I think the men and women who allow themselves to feel whatever it is they feel and express it are the strongest of our species. I’m not talking crazy or angry; but when they hurt, they cry. They weep. They allow themselves the moment to actually honor what’s going on and sort through it. It may feel vulnerable but it’s actually so incredibly powerful. It’s the highest expression of self esteem I can think of right now. 

I wish I was like that. I wait until it builds up and then I cry. All the while a voice in my head is saying, “suck it up, buttercup. No need to get this worked up about anything. This isn’t worth it…” and on and on and on that voice goes. Naming a litany of reasons I should just never cry or feel strongly about anything. Look voice in my head, some things just hurt ok? And sometimes I need to sort it all out.

I wonder how it got that way. I think the voice telling me to ‘get over it’ and ‘nothing is worth my tears’ has been there a long time. Probably since Italy, but for sure since Chloe had to go. The day Chloe left was my last real sob. Maybe that baby girl just took a piece of my heart with her. I still remember being immobilized by grief that day. And with the blows that followed, I just had to be strong for fear I wouldn’t make it if I caved and looked too deeply in the eyes of what caused me pain. 

Hard times followed. But this morning it’s an odd crying. An involuntary thing. My eyes filled with tears and that voice started in again telling me to just suck it up—get on Facebook, smoke a cigarette, take a sleeping pill–anything to not deal. But I need to deal. Because today it was Sadie’s face and birds chirping and then…tear drops. I want to experience them. It was a sad/happy moment. I wanted to soak it in yet I’m underslept and exhausted. I wanted to tell the Universe how beautiful the chaos is and how the simplest things move me so much…an admirers hand on your back or around your waist, my friends/mentors making me laugh and knowing they care, a giant, heartfelt laugh from the belly, a shared look between friends that says I can count on them and vice versa. In all the tragedy and emotional tornadoes, life gives us these moments in between. Thinking of them this morning has my cheeks tear stained. 

It’s a crazy beautiful life and I’m not anywhere near done. Please God, hear the prayers inside my tears and let me have many, many more years. I have music, poetry, books and love inside me that needs to come to fruition. Thank you for giving me this day. Please let me share it with people who love me and those I love.  Grant me the ability to permit myself to experience the absolute joy of life on this day and all that follow. 

In 2013, I was a spiritually sound person. My life was perfect, unbeknownst to me. It didn’t feel it at the time; I was just too busy being comfortable. I trusted the process, I trusted the people close to me, I trusted the grass below and the skies above. I trusted my ability and skill. I trusted the future would be brighter. 

But 2014 ripped most of that away. I can’t think of more I could have lost between March 2014 and June 2015, but it could have been worse. It could always be worse. At my breaking point, with boxes packed and using my last dime to get me back to my parents, life suddenly said, “Here’s a bone called a job. Keep your house. Stay by your friends. Start life over.” 

I know it’s a gift. I know the people who played various roles in making it happen are divine blessings. And make no mistake about my story, I’ll go down refusing to be the victim. I could always have lost more than material things… Although heartbreak, medical setbacks, and various losses occurred, what I miss the most is my trust in life and God. In fact, the admission that it could be worse is a damaging sort of limbo where I can’t help but be grateful and at the same time look over my shoulder to see what horrid event is coming next. 

I’m going to show my age, life felt a great deal like the original, arcade version of Mortal Kombat. A constant barrage of new characters enter and I have had to fight to stay alive. And I’m so tired of it. I’m so tired of looking over my shoulder to see what troubles are slowing creeping up behind me. It has made me weary. My body hurts from my head to my toes. 

In the dark silence of a sleepless morning, I realize I need to surrender. To who or what I have no idea. Nothing in this life is guaranteed except that nothing comes with a guarantee. Jobs and people will screw you over. That’s what I have learned. And if I could learn to not care so much about either, I’d be free again. What’s meant to be will find a way, right? It will have to seek me out because I’m too exhausted to chase one more thing down only to have it pull out a weapon and try to destroy me. 

I have been thinking, meditating and praying a lot about where I am in life right now. It’s very odd and new. It’s a new start and a lot of what I once knew and did and had is gone. I think I’m taking it well. I try to always remain grateful. For sure, life is better now than it was. But there’s new challenges (read: finances) and I haven’t gotten my new career down to a science just yet.  Those things have a way of letting doubt and fear creep inside me. Am I good enough? Am I smart enough? Do I got this?! Haha I don’t know but it I do know if I don’t pray and focus on the positive things, those thoughts steal the joy.

Sometimes it just feels like I’ve been racing and scrapping by so long that I’m drained. Other times, I sit in peace and joy and completely soak up the good that has come to me. And I suppose that’s how life goes: two things at odds with one another both real, true, and present in the same space. I did have some rough waters to navigate and the newfound joy comes with some it’s own set of tests. The thing I have to remind myself of is that I am prepared now for any test. Life tested me and I have passed. 

