Quandaries

“The curtain of the universe is moth-eaten, and through its holes we see nothing now but mask and ghost.” Emil Cioran, A Short Story of Decay

I’ve turned over the conundrum of fairness in my mind lately. I wonder if this is a concept that is purely human made, if this is something that actually applies to the Universe, or if we have a flawed perspective how we think this should apply to our lives and what we perceive as a linear pattern set before us by a deity or the Unmanifest. There have been a few studies that barely scrape the surface of the concept of fairness, and none of these seem to give a definitive answer. Some of these studies examine the behavior of young toddlers, concluding that at such a young age there is an understanding of the morality of fairness. There are many theories on this rudimentary understanding of a moral compass: evolutionary for the survival of tribes, cultural and taught by birth through actions of parents and other figures in the child’s life, some even suggest a Western-invented concept that has nothing to do with biology. I’d agree that this is a learned behavior – and yet this concept, in some form, exists in every single culture. Isn’t that something?

My current philosophical quandary is not that the concept of fairness exists, but how it has come to be that we believe it should apply to all aspects of life. I see this belief as something antiquated that was an ideal that I simply needed to hold on to for the sole purpose of my own survival. If I didn’t believe there would be a silver lining in the clouds someday I would have given up ages ago. Perhaps I never understood the concept of karma, but hasn’t there always been a belief that good behavior, a good life, is somehow rewarded? I just can’t believe that anymore. I suppose it’s because I thought that there was some sort of purpose to my life, some linear path . . . . some force behind all that I’ve lived. That doesn’t exist. What takes place in life that is outside of our control is purely random.

There is no linear projection - no path to follow.

When something awful happens our first thought tends to be, ‘It’s not fair.’ No, it’s not. This is simply life. It’s not fair that anyone we love in this life suffers, or has left us suffering by their departure from this world. Would it be any fairer if that fate had befallen someone else? I ask myself that a good deal, and recently saw something that caused me to pose the question again.

Kurt Kuenne filmed a documentary in the wake of his best friend’s death, ‘Dear Zachary’. He intended this tragically beautiful film as a letter to his departed friend’s son, Zachary, who would never know his father. It’s the celebration of one man’s life, and also the mourning of his passing as well as a tremendous loss that should have never happened. It should never have happened because it was preventable and it should never have happened because these are the tragedies in life that make us say, “It’s not fair” and leave us to question that powers that be.  

It made me think of my own father as well. What are his thoughts on what I've done with myself?

I can think of only two people who live on this earth, aside from my therapist, who know the dark secrets my past holds, particularly regarding my father’s death – and that fact that I know I will never see justice for him is one of the many issues I’ve been working through. For those few that know me in this regard and watch this documentary, I think one could easily make the correlation of why this young boy’s short lived life struck such a chord with me . . . .  There were so many parallels regarding his father and mother, his grandparents, custody, and the blatant failings of the legal system. Nothing is perfect in this life. The judicial system exists to protect most, but the same rules don’t apply to all and this is why something so awful was allowed to happen; because it could have been prevented.

I think I can begin to understand how hard my grandmother fought for me. She never stopped, not even when cancer was besting her. I can't imagine the anger and sadness she felt when she would have to look my mother in the eyes, hand me over to my mother, and know that she was giving me to the person responsible for my father's death. I understand now why my grandmother had so much worry for me when I wasn't where I was supposed to me. I can't imagine how she felt knowing she was grappling with the devil and knowing there would never be justice for her son, my father.

Dearest Zachary - you are in my thoughts and I've never met you.

I have often asked myself what my life has exactly amounted to, and if I would have been better off had I not survived . . .  because at times I honestly feel as if I’ve made nothing of myself and perhaps the gift of life was wasted on me entirely. Please don't think me suicidal. That's not the case. It just raises the question in my mind and I'm searching to find what, if anything, of value I have contributed to the world. I wonder about that boy, Zachary, who happens to share the name of my father. I wonder how his life would have formed knowing what happened to his father, knowing who was responsible. I wonder if the outcome of my own life thus far would be any different had I never known that truth about my own parents.

My grandmother, Patricia, in her young years of motherhood. 

My father, Zachary, just as I remember him. Always smiling. 

This is where they are now.

One thing I’ve heard throughout most of my life that drives me slightly batty is, “You’ve had more than your fair share.” I know they mean well. It’s just something that weighs heavy on me because I know how unfair life can feel and the saying almost insinuates that there is still something better, something somehow deserved solely because life has beat me up a bit. Being good, or trying to be good in this life does not guarantee that good things will happen. Suffering doesn’t guarantee that, either. I remember my babysitter telling me frequently when I was a young girl that I was destined for great things because I had suffered so much. At the time her words were encouraging. Now I feel as though I’ve somehow failed.

