My Heart's Delight

"Without you in my arms, I feel an emptiness in my soul. I find myself searching crowds for your face - I know it's an impossibility, but I cannot help myself." - Nocholas Sparks, Message in a Bottle

My heart hasn't felt so heavy in a very long time. The last month has been consumed with worry, regret, many trips to the vet, and, eventually, an extended stay in the pet hospital. Then she was gone - and a part of me is with her wherever she is right now. 

The last photo I took of my sleeping beauty.

I'm fortunate to have so many people in my life that love me - and if I didn't have them, I would fall into despair; and that's a really hard place to come out of once one falls into that black hole. I'm trying to stay positive and focus on the good things that are occurring in my life.

Several weeks ago, Cassie began moaning as if she were experiencing a great deal of discomfort. It went away for a few days and I thought it may have been some sort of intestinal issue or minor injury from one of our weekly hikes in the woods. She began moaning again and she sounded much worse. It was awful and I didn't know what to do for her. My family insisted that I go to work while they take her to the vet. I wasn't happy with this decision, but they didn't give me much say in the matter. 

There were many trips to the vet with no real progress on bringing Cassie any form of relief from the obvious terrible pain she was experiencing. My initial thought was that her pain medication for arthritis was causing her discomfort. Her health had dwindled so rapidly and that was the only recent change that came to mind. I don't know what conversation took place between my family and the vet, only that she came home with an antibiotic due to a suspected infection in her intestinal tract. It was doing no good and she was obviously still in pain. I decided to take the reigns and asked my boyfriend to take her to the vet because I knew he would treat her exactly as I would and do whatever it took to get to the root of the issue. 

Cuddling up next to Cassie.

For the entire duration of this ordeal, I could barely manage to fight tears. I thought she was dying; I said I thought she was dying. I was told to be optimistic - perhaps there was a light at the end of the tunnel. I tried to think there was hope, but deep down I knew she was slipping away. Death and I have known each other for a very long time. I felt it and now I know why I was so upset when she first showed signs of discomfort. 

She continued to show signs of distress. My boyfriend booked the first available appointment her regular vet had available: the day before Thanksgiving. I left work early that day and was told last minute that my boyfriend wouldn't make it because something had come up on his end and there was nothing but bumper to bumper traffic. I lost it. I yelled - and I am personally grateful that he was not in close proximity to me when I found out he would not be able to deliver my dog to her appointment. 

He made arrangements to take her to a clinic closer to where he lives. Because of traffic, it would take me over an hour to get there. He sent me a text that said it's okay; it would be an hour before they can see her. My response? No. It is NOT okay. I was still in a rage when I finally made it to the clinic. 

The vet said it looked like Cassie had diabetes according to her urine and blood sample. Their x-ray machine broken down, so they charged me $200 for their work and sent us to the hospital up the road who performed the very same tests again and came to the very same conclusion: Cassie had diabetes. What baffled everyone was her sudden weakness and struggle to hold herself up and walk. Initially, this was attributed to diabetes. Cassie would need to stay for a few days to bring her blood sugar levels back to normal. 

The quote for the necessary treatment was a little over $1900. Having spent several hundred dollars on her care already, I certainly didn't have that kind of money. I applied for Care Credit and was granted a credit line of $2400. While all of this was taking place, I was keeping a close friend of mine up updated regarding Cassie's condition, the vet's suspicion, and my application for Care Credit. She sent me a text that said, "Please don't worry about money. We will cover this. We just want you and Cassie to be okay." I didn't know what I could have possibly done in life to deserve friends who treat me so well and I said as much. Her last text to me that evening said, "Good things happen to good people." For what felt like the hundredth time that day, I cried. However, this time it was out of gratitude and relief. 

A close friend, benefactor, and second mother to my two furry babies.

Over the days that followed, I made visits to Cassie as often as I could. I saw her the next evening and was told beforehand that she was responding well to insulin and eating regularly. I was dismayed when they brought her in to see me. She could barely hold herself up. I laid next to her on the floor, holding her in my arms and stroking her fur. I couldn't stop crying. Still, even Cassie tried to reassure me. Every so often she would look up and wag her tail. I would have stayed with her all night if I could, but eventually I had to leave her. 

