As of late, the ability to blog, journal, or even craft a theme for a work of fiction (my soul’s purpose on this planet) has completely escaped me.  It has been a tad worrisome.  I mean, if your purpose is missing, what’s left?  But, I had other things to occupy my mind and keep me busy so I decided just not to worry about it.  As with all things, when it’s meant to happen, it will. 

For TBT my dear Mom posted some early publications of the rambling teenage hippie brain which once occupied the space above my neck.  Was the newspaper back home desperate or what?   It was odd to see those because my only inspiration to write all week had been simmering in the back of my brain:  a letter from the old me (like an 80 year Apryl) to the me now.  What would she say?  What matters irking me today are truly important in the grand scheme of things?  I had given it some thought, but not a decent amount to produce anything.  And then, TBT hits and all I thought was, “Oh if I only had the chance to go back in time and talk to that girl!”  See, time travel has become an amusement of mine too as of late.  I watched “About Time” last night which only heightened my curiosity.  I have a lot I could say to a younger me.  But the tampering of the past could have a cause and effect that would be detrimental. 

If I went back in time and told young Apryl anything that could change her path, would she end up here?  Because, between those two articles posted for TBT, she met someone who was only a flash in her life overall (but a big deal at the time).  That person resurfaced and has now become a part of the adventure of life.  So….if I went back and helped teenage Apryl, would 35-year-old-Apryl end up so happy as I am at this moment? I’d have to spend time I really don’t have figuring that out.  And since my Delorian is in the shop, I’m screwed anyway!

Another prevalent thought,  brought up again by TBT articles and the lack of writing on my part lately, is the power of written word.  Today, I woke up with something profound (for me) changed inside.  As someone who has identified as a writer for the bulk of my lifetime, I tend to be a visual learner and I also have a core belief that the written word is particularly more weighty than anything else.  I’m hereby dispelling that belief today in this blog.  You go without the voice of someone for a while and suddenly to hear that voice is like hearing one of an angel.  It’s true for my niece, my nephew, my brother, friends who stop talking to you…anyone.  Those people can send you emails or texts but without their voice, it’s just not the same.  Me, the hermit-like girl who has always been fond of words and elected them over a voice, suddenly is floating on cloud 9 when I get to hear a voice. 

If you’d told me a year ago that I would come to value hearing someone over getting messages from them, I’d have looked at you like you had horns blossoming. In obvious places.  Like a unicorn.  I guess I just always saw writing as a craft and as a bit of therapy too.  I’m glad I haven’t beat myself up too much for not writing.  It turns out, I was just changing my beliefs.  No amount of messaging can replace the inflection and tone of another human’s voice.  And I see upon looking back, I’ve been awakening to that conclusion.  For example, when people’s drama hits Facebook or someone wants to start fighting via a text, I am always like “why are you putting that in writing?”  [Hint: for those of us who want to know, once you put it in electronic form no amount of deletion will really ever undo it and we will find a way to see it.  I’m not a hacker; I spied once some time ago and got the answers I already knew in my heart.  I spent a lot of money, worry, and time figuring out that the guy was a cheater and I was unhappy.  All that info said to me once I had proof was, “DUH.”  I knew it before I hacked into everything.  And I’ve been hacked and watched.  Yes, there’s really a way to see everything you do electronically.  Oddly enough, if the people hacking me had come to me and said, “Is this this & this true?” or, “how do you feel about this?” I would have been 110% honest.  They too wasted time and money getting the answers they already had. My point: if you’re living authentically and truthful to who you are, you have no reason to seek something else.  And, if you question someone else’s authenticity and honesty, you have to first decide if it’s your own insecurity or if you are in denial about them.  You don’t need a password to get that answer.]

A whole lot of time the last few months has been spent ignoring and sorting through those beasts inside all humans: my feelings. They say “don’t believe everything that you think” and I’ve battled that. What you think can produce some pretty amazing or pretty horrid feelings. Sifting through both is a challenge. Finding peace and coping through them has made me a different person. And I wouldn’t change it for the world.