It’s during these times in life I work harder to count my blessings because sometimes they are hard to see. It’s far easier to see what is going wrong in life and how unfair it is that someone I loved died; someone I loved lost a battle to cancer, someone I love may not be here much longer because of Alzheimer’s. It’s during these times in life I am grateful to those who know who I truly am and remind me of that.

I have known someone for many years of my life. We lost touch because that’s what happens in life and since we’ve reconnected we’ve been solid ground for one another during our transitions and doubts. I’ve shared with her my spiritual journey of working with a psychic and being protected and guided by the Wolf Spirit through that amazing journey in the spiritual realm. My beautiful Sister reminded me of who I was, who I am now, and what I can be. I’ve re-posted those blog entries due to her words of encouragement . . . . . because these things we experience, even if only small glimpses, really are something amazing and of value – if not to the individual, than perhaps to someone else hearing the story.

We run and howl together, even if from a distance. 

On that note, Beautiful Sister – if you’ve ever doubted (as I have) your purpose in life, how you fit into this world, know that you are the world to me. You remind me that I’m strong, loved, and still evolving in this life. Our spiritual journeys are never over, just as our journeys in life are not. Even though we’re separated by many miles, you emanate such a radiant light in my life. 

Cracking

“You may think you know someone very well. But there’ll always be parts you can’t see. Sometimes she’ll look weak, but she is hiding her strength. Sometimes she’ll seem strong . . . and yet she is so fragile on the inside.” Kiro Yumi, Library Wars

I have had so very many stress factors lately, and most of them I can do something about – just not right this second; but I’m close and that’s a comforting feeling. In all aspects of my life, I make every attempt to be strong – to hold it in because I don’t want someone to know just how much their word or actions have hurt me. I’d say this has worked quite well for me overall – and then there are people who manage to see right through me. One of these is the beautiful gal who has been teaching me to dance tango.

She is extremely intuitive and I often feel like even though the rest of the world looks at me and thinks I’m fine, she often sees through that façade. It’s funny how the slightest form of kindness can make someone fall apart. She looked at me Friday and asked if I was okay. In that moment, I felt as if I were a shattered piece of glass that was about to crumble. I couldn’t muster an answer and then she asked if we could talk later. I spent at least the next hour or so hiding underneath my sweater at a milonga because I didn’t want anyone else to see that I was falling apart at the seams. I hate to seem that vulnerable and these little meltdowns sometimes take place at the most inopportune times. When she did find me and she let me tell her all about what was troubling me, I came away from that feeling as though I had just spoken with the all-knowing Creator of the Universe. I can only hope I have that much wisdom and comfort to offer a fellow human being someday.

I’ve been trying to piece myself together that last few weeks. It’s proven to be more difficult than I thought because things keep happening and I simply shove them down so I can keep on going. Additionally, I’m the friend and co-worker that most people turn to for comfort when something is troubling them. I don’t mind this – I really don’t. Despite how drained I feel, I’d still drop everything to offer emotional support to someone I care for. The only issue here is that I’m forgetting to care for myself. As the months have passed, trauma has been stacked upon trauma and I feel as if a small piece of my foundation has been chipped away every time I offer a helping hand to someone else. I hate that feeling – because it makes me feel powerless to help myself and those that matter to me.

Return to your roots. Dance with nature. Run with the wolves.

“Behind me the branches of a wasted and sterile existence are cracking.” – Gustave Mahler

So I manage the best I can for now – and that’s all I can ask of myself. I have to remember to practice patience when it comes to me and that it’s okay if I miss that one phone call from a friend who needed to talk or wasn’t emotionally available for another. I just keep reminding myself that I am so very close to where I need to be in life and that I will feel much better when that all falls into place. It’s gradually coming together, piece by piece.

Among my frustrations, is the seemingly unending barrage of men who want to pretend to be a friend to me and I find out soon enough that what they want from me is far more than friendship. It really irks me that no one really says what they mean anymore. “Hey Ava, I want to be your friend. I want to be supportive of you.” Translation: “I don’t really care about your feelings and am really interested in getting in your pants because I see you as a sad, easy, vulnerable target. I couldn’t possibly get the attention of a woman if she weren’t in a state similar to yours.”

