It is a habit for me to tear myself apart. The wounds of life can be harsh and I am easily obliged to become caught up in a wave of
self loathing.
But when I look at you, listen to you speak, your wounds are sometimes as visible as my own.
Yet I see more. Beyond the surface. I see what you don’t see.
I admire qualities in you that you probably don’t realize you have.
Your beauty is so apparent.
I overlook or don’t even notice the faults you hold within your being and in that regard it makes me feel safe.
You don’t have to be perfect.
I accept you when you are in good moods or bad, goofy or sad. I rejoice in your happiness and support you when you are down. When I see your smile and feel you radiating positive energy towards me I tend to focus less on my own short comings and instead accept me for who I am (through your eyes instead of my own), regarding the joy you leave upon my soul with your friendship, your love and the foundation that you bring to my life with the greatest appreciation I have ever experienced.
Your awareness helps me to love myself because you love me, and for knowing you, I am a better person.
I’ve always felt that a person’s character was their best asset.
My mom used to tell me when I was growing up that you may be able to fool people but God sees everything. That worked. I behaved. LOL!!! Not because I’m such a good person but because I knew my karma would be affected. Things we do can often come back to bite us.
Seriously, though. Character traits have more value for me than a person’s accomplishments. I’ve known some bad people in high places. What a person has doesn’t mean much. It is who the person is, inside that matters.
Having power, wealth, position is a true test of character. Having unlimited choices and opportunities to do what one wishes. To have power, control, yet still holding oneself accountable for consequences is a true test of what a person’s soul is made of.
That’s why I like what my mom used to say about how no matter what you do, God knows the truth. It doesn’t matter if a person is religious or what higher power they lean towards. We know the truth within ourselves and we live with ourselves and that knowledge shapes who we are as human beings. Yes, we can fool people around us but we cannot fool ourselves if we are not truthful and honest, we know it. This is why it has always been my opinion that a good character is stronger than anything.
This is just something I was thinking about today.
This video struck home for me. I don’t have a lot of things that I hang on to. I tend to get my feathers ruffled from time to time but I easily forgive and forget and move forward.
I do, however, struggle with certain things that have happened in my life that I had to waste a lot of time getting over and growing beyond the hurt and damage. In those times I have to be in a constant forgiving sort of mode. I forgive to release myself from the bondage and the baggage that holds me from the things or thoughts that truly make me happy. It is so true that it takes less muscles in the face to smile than to frown. So in that way, it also takes more energy to hold on to hurt and pain than it does to release it and make room for the positive things that life has to offer. Though, still sometimes I can be guilty of sitting in my own pity pool. I have to make the effort to forgive in order to move forward but in some cases the forgiveness is a constant process. It doesn’t mean we forget what happened but we refuse to hurt over it any longer and by letting go of the blame it makes it easier to let go of the pain.
This entry deals with dream interpretation. I want to explore more.
I had a very vivid yet strange dream that I want to write down before I forget it. It puzzled me so much and I could not stop thinking about what it meant. If felt too real, it has been two days since and I am still wondering if it had any significance to my life.
I was in my living room at our old townhouse. It was morning and the sun was shining. Then all of a sudden darkness came over the sky and I opened my front door and looked up and saw that the night sky was filled with bright clear stars. The starry sky twinkled so beautifully that I stood there awestruck. Then I began to see tiny white birds coming from the sky. They looked like white doves but when they started getting closer I noticed that they were not doves but rams. Large white rams with wings. I knew they were rams by the horns. The horns were kind of pinkish orange in color and very pastel against the white of their bodies and large wings that spanned about 5 feet.
The rams began landing all over the ground. I felt a slight fear and noticed that people who had been outside were also becoming alarmed at this unusual event. Then this man walked up to my door and let himself in. He was handsome with dark hair and gorgeous eyes. He was very familiar but I didn’t know who he was or how I knew him. He walked pass me and sat down on my sofa. His name was Daniel. I was still standing in my door looking at him, wondering what he was doing here. I felt strangely and strongly attracted to him and also there was something mysterious and fearful about his presence. I don’t remember if he told me his name or not. But I knew it was Daniel, though how I knew him or what his purpose was, I did not know. I watched him for a moment wondering if he was friend or foe. Why was he here? What did he want?
He sat there watching me for a moment, then he sort of smiled, and just as I was about to find out more…. I heard my name being called and I was woken from my dream by my husband who had come to wake me up. Damn! Now, I keep wondering what this dream meant.