I received a call from the pet hospital the next day. I was told she had an unknown neurological condition effecting her spine in two separate places. The diagnostics alone (not including any treatment) was $3000. I didn't have anything left on my credit line; the pet hospital used every last cent of it. I was so upset I couldn't hear anything else the vet said to me. I called my boyfriend and asked him to come see me. I didn't want to be alone and I knew I needed to tell my friend and Cassie's benefactor that the outcome did not look promising. Once again, I thought this was the end. Once again, I was told to be optimistic. 

I remember putting my jacket on. It was the same jacket I had worn the night I laid with Cassie on the vet hospital's floor. It was covered in her fur. I started to brush it off and then I started crying and had to stop. I couldn't bring myself to clean it off any more because I felt like it was the last piece of her I had. 

My friend and her husband are two of the most generous and genuinely good people that I know - and people like that are a rare find in life. Their friendship and endless support has seen me through some rough patches in life - and they give me tough love when I need it, too. They told me they would look for a specialist for Cassie and they would cover the expenses. They just needed to get a couple of recommendations. 

My last visit with Cassie at the hospital looked promising. She was chipper and holding herself up. The staff said they wanted to keep her one more night just to be on the safe side because her glucose level wasn't quite where it should be. The boyfriend would pick her up the next day and take her home with him so he could give her the undivided attention she needed and make sure she got her medications on time. I didn't want her to stay for more tests. I didn't want her to be poked or prodded, or stuck in a cage surrounded by unfamiliar people. I just wanted my baby girl home. 

Jail breaking Cassie from the pet hospital. 

She surprised us on her last night. She walked across the room - and before that she had only been able to manage a few steps before collapsing from exhaustion and pain. My boyfriend and I both thought she would pull through. I left that night. I had work the next day and had missed a considerable amount of work already due to unpaid days off for Thanksgiving holiday and my inability to work my weekend jobs because I was just too sad, too exhausted, and too worried. 

It was about 4am when I got a call from my boyfriend. Cassie had a seizure. He was taking her to the hospital. She was not responding as anticipated to the dosage of insulin prescribed by the vet. Cassie left us not long after my boyfriend arrived with her at the hospital. Part of me wishes I had been there to say goodbye - but part of me knows I would have lost it when she breathed her last breath. The thought of it leaves my heart in pieces. I never knew how much love my heart held for her until she was gone. My boyfriend got an imprint of her paw and a lock of her fur to give to me. That's what I have left of her - that and the memories. 

I received a text later that day from my friend with information about the specialist. I just couldn't bring myself to tell her that Cassie was gone and it wasn't until the next day that I sent a note to her husband about what happened and that we were having a small service for her if they wished to attend. 

My boyfriend stayed up late making a coffin for my little girl. He planted tulip bulbs above her grave and a stone was placed to mark where she lays. It was beautiful and dignified - a gathering suiting to my dainty little lady. 

My emotions have ebbed and flowed since we buried her. I spend time at her grave every day. My other dog, Merlin, seems to be just as sad as I am. I pretend to be happy. I pretend to hold myself together - but the facade falls apart the moment I'm alone. I was told that I saved her. The truth is that she saved me. I was in a bad situation and when she came into my life she gave me something worth fighting for - because I didn't value myself enough to get out of the abuse. I wouldn't let her be mistreated and that's why I got out of that nightmare. That's what she did for me. 

"No matter how little money and how few possessions you own, having a dog makes you feel rich."  - Louis Sabin

She also taught me that trauma does heal. Someone had badly abused her and then abandoned her in the neighborhood in which I was living. She was cautious and afraid when she first came into my life. In the end, she was loving and joyful. She came to be so loving and so trusting that the hearts of the staff treating her at the pet hospital are mourning with mine.

I remember when she came into my life. It was spring. She had been sitting near the same tree for several days; someone had left her there and she was patiently waiting for their return. They never came for her. I called to her and she followed me home. She was half starved and uncertain. Her brown eyes stared into mine with trepidation and gratitude. After two bowls of food and several baths she settled in. She was still wary - she would run and hide every time I brought out a broom to sweep the kitchen floor. Over the years, she learned that she didn't have to be afraid of that anymore. 