Seriously, I’m enraged. I want to throw punches at these douchebags more often than not. Most recently, a ‘friend’ asked me about taking private lessons with him. It sounded like honest fun – until he began to say things about holding me on the dance floor and sending me texts asking me to let him in so he can comfort me. Oh HELL NO!! I’ve never been particularly great at handling these situations, which is why I’m grateful a friend who has turned into a bit of a mentor to me stepped in, told me she’d handle it, and sent several texts to this guy on my behalf. Mostly, I think he got the hint. Not entirely, but mostly.

Overbearing bloodsuckers . . . Just stay away and I won't start pulling out my pepper spray.

As another friend pointed out to me, I may as well throw myself into a shark tank – because the unsavory people of the world can sense when someone is their weakest, and this attracts the worst kind of individuals. This is the main reason I’m on a very long dating hiatus. I’m not interested in physical or emotional intimacy. I don’t want the attention. I don’t want the drama. I just want to tango. That’s all I’m willing to give for a while. I need my main focus to be on me, the hound, and what the next few years are going to look like for the two of us. 

I know there's a quote somewhere that states cracks are what let the light through - I can live with the cracks. 

We're content. He's all of the happiness I need. 

The Search for Tranquility

“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.” – Laurell K. Hamilton, Mistral’s Kiss

I’ve been a little jumpy lately. Something that I really don’t care to talk about set off yet another relapse of PTSD. I’ll be grateful when I can calm down enough to not think a certain someone is going to bash my car windows in, follow me home, or just show up somewhere I happen to be in an uncontainable rage. When I get to the root of that irrational fear perhaps I can feel a sense of peace again.

The fear I have of this unnamed person is only half of the equation. Two nights ago, a woman ran in front of my car while I was driving on my way to tango. I still can’t quite put it all together to make one big picture. It’s come to me in pieces. I saw a bike on the sidewalk and her on the other side of my car. I thought I had killed someone.

I pulled over at the first opportunity and ran back to see if she was okay. A crowd had already gathered. The woman was standing and I was hysterical. The EMTs and law enforcement arrived. All witnesses supported my account: she literally ran straight in front of me. I had slammed on my brakes so hard that my back seats came unhinged and the contents of my trunk were scattered in the back of my car.

All I could do was cry and I wasn’t the one who nearly got bowled over by a vehicle going 30 MPH. This is one of those times in life where I’m convinced some sort of divinity was looking out for me. The witnesses to the accident stood around me, telling me it was going to be okay and that I’m a good person who just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. I also think it’s worth mentioning the kindest of them all was a gay man out celebrating his birthday with his mother and his fiancé. I’ve literally lost count of how many times a gay man has come to my rescue. For those of you who still live in the stone age and view these lovely human beings as sinners and something less than human, F*CK YOU! Seriously. I have a lot to say about my own perception of the struggle for equality. I’ll save it for another time in the near future.

As it turns out, this woman was darting in and out of traffic because she thought she saw money in the road. Holy f*cking hell. I’ve felt desperate from time to time in life, but I don’t think I’ve ever been that desperate. There was some speculation that she was high on drugs. I make no moral judgments. We all deal with pain our own way. Some of us can face it, some of us ignore it, and some of us just need an escape and find that escape in very bad places. I gave her all the cash I had on me. I hope that went to something that was beneficial for her.

The entire situation makes me sick to my stomach. This woman who was ready to sacrifice her life for pocket change in the road had a man with her. My instincts told me something wasn’t right about it. She seemed afraid of him and that made me feel even more badly for her. I think what upsets me the most is that there wasn’t a damn thing I could do for her.

I was too shaken up to drive home. The wonderful man who was the greatest comfort to me called my brother from my phone and he and his fiancé gave me the world’s longest hug while I sobbed myself to exhaustion. My brother came to pick me up and drove me home. Since this ordeal, I’ve felt as if I’m barely in touch with reality. My hound is a comfort. Tango is a comfort. Even my job is comforting. Despite these wonderful things, I’m feeling quite detached from the world . . . I also feel as if I could cry for days. The effects of these lovely aspects in my life are only temporary. I guess I’m still in some form of shock.

In other news – the question that seems to be on most people’s mind is my dating life. If people are asking me when I’m going to start dating again they’re asking if I need to be comforted . . . . sickos. No thank you, sir. I do not need your comfort and I don’t want the comfort of whomever else you have in mind for me, either. I'll be just fine. 