I want to do some research and see what I can come up with so I’ll probably come back and write some more later if I find out anything on the internet about such things. Just don’t want to forget the details. Are there angels named Daniel? What do flying rams mean? This wasn’t like any dream I’ve had. It haunts me. As wierd as this sounds, it feels like some kind of sign. I’m curious.
What is the difference between happiness and joy? Which one would you rather feel? Which one lasts longer?
No matter how difficult life may be, no matter what trials one is going through, one can still feel joy. Joy is what lasts no matter what the circumstances are. We can still have faith no matter what the circumstances.
Faith and hope give me promise of happiness. It’s existence is there somewhere beyond my grasp. Sometimes it comes close enough for me to catch it and for a short while I have it. I’m happy when I meet with friends. I’m happy when I have enough money to pay my bills. I’m happy when I’m eating ice cream or doing something fun.
Happiness only lasts for a short time.
Joy is what I feel when I look outside and see the squirrel who lives in the tree outside my window, or the birds. I feel joy when I think about my son or my family and friends. Joy feels my heart no matter what circumstance I’m dealing with at the moment. I can see a lovely view and feel joy.
Joy seems easier to obtain, lasts longer and feels greater than happiness.
I used to feel that I was worthless and unlovable if I was not a perfect size 9. I’m not one who easily can maintain a thin frame. I’m meant to be a healthy gal. =) As I have become in my 40’s my weight has gone up and I do tend to use food as comfort when I am depressed. It makes me feel better. I’ve accepted myself on one hand that I am big yet on the other hand there is that part of me who despises and can’t stand to look at photographs because I can’t stand to see this fat lady.
In order to be happy I have had to let go of the illusion of what true beauty is.
An example that comes to mind for me is the show, Real Housewives of Orange County. There is this one dumb blond named Gretchen who, by her bleached blond hair and her great spray tanned body would seem to be the most beautiful one of the group but in my point of view after getting to see the true character of the women on the show, Jeana, is by far the most beautiful of all the women. Jeana struggles with her weight and she is not thin. But she really has a good soul. I would expect hell to open up and swallow Gretchen, that’s how shallow and fake and empty she is. Yet Jeana is someone who is warm and loving even when people aren’t that way to her.
I hope that I have a good soul.
There was a time in my life when I sought to be perfect on the outside. When I couldn’t control my life, when I couldn’t control my eating, I could control my weight. I felt more in control when I could limit the food I ate. Even better and more in control when I could keep my food intake to 5 fingers. If I could always by the end of the day, count on one hand what I had eaten that day, it was a good day. I started each day on the scale and the measuring tape was in my make-up drawer used daily to measure my waist. I never went beyond 28 inches in the waist or 38 inches in the hips. I could tell you my thigh and calf measurements back then as well. I wrote them down everyday. I vowed that I would NEVER be fat again…
When I started to crave food and realized that food was winning. I ate even more. I started to buy two bags of cookies and hid one so that when I ate the entire bag I could replace it with the one I finished, and I would eat some of that too so that it didn’t look like a new bag. I did this with just about anything. Chips, ice cream… I would stop and eat at Dairy Queen sometimes on the way home and eat the dinner that was cooked when I got home. Always these things were finished off when I would go take a hot bath. That was my way of getting off to myself to throw up. It was always better to do it immediately so that is wasn’t as gross. GROSS????? My God, it was always gross. I was just kidding myself. I remember my son knocking on the door asking, “Mommy are you okay?” All while I was shoving a spoon down my throat. I look back on that and I cringe. Was that me?
I did end up going into the hospital and my eating disorders were addressed. Even there it felt good to have to have someone go with me through the food line and make sure that I didn’t disappear after eating meals. I don’t know why it felt good but it did. Kind of like something I didn’t think was real was in fact very real. Does that make sense?
So today I am fat but I am not binging and/or purging. I accept me for me and that’s all I can do. I still hate to see pictures of myself though. I hope that those who know me can find some beauty in me on the inside as I will probably never be that vavavoom perfect size 9 unless I really starve and abuse myself to get there.
I was inspired to write about my experience with bulimia and anorexia because of a video that I saw today. I will post it below. It was pretty raw and sad. I’m lucky. I don’t know if people in my life know that I ever struggled or how crazy it got.
Here is the music video by Emily Rose, it’s titled, Full.
Special thank you goes out to Shelby’s mom, Kathy, for making this video possible.
I’ve been concerned for my dear boy who has it in his head that he must live in a house with no heat (too expensive), with roommates, transferring to a new college and looking for a job and finishing up his semester and final exams here in Sac all at the same time. Mom isn’t around to help out and with the economy and jobs the way they’re going, I can’t do a lot financially either. Boy do I feel hopeless sometimes.