One important lesson is learning to find our boundaries between where we start and end, and where others start and end. In fact, I can almost pinpoint that my entire life to this moment has been that lesson. And I do not mean to imply here that I’m done learning. Not at all. But I can say that through feelings like loneliness, uncertainty, doubt, fear, giddiness, and longing I have done a great deal of reflection on the matter and come to understand it a bit better.

I was watching the end of Undercover Boss and started getting all teary. But it was only the plug on some pretty deep stuff. The first thing is how incredibly useless I feel and that I am not making a difference in the world. That’s so huge for me. I want to help people. I also noticed earlier in the morning I heard a car and I stared out the window a bit too long. What’s that? I realized I was deep within myself thinking about someone as far away as one can be on the globe and wishing he were near. That’s some serious longing. I chastised myself for it. But then I realized, it is what it is. And it’s human. And it’s both powerful and scary. But I allowed myself to feel it and acknowledge it.

I have equally busied myself and numbed myself these months. My house is semi-organized and I cleared out a lot of crap. I have also watched seasons 1-8 of Friends. I actually started with season 10. So, yeah, getting lost in tv isn’t something I have done in years and years. It served a purpose. Otherwise, I could drive myself insane. You learn to wait. But I have pressured myself to wait “well”, as is customary. I don’t want to do anything “just ok”; it matters not what it is I like to do it great. I have to forgive myself for not doing it perfectly. This is a first. First attempts don’t have to be without their flaws. And it’s quite helpful to remind myself no one learns in the easy. Our deepest understanding and growth comes in times that push us. The key is not breaking. And being generous with myself.

It turns out I am far more selfish than I had realized. In some ways, that’s not all bad. I’ve had a history of the opposite in giving too much of my energy too quickly without proper thought. And that’s actually unfair to all involved, not just me. It took someone turning the tables to fully comprehend that. So some days I get overly wrapped up in myself and some days I get far too reliant. Balance. Oh you tricky and sneaky bastard. I’m gonna catch you!!!

I have reduced my cigarette smoking to about half a pack (yesterday it was 11). Now, I realize that’s not zero and many people have gone cold turkey (especially around New Years) and are doing much better. I just knew that if I was gonna do it, the reduction method was the only hope. Here’s two lies I told myself about smoking:
1. I smoke because I want to not because I have to. Liar. I had to because I used it as a means to escape stress. Before my divorce I had started/stopped many times. But after, it slowly became an addiction. I am addicted to getting away from my desk before I go insane, waking up slow and easy most days, and basically just needing a moment to myself to sit and think. Because without cigarettes, it’s unlikely I would have accomplished that. However, I’m finding I CAN do some of that with an ecig or without anything. My hands still want something to do. And my cravings for food are fierce.
2. Second lie–I could stop at any time. Honestly, I thought I’d be a Mom by now and when I got pregnant I’d stop. Well, Mr. Right is elusive and there ain’t no baby in sight. The clock is winding down on that. And people stop telling me how many women you know over 40 had healthy babies! Usually this was an addition to their herd for one, and not the start up venture. Additionally, I just don’t wanna be the person whose 60+ at my kids high school graduation. I mean, until the last couple years I had no plans to really live beyond that. I kinda figured I’d be out of here by 65 tops. Luckily I’ve figured out how freaking awesome it’s gonna be to be the old lady who can finally be quirky and have all the fun in the world without giving a shit what anyone thinks. And after retirement I can spend time doing whatever I want! So bring it. Anyway, point is, spinster life minus cigarettes is starting to finally appeal (& sink in that could be one way life turns out that I never expected).

Quitting is just like losing weight in that I have had to reframe everything in my mind, my perception of myself, and change how I cope with factors in life. It’s not so easy but I’m halfway to my goal. Also, I’m vain and want my skin and teeth to look better. Smoking is the #1 thing I can stop to make that happen, but we all know the various incentives to not smoking. I didn’t realize how hard it would be. Congrats to the people who have reached and maintained the non-smoker status!

Inside me, there is a part of me that aches. I don’t think that makes me different than anyone else. The only thing I see different amongst people is how they fill the voids and whether or not they acknowledge that it exists. The ache, hurts, & longings vary from person to person but the bond we all share is that something has touched us and we have to heal. Even the most enlightened have perhaps filled their own tragic past with love and yet they continue to teach there is more to give to the world to bring us healing. So if you heal the wound inside you, basically one opens up for all the people you see fighting their battles.