"Nothing if permanent in this wicked world - not even our troubles." - Charlie Chaplin

Villians

“You learn eventually that, while there are no villains, there are no heroes either. And until you make the final discovery that there are only human beings, who are therefore all the more fascinating, you are liable to miss something.” – Paul Gallico

I've found most villains to be quite amusing.

My most recent ex told me that I villainize others in my writing. Perhaps there’s truth to that; the only perspective that I can offer is my own. What I can say is this: our perception is our reality. If we choose to interpret the actions of others as malicious, if we choose to interpret their behavior as ill intended, that is our reality. What I have given thus far is my own account, my own feelings, my own perception.

I’m disappointed that it didn’t work out. I wanted it to, I really did. I wanted him to be many things. I wanted us to be many things. The reality is this, we are really two people who need the same thing in life: grounding. The harsh truth is that ultimately neither of us could offer that to one another.

There's only so much we can do or give for one another. We can either accept the other as perfectly flawed, or move on when we can't see past those flaws. 

I’m not saying he’s a bad person. I’m saying we’re bad for each other. I caught a glimpse of that when we spent a weekend out of town together. I had to process everything that had occurred over that weekend. I asked for space. I needed space. Three days into the space that I asked for, he called it off. Today he hinted at wanting to get back together. I think that would be a stupid move on my part and bad news for both of us.

If both feel the other has consistently wronged them, it’s just not a good thing. He was there for me through some tough times, and his words also made some of those times really tough on me. I had to consider what was bad for me and what was good. Ultimately, the bad outweighed the good. This isn’t a dig into his character or essence as a person, that’s just how it was.

Whether or not it hinges on the fact that I'm Libra, I need balance. I need fairness. I need for things to be well-rounded and sound.

Today in particular I’ve been called many things: coward, flawed, and while not implicitly stated, mentally unstable. I’ll admit it hurts, particularly from someone I trusted and who meant a good deal to me. What I can say is this, I honestly don’t feel I’m to blame. I’m not saying he’s to blame, either – I just refuse to allow someone to make me feel at fault. Life doesn’t always play out as we’d hoped or intended. It’s full of surprises, twists, turns, setbacks and leaps forward. That’s part of the beauty of living.

Go fly a kite. Literally . . . because it's loads of fun.

I can say with all honesty I never envisioned myself to be where I am in life right now. It’s not where I intended to be, but it’s where I am. I’m gradually getting closer to the life I had hoped for. Sometimes I experience setbacks that feel so enormous and discouraging that I just want to wave a white flag and surrender. However, the worry, anxiety and stress poured into those scenarios really doesn’t do me any good. It’s wasted energy, really. Despite another setback to achieving my personal goals, I’m trying to glean the better parts of my current life. I won’t achieve independence as soon as I’d hoped. I’m disappointed, but I won’t be consumed with regret or even think about pointing a finger at anyone else but me.

For now, I think I have more than most could have hoped for. I have an amazing support network. It wasn’t something that’s just been handed over to me, it’s something that has been built over time and includes people who choose to see the best in me. Those are the types of people that I want to keep close to me. I have tango. There is no greater bliss in this world. I have a basset hound. There is no greater example of one who loves unconditionally and without expectation (with the exception of walks) than a dog. These are things that bring me joy in life help me get through some of the darker times life brings. They hold me gently and carry me back into the light when I can’t get there myself.

“To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.” – Oscar Wilde

Everything and Nothing

“Believe in nothing, no matter where you read it, or who said it, no matter if I have said it, unless it agrees with your own reason and common sense.” - Buddha

When it comes to healing, I’ve noticed that I’m really only working towards it when I feel tormented. I think I would make a heck of a lot more progress if I were spending time filling my arsenal when I actually have control of my senses. My solution is more self-care. I’ve been stretched way too thin for the last three months and have decided that I need to make more time for myself. It feels like a circus sometimes: appeasing everyone in your life, juggling a full time job in addition to weekend work (I’ve added it all up and it amounts to about 60 hours a week), my dogs, my family, my boyfriend and a hobby that I love, but my boyfriend does not. Half the time I’m just too exhausted to remember what I’m doing, why I’m there and what conversation has literally just taken place between me and another. While it pains me to do so, I’ve had to practice the use of ‘no’ and standing my ground when it comes to allowing myself outlets that contribute to my sense of wellbeing. I imagine when I can finally manage to get my life somewhere near where I’d like it to be, I can strap down and do some of the more in depth healing work – even though the thought of it scares me.

“Let me not pray to be sheltered from dangers, but to be fearless in facing them. Let me not beg for the stilling of my pain, but for the heart to conquer it.” - Tagore

Diseases of the soul are more dangerous than those of the body.

