Gentle Reminders

I slept until noon today.  I didn’t get that refreshing rest that I needed.  No, I slept on the couch for most of the night waking up every few hours wanting to go to bed, but feeling too lazy and lifeless to do any such thing. 

Image found here: http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2011/jan/29/how-to-improve-your-sleep

I finally made my way to traditional bed at 5:30 am and slept peacefully for maybe 3 or 4 hours, until I started dreaming.  I had dreams where the person I’ve come to know as me was shopping for the girl I really am.  The sloppy girl representing me now felt clueless and confused  as she looked for things that made the girl she used to be, happy.

Needless to say, I rolled out of bed, made my coffee, ate too much left over pizza and sat thinking about how I got to this inner place. 

I recently told my current housemate that it is so important for me to center myself in myself again while here in Oregon.  I went on to say that I just don’t feel like myself anymore… that I feel disconnected from me.

Since she has never known me before a few months ago, she asked what I used to be like. 

So, I told her:  “I used to wake up at 4:30 every morning and go running in the snow.  I ate mostly all organic and healthy foods, I took excellent care of myself, I was always well dressed, glowing  and put together.  I was organized.  I worked three jobs and took 17 credits at a time in school, while getting straight A’s.  I organized charity events.  And I did it all with energy to spare.”

My housemate, who I know is glad to have me just as I am and is grateful for my contributions to her home, looked at me and stated the obvious.  “I haven’t met that girl.”  No, she hasn’t.  I have a suitcase full of clothes I don’t wear.  I am always in the most comfortable stretchy clothing I own.  If I wake up before 10 am, it’s surprising.  In my opinion, I waste a lot of time and though I’m still bubbly and generally happy, I tire easily and for me it’s a big deal if I brush my hair (though it’s not that big a deal since I have short hair).

Anyway, I slept till noon today, was full of food before I had my coffee and I was feeling kind of worthless.  Usually, I’m really good at holding onto dreams and working toward finding my happy place.  But this morning I just wasn’t in that space… not even a tiny bit.

I decided I wanted to avoid how I was feeling, so I went  to facebook (the worlds best time suck).  Unfortunately, my negative feelings were only intensified there.  I logged on and was bombarded by a barrage of happy successes many of my friends were experiencing.  Don’t get me wrong, I am very happy for those who are finding concrete success on the way to living their dreams.  However, as I was in the what about me? state of mind this morning, seeing those happy words only triggered not so pleasant emotions in me. 

Finally, as my dark side threw one last, “You are a joke” my way, I got what I didn’t even know I needed.  An old friend (actually my first friend in LA) messaged me.  This was a little surprising because  the last time we spoke  was over a year ago. 

Anyway, he surprised me with some really kind words.  When we met, he was going through a very difficult time, and I was always grateful for having the opportunity to be there for him as he worked to come out on the other side.  Really, the time we spent together was always very powerful to me.

This morning, we had a  quick chat where he thanked me for being there for him way back when… that it meant a lot to him and that I was a light in his life.  He said, “You have a destined future, you are on your path.  I can see it,  can you?”  I told him that no, this morning I cannot.  I asked what he saw and he said, “look at the sun, and at night, the moon-  look into the heart of its beam and that is your lights reflection -trust-”

Just what I needed to hear this morning.  The quick exchange left tears in my eyes and helped me remember how valuable I am.  It also  helped me tap into who I was when I met him.  I was very connected to my inner flow at that time and had a lot to give.  Now, I feel inspired again to trust what I know in my heart and to go get that gym membership and make my way to the grocery store for some kale and all things that feed my soul with health and fuel which  help coax the real me to come out and play. 

Thanks, friend.