"A dog is the only creature on earth that loves you more than you love yourself." - Josh Billings

In stark contrast to what was undoubtedly a traumatic past, she emerged as one of the most loving and sweet natured dogs I have ever had the privilege of having in my life. I will miss her endless dog kisses, her excitement over long hikes with her 'pack', the way she pointed every time she spotted a squirrel and her loving, gentle, nature. Mostly, I miss her presence. I'm told eventually I'll remember the good times and I'll start to feel better. I've never forgotten the good times or the funny aspects of her personality, but that doesn't make me feel better right now.

I've set a limit on wallowing in grief before I start forcing myself back out into the world to make myself happy again. And, yes, happiness can be forced; I've succeeded in this numerous times. In times like these, I think it's necessary for survival, particularly when it comes to me. I can't let myself fall into despair because I'm not sure I'll come out of it this time; I just can't wrap my mind around the fact that she's gone. So I'm choosing not to ask myself what I could have done differently or better. I'm just allowing myself to be sad for a while. 

I know she had a good life with me and I know that death is inevitable and unfortunate. I know I did everything I could to save her. Still, none of this has brought me any comfort. In time, I know I can reflect on my life with her and be grateful for the many life lessons I learned through her. Precious little girl: you are missed and you are loved. 

"When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight."  - Khalil Gilbran

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? 

Non Believers and Miracles

“Many of life’s failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.” – Thomas Edison

As there are pros and cons to most things in life, there are pros and cons to being a temp. Most people look at you as if you’re flawed because you’re unable to find a ‘real job’. I’m on my third assignment at a local hospital and I’d very much like to be hired on permanently. I’m currently supporting an amazing doctor with an amazing life story and what she has to say about it is this, “Never underestimate the power of tenacity and perseverance.” Bravo, Amazing One. Obviously the pros are the endless new experiences, meeting new people and having something to look forward to because it demands that I always put my best foot forward. As for the cons, this is mostly public perception, horrible benefit packages and being contracted through a temp agency that really only takes interest in you if you’re out there making a good impression which reflects on them and keeps them employed.

Because I’m so uncertain of my own financial stability, I’ve been working really hard these days. It’s a five day work week and I clean houses on the weekend. Not all of that is paid, either – my agreement at home is that I clean for them in lieu of rent. Believe me when I say I earn my keep. I was out to tango last Friday and one of my dance partners was asking me about myself, what I do, etc. It’s either my greatest strength or my greatest fault – I am always honest no matter how pathetic I may make myself sound. This person told me he didn’t believe me which equates to calling me a liar. I’m so sorry it’s hard for you to believe that an educated white girl would work as hard as she has to until she gets to where she wants to go. I was tempted to thank him for the tanda mid dance and just walk away. I didn’t because it’s not really worth it.

This is what I was thinking in my head when the tanda ended. 

This weekend is an exception. I’m actually going to hide away with the world’s most awesome boyfriend because I’m just plain worn out and I was feeling sore from a 6 hour house cleaning spree that left knots in my shoulders for nearly a week. I need to sleep and would be grateful for some space to breathe. Of course, my furry babies will be with me, too.

October gave me a miracle this year. I’m still stunned and in the deepest part of me hope that this is finally the turning of the tides. I don’t want to be haunted by memories or consumed with rage and grief. I just want it all gone. My confrontation with my worst set of life experiences didn’t feel as heavy as anticipated because I had a listening ear, encouraging words and arms around me that held me while I cried and made me feel like I belonged there. He came before October, but I think the world’s most awesome boyfriend is a miracle as well – because we finally found each other.

I recently looked at the actual date of our first outing together. It wasn’t quite two months ago. I think everyone we know is just as surprised as we are. Really?! That’s it? My soul recognized him the moment his lips met mine. On my worst days his smile alone can change my mood. Despite the many stress factors in my life at the moment, I’m still smiling – and it’s genuine. People can see that and I’m pretty sure that’s why we’re all shocked that he and I haven’t been together for a decade already.

My biggest surprise and greatest miracle came in the form of kindness and love from someone who expects absolutely nothing in return. Since I’ve only been working for about a month now, I’ve had to play a lot of catching up because I was literally barely scraping by – and sometimes not at all. I got my very first ticket. I had every right to plead ‘no contest’ in front of the judge and ask for traffic school so it doesn’t go on my permanent record. What does the village idiot say? “Guilty”. For pete’s sake – I can’t be trusted in front of black robed judges, the inquisition . . . . any questioning whatsoever, really.