I stumbled across a book recently that has turned out to be a gold mine for healing from trauma, appropriately titled, “The Trauma Toolkit”. The author, Susan Pease Banitt, talks about a central core that we all possess. It is an emotionless observer – the side of ourselves that is calm, watching, and entirely detached when our emotions are heightened out of fear or elation, and I imagine this is why time seems to stand still when we are in the midst of something traumatic. Banitt points to the psychological pioneers, Dr. Brian Weiss and Dr. Roger Woolger, whose extensive research in past life regression has affirmed that there is a part of our consciousness that is never born, never dies, exists outside of three-dimensional reality, and can never be hurt or wounded in any way.

“Meditation is the dissolution of thoughts in Eternal awareness or Pure consciousness without objectification, knowing without thinking, merging finitude in infinity.” - Volatire

I’ve acknowledged that this is something I need to believe. I need to believe that the people I’ve loved so fondly in this life were with me from the very beginning in whatever lives led up to this one and that I’ll find them again in the next. I need to believe that there is a part of us that exists outside of space and time, and this is part of the reason I still feel connected to my father and my grandmother – and somehow this is what has allowed me to have conversations with them when I’m dreaming.

There was a dream I had about my father. I saw him across the room at some sort of social gathering. He was the same age as I am now, which would be a true fact if he had somehow been frozen in time when he died so long ago. I began to argue with him. He couldn’t possibly be real; he was dead. This was his response, “I don’t know who lied to you. I’m not dead. I’ve only been gone for a while.” It still gives me goose bumps, even as I type these words, because that was such a profound message to me. He exists somewhere else, and I exist with him there.

Somewhere across space and time - another celestial shore.

I need to believe in this observant consciousness because I have no other way of explaining why I am unphased by so many, yet I can have inexplicably deep connections with others. My heart leapt at the sight of Pavarti. My soul knew hers, yet we had grown up in entirely different times and continents. I felt something stir in the deepest part of my soul when I met my boyfriend. I had no words for it and even still I struggle to describe it. A running joke between us is that we’ve been dating for ten years. While this is far from true, it certainly feels that way . . . and it kinda looks that way when others watch how he and I interact with each other. There are some that would say this could all be chalked up to chemistry, pheromones, hormones, proximity, Fate, God, the Universe, and so on. I’m, sure those are part of the puzzle as well. However, anyone who claims to know the capacities of the human psyche and depths of the soul with absolute certainty is an arrogant fool. We can never possibly know for certain, can we? The only thing I can say with certainty is that there are certain things I need to believe because those beliefs are comforting to me. It’s comforting to think that the people I love so deeply have never and will never truly leave me.

"Our lives are not our own. We are bound to others, past and present, and by each crime and every kindness we birth our future." - Cloud Atlas

I need to believe in this form of consciousness because I have no other way of explaining how I can be perfectly content with doing everything and nothing into the wee hours of the morning with my boyfriend. I can’t picture a sweeter image. I can’t imagine a safer place than wrapped in his arms. I’ve never felt safer, more treasured, protected or adored. He is my happiness – just the thought of him brings a smile to my lips. I imagine it is this consciousness that makes any time spent away from him feel like eternity – some long drawn out and ancient form of torture. Perhaps it was this consciousness that made me want to run from him in the beginning because my own attraction was pulling me towards him with an intensity that I never knew; and maybe this consciousness will grant us another life together across another span of time.

Aquatic adventures! Remember when I took one for the team? 

“I didn’t want to give you the one last part of myself that I couldn’t take back . . . and then I realized it was already yours. It had been since the beginning.” – Lisa Kleypas, Dreaming of You

You believe it now, don't you? 

When Confronted With Pandora, Just Keep Dancing

“Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life; define yourself.” – Harvey Fierstein

I had a fairly rough time for a while – not because I lost someone particularly meaningful to me, but because I felt like a failure and his words have been harsh, cruel and unkind. It would seem as though he’s on a mission of character assassination.

Character assassination (n): the act of saying false things about a person usually in order to make the public stop liking or trusting that person.

My confession is this: I’m fighting really hard to avoid retaliation. There are plenty of negative things I could say to insult his character or existence as a human being. I won’t do it because that’s not the kind of person I am.

His main point of attack is his claim that I have a severe alcohol problem and should contact him when I’m ‘ready for help’. Initially, this hurt me. It hurt because I told him in confidence about a time in my life when I used alcohol as a poor coping mechanism after an assault that I didn’t know how to even begin processing. I also lost an uncle to massive organ failure because he spent too many years of his life drinking. That’s what hurt me.