I am quitting smoking today. The only reason I bring this up here is to hold myself accountable. I sat paying bills today–and got a nice fat headache–and the one thing that will immediately reduce my expenses is that. In addition to the hundred other reasons, it’s time. It will not be easy. It isn’t meant to be. But like all other things, I can do it. 

I saw this quote and it made me pause and think a bit so in summary, I shall share it. The storm has changed me and I’m not the same person. I’m better. 

I think my writers block is a direct result of what’s going on in life right now. I’m in R&D mode: learning new ways, soaking up the good things, taking everything moment by moment, observing new creatures, watching the circus wondering how they do that…and all the while not forming any hypotheses about it. Hard to write when you aren’t even sure what your role is. 

I hail from a state with a lottery.  Playing and fantasizing about a lottery win was part of being 18 and adulting-ish over there.  My ex husband won several grand on a scratch off (before we met; it was long gone when I came along).  A co-worker at BlueCross BlueShield had a brother who won one of the largest in history.  Next time I saw him he had a new truck…with a matching Corvette…and a matching boat (true story!).  Driving to Louisiana to get lottery tickets for fun–but mostly when the amount reaches news level–is something I’ve been known to do (“did she just say 2-5-0 tickets?!” Yes, lady, I’m HAM! Can’t you see?!).

Up til now, I’ve had your basic lottery win fantasies.  A big house, a shiny new car or three, a charitable organization, a housekeeper, a gardener for my extravagant garden in which I could spend the rest of my days blogging and petting my puppies.  This morning I woke up and started trying to figure out if I had time to get to Slidell, LA before the drawing.  As I stretched my arms, I thought, “God, if I could just pay off my student loans and this house I’d be a free woman! And if I can’t get that much, could I have just $10,000 to make ends meet for 2016?!”  That’s when it hit me: I’m the adultyier adult people speak of.  

I don’t wish for anything extravagant anymore–I just want a lighter burden.  I don’t need any more stuff–I just want the stuff I have to be secure.  I doubt I’d even buy another watch! You know it’s my thing–Tag Heuers, the epitome of all things beautiful in my opinion.  But I have a platinum and a black/platinum.  I have one for every occasion!  What would I do with a 3rd?  It would make the choices difficult, not easy, and I no longer desire that road in life.  I’d buy some clothes, but not a lot.  I have nowhere to put them! And besides, I’d keep working for certain and as long as my butt will fit into what I own, I don’t need anymore.  (*Note to self: less bacon)

I’d buy great coffee, incredible wine, and Sadie would be the most well-groomed dog around.  I’d go to see movies in the theatre–and not wince as the price of popcorn.  I’d get that tire patched on my car.  I’d probably get the housekeeper if I had enough, but only after a bunch of other things lined up.  I’d buy fresher foods, not packaged crap that I know is bad for me, but very cheap.  I’d probably get a bottle of nice perfume because I do miss that luxury.  And for sure, if there was any left over, I’d travel to new places and see the sights, sounds and people there.

It’s odd how desires, wants, wishes and dreams change as we age.  I thought the guy with the matching triplet autos was a badass mofo…he was my hero!  Now, I want nothing to do with that maintenance.  I’d find time to pay for gas for friends with boats and buy everyone dinner and drinks and go out on the water for a sunset cruise and tell them all how much I love them.  That’s my dream.

Crap, I’m gonna be late for work!

I wrote the words, “Life, please be kind to us” and realized that is my one and only prayer. It’s a desperate plea and all I want. I don’t care about the details or what may come as long as it comes with kindness. I can be grateful for small or large milestones, just let the framework be gentle and loving. It’s probably asking too much and impossible, and maybe down the road I will develop and a new and just as earnest prayer. But for now, please be kind. I can’t take anything else. 

Dear 2015,

And so it is that all things must pass and your departure is a highly anticipated one.  As much as I’m ready to see our partnership end, I have to hand it to you that it’s been a very educational experience.  The lessons you taught will be with me on my deathbed.  It was 365 days of life boot camp.  For the majority of the year I felt like I was on some sort of deployment from real life.  But I know it was just everything changing, including me.  As punishing as you were, I can say that we end on a friendly note.  At minimum, I’m grateful.

The Sweat Shop, I mean, Swap Shop was brutal.  I look back now and wonder how I got through it.  Well, I admit that I barely escaped.  That whole experience sucked anything resembling love or a love of life from my soul.  Just this very week I enjoyed music again for the first time this year.  I really heard it again for the first time and it made my heart open a wee bit.  Not all the way, not the way it was in 2013 or 2014, but it was like seeing a familiar face in a sea of strangers.  Maybe you had to make me hate life to get to the point that every breath that comes without pain is pure bliss.  2015 was quite the reveille.

I can’t let myself loosen up all the way just yet.  You wound me tight in a cocoon for mere survival and I can’t bring myself to come out and fly.  I peak out there and see that everything appears safe, but you struck so hard from behind that I’m leary; I can’t trust it all just yet.  I’m hoping 2016 will (finally) let my wings see some sunshine.  

