When The Waves Come

Inside my fortress of sand,

the waves come in at their own command.

Inside my fortress of wood,

The waves wear away all that is good.

Inside my fortress of metal,

The waves rust and eventually I crumble.

Inside my fortress of stone

all is fine, but I'm all alone.

- Me

" I hate Sundays. Sundays mean I am heart broken. I have to leave you on those days." - My daughter.

Two and a half years ago we moved to North Carolina and brought my daughter with us.
Two years ago I had a tubal pregnancy and had to have it removed.

The resulting hormonal upset in combination with living with my in-laws, trying to raise two children and mourn another, trying to go to school full time ended in me taking four days and checking into the hospital. The next few months of medications and diagnosis resulted in a PMDD diagnosis but not before daughter went back to live with her dad. We both wanted stability for her.

The result was a serious walloping to my self-esteem. This spurred me to make myself someone my daughter could respect, not resent when she starts asking questions as a teenager. The last two years have been filled with growth, stability and a better job.

I've been working really hard lately. I begged for a promotion at work and busted my butt when it became available. I was determined to show that I'm capable of being the person I want to be.

I talked to her this afternoon and she was beautiful and confident and preoccupied with her life. I couldn't help wishing I knew her little friends and could hear her stories after school. She wanted to stay with her dad for a birthday party at a friend's house.

I guess my point is, I miss my baby but I'm glad she is happy.

I just had to get that into the universe.

We Are the Music Makers

We are the music makers,

And we are the dreamers of dreams,

Wandering by lone sea-breakers,

And sitting by desolate streams;—

World-losers and world-forsakers,

On whom the pale moon gleams:

Yet we are the movers and shakers

Of the world for ever, it seems.

-Arthur O'Shaughnessy

What is it to be satisfied?

To find peace with one's surroundings, finances and general life circumstances?

Is the monotony of day to day life acceptable to most people?

I work with dreamers. Dreamers who love dreamers. Dreamers who create. 

I feel at home with these people. 

At the same time I feel like we're all in the place where we're not quite satisfied. 

My husband would be entirely satisfied to do the exact same thing everyday.

Camp on the weekends. Maybe live in a cabin with zero electricity. 

I can't decide what it is that makes me want more. 

I love my kids. I love my life... but I've got an itch. 

What do you do when you get this way?

Lately I've been pushing my passion and energy into my work. 

My therapist says it's part of my personality. I have to stay busy. 

He's currently on a 5 week sailing trip from San Diego to Hawaii so he can't really talk. 

A ship wasn't built for sitting in a dock I suppose. 

Growth and change is part of life. 

Dissatisfaction spurs action. 

I will think about this. 

Why I Haven't Been Writing..

I had lunch with a few friends two days ago who encouraged me to be myself unabashedly and from that conversation came this blog post.

I often wonder if writers are all just narcissists, myself included.

This is the third time a friend has called me a "writer" and the third time I have scoffed.
My new therapist called me, "Incredibly self-aware," the first time that I met him.
I think this was a hint. 

Part of my not writing has been that I have stayed off of my ADHD medicine for over a year now.
It wasn't necessary for working in retail and it typically made me feel like crap.

I tend to fill my life (or at least my brain)with a lot of extras due to a need for constant stimulation. I over analyze life situations and dissect them in order to process them fully. Coping mechanism. *shrug*
Eventually I get overstimulated and need to sort it out.

In response to this reality that I live in, I started seeing a therapist again.
It's probably going to be a thing I have to do on and off for the rest of my life.

Dr. H PHD. He's pretty cool.

I went to Dr. H because I think that my standards for myself and others need to be evaluated. This idea is difficult for me, because I think I'm pretty damn empathetic. I'm beginning to realize that with the general populous I am actually a really nice person....

But.

With the people closest to me, I tend to be an overly analytical drag who can't figure out what she wants in life. I also tend to assume that everyone has these standards for themselves. This leads to copious amounts of disappointment. This is also true in regards to my expectations for myself.

I wrote this about 6 months ago when I was in a rough place but I wanted to share it because I felt it was fitting. :

Potential

Potential is like "raindrops are falling on my head.."

Potential I can't quite seem to grasp. 

Trying to hold onto it but it slips

Right through my large soft hands. 

I am drowning in lost potential.

The expressions when I get out of my slightly dented car with my two children from different men.

"She never has been a great driver."

"She always has had a bit of a sweet tooth."

"She had so much potential."

REWIND

New hope. 

Deep breath as I enter my classes my first day back at college. 

Post first husband I have finally started to feel that potential again. 

"You are so intelligent, so much potential"

"Top of your class.."

Smart. Intelligent. Independent.

I need no man.

I trust no man. 

I will finally be enough for myself.

I have so much potential.

4 Months later.

A mini skirt drives off of the ferry. 

Home.

Stumbling up the steps

Closing the door to the bathroom.

Sobbing as the water pours over her head. 

"I shouldn't have worn that mini-skirt."

Potential. Washed away with her G.P.A

Potential.

Potential.

Potential.

Potential. 

If you say a word enough times it begins to lose it's meaning. 

Potential is like "raindrops are falling on my head.."

Potential I can't quite seem to grasp. 

Trying to hold onto it but it slips

Right through my large soft hands. 

I am drowning in lost potential.

I want to make it known that I am currently not in the same place as I was when I wrote this, but I thought I would share it so that you might have a better understanding. 

I'm conflicted about even sharing posts like this just like I'm conflicted about singing in public. I love to sing but I feel like doing it in public is forcing yourself on people. I suppose, if folks don't want to hear it... they don't have to read. 

I won't promise to write this time. I'll just do what I can.. and be okay with that.

 I'm a work in progress.