From the way he talked, this is where I'd be in 5 years . . . with facial hair, too, because I'd be too sad over the life he could have provided for me.

My friends who know me well find his comments laughable. I’m now counting my blessings that he only met a few of my friends in person. Where I am hurt at his actions, they are angry for me. My lovely guardians, where would I be without you?

Perhaps all disagreements should be settled this way.

The lowest blow came in the form of Pandora’s Box. I remember staring at it on the front porch and thinking to myself, “My therapist would tell me not to open this” and also my good friend would say, “Throw it directly into the garbage bin”. So what do I do? I open the damn thing. I was happy to finally have a couple of things I left in his car back in my possession, but this came with a price. In the box he included a lengthy typed letter and a rock.

I don't know if it was temptation or that I felt I needed more punishment, because nothing good was going to come out of that box.

Once again, the letter pointed to my character flaws, something about the rock amplifying energy and another piece about a hummingbird or something. I threw the rock where the Columbia and Willamette meet. That was one of the most gratifying experiences in my life.

The weeks following the arrival of that box were a little rough. I tend to be hard on myself in any normal setting . . . . it wasn’t long before I started waging war. If it weren’t for those who told me that his words didn’t describe me, I may have actually believed them. I think it shows much more strength in character to be able to analyze your own reflection in the mirror before pointing a finger at others.  

Turn your gaze inward and grapple with your own shortcoming before pointing your finger at the rest of the world for the happiness you lack. This is part of the human experience.

“Things don’t go wrong and break your heart so you can become bitter and give up. They happen to break you down and build you up so you can be all that you were intended to be.”  - Charles Jones

So while I fought the negativity I directed only to myself, I fought equally as hard to find beauty in the world and do things that make me happy. I admit I had help, an amazing guy told me “Don’t be hard on you. Just get angry.” I don’t know why, but it worked. I felt angry for a couple of days and then it was as if the former boyfriend who delights in making me feel bad never existed . . . .and then he started telling my friends that I’m an alcoholic and that they should be looking for the signs.

Oh look! There I am again . . . .making bad decisions and being a horrible, selfish human being in general.

For Pete’s sake! Does he ever stop?! I finally told one person who was consistently relaying information to me that I didn’t want to hear what he was saying, whether it be good or bad. Problem solved. After the breakup between Mr. Finger Pointer and me, a friend told me that I have a tendency to let myself be talked into dating someone. I can see the validity of her point, I really can. However, saying that I’m consistently talked into things suggests that I can’t take responsibility for my own actions. I admit that I’ve been in plenty of relationships that I never cared to be in to begin with – I guess it’s because I didn’t think I deserved anything good in life. I’m beginning to move away from that and am trying to think more positively, particularly in regards to myself. Because I felt like a royal failure at practically everything, I told myself I just wasn't relationship material. Then Fate, the Universe, whatever it may be told me otherwise. I met someone that I can't picture life without. I've learned that these opportunities in life are rare and shouldn't be ignored.

Be on the watch. The gods will offer you chances. Know them. Take them.  - C. Bukowski

Things have been looking up. I have a new job and I met someone who I think is one of the most amazing human beings to enter my life. He has been my rock and if anyone were to ask him, he’d say I’m the most gorgeous, honest and amazing woman to have ever graced this part of the planet. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if he argued me to be the best thing ever to have graced the earth. 

He reminds of the the qualities I can't see within myself.

Our first outing consisted of karaoke because I wanted to go and as a single female it’s poor judgment to go to a bar alone – even if you are only there to sing karaoke. After I belted out a couple of tunes, I started helping him sift through the list of songs. He tells me he only sings Rage Against the Machine. I found it for him. That’s when he said, “Okay. I don’t really sing karaoke. I just wanted to get you out.” Granted, I’ve been lied to plenty by men trying to get my attention – but I thought that was perhaps the most creative. For the record, I’m glad he did it.

One of my favorite memories: Getting stuck in the down pour with you. There was no where else on earth I'd rather be.

I wouldn’t say that we’re inseparable, but I can hardly stand to be away from him. He described what’s taking place between us as a whirlwind. I suppose it is. We both feel it – some inexplicable and very strong attraction that matches the connection we share. I’ve attempted to put into words what’s taken place the past couple of weeks and I still come up empty. All I can say is this, “Wow.”