He’s excited to be living the grown up life. Welcome to the real world, kind of living. Yeah it hits like a ton of bricks. So as a mom. I worry. It’s my job.
I didn’t even know if I would see him for Christmas so I’d already sent his gift down to him. Christmas felt like it would be just be another ordinary day, but a day when I would feel depressed because it was Christmas Day!!!
This afternoon I got an unexpected surprise when he called to tell me he was on his way from Mountain View to stop by, visit and pick up a few of his things. YAAAAAAAY! My little heart went flitter flutter. Yeah, I’m sappy. I’ve said so time and time again.
He walked in the door, gave me a big hug and headed for the kitchen. While I was making him a couple of burritos he was inhaling the pickles, apple juice, anything he could grab on to. The boy was HUNGRY!
It kills me to see him struggling but that is part of growing up and moving out on one’s own. I know I went through it. Very few people have wealthy parents who can afford to finance their kids transition into adulthood. In a perfect world, maybe. But in this time when my husband’s job is cutting back their hours from 40 to 20 hours a week. We’re lucky to have a roof over our head and utilities. That’s about all we can afford and food is something we have to stretch.
My son is doing well otherwise, he’s been applying for jobs and has some good prospects. He’s looking for restaurant work. He’s a full time college student and since he lives with a shitload of roomies, rent is cheap. He’s got his first serious girlfriend and he is excited about that. Girlfriends do cost money. He was going to need to get her something nice for Christmas.
Isn’t this a gorgeous?
Newsboy Hat and Scarflette done with Bernat acrylic in Earth and Cozi(chenille like) acrylic in Marbled Taupe as the trim. The Earth color is a dark brown with bumps in creams and golds, Very beautiful and the marbled taupe is a perfect trim, as you will agree. This is simply breath-taking.
Lucky for us, my mom has a nice store on Etsy and she allows us to shop at a HUGE, discount. Basically, she gives us what we would enjoy having. So, tonight my son and I went shopping for his girlfriends Christmas gift. He chose a really nice copper necklace. Then my mom asked me if I wanted to pick something out for myself and I picked out a beautiful Lacy Agate and Copper necklace and a pair of Copper earrings.
I almost picked this:
I had my eye on it for some time. But when I held the other necklace in my hand and looked at the stone, I was in love with it. I wish I had a photo, but she took it down from her store. <sorry
Thank God for Moms!
Since we have been in such a bind Christmas this year has been lean. I’ve put up very little in decorations other than my candles and I do play Christmas music and we’ve been watching Christmas shows and movies so we are not completely void of holiday spirit. We have it in our hearts this year instead of our wallets.
We have enjoyed holiday get togethers with friends. So, we’ve been celebrating. It’s just the big day that I wasn’t looking forward to. Kind of like a build up to a let down.
Last night I was thinking that perhaps by volunteering somewhere is what people do to lift the mood. I didn’t want to have a boring, Christmas day with little or no activity. It’s one thing to watch TV during the holiday but ON THE HOLIDAY I need something more.
I asked my mom what she would think if we volunteered at the VFW to cook Christmas dinner and serve the veterans who have no place to go. I know they do this at our post every Christmas and Thanksgiving and on Thanksgiving they served over 80 dinners. I didn’t know how it would be received but my family WANTS to do this and is looking forward to it. I am JAZZED!!!!! I think I am looking forward to this Christmas more than I have ever in a long time. There will be music, and the smell of baked hams and all the fix-ins. We don’t have to purchase the food, but we get to enjoy cooking it and serving it and visiting with people. It’s going to be fun. I’ve always enjoyed the times that I have cooked dinners or volunteered at other post activities. (I’m a life member of the Ladies Auxiliary) You get lost in the camaraderie and the festivities and the work, it’s not really work at all.
So I called today and volunteered us. It happens that the person who they were depending on is in the hospital and they will need the extra help. My son, who hardly ever goes anywhere with us, is even planning on helping. Hell! I’m excited he was even planning to be home for Christmas! I guess when they move out, our kids actually miss us. =) He’s going to be home for the holidays.
Yes, it’s going to be a very Merry Christmas this year!
I would not have expected that during a time when we are all struggling that I would be anticipating the good times ahead. But I am. More than ever!
