Do You Love Me?

I feel raw, exposed, broken.  Everything hurts.  It's too much, too hard.

I do all I can to avoid that broken spot inside me.  I send a text and another one.  Scroll through Facebook.  Read a trashy romance. Turn the TV on.  Law & Order.  Grey's Anatomy.  Everybody Loves Raymond.  It doesn't matter what it is.  For a little while I can focus on something else, the imaginary pain and turmoil of other lives.

I reach for food.  Hot sweet tea soothes the ache, warms that frozen spot.  Chocolate pacifies the hurt. Only for a moment, eat more or move on to the next thing.

I get desperate so I pick up the phone and call my sister.  Her voice washes over me.  It doesn't matter what she says.  Half the time I don't even know, her kids, my kids, our mother, whatever...  I need that human connection.

I long to go home, to be surround by my people, my country but I know it will only soothe for a moment and then I'll feel like I don't fit here, not anymore.

I run from one thing to the next, piano lessons, soccer practice, dentist appointment, volunteer at the school.

I'm great at small talk.  Of course I'm fine.  How are you?  I can talk about anything, with anyone.

But there's this part of me, aching, needing.

Something.

I reach, grasping for anything that might make it better.  Raw and oozing and broken inside.

A desperate loneliness.

My guy comes home and wraps his arms around me.  I tuck my nose into his neck and breathe in his scent.

Do you love me?  I ask.

You know I do.  He answers.

For a moment, just a short moment, the ache eases.

I'm lonely.  I'm insecure.  I'm needy.

I feel invisible.  I feel unheard.  I feel unloved and unlovable.

Do you love me?  I ask and ask again.  Maybe if you tell me often enough I'll feel it.  Maybe if you say it often enough the aching pain inside will ease.  Maybe if you tell me over and over I'll believe it.

No, the pain doesn't ease.  The ache doesn't leave.

I live with this, never quite good enough.  People walk away, move on, leave me.  They don't call. Don't write.  Don't visit.

I'm a stranger in a strange land.

I tuck my littles in to bed.  Kisses and cuddles.   I curl up, in flannel pajamas with pink elephants.  A cut purrs on my feet.  Tears fill my eyes and I fall asleep.

Every day the same, running, eating, texting, talking, reading, watching TV.

Do you love me?

Until one day I stop.  I don't eat.  I put down the phone.  I log out of Facebook.  None of it makes a difference.  It's all just different ways to hide from the same pain.  No more.

That raw, broken, oozing part of me won't get better by anything out there.  Nothing anyone else does will help.  Nothing anyone else says will heal me.

Do you love me?  

Yes, I love me.

Even when every one else leaves and I'm alone with myself, I love me.

Even broken, needy, lonely and insecure, I love me.

Even when I'm hiding from my pain, I love me.

Even when I'm making stupid choices, I love me.

Even when I fail, I love me.

Even when I cry, I love me.

That has to be enough.

Living With Wet Panties

Did you marry a frog and expect him to behave like a prince?


Did you drop out of high school and expect to land the job of your dreams?

Did you spend $1000 on a beater car and expect it to get you from here to there without breaking down?

I heard some good advice lately... if you invest your time and energy into a douche bag, you can't get upset when he acts like a douche.

This was followed by a fascinating simile.

It is like using light day pads and expecting them to keep your panties dry when you pee yourself. Either you invest in some Depends or your get used to having wet panties.

This made me think, what am I investing in?  Most of the time, I invest in me.  I'm sure that's a good investment.  Yoga, meditation, college, long walks, early bedtimes, good books, adventures with friends, snuggle time with my littles.  I do this because I know that I'm valuable and worth taking good care of.  It is worth it to me to invest my time, energy and emotions into me.

I invest in my children.  I cook for them.  I drive them to sports and music.  I volunteer in their classrooms.  I help with homework. I sing them songs and laugh and dance and play with them.  I know they are valuable and it is important to me to invest in them now, before they grow up and move away.

But, I've made my fair share of bad investments over the years and I'm sure I'll make more in the future.

Have you ever peed yourself?  I've been pregnant 7 times.  That means for about 63 months of my life I've had someone sitting on my bladder.  A sneeze, a cough, a laugh, can lead to leakage.  It didn't happen often but every time it did, there was the same emotion.  Ugh.  I can't believe it.  A little bit of shame, a sense of disbelief and then the awful uncomfortable feeling of wet panties.  I should know better, have more control.

Over and over again, we invest in light days and then feel the shock and shame when our panties get wet.  What does this look like?  The boy that cheated on his girl with you, then you found him with someone else.  That car that was a great deal and looked good but was rusted out and wouldn't pass inspection.  The fantastic job that paid good but had horrible hours and a nasty boss.

Unfortunately these are the things we regularly invest in.  We put our time, our money, our energy and our emotions into these things because they look good, they smell good, they sound good.  We become attached.  That's my guy, my car, my job and when we discover they aren't as good as we thought, we're stuck.  They're already ours, we're already invested.  The shame of the wet panties is compounded by the shame that we made a bad choice.  We convince ourselves that we can stick it out, it will get better.  We put more and more money into the car, we work even harder at the job, we spend even more time with the lying, cheating guy.

The more we invest, the more stuck we get, the more shame we feel.  We should have known better.  Yet here we are, with a job we hate, a bad relationship and a car that won't get us down the street.  It is our pride that keeps us stuck.  We don't want to admit that we made a bad investment.  The smart choice, as soon as you realize that you've made a bad investment, get out.

Get out now!

Don't wait.  Don't keep investing your resources thinking that it will get better.  Do your really want to live your life with the shame and discomfort of wet panties?