 He challenges me to be a better person and recognize my own self worth. He calls me his muse. I’m honored. I was beginning to think I would never see this side of myself again . . . the capacity to feel so deeply was lost on me for a while. If one is counting the span of time, the conclusion would be that I barely know him, yet I feel as if I’ve known him my entire life. I feel as if he and I have spent thousands of lifetimes together.

"The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lover's don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along." - Rumi

My tendency is to hold my breath and expect the worst: the goodness will come crashing down on me, fade away and I will have ruined yet another beautiful thing in my life. For now, I’m breathing in each moment. I’m not afraid.

“Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.” -Buddha

The Process of Transformation

“Healing may not be so much about getting better, as about letting go of everything that isn’t you – all of the expectations, all of the beliefs – and becoming who you are.” – Rachel Naomi Remen

It’s been 4 months and counting since I came out of my last relapse. I’m proud to say that this is a record for me. In conversation with a former professor, I told him how much I appreciated his research in brining science and spirituality together. It was my sense of survival that I found in spirituality that kept me moving forward – finding glimpses of joy when I felt I had none. Working with chakras helped me see that.

Nature has a strong effect on the chakras . . . .and dancing. Definitely dancing. And also wolves. That's my thing - don't question it; just let it happen.

What’s most surprising to me is that this professor who had dedicated most of his life to psychology said he could detect no symptoms of PTSD in my personality. How about that? I’m not dancing and rejoicing yet, because I know there’s a possibility of another trigger – but I’m hoping it’s not just wishful thinking on my part that I hashed out the worst of the worst when I finally realized the source of my anger and hurt.

I think it took a long time before I was ready to see that. I spent the better part of a year cutting people out of my life that weren’t good for me and I was quite lonely for a while. However, this forced me to look inward without the ability to distract myself with the issues, drama, and world views of another.

Trust is learned by our upbringing, I think. It takes patience to foster.  

For some time, people just didn’t recognize me – I had transformed that much.

A dear friend compared me to a butterfly once, because I fought so hard to come out of the cocoon. 

In his lecture, Healing the Luminous Body: The Way of the Shaman, Dr. Alberto Villoldo speaks of how trauma imprints us. He gives an example of a female patient who had seven relationships throughout her lifetime. Her relationship with these seven men each ended in the same place. She eventually discovered that she had had the same relationship with seven different men. By understanding our luminous body – the same concept demonstrated by Dr. Fritz-Albert Popp’s research – we have the ability to heal ourselves.

For now, I’ll rejoice in the transformation while recognizing there’s still a long way to go. I keep my mind open and attempt to do the same with my heart, however guarded it may be.

"Healing does not mean going back to the way things were before, but rather allowing what is now to move us closer to God." - Ram Dass

My heart will shine again, too. I know it. Compassion and love stem from the same place, right? 

Pain and Beauty

"Every nerve that can thrill with pleasure can also agonize with pain." - Horace Mann

I find the truth behind that quote mind boggling.

I've had to acknowledge and accept a few hard facts of life lately. I don't like it, but I know it's necessary. I've realized that if I want to make an impact for the greater good, I have to be able to stand and face the ugliness . . . and give it a severe thrashing. I'm not quite there yet. 

I'm learning to be more self aware. If I am too emotionally charged I'm useless. Nobody wins. This is just how it is. Sometimes the emotional pain is far too much. I can't describe it, but I know that those who have felt it understand. There have been occasions that all I can do is wail while simultaneously falling into a useless slump.

I have to acknowledge the vulnerability. I have to acknowledge the anger. I have to acknowledge the pain. These are all part of me, no matter how hard I try to pretend these aren't facets of what makes me and my personality. I've pretended my whole life that these are characteristics that don't pertain to me. Sometimes people see through that facade, no matter how hard I try to present myself as an unbreakable pillar. 

Sometimes this pain is so overwhelming that it turns to numbness. We go through the motions of life because it's what is expected of us. There is no joy and it's difficult to see past the few glimpses of happiness we're given. There is nothing left but self loathing and doubt. There is nothing left but wailing if we still have that in us. There is nothing left but despair; and how we present ourselves is entirely different from what we feel. It's like we're nothing but an empty casing that covers a very shaky framework. 

Something I don't yet understand is when we are our weakest, when we are our most vulnerable, we shut the rest of the world out. I don't know why others do it, but I know that I've built a wall at times because I don't want people to see my vulnerability and I don't think my emotional baggage is something for them to deal with. I've found that some want to share the burden out of pure compassion. This is part of being human. It's difficult to ask for help because we've been conditioned from a young age with the belief that we always have to stand on our own two feet. Supporting one another shows more strength than standing alone. 

