feel sexier than ever; we will be kickass well into very-old-agedom. We are not our grandmothers kind of grandmothers. We strut. We look back over our shoulder and say, “Yeah, you think you can handle this much woman? I dare you to try.”

Though it doesn’t start out that way, it quickly becomes about Control. Think about it: what else is completely under your control? Since the time you become aware that you could tell your mommy, “No! Don’t want it!” you have been able to control what goes into your mouth. And what goes into your mouth, or not, has the side effect of affecting your body size—a double whammy of Control. While the outside world can twirl about you; while people—your boss, your spouse, your parents, your friends, your editor, your colleagues, a stranger on the street—take their pieces of you; well, by golly gee, they can’t force you to eat! They can’t dictate what your body looks like! As your body changes, your power grows. Look at you! Control! Control! It’s both as simplistic and as complicated as all that. Even if you don’t really believe that’s what it’s all about, this is a truth that must be explored.

What you really tell yourself is, “I like myself like this.” And you do. To a point. But the toll must be paid. Tolls always must be paid.

We lose our daddies

Sure, our aging bodies can frighten us a bit, and it isn’t only about what we look like, but thoughts about our mortality. Our grandparents die; our parents are nearer to death or they do die—we are next in line. Every line or wrinkle is another sign that life is heading towards death. And not just physical death, but what about the death of dreams? Or desires? Or what about the death of health? Or good looks? Or time to do the things we want to do? And there’s nothing you can do about growing older, kiddies. It’s a fact of life, growing old, and then death.  And when we arrive at Very Old, will we look like ourselves? A fear is: We don’t want to look like someone we don’t recognize. We don’t mind becoming older, just let us look like US! Don’t let our face and body melt into a stranger’s face/body. We want to be able to look into a mirror and see the person we have always been. To recognize our faces as ours.

I suppose for some, gaining weight would mean we do not look like ourselves.

Oh, it’s heady powerful stuff. As the scales lower, there is that thrill—look what I have done! Look at the control I have! I am powerful! I can plan, plot, quirk my food and my body into whatever I want it to be, just by my own strong free will, by will-power.

Will. Power. WillPower.

For many  of us in the fringes, it never reaches the anorexic stage, or the bulimic stage, the binge and purge stage.  The “under weight” stage. We find that stuff distasteful. Yuck. They aren’t In Control. We are! We find the sweet spot of Control just at that edge, just at that spot where people would never know the struggle we are going through. We still are within our healthy BMI; we still eat—we don’t avoid food situations, and in fact, may embrace them, for we can eat whatever and how much ever we want, for tomorrow is another day where we’ll just eat less to make up for it. Ha! Fooled up, sumbitches! We don’t binge and purge—gross! That’s for the “crazy ones.” We don’t starve ourselves into emaciation—why, that’s for those obsessive whiners. Give us some credit, whydontcha. We walk that fine line of eating enough while still maintaining our control. We exercise and we eat healthfully, but we also know how to manipulate food just enough. Just enough.

We are many times highly intelligent and highly motivated and goal driven women–and for some of us, people don’t see this in us, so we give them what they want: A perfect sexy body they can objectify. Then while we have their attention, we kick their ass with our smarts and our insights. WHUPOW! Gotcha! Suck on that!

Will.Power.

we have to remember that the jeans we bought to fit our new bodies are supposed to be tight, we bought them that way. They should stay tight.

The danger comes when the weight drops lower than you meant for it to. Oh oh. You tell yourself you won’t go any further. You tell yourself you’ll gain back a few pounds. You tell yourself this, but by then the Control Demon has its claws in you and you must tread carefully now. You don’t want to be one of THEM. You put on muscle, eat more protein, find ways to walk that fine line of “healthy but thin.”