You brought the first bout of writers block I ever experienced.  The pain, confusion, and chaos I have felt prior to you always generated incredible amounts of creativity, if nothing else.  But this year was different.  My hands weren’t free to write because they were to busy digging into whatever I could grasp to keep from going over the edge.  I’m safely on the ground and I can write again.  Not sure what to say or how to put into words what I feel, because I have no idea how I feel.  I just sit here and look around trying to catch my breath from what we’ve been through.

I think it’s a writers PTSD.  So much change and pain so quickly.  I grant you that it all ended up for the better and that things look very beautiful today, but I’m still processing everything you put me through.  The specifics can be too hard to ponder so I focus on the fact that I just managed to come out of it alive and blessed with the greatest friends and the greatest job I could have ever imagined.  What I wanted from life in January and what I want in December are so totally different that I can’t even identify with that girl you started with.  2014 was all about breaking my heart, 2015 showed me that after your heart breaks into pieces those pieces can then be stepped on and moshed into dust.  2015 has shown me that I can rise from the ashes.  

I don’t take deep breaths often enough.  I’m still short on faith that the air will actually be there.  I know you’re trying to show me that I can sing and dance and there is plenty out there for me if I would just trust the process, but I need to take baby steps now.  Let’s face it, I can’t handle another year like this one.  I have no desire to go back and relive it.  But I thank you.  

I thank you for showing me what and how I can survive.  It was the most primal year since my first year on the planet when I learned to walk.  Thank you for showing me that I age well, what I look like when I don’t know when my next meal is, that in my time of greatest darkness I will never stop helping others and rescuing dogs (but seriously, who saved who?), thank you for the people–and they were many–who reached out and offered a kind word or a hug when I needed it and didn’t even know it was what was missing.   Thank you for pulling the rug, the floor, and the earth from under me so I could crawl out of the darkness.

As usual, my eyes fluttered open this morning and I grabbed my phone. Read text messages that came through since my last glance and tapped the Facebook app. It took all of five minutes for me to lose faith in humanity. More people complaining about a moderate temperature winter. I bet these are people complaining about hot summers and cold Decembers in their Memories… people, think of it as a little bit of Key West spread across all of the country! 

Aside from people not seeing the perfect weather as a Festivus miracle, all I see these days is (mostly) a man with a combover trying to ban people from entering a country founded on religious equality from entering it based on religion, people who want to keep guns around, and a whole lot of fakery. Let me expand on the fakery.  

I halted my videos after I read a post that said, “who makes videos of themselves while they are effin driving #stupidselfie.” While I say things for amusement, I wouldn’t call me stupid. Then I remembered this person now holds the largely esteemed position of retail manager but has wrecked a company car, fled the scene of an accident and gotten DUIs. Who the f*** does THAT!? Judge not lest thee be judged. And that was just a straw. A tiny piece of a much, much larger pie of self-righteousness spreading like wildfire. Arguments over whose God is better (absolute shame on y’all) surfacing. 

I could keep going and going and going on various examples of the fakery, but it does zero good in this world to try to pull a head out of an ass. Everyone is suddenly a close-minded, judgmental expert on all matters. I have lost all hope in the human race. Perhaps the friends list could use a culling.

I just can’t handle people. Maybe it’s the holidays–that’s always a good excuse–or maybe I am old and weary. Maybe I am the one with the problem. I text my friend Jerry and I could feel him pat my Elaine head as he replied, “Yes, authenticity is elusive.” Indeed. So with that haunting fact over my head, I’m pondering deleting the app. I’d deactivate my account but it holds dear memories and I don’t want to lose them. Although, if it means that much to me, I should remember without any prompting, right? 

Anywho, I think better use of my precious time is blogging. So, if you want to know what I am up to, I will make more of an endeavor to update the blog regularly and include pictures of the escapades known as Apryl (Santa, I swear I can explain!). Feel free to comment and message as desired. My Twitter account will remain focused more on my career. And, no need to point out that my self-absorbed plan of action and declaring to the entire crowd of 600 my intentions isn’t a tad ironic. I get that.

Peace y’all. 

How do you unbreak a heart? Is it even possible? Or, at some point, do the disappointments and losses just finally make it so that no one can ever get into that sacred spot? I don’t know that’s why I’m asking. However, as of late, my experience has been that there is a point of no return. Damage is done and nothing can heal it. I speak from experience. 

I just realized–after two and a half hours at the dealership–that everyone else in the service area has someone to share their news with. Men and women with kids or teens, find out the news and then make a call (“it’s a starter” “it’s not the engine” “I told him to fix it”). Now granted, I text Rose and told her but she didn’t need to know. I just wanted to share my news with someone too. 

These people have someone that has to know about their vehicle diagnosis. And I look at them. They have someone waiting on them and their cars. Sadie doesn’t care the Maxima is getting a brake job. Sadie doesn’t care that this is causing me to miss kickboxing. My stomach growls. I growl. 

No one here cares about the Thanksgiving Jäger Massacre of 2015. They were busy. Busy with the people who needed to know about the starter. Nagging one another (“are you wearing that?” “Hurry we are gonna be late”). And devouring family dinners.