I spent most of the morning and some of the night cleaning up dog poop. Not only are her legs wearing out and her skin ravaged to the point it bleeds sometimes, now my Chloe has something wrong with her intestines. Oh the number of times I’ve prayed to God to take her in her sleep so she no longer feels any of it. Just one of the myriad of her health issues makes my heart ache. Combined all at once, it breaks me. I look over and see my best friend, child, and arch nemesis all in one. No one can trick me, boss me, or make me feel as loved as this little dog has over the course of almost 13 years now.

I think my ex husband thought if he got me a dog I would shut the hell up about having kids. And he was right, briefly. It bought us some time to stew individually and avoid talking about the fact we wanted different things. So I sunk the first few weeks of having Chloe into spoiling her and loving her like she was a newborn. I was in a brand new place, unpacking boxes in a new house, and didn’t know anyone but Shawn. He had to go on base everyday and he made friends; I bonded with her and was quite content. She was an easy puppy to love.

As we got older our lives changed. I had a job, we lived in the “country” much to my dismay, and both Chloe and I were no longer the social creatures we got to be in base housing. Now add to that some resentment building in our home between me and the ex, and Chloe truly became my main reason for going home each night. It was she who would follow me around (or lead me most often) and snuggle up to me. I was in denial I had big problems. My aches and voids have never been as big as they were in the year or two before the divorce. Now, can we please have a Category 5 hurricane hit so that everythingchanges in life? Ok, thanks God.

I think Shawn hurt Chloe after I left. Because even though it was only a few weeks before I got a house and moved her in with me, neither of us were the same. We both grew not to trust guys so much for the most part. A few key friends play a role during that time and now I consider them family. Fred, Tim, Pops Wiesle, Phil, Chaddy….you know who you are. Notable most of those guys were also well liked by Chloe too. Every guy I just named kept Chloe and I safe on more than one occasion. Oh she would bark and growl and so would I in my own little ways but those guys up there saw right through us both and just silently and gently let us figure out what we needed to know and rebuild our life without Shawn. What a messy time. Good times for sure, but messy and full of hard growth.

And we got older, Chloe and I. 30 hit. Shit got real. We sped up in some ways and slowed down in others. I think that’s when we learned to watch tv again and not always go and do something or be somewhere or make something happen. We had a new house, this one with my name alone on the mortgage (did you know a dog cannot finance a house?! WTF). More men, more ache. And then, they were all kinda gone. Oh, for sure there were relationships but now the last few years we’ve let very few enter our home and none stay long when they did.

Today, there’s a sick dog sleeping next to me. I think she knows more than anyone my holes and the quest I take everyday to not let it be the guiding force. In fact, I think that little dog fills it with so much love there is almost peace now. They say unconditional love is what dogs give. Naw. Naw man, that’s a lie. This little dog expects me to do a million little things and some pretty big ones, like feed, bathe, nurse and talk to her. We can’t play anymore. We can’t enjoy what we used to. So while our conditions do change and they certainly exist, we love each other right on through them. I think she’s taught me that: unconditional love doesn’t mean there aren’t standards of care, it means we hold on to love during any condition. See, for a long time, I had that all messed up in my head. Thanks Jerry McGuire.

And it only gets harder as conditions change. It doesn’t get easier. She’s taught me that as we age SOME stuff gets easier but in other ways it gets much harder. Like watching her age and hurt and decline. People are the same way. And I bet if she could talk, she would also say it’s hard to watch some stuff about me. The way I put myself out there and yet still hide. The way I taunt myself with some hope that love does exist and two people can grow old together (like she and I have). I bet that’s hard to observe. I know I won’t let anyone hurt Chloe but let me tell you, I’d lose a hand if I try to stop her from licking and biting her skin infection right now (tested, proved). She can’t stop me from dreaming no matter how much she tries. But she keeps on loving me.

I know I got real sentimental about my dog just now. Sorry if that bored everyone. I just know the longest relationship aside from family that has ever sustained is drawing near it’s end. And I am learning to let go and yet hold her closer all at the same time. God entrusted us to one another and I think we’ve done alright.