It isn’t always about what we look like—for really, there isn’t a true concept of “what we look like,” for when we look into the mirror, we do not see what everyone else sees–no one really does, it’s just for us, the body dysmorphia is more acute. And, honestly, one day we may feel quite good about ourselves, fit and thin and wonderful, and the very next day we may feel willy nilly bound; oh my god oh my god am I gaining weight(losing control/losing will.power)?

If someone would hear us say, “Oh my god! I’ve gained two pounds,” they may roll their eyes and say, “Get over yourself! Two pounds! Get real!” But what they may not understand is that it is not the two pounds itself that is the problem—it’s the fear of careening out of control. Two pounds leads to three and then four and then six and then ten and where does it stop? If we are not vigilant, two pounds becomes more and more and more, and what if we can’t stop it? What if we gain and gain and gain and gain and gain . . . No! Must.Gain.Control. We do not like the out of control feeling and it must be Stopped.

Because we are better than that. We are too powerful to let something have control of us!

I’m not listening. I’m not listening. (Yes, I am too listening – please shut up).

People who do not struggle with eating disordered thinking would see that two pound gain as a shrug in their lives. People with eating disordered thinking sees that two pounds as weakness. Are you weak! No! Get back on the program! NOW! Do not relax! Vigilance! You are stronger than this! You can beat this! And when the two pounds releases out into the air and off your body, it’s almost sexual, an orgasmic thrill. Oh yes, yes, yes, yes, oh god yes.

There are many thrills to the eating disordered life. That’s why it’s so powerful. We may start out only trying to lose a few needed pounds. Perhaps we’ve been going through our lives and step on the scales one day and go, “Oh oh. You have let yourself go. You idiot!” We really mean it when we tell ourselves we will lose those extra pounds and be happy with that.  People notice, and we feel better, yes. Good. Done. But . . . wait. Hold up. The little voice cajoles, “Lose a couple extra, just in case. That way, you’ll have a cushion! You can relax some. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?” Hey, that does sound great! So you lose a couple more pounds. The compliments rise, and you feel even better.

There comes the thrill of seeing the scales bow to your power, to your will. You are kicking the ass of those scales. You are In Control. Yeah! WILL.POWER!

I am light. My body is under my control. What else can my lighter body do? Exciting.

You lose a couple more, maybe even accidentally. You think, why not? Your clothes are fitting looser. You feel lighter. Your body is buoyant! Your body can do things it couldn’t do before–move in ways it couldn’t, bend in ways it couldn’t, exercise in ways it couldn’t, have sex in ways it couldn’t; it is pleasing, pleasurable, giddy, heady.

When you lie down at night, your stomach is flat and you can feel your hip bones—and this becomes one of your litmus tests. If you lie down and can’t feel that slight concave belly and those hip bones, then You Are Out Of Control! Oh oh.  You begin to like the way you can feel some of your bones under your skin, not hidden by layers of fat, no, but right there, so beautiful, the body is so very beautiful. Your body is beautiful. The curves and knobs and sharp planes and muscles that you manipulate with your hand. Your partner slides his hand along your body and you hum and shimmer–he can feel it, too. You still have enough body fat to be curvy and soft, but you’ve lost enough that as you explore your body, as he does, you/he feel all the new nuances of it. Your ribs, your hipbones, your collar bones, the tiny waist, the lean muscle. Your cheekbones ride higher and you think maybe it makes you look more knowing; there, those cheekbones below your big dark eyes full of deep dark secrets.

When you work out, your body is light and airy-air-borne. It flies over the treadmill, as if your bones are hollow, yet they are hard as a boulder, unbreakable. You are unbreakable! You feel strong, competent, powerful. People begin complimenting you more and more. Men stare appreciatively, and even younger men wink at you, tell you that you look hot.

You feel a sexual thrill you have never felt before–they are under your control now, helpless–who’s the little bee-otch now, huh? I am in control; you are in my control.

Your clothes skim your body, rubbing against your skin, nothing spilling over, no binding. You could almost float, so light you are!