Someone I love has challenged me to let the wall down and share those emotions, because that's precisely what I've asked of him. I've laid my emotions bare and made myself vulnerable to him already. He hasn't tried to break me, yet I'm still afraid. For him, I'll try . . .  and for myself, this is a long work in progress. His presence alone has awakened emotions that I never knew existed - and I still can't describe them. I'm still left wordless, breathless and in awe. 

The events in my life that have been so ugly, so painful . . . so numbing have somehow shaped what I am today. There are things that I've seen and experienced that I sometimes think should never be shared; I should never speak of them. I acknowledge that I can only carry so much for so long. When I can't stand on my own two feet, it's time to reach out and not give in to the numbing abyss of emotional anguish. When we think we are most unloved is when we are loved the most. It took me a long time to see it, but I did eventually. I hope he sees it, too. 

On that note, this entire process has been a challenge. I've been frustrated and I have no doubt he's frustrated by me - yet neither one of us has given up on this. 'This' is something I can't quite describe. He exists, I exist, and we both exist in it. It makes sense to me, but I doubt it will to many others. The things I want to shield him from are the very same emotions he wants me to share with him. I have been forced to acknowledge more of the darker side of my personality because of him, but I don't regret it. I am grateful. I am grateful because these are characteristics of myself that I've avoided for a very long time. I knew that I'd have to face them eventually . . . . and it appears as though that time is now. Challenge accepted, Universe. 

I see him going through the same phases and emotions that I experienced not too long ago . . . although his are likely for entirely different reasons. He's sorting out the positives and negatives in his life. I remember that experience. The process was not pretty. I felt even more secluded and alone. I doubt it will be as lonely for him as it was for me, but it's still difficult. I needed time to grieve some of those losses, even though I knew that the friendships were toxic. I tell him as often as I can that I'm here. He is loved. He is cherished. I hope when he's working through some of the darkest issues that he remembers those words. I meant everything I said. I have no doubt that others are giving him similar encouragement. Beautiful Soul, I am here. Let me love you.

I've seen glimpses, Beautiful Soul. I'm not afraid. You are magnificent, even if you don't see it yet. 

Changing gears, I had yet another victory. I think 2013 is the year of Ava. Last week, I was able to sit sandwiched in between two men. I didn't panic. I didn't try to run. I didn't reach for my beating stick. In fact, it didn't effect me at all. 

Just a few days ago I was beginning to go into another wretched PTSD relapse. I managed to catch it this time and I am still in amazed. I'm stunned because I've always viewed it as a beast that controlled me and I was helpless against it. 

I felt it coming. The rumination. The obsession over things that were said and things that were left unsaid. The obsession over experiences in my life that I'd rather forget that still plague me with their presence. This form of thinking is followed by the doubt, the self loathing, the fear. It eventually feels like there's a demonic presence in my mind that tells me I'm nothing. I'll never be good enough. I'm unlovable and I am worthless. I finally recognized it. I acknowledged that part of me and told it to go away; I distracted myself to the best of my capabilities. I told myself repeatedly throughout the day that I am a radiant being of light. 

I went to tango class and randomly hugged my dancing partner. She and I shared an amazing synergy together and I thoroughly enjoyed dancing with her. She kept her eyes closed when I was leading, as I often do when someone else is leading me. I was elated when I saw her face light up because we were connecting with movement; she intuitively knew where I was going. This is another aspect of humanity. We care for one another, we feel for one another, and we connect. It's beautiful.  It took me a long time to see it, but it truly is. By the end of the day, I felt nothing but joy and the first thing I told myself when I woke up was this, "I am a radiant being of light." I believed it this time. 

I'm keeping track for the new year. Ava - 2, PTSD - 0. I am winning. I can't describe the happiness I feel in these victories because I always thought this was something that had complete control over me. I now see that I can control it with a little bit of work and constant self awareness . . . and neither of these are negative things.

These boots are made for walkin'. I have arrived. 

After cutting out the negativity from my life, I am receiving positive. I don't deny the process was excruciating. I had no one and I was still experiencing the aftermath of the last two years. I started to reach out to the world around me and eventually the good came. I lack the words to describe how beautiful the latter process of this part has been. I think I'm seeing the world as it should be for the first time. All of the pieces are coming together and it's beginning to make sense. 

Beautiful Soul, it exists for you, too. I'm here. Don't ever think you're alone.