Trust

Image found at www.relentlessgrace.com

On New Years Eve, I attended a burning bowl ceremony.  The intention behind this event was to release the past by way of writing down events in 2011 that maybe we aren’t so proud of or happy with and burn the energy of the “unpleasantness”  in a big bowl.  After doing that, we were led through a guided meditation to uncover our personal keywords in order to help us find the most success in 2012.  Last, we were instructed to write our intentions for 2012 as well as begin a list of gratitude which we should keep adding onto throughout the year.

This was a tremendously powerful event for me.  Throughout the whole thing, I had goosebumps on my whole body (which is usually a sign to me that something powerful is happening at the core of my being…. like I am uncovering a previously hidden truth from my soul’s blueprint).

After I wrote down the not so pleasant events of 2011 and prepared to burn them, the speaker instructed us to not get up and burn until we had forgiven the events.  So, I ran through my list finding deep gratitude for intuitively understanding with each event that it was not anyone outside of me that I needed to forgive… it was me that I needed to release and make peace with.  Mostly, as I ran through the list I said the same two things over and over again:  “I forgive myself for judging myself as not enough,” and here is the BIG one.  “I forgive myself for buying into the misunderstanding that I don’t belong and that I am alone.”

I burned my paper and sat down to write things I am grateful for.  The first thing I wrote down was, “Thank you Walker, MN.”

As you may or may not know, most of my journey in Minnesota was uncomfortable.  The second half of my journey was especially “difficult” and dysfunctional .

This was a  big moment for me because even though I’ve always felt gratitude for MN and saw immediately the purpose of the dysfunction, I was having trouble making peace with the forgiveness issues it brought to the surface.  However, recently all of that information has been synthesized and magically it has come home to thoroughly ground itself into the depths of my being.

You see, Walker was a place where it became abundantly clear that my “mommy” issues were in fact very raw and still very alive and in dire need of a healing balm.  Since I’ve arrived back in Oregon, my biggest goal has been to find forgiveness for my mother.

When I left Walker, a follower of my blog recommended a book to me called Radical Forgiveness.  Recently, she sent it to me as a Christmas gift.  This is a book which has been recommended to me before from other sources and in fact it has been in my hands (A happy bonus of having a close life coach friend).  I’ve even done the worksheet before (admittedly, only half heartedly).

However, I found the book frustrating and annoying and I hated it a little (I never read it… I opened it once and skimmed).  I mean, I had too much other life stuff to deal with like finding a job and healthy food and moving around trying not to spread any one persons resources too thin… just too much on my plate to deal with that stupid self- help book.

It’s funny how we can have the very thing we desire right in front of us and still avoid it like it’s the most annoying thing ever… and then we keep searching for it and scratching our heads wondering why we haven’t received it yet,  even though it’s right in front of us… or in my case right in my hands.

At least, I do that sometimes.

Innyhoo, when someone sent it to me as a gift, I had a different reaction.  I mean, she spent money on it, talked it up and took the time to send it to me… and I’ve never even met this girl… so it seemed even more cold to ignore the kindness she was sending my way.  It would be very disrespectful and just plain mean to walk away from this gift.  After all, she has been one of my biggest blog supporters and I’ve come to trust her feedback very much.  I know she gets my story, so perhaps….. just maybe….. I should open my heart to this gift.

That is exactly what I did.  I fell in love with this book within the first few pages.  Before even getting to the actual ‘work’ within the book, I had somehow already realized why I was having such difficulty allowing the forgiveness process to happen.

You see, I have always felt like I don’t belong.  In fact my very first memory is my third birthday, when I got a tricycle as a gift and proceeded to get on it and attempt to ride off and wake up from the nightmare I had come to know as my family,  in search of where I really belong…. in search of my people.

Through most of my childhood, I was quiet and preferred to play alone.  Often the world outside of me (not only my home life, but school as well) was too loud and I preferred lots of quiet time to myself, to think… to be.  Even though I didn’t have the words for it back then, I think it was because some how some way, I knew I was different than where I was.  I saw so many labels, projections and violence (not just in the home) swirling around me and it made me uncomfortable.  I wanted to find out who I was on my own terms.