And meanwhile, (practically) no one is the wiser. No one knows your obsessive thoughts about food and weight. No one knows the fear and anxiety. No one knows your need for control. No one knows that sometimes you go to bed hungry because you “lost control” and ate too much earlier that day or the day before. No one knows how you don’t know if you ate enough that day and because you do not want to become One Of Them, one of The Crazies, you force yourself to eat more the next day.

No one knows that hunger, your growling belly, is so fucking scary, for it means two things: you need to eat, your need to eat.

Sometimes friends will know what’s going on because they know you best, and they’ll miss the lost part of you.

No one knows that every time you step on the scales you tell yourself not to be happy if you’ve lost weight and not to be sad if you’ve gained weight. Then, if you’ve gained weight, you try to calm the out of control feelings. If you’ve lost weight, you try to calm the tiny little thrill that shimmers up your spine.

In my post I linked to above, I listed how my weight began to drop, and my feelings about it at the time. And now? . . .  No, I did not gain back to 120; no I did not stay at 116. Yes, I am stable where I am now, and I must be, because I will not be one of Them.

I am Will.Power. Stand back. Get out of my way.

Don’t get too close now . . . . that’s right.

People are at all times prone to their own stupidity. We’re sorry about that.

Control. Power.  Isn’t it ironic? Because, really . . . yes. That’s right. You got it. We are so good at justification. We are so smart. We are so stupidly smart.

They’re coming to take me away, haha heee hee ho ho, to the loony farm, where all the writers go ..ha ha heehe they’re coming to haul me alway ha ha

I couldn’t sleep last night. I tossed. I turned. I turned. I tossed. My synapses fired off -one two three fifty-five-thousand-and-four. I had benign thoughts like, “What should I wear to the book signing reception on Friday?” My pea-headed brain went through the contents of my closet (such as I could remember) and rejected rejected rejected — then my thoughts turned to how I needed to clean out my closet — then my thoughts turned to shoes – then to how I needed to get rid of some shoes — then should I go buy something sparkling new for the signing – then no, I shouldn’t; I have enough stuff and in fact wasn’t I just saying I needed to get RID of some stuff?

Then my brain went over here and over there and over yonder. Boing boing boing boing!

I thought, “Oh! I hope I am here when my books get here (today? tomorrow? the next day?) so I can take a photo of the delivery person hauling my box out of the delivery truck!” Them my brain went off on that — oh! I can take a photo of that, and then the box, and then me opening the box, and then me pulling out the books, and then the book on my bookshelf, and then I can put it all on my blog… on and on I went.

Then I thought about what Marta Stephens did and thought what a good idea it was: she had people take a photo of themselves holding her book(s) and then posted them (with permission) to her site! See Here at Marta’s Site, and the photo I did to the left, teehee. So, I thought how much fun that could be if y’all who get a Tender Graces book could take a photo of yourselves with it and send it to me to post! Huh? Huh? what do you think? huh? boing boing boing boing boing boing!

Then I had a very detailed dream that I was in a nursing home – no, not as a resident, but visiting – or something. And I can clearly see these elderly women–the lives they led and the lives they lead. A few of them fell and I rushed to help them and felt their frustration and anger at how they couldn’t do as they used to. Their hair was perfectly coifed, their make-up done beautifully, their clothing neat and as if to say “I am ready to go – -somewhere, anywhere…” It was an interesting dream, but I’m not sure what it meant.

So, on and on and on and on and on goes my brain – bam bam bam boing boing boing! My face is breaking out and I’m trying to stop that before Friday *laughing* I have bags under my eyes. I am excited and terrified! By time Friday comes, who knows what I will look like *haw!!!*

And all the books are on their way to the places and people who have ordered. God. Oh geez. Oh oh oh oh!!!! Yes, I am using the dreaded Exclamation Point!!!! — laughing….