Indeed.

I was kicking myself the second I walked out of that courtroom, not only because I clammed up but also because I had to pay a hefty fine and I was setting money aside to take my two dogs to a very overdue vet check which would include vaccination boosters, flea and tick prevention medication and a prescription for arthritis medication for both dogs. I knew it was going to be a few months before I could pull it off, but my idiot move set me back even further. I can’t stand to see my dogs in pain and I was feeling like a horrible dog mom because I felt helpless. My own medical expenses are catastrophic due to bad health insurance.

In order to apply for assistance, I needed a quote from my veterinarian to show the financial need. Whomever I spoke with on the phone would not cooperate with me and said I couldn’t get a quote unless I brought my dogs in. She obviously didn’t understand that I was in this predicament because I could not afford to bring them in. I applied for assistance anyway and received one rejection after another because my pets do not need urgent care. In my desperation, I made a last ditch effort to fundraise online for my dogs.

I created a page and posted the link to facebook. I wasn’t expecting anything, just hopeful that a few people would be able and willing to donate something. When I checked my e-mail later that day, I was informed by the donation site that my goal of $700 had been met. My cousin in California donated the entire amount. I can’t remember the last time I cried so hard from joy and relief. Thank you for your unconditional kindness. I will never forget it.

October’s nearly over. I think I’ll manage to stay in one piece this year and I am so grateful that I now have happy memories for this time of year.

“Guard well within yourself that treasure, kindness. Know how to give without hesitation, how to lose without regret, how to acquire without meanness.” – George Sand

Demons and Fairytales

“We bury things so deep we no longer remember there was anything to bury. Our bodies remember. Our neurotic states remember. But we don’t” Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?

I remember being disheartened when I read one woman’s statement from a site she’s dedicated to healing from PTSD, “You will never be the same. Ever.” I’d like to say that statement is false, but the more years I live the more I experience that statement as a truth. I pass the same face of the mountain several times as I make my way to the top. Sometimes this brings up issues I’ve struggled with before, and sometimes it’s an entirely new set – which is what I’m facing now and this set in particular is something I never wanted to think about. Ever.

Hurt me once, shame on you. Hurt me twice and I'm coming out of this storm with boxing gloves on!

I guess I have to stand and face the music sometime, because my psyche really won’t leave it alone. Intrusive memories that trigger a mild relapse . . . . and the skittishness and neuroticism returns. Damn. It. I’ve been told on more than one occasion to remind myself where I am. It’s easier said than done. I know where I am; it doesn’t stop the memories. The only thing I know of that really works is a hell of a lot of self-care and telling myself on a daily basis that I’m okay – and I am okay. I could have easily been just another statistic; I’m still beating the odds because I am one tough mother f-er.

So where does this leave me with this particular set? Sometimes memories feel like the heaviest thing, even when you’ve shaken them out they leave traces, like a permanent wrinkle at the very core of your being. I’m getting out my iron. I guess I’m just going to have to talk about the abuse even though it grips me with an odd concoction of fury and sadness. This means I’ll be doing a lot of handwriting in my journal . . . . which I will more than likely burn once I’ve purged myself from my current plague and then I’ll put on my smiley face knowing I’ve conquered yet again. There is a way through this – I just need to find the most effective method. For now, the only approach I know is more self-care . . . expressions of gratitude, reflections of the Universe, believing in myself and dancing. Most likely bellydancing.

Note that smile. If I were my demons I'd start running. Just sayin'

“You might not feel it. You might not want even want to grow, but you will. You will grow back that part  that broke off, and that growing, that blooming – cannot happen without the pain.” – Kelle Hampton, Bloom

I’ll be reminding myself of all of the glorious and good things in my life. I have many. In addition to two doting dogs and many other things, I’m fortunate to have someone in my life that chooses to see the best in me and has exuded a calming patience towards me that I can say with all honesty I’ve never experienced before. He says he’s lucky. I think I’m the lucky one. I’ve never felt more at ease with myself in the presence of another human being. He’s given me more beautiful, perfect moments in life in the short time I’ve known him than I could ever ask for and every day I’ve spent with him has always been another ‘best day of my life’. True story.

You've already given me one. 