As I progressed into adulthood and found myself divorced, that feeling of not belonging intensified.  Since then, I have drifted aimlessly into different places.  I’ve always come back to Oregon because I like it here and I’ve always known that being in this place satisfies me deeply… and I’ve always called it home…. yet I never commit to being here.  I’ve had many friends here, guys who have wanted to date me, people who want to get close to me, people who want to include me in lots of stuff… However, my survival mechanism is always to dance along the outside of things.  I’m the cute, funny and spirited girl who kind of floats around dabbling in lots of things, but committing to nothing.

Within the last month or so, I had an opportunity to possibly move to San Francisco.  There seemed to be great connections and wonderful job opportunities calling my name.. and my room-mate was actually planning on moving down there, so he offered me a free ride.  On top of that, I have friends who have family and close friends down there.  Literally, everything was lining up to meet me down there and it looked like I really could find success.  I was planning on leaving on January 8.

However, I started reading this forgiveness book and it was so powerful for me to define the whole not belonging thing.  I started reflecting on my whole life, right from that very first memory.  And I looked at events which had striking similarities which always cast me out as not belonging.  The memory stood that out the most was the day when my mother kicked me out.

When I saw the “coincidences,” I was FINALLY able to allow the information I already knew to sink in on a much deeper level.  I somehow allowed my own truth to find me.  That truth being that in order to stop this feeling of not belonging to permeate my existence and perpetuate an inability to forgive my mother, I have to make a choice to stop the cycle and release the power that the story of not belonging was holding over me.  I mean, after all I believe that we all choose to come to this earth and EVERYTHING that happens “to” us is really happening for our highest good, to help us come home to ourselves.  So, if I believe that and especially if my first memory is rooted in a feeling of being misplaced, than really and truly on a soul level, my mother loved me very much to help me have my human experience and to help me feel disconnected so that I may find my way home again..

So, I am staying in Oregon.  I have found that the best way to release the energetic tension in regard to my mother and to stop the cycle I’ve been accidentally creating for myself is to put roots down.  I need to consciously admit that I do belong somewhere and that I am not alone in this thing called life.  Don’t get me wrong, I do have worldly goals and I plan on accomplishing them.  I do know I will leave again one day.  However it makes so much sense in my healing process to own a place on the map as “home.”

Since announcing to my friends that I would be staying (because for a while there, I really thought I would leave), I was so surprised to hear many people say, “We get to keep you!  YAY!”

To make it even cooler, on New Years Eve as I was telling some people that I decided to stop pursuing places to dwell in San Francisco and  stay here in Oregon,  a girl who I sort of recognized said, “I have your bowl.”  (Mind you, this was the burning bowl ceremony).  I looked at her like, “Who are you and what are you talking about?”  She proceeded to explain that when I had my big yard sale, when I sold ALL of my belongings before moving to CA, she bought one of my bowls.  Well, not just any bowl.  It was a handmade and beautifully crafted gift to me which was made by my neighbor friend.  Apparently, when she bought it, she knew deep down inside that it was not hers and that it still belonged to me.  The day she bought it, she knew that it was her job to protect it for me until I came back (even though we really didn’t know each other and never had exchanged contact info).

So, all in all it’s kind of cool.  This bowl represents a great deal to me.  First of all, it came back around full circle and right on time as I was realizing how to stop a dysfunctional cycle in my life.  I am so happy to have this bowl also because most of what I own now doesn’t contain heartfelt connection… nothing I own has much significance to my heart and this bowl is now the most valuable thing I own.

In the beginning of this post, I talked about the ceremony and finding our words for 2012.  Well, my word was Trust.  I am already seeing that word manifest itself into so much of my life.  As I choose to stay here and put roots down and as I prepare myself to manifest the things I really do want in my life, I am so grateful that the bowl came back to me.  It was a big clear sign to me that if something does have meaning to my heart, and if it’s not in my life yet or if I have let it go- to understand that it will come home to me when the time is right.  I just need to get out of my own way and trust the process.