I have to say this. I know that not everyone who visits my blog or knows me or whatever’s me will buy my book – or can buy it – or wants to buy it — or whatever. No one has to explain or apologize for not purchasing my book – I mean that. Join in on the conversation and excitement and whatever all you wish to, buy a book if it moves you to, but never feel you have to explain to me or apologize because you aren’t purchasing TG….I mean that from the bottom of my heart. I love you for supporting in any way you feel moved: by coming by here and visiting, by sending me best wishes, by cheering me on — it all means so much to me, whatever it is! Okay, that’s said – now……………….

BOING BOING BOING BOING BOING BOING!!!!!!!

image: google image http://www.irishabroad.com

Exit light, enter night…off to where-ever-land

I don’t know why this Mongoose cartoon made me laugh so much, but it did! teeheehee

Friends, your books should soon be on their way. It’s about that time, yes. I will get an exact date, but from what I understand, they will begin to ship next week; I think early next week. If you wanted one with a signed bookplate, be sure that you marked that — if you get one that doesn’t have one, I’ll be happy to send you one if you email me (unless it’s not too late to let BB know you want a signed copy). I tried to make the bookplates as special as I could.

I can’t wait to get mine. I can’t wait to hold one in my hands. I will smell the pages. I will put it on my bookshelf and step back and see how it looks and then take a photo of it. Oh, I hope I am never jaded and blaise about this!

I had the strangest dreams last night. I suppose they are “stress dreams.” Anxiety. Along with all my happiness and excitement, I do have the anxiety — it’s all a big swirley mess in my pea-headed brain. One of my dreams was about this strange place I came upon. It was a community of what I thought were an isolated strange people. But, when I came close to the community, which turned out to be only indoors, never outdoors, I noticed the eyes of the “people” — they were black and spacy. Seems some “mad scientist” type had made these people – grown them – or something – and there were a good many of them. It was creepy. What did he have planned with them, I don’t know because the dream slid into something else (and if I were someone who wrote thrillers or supernatural books, this dream would facilitate a creepy creepy book)…

…the dream morphed into where I was in a house and there was a man who hated us (me and whomever else was with me)….he wanted to harm us….there was an explosion in one of the rooms of the house (and it is said that houses in dreams are representations of our minds?)- we got out in time, but then I walked back into the room where the explosion occurred and there was a HUGE statue that seemed made of dark dark wood and in the arms of this dark dark wood statue was an infant…and then the statue began cracking open some, the arms that held the infant became more human than wood, and the statue opened its arms out to give the child back to us — it had protected the infant from harm and it was the most beautiful thing – so beautiful. I can see the statue so clearly this morning: a broad dark face, with a broad nose, strong features, strong arms, a solid body – female.

Strange strange dreams. I’ve always had vivid dreams, since I was a child – and I even remember some of my childhood dreams (the more terrifying ones). I was plagued with nightmares from childhood until we moved to these mountains….then suddenly, when we moved here, the nightmares pretty much stopped -isn’t that something? Every so often I’ll have a bad dream, but mostly when I’m really stressed or worried or something that facilitates it. The mountain cove has been magical for me – healing. My dreams are still vivid at times, but more gentle to me. So last night must be worry stress dreams!

Thing is, I’m filled with gratitude and happy feelings for my Dream of this novel coming to life in the pages of a book. I know my anxious thoughts are those where I heap expectation on myself to be “successful” – to not let anyone down – to be “perfect” – and no one can be all these things, not really – not in reality. But, I am like that – fall headlong into things with passion and then soon grow bored with them and the passion fades: EXCEPT!…except when it comes to literature, writing, books, and my writing life. That is the one area I have never grown bored with, the one where my passion flares hot and steady and true – my constant.

What about you? What did you dream last night, if you dreamed and remember it. Do you have “stress dreams?”

(PS – Update on TG orders – BB has said the books should start to be shipped out on Monday…so you all should start receiving them soon! Oh! I’m so nervous…..! but excited too!)