I promise there is not a single person in this world who hasn't wet their panties at least once.  We've all done it, a job, a guy (or girl) an investment.  We've all pinned our hopes and dreams on something or someone and gotten disappointed.  Instead of wasting your energy, your emotions, your time, move on, forgive yourself.

Invest in quality.  

Life is Short

It was more than 20 years ago when I decided that I wanted to fly. I'm not sure what put that bee in my bonnet but there it was and there it would stay. I wanted to fly in a hot air balloon. I wanted to sail above the earth in a wicker basket.
I don't like calling it a bucket list but for lack of a better term... this was the first item on it.

#1 fly in a hot air balloon
#2 ...
#3 ...
#4 ...

Over time I started to check off those items. It matters little what they were, what matters is that I was doing what I wanted, living fully, gathering up experiences, finding my bliss.

But that first item remained elusive.

I live in a town with an annual balloon festival. I've watched the balloons go up over and over. I've awakened at dawn to see them sailing outside my bedroom window. I've taken care of my friends children so they could go up. My children have had the opportunity to crew a balloon and fly and I even dated a balloon pilot (briefly).

But my feet stayed planted on the ground.

One day, as I wandered the balloon festival by myself, I stopped to ask a question.  All the other balloon baskets were square, why was this one triangle shaped? I was pressed into service, can you do this? Can you hold this? Can you turn this off?

Sure I can.

Have you ever flown?  No?  Well hop in!

Really? Me? Now?

I've been holding on to this dream for over 20 years. I wasn't ready. I didn't have time to get excited or get someone to take pictures or to post about it on Facebook.

Hop in!

The balloon lifted, softly, gently. We floated higher. It was what I've always wanted and it was nice.

Yes, nice. Certainly not something that would pull me out of bed at dawn over and over. It has been years of waiting for this moment and it was just nice. What a let down. All these years of anticipation for something that was merely pleasant. Check it off the list and move on.

But not every experience is merely nice.  Sometimes, the most unexpected thing will cause your heart to leap, bring joy where none was expected.  For me, this was sailing. I've never once thought of sailing, never considered it, certainly didn't put it on the list.  Yet, the day came when I landed on a sail boat in the midst of the bright blue ocean.

This didn't excite me. It was just another day.  But it quickly turned from just another day to the most incredible experience of my life. I love the sea.  I love the wind in my hair, the sun on my face, the boat rocking under my feet.


The ocean thrills my soul. For a day on the ocean I would leap out of bed at 5 am, any day, every day. I will hoist the sails and point the bow into the wind. I'll steer around the lobster pots while I listen to the cry of the gulls. This is my heaven on earth.

I don't think it matters what it is that makes you leap out of bed in the morning, as long as someday you find something that brings you that kind of joy. If I hadn't gone up in that balloon I would have wondered for the rest of my life. If I hadn't gone along with my friend when she wanted to sail, I never would have known where my bliss was waiting.

This is what I was looking for when that balloon lifted into the sky. This is what I was looking for when I zip-lined down a mountain,  when I went white water kayaking, when I went para-sailing and when I set off on that stand up paddle board.

I am greedy.  I want to find more of those things that thrill my soul.  I want to leap out of bed every day wondering what I'll find today.  I know I'll experience many things before I find that one that I just can't live without.  That's okay.  I'll just keep living fully and gathering up experiences.  Life is too short to let any opportunity pass by.  You never know, today might be the day  This experience might just be THE ONE.  What have you got to lose?

Hop in!

Facing my Demons

We all have those parts of us that we don't like. It might be something physical or it might be a characteristic or maybe some of each.

Over the years I've come to terms with these little bits and pieces that make me me. I don't like the fact that by the time I was 25 years old my hair had turned gray. I wish I could lose some weight.  I have small boobs and lots of stretch marks from giving birth seven times. Whatever!  I also kill plants and small animals. I do to many things at once. I cry all the time. I'm painfully shy. This is me.

We also carry our wounds, our fears and insecurities. Those memories from our past that tell us we aren't good enough, aren't lovable, aren't worthy. I've made friends with those parts of me too.

But what happens when you bump into a part of you that you find absolutely abhorrent?  I'm not talking about a little bit uncomfortable.  I mean, when you see something that makes you turn your head away in disgust. I mean, when the idea fills you with fear and makes you sick to your stomach. What then?

I think the comfortable thing to do is to bury your head in the sand, look the other way, pretend it didn't happen, doesn't exist.


Wasn't me!


Didn't do it!


A complete and utter denial of a part of myself that lives and breathes and exists inside me.


Rejection of the self.



How long can one go on in denial? A lifetime I'm sure. But is it healthy? Is it right? What kind of damage is done to the self when a part of it is rejected and denied and perhaps even hated.

I don't know the answer. I'm still in the space of rejection, denial,  disgust.  I can dye my hair but I don't mind the roots. I accept the stretch marks on a body that carried and birthed seven times. It is okay for me to be quiet and shy. I've stopped trying to garden. I've gotten rid of the fish tank because I think it is wrong to kill a new fish every week. I've come to terms, accepted and embraced what makes me me. I acknowledge that I am special and wonderful...

except...

There is still this part of me that I deny.

Not me. No way.

It's not a bad thing. I didn't do anything terrible.

But there is this demon that is a part of me. It lives and breathes and grows ever bigger in my mind as I reject it.  Running from my fears, refusing to acknowledge it.

Not me.

Eventually, unless you want to spend a lifetime in hiding you need to stop running, stop denying, stop rejecting those parts of yourself that you don't like. Not just the little things but the big, ugly, disgusting things.

Stop!

Pause.

Turn and hold your hand out to the demon within.

Name it.

Feed it, stroke it, offer it love, compassion and acceptance.

Perhaps, in time, it won't be so scary or foul.

Perhaps, in time, you can make friends with this demon.

You never know unless you take the first step.

Turn and face the demon within.