I never knew someone would walk into my life and I’d finally realize why it never worked out with anyone else. No one else could ever compare to him. I thought it all was a lost cause and he walked (literally – tango style) into my life and reaffirmed my faith in everything that I needed to know and believe in. I feel like I’m living in some sort of unexpected fairytale. He always tells me I’m beautiful. Always. I can tell he means it and a little part of me breaks away from my self-conscious, disbelieving self and I know I can believe him because he means it. While I can’t say he’s fixed me, he’s certainly sped up the process. I don’t have to ask him to be there because I know he always will be. 

It's you. It's always been you. 

My Feet Barely Touched The Ground

“Isn’t it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back, everything is different . . .” –C.S. Lewis

So October, we meet again. This is the first time I can remember in a long time that I don’t have some sort of ominous feeling looming over my head. In fact, celebrating my birthday was a pleasant surprise and while I have thought of my father, I haven’t felt as sad as I have in years past. I’d say it’s more bittersweet. Perhaps that comes from the realization that I’ve had so very many beautiful experiences with him and fond memories. Not everyone can say that about a parent and while I’ve missed him growing up, wishing he could share in my major life experiences, I’ll gladly take the memories. They are a beautiful gift.

We don't remember days, we remember moments. I am so very thankful for these moments.

I reigned in my new year with grace. In all honesty, it was the most fun, carefree and memorable day I’ve had in a long time. I spent a few hours doing something I love: tango. I shared a few beautiful tandas with one of my favorite leads and had a lot of fun with perfect strangers that are simply there to share in the passion of the dance and the love of the music. While I could have easily tangoed the night away and barely let my feet touch the ground, the world’s best boyfriend wanted to celebrate with me and I was recently given a new revelation: He doesn’t like dancing and only stuck around in tango because of me. No one has ever made me feel more valued, treasured or cherished as this man and I consider myself to be one extremely lucky lady. He’s my friend, my protector, my spiritual comrade and my rock.

You are my rock, my here and now, my everything - and for that I thank you. 

I left the milonga early to spend time with him. He greeted me with red roses and swept me off my feet . . . . literally – because he insisted on carrying me over rain puddles so my delicate feet didn’t get wet. Thank you for saving me from the rain. We ended the night with a beautiful dinner and one of our long conversations that could have easily stretched into the wee hours of the morning. It didn’t this time. I’ve just gotten over some sort of nasty bug and the world’s best boyfriend caught it because he insisted on taking care of me while I was at home feeling miserable. He still wasn’t feeling well on my birthday, but was determined to spend time with me anyway. Have I mentioned how lucky I am?

Sweeping me off my feet - it looked something like this; but there was rain and puddles everywhere

I’ve made an effort to get back into my spiritual practices and expressions of gratitude. I thought smudging might help my boyfriend feel better with some of the issues he’s facing in life. For those of you who don’t know what smudging is, it’s a Native practice that is used for cleansing and healing. While I’ve performed smudging in my room and on myself, I’ve never done so on another person. This meant I had to consult with experts . . . . which was really an excuse to go to my favorite place in the pacific north west: Mystery Gallery.

I love this place because just by walking in the store I feel like my spirits are lifted and the owners obviously care about what they do and the people they help through their work. It’s a small family owned business. I discussed my mission with the husband who gave me some tips for smudging and when I asked for some form of stone that would help my boyfriend I was pointed to one for grounding. For the record, the world’s best boyfriend loves it and that makes me happy. The smudging session was longer than I anticipated and required a very intense focus on my end, but it was therapeutic for both of us.

Smudging. We have much to learn from the Natives.

Imagine my surprise when a couple of days later my boyfriend shows up with a gift for me: a wolf pendant on a dainty silver necklace. Few people have ever given me something so meaningful. I wear it every day and since I first opened that box it was immediately my favorite piece of jewelry and a constant reminder of him - and also my fearless she-wolf.

I have not just one, but TWO fearless guardians. 

I’m still a work in progress. He accepts me as I am. He’s teaching me to accept myself as I am. I’ve learned to let go of my expectations of what I think life should be and accept it as it is. Did I think I’d be here ten years ago? Not even close. Am I okay with that? You betcha. I'm elated. 

I can't see what's just around the bend. I have no idea, actually, and it's really not possible if one wants to take in each and every present moment. 

“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us."  - Joseph Campbell

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