Was it Worth It?

The adventure is always worth it, I say with a smile.

Not everyone agrees with me. 

If it scares you, step into it. Do it anyways.  I say that a lot too.

It wasn't always that way. For years I was ruled by fears, those of my own and those instilled in me by well meaning others. Until one day I stepped out of my comfort zone. I cried. But I did it anyway.

The thirst for adventures, for something new and exciting comes from two things.  The first is the overwhelming desire to live. I want to experience all life has to offer. I want to do it all, see it all. I don't ever want to wonder, what if?

The second part of that is my deep seated need to know me. To delve deep and see who I am underneath the layers of fear, or propriety, of should haves that society layers on.

I want to live my truth but I don't even know what is true for me. Except that I know that the adventure is always worth it.

Always.

Until it isn't.

Until it hurts and it's hard and it's scary.

Until it leaves you gasping for breath and sobbing in the shower, where no one can witness your pain.

Until it breaks you and leaves you with memories that forever haunt you.

Maybe it was a love affair that broke your heart and your trust and left you weeping and  nauseated for weeks and month.

Or that one time when you sailed and swam naked in the ocean just to puke up your cherries afterwards leaving you pale and shaken.

That one time that the adventure wasn't worth it, that once, it forever changes you. 

It becomes your cautionary tale. You use that one time to justify every other time that you let fear win.  It becomes the reason to step away from the next adventure, and the next one. Until once again you live a life ruled by fear.

Where is that line? The one that turns an exciting adventure into a cautionary tale?

I haven't found it yet. I've never once been too broken of heart or body to leap wholeheartedly into the next adventure. 

Not once. 

Yet I've begun to tread lightly. Taking care of my heart and my body. Feeling my way forward with care, ready to abandon the adventure if it becomes too much.

I'm riding the fence again. Not in, not out. But undecided.  

Is the adventure going to be worth it this time?

I am a Lady

I am a lady.

Polite and refined, in a skirt and heels or jeans and a hoodie. I don't curse and I'm never vulgar.  I know how to set a table, how to fold a fancy napkin and which fork to use when. I carry tissues in my handbag because a lady always has tissues. I don't chew with my  mouth open and I never, ever spit.

I am a lady. I can take apart a washing machine,  fix it and put it back together. I can repair a refrigerator but I won't touch a microwave. I can take a plunger to the clogged toilet and I know how to snake a drain.

I am a lady. I have cut the grass, weeded the garden and started a fire. I take out the trash and I can shovel snow if I have too.

I am a lady. I can bake and decorate a cake. I can make a fantastic pot roast with gravy. I can sew a quilt or a flowing gown. I can arrange flowers. I can make an incredible, melt in your mouth, pie.

I am a lady. I can clean the kitty litter. I can shovel shit out of the chicken coop. I can even kill, clean and pluck the chickens before cooking them up for dinner.

I am a lady. I can charm a man into giving me a deal on a new set of tires. I can get a kiss from the deli guy along with my pound of roast beef. I can make friends wherever I go.

There is nothing I can't do because I am a lady.

I can do it all and do it on my own but I want more. 

I want to be petted and pampered. I want someone to bring me flowers, shovel the snow and take out the trash. 

I want to be loved and cherished. I want to be woken with sweet kisses.

I want someone who knows how I like my tea and cares enough to make it for me before I get up in the morning. 

I want to play and go on adventures with a partner. 

I want someone who can see me, hear me and cares enough to look and listen.

I want someone to see more than a pretty face. I want someone to see the core of strength that hides within. 

Don't ever underestimate me. There is nothing I can't do because I am a lady.

I Remember This Day

I remember this day,  the phone call that broke my heart.

I remember the tears that I couldn't stop.

I remember trying to catch my breath because the pain cut so deep it overwhelmed me.

I remember the people who paused to ask me if I was okay.

I remember the frantic phone calls that you didn't answer, the distraught messages I left for you.

I don't know if I said it out loud but I remember begging you, at least within my mind, to please pick me.

Please pick me. Don't leave me.

I remember curling into a ball, my arms wrapped around myself, rocking, while I sobbed, great heaving sobs while grief tore me apart.

And then I ran.

I've never run before. Maybe because I've never hurt like that before.

Within hours I was on my way.

I remember driving with tears dripping down my face.

I remember being wrapped in the safe circle of my best friends arms while I sobbed out my grief and hurt.

I remember rocking in her hammock. She made me feel safe.

She started to put back together what you broke.

I remember the rage that came after, when I threw your shirt in the trash and unfriended you on Facebook.

I remember trying so hard to forgive you for hurting me.

I remember the ever present resentment that I couldn't shake.

I remember trying to convince myself that I never really loved you and that you never really loved me.

I remember this day that hurt me so much that it made me forget everything that went before.

I remember only the hurt that made me forget how much I loved you.

I forgot the sound of your voice.

I forgot the way you laughed.

I forgot your smile and the way your eyes crinkle.

I forgot that you knew me better then I knew myself sometimes.

I forgot cribbage games and kisses.

I forgot it all in the pain of remembering this day.

Until I remembered that there was good too.

It was in remembering that I realized that I loved you more than I ever knew.

I love you still. I always will.