We spent Thanksgiving with friends in Oregon this year. It was a relaxing 4 days in Oregon away from the city life. The ladies had a spa day with massages while the men went off to ride go-carts. We had smoked turkey that was the best I’ve ever had. We played pinball, pool, sat in the hot tub, sang karaoke, played cards, laughed, and talked. It was so nice.
My cat’s name is Buddy, but I doubt that I have ever called him by his name. To me he is Boopy, Boopty-doo, BooBoo or Boopty-doopty.
I’ve never been one to use pet names or talk baby talk to anyone. There are only a few exceptions and I have to really feel a great deal of affection in order to stoop to the rediculas such as this. For I am not sappy, nor do I ususally stand for such behaviour. I have never referred to a love interest as Baby, Honey, Sweetheart, etc. I would feel embarrassed. Don’t get me wrong, I am a mush on the inside. I cry at the drop of a hat and I’m one of those who needs a box of kleenex when watching movies that pull on the heart strings.
The only human beings that I ever had pet names for were my brother and one of my sisters. My brother was given an unconventional name when he was born. Jean Phillipe. His name was never meant to be pronounced as Gene, it is the French name for John. My mom nicknamed him Jody because she loved the show Family Affair with Buffy and Jody. My step-father called him Jo-Po. Which he pronounced Yo-Po. So as an adult he now uses his given name, Jean, but he pronounces it John and everyone in his adult life calls him John. Except for me and my mom. He’ll always be Jody to me. It’s an affectionate name and it is who I relate to when I think of him. I know many siblings who as adults still call their brothers and sisters by the nicknames they had as kids. I have a friend who calls his sister, Denice, Neicy. Since I am around them a lot, I have found myself referring to her as Neicy as well.
When I was 10 years old, my mom gave birth to my sister. My mom had endometriosis and had to have a cesarean. When she was getting ready to come home from the hospital, her stitches tore and her abdomen opened. It was a nasty experience and in the end my mom had to remain in bed and could not get up even to tend to my sister as she had gauze and dressings on her wound and could not risk it coming open again. I stayed home from school for two weeks and at 10 years old, I was making formula (from scratch), and taking care of an infant, from diaper changes to bathing. I was the one who got up for the 2 am feedings. I would get everything and bring it to my mom as she had to remain in bed. Through all of this, I developed a deep attachment to my sister. I loved her a protected her fiercely.
A few years later our family was stationed in Germany. (Step-father was an officer in the Air Force) My mom had to come back to the states for my grandfather’s funeral and she again became ill due to the endometriosisand this time she had to have surgery which kept her in the states for several months. I was 13 and had to take on full responsibility for my sister. She was with me 24 hours a day. She was barely 3 years old at the time. My step-father didn’t pay much attention to us. He went to work, came home and he really didn’t bother to care for us kids. My brother and my other sister were cared for by the neighbors as we lived on an air force base in Germany and everyone in our housing community was like family.
My mom says she was receiving letters from people on our base about how us kids were being neglected and they were doing everything they could to help out, but since my step-dad was an officer, there wasn’t a lot that they could do, so they kept my mom informed and watched over us kids.
I worked at the commissary on base as a grocery bagger for tips and what I earned there was enough to feed my sister and I. We could go to the chow-hall on base and eat as much as we wanted for less than a buck. They never made me pay for two, I just paid ninety nine cents and went through the buffet line and got enough for both of us.
Movies on base were twenty-five cents and they never charged me for her, so I was able to go with my friends. There was a time though when her legs were hurting her and I had to leave because she was crying. Another time, I was at a dance and took her with me and she got scared so I had to leave and take her home. It was not easy caring for a toddler when I was only 13 years old. I was the oldest and was always there to help my mom. She could depend on me and I felt grown up to be able to follow through.
Fortunately this all occurred during the summer so school was out. It was a long, long few months without my mom. My sister started calling me “mama”. I discouraged that and I don’t know where she got the idea to call me that. I told her not to call me that. It was too weird and I was already getting so tired of having her with me constantly with no break. I could not be a normal kid with a three year old attached at the hip. For all intense purposes I had become like a mother. Hence, the pet name.
My pet name for my sister was Tootie. It all began when I was about 11 and my sister would follow me everywhere. One day, and I am NOT proud of this, but remember, I was a kid, I called out, “Come here shit head.” and she came running with delight. I thought it was so funny. I know it wasn’t and to this day she holds it against me for calling her that. Although she doesn’t really remember it. It’s just a story that has lasted over the years. I don’t remember how the name Tootie came to be, but it was around that time that I started to call her that and it stuck. To me, it was endearing. My “Tootie” was just the sweetest child.