It really is a magical and beautiful bowl.  You know how I said that she was protecting it for me?  Well, she told her seven-year old son that and he said, “Mom, it was protecting us too.”

Happy 2012!

I need some help.

Dear Friends,

As you may or may not know from reading my blog, my laptop recently died.  It is fried.

You see, in August it started turning on only sometimes and turning off when it very well chose to…. even if it had enough battery juice.  As of right now, it’s been looked at by a computer guru friend (who runs a computer fixing business) and he has taken it to others to find out why on earth it shows that it has plenty of battery juice (literally, the  back of this computer shows plenty of battery power and last time I remember it cooperating with me, it had 67% juice left before it would need to be recharged).

Last time I tried to plug it in, it sparked and smoked everywhere (the cord where it plugs into the computer).  Therefore, both myself and those who have looked at it believe that it literally fried itself.

This is quite the conundrum, because I like to blog and I would like to write a book.

Last night I began my book yet again (there have been a few starts and stops), as I have found a new way to tell the story I so badly want to tell.  I decided that since way back before computers, people wrote with paper and pen that I should try to do it that way, except I used a pencil so I could erase.  Two pages into it, I had erase marks everywhere and successfully took myself into a spiral of angst because I could not write as fast as I could type and think… thoughts kept falling out of my head before I could articulate them.  I found so many things I wanted to change when I read it over, but couldn’t remember what I was trying to say.

Writing this book is simply not going to work the old-fashioned way.

So, I need your help.

If you know of a laptop computer that needs a new home, please let me know.

I cannot afford to pay for one as honestly, I only get one-hundred bucks a week in unemployment and that is simply not enough to even pay off a computer.  I would be happy to work out a trade with someone though.

Since my computer is a Mac, I called Apple to discuss how to fix it and the guy quoted me several different prices, ranging from EXTREMELY HIGH and as I REPEATEDLY said, “I am completely unemployed, honestly and truly I cannot afford that, he slowly quoted me lower costs to send in my computer to have them fix it.  The last quote was 50 dollars… half of my weekly pay.  That’s a BIG chunk for me.  I asked if they couldn’t fix it if I would be refunded and each time he laughed and said, “We are Apple, that is our product.  We will fix it.”  With that repeated response, I didn’t get the feeling that I would be refunded.  I don’t feel comfortable parting with that cash to maybe get my computer fixed and perhaps get a refund.

On that note, I also need a job.

I live in Bend, Oregon.  If you are not familiar with the area, it is one of the hardest hit places from our bad economy.  The job market is sparse and highly competitive.  I know many people who have lost their homes, are in fear of loosing their homes and many more HIGHLY qualified people who cannot find work.  Even service jobs are hard to come by.  I recently went to a job fair for one of our many local breweries.  I got there with one hour left before the job fair had closed and they had already shut their doors.  A man said, “I’m sorry but they had over 300 people in the first hour alone… they have enough resumes to choose from.”  Yeah, the desperation around here is pretty intense.  People with multiple degrees compete for service jobs and those with prestigious Graduate Degree’s compete for receptionist positions.

Why does this happen?  Well, it’s a BEAUTIFUL place… lots of clean air, good vibes and lovely things to do.

However, I realize that in order to write this book,  I need stability.  I need a place to call home.  I need to be able to generate more income so I’m not constantly thinking about how to best maximize my little weekly pay.  I need a place to rest my head and know that I don’t have to think about the next place I will live, if I can afford to eat healthy, if I look presentable enough to go out and look for work… if I can afford self-care, etc.  All of these things do leave me feeling exhausted and over spent sometimes.

A few days ago someone asked me about my ideal job.

Here’s my answer:

“Ideally, I want someone who believes in my story and my abilities to pay me to write my book…”

She was silent.