For me, the pet name that I called my sister was just like when I call out to my precious kitty cat that I love so much. I don’t call out, “Buddy.” I call out with affection, “Where’s my Boopy?” Sappy, I know. <sigh> That’s just the way I am.
Pet names are not unusual and I have seen many families carry on from children into adulthood speaking of special people in their lives whether it’s an aunt, uncle, grandparents and yes, siblings who are known to them under a specific name given of love, carried forward as if to say “YOU” are special to me. “YOU” know me like no one else does. “YOU” know “ME”.
My brother used to drive me nuts and there were times I felt like I hated him. There are many more things I remember that he did that showed his true spirit. I used to help my mom do the easter baskets so I didn’t have one, I just got my share of the candy. One easter morning I woke up and my brother had taken candy from his basket and made me an easter basket because he thought I didn’t get visited by the easter bunny.
I picked on him, but God help anyone else who did. There were a few times when I came to his rescue. Man, I wished I had a big brother or sister to protect me. Nope, I was the protector. And, I was the tormentor at times too. It’s just the way it is in the sibling world. =)
Yes, the people we grew up with lived the same ups and downs with the same family, under the same roof. We grow into adults and we have our adult lives and we change and grow out of the person we were as kids. Yet, I have to believe that in some ways there is a certain sense of gratification in all of us because we have someone in our life who remembers the milestones of our childhood because they were there with us.
I no longer call my sister Tootie but sometimes I call her the “Pootin Lady” and she gets so MAD! LOL! No harm is meant by it. All of us have fart stories. One time they caught me on tape and played it for everyone. It was really funny though. See, we all know each other’s most embarrassing stories too.
Pet names are given to those who remain the closest to our hearts.
This is probably why I have always felt the need to have access to bodies of water. I don’t think I have ever lived beyond a few hours drive of the ocean in my life. When I think about the states in the middle of the USA, I often feel this dreadful feeling of being boxed in. I’m sure they have lakes and rivers that if I were to live there, I would go to, but there is just something about the ocean that relaxes me. The sound of the seagulls, the salty air, the waves crashing along the shore or onto the rocks. It mesmerizes my spirit and frees my mind.
When I lived in San Francisco I would often take my lunch hour and get a sandwich and drive down and sit in my car facing the ocean while I ate my lunch. It relaxed me. Then I’d head back to the office.
Now that I live in Sacramento, it takes an hour and a half drive to get there from here. I moved to Sac because the cost of living was cheaper but I do miss the bay.
I do have a huge aquarium in my living room. =) Oh, and candles. I MUST have candles. The mood of the room feels so good when there are candles. My husband drives me crazy because he could sit in his recliner in the dark with just the tv going. Sometimes I wonder what the hell I’m doing with this guy because we have NOTHING in common. It frustrates the shit out of me. We are like night and day. He’s a good man though and treats me exceptionally well. I probably am more of a pain in the ass to live with than he is. He thinks I’m silly with my candles.
The main strength of the Water types is feeling. The second element indicates the most probable focus for this emotional expression.
Emotional? Am I emotional? LOL!!! I run on emotions baby! I drive myself and everyone around me crazy with my emotional ups and downs.
Chimera
Water with Fire
Astrologically associated with Cancer and the Fourth House
Chimera types are motivated to achieve and maintain emotional closeness between themselves and those they are close to. They are among the most outgoing of all the types. They have a strong sense of community harmony and cooperation. They are devoted to their family whether this is an actual family or a specially chosen group of like-minded individuals.
This is true. I may not always see eye to eye with my relatives but I do consider my friends as my family. They have been with me more over the years than my relatives have.
They thrive in company and are rarely alone.
I do like my alone time though, but even when I am secluded on my computer, I have many online friends who keep me company.
They find personal fulfillment in supportive nurturing and caring roles but they emphasize self-reliance for all. They are intensely protective of those they love and are both perceptive and intuitive regarding their needs. They can seem at times to be in a world of their own because of a capacity for reflection. They are very emotionally expressive which can seem like “gushing” to other more restrained types.
"I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes. I am out of control at times and hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best." -- Marilyn Monroe
If by a "Liberal" they mean someone who looks ahead and not behind, someone who welcomes new ideas without rigid reactions, someone who cares about the welfare of the people — their health, their housing, their schools, their jobs, their civil rights, and their civil liberties — someone who believes we can break through the stalemate and suspicions that grip us in our policies abroad, if that is what they mean by a "Liberal," then I'm proud to say I'm a "Liberal." -- John F. Kennedy