I continued, “But in the real world, I simply want a job where I can be myself.  I don’t know how to make myself fit into the corporate world and be anything other than me.  I want to feel appreciated and respected.  I want to feel comfortable and I want to feel like what I do matters.”

So, let’s reiterate what I’m asking for here.

1.  A meaningful job.  I am willing to relocate.  Income is important to me… more so than it has been in a while.

2.  A regular home.  That will probably come with a job… Where ever the job lives is where I want to live.

3.  A laptop computer.

4.  Bonus*:  Someone who is willing to pay me to write my book like it’s my job.

Just thought I’d throw these things out there.

Thanks,

Currie

Let me introduce myself.

Recently, it dawned on me that I don’t know my mother… and probably haven’t known her at all since I was about 10 or 11 years old (possibly before that, even).  You see, it was around that time that my already terribly dysfunctional family exploded and I chose to disappear into the background in order to protect my own self as best I could.  From that time on, violence became worse than usual,  my  parental units got divorced (which wasn’t really a bad thing… that was something which I always sort of celebrated as a kid).. my brother was sent away to rehab repeatedly and my mother kept her distance from me and we stopped any authentic form of bonding that took place between us.  Period.  Meanwhile, my father was getting sober,  and in the process developed a very unhealthy attachment to me.  And to put the icing on the cake, my Godfather- who was really the only one who spent  time with my brother and I as a parent- tragically passed away in a car wreck.

I often tuned everyone out and kept to myself, because if I spoke in my mother’s presence, she became increasingly annoyed and avoidant.  If I hung out with my father, his projections became far too heavy to carry and if I spent time with my brother, my heart would shatter into a gazillion little pieces.

As violence,  alcoholism (and I believe drug abuse) skyrocketed throughout those years, I was often sent away to stay with my Aunt and die-hard Baptist preacher Uncle (Yes, my life vacillated between those two extremes) and as a result, I think that in order to maintain my sanity I closed off, kept to myself and intuitively followed my own instincts about God, Heaven, Hell, Abuse, and being alive in general.

I never shared my thoughts with anyone about anything.  I found it was easiest if I took on the chameleon role if I had to interact.  I don’t think anyone would have listened anyway…. I often heard random discussions where my brother and I were referred to as those kids… no one had hope for us.  It felt like everyone was just waiting to see how screwed up we would turn out to be.  We were both treated as if we were sort of a throw away disease that no one  wanted to cure.  This was especially evident from some strangers at my Uncles church… We were sort of hopeless heathens born from sinners…. destined to be the dregs of society.

So, since I couldn’t physically leave that life,  I chose to distance myself emotionally, mentally and spiritually and lived a rich life inside of my imagination.   I’ve been told that was a very good thing to do…  Had I not had some inner wisdom guiding me to kind of stay in the shadows and nurture myself, I don’t think I’d be who I am today..

Anyway, thinking about all of that, I realized that both my mother and I really don’t know each other.  So, I decided to take the first step in getting to know her.  I introduced myself.  I realize most of this letter is rather impersonal… but honestly, there was a deep shift which took place when I realized I don’t think my mother and I have ever had a consistent relationship since I became old enough to take care of my basic needs, when there stopped being any real need for us to interact…

Here is the letter.  (I don’t have an urge to address her as “mom,” but I would like to call her by her first name as acquaintances and friends do.. but I changed her name for this post).

Popular names include: "Tinkerbell," "Doll Face" and of course, "Little One"

Hello Cheryl,

First, I would like to state that it is my intention to get to know you and hopefully build a relationship with you.  Another intention is to
experience forgiveness in whatever form is most healthy for all parties involved.

As you most likely realize, Currie Rose was not my given name.  I
changed it about 2.5 years ago and that is what people call me…
though it is not legal yet.  Changing ones first AND last name is a
very expensive ordeal.  And living the life I have chosen for myself
thus far does not exactly rake in the big bucks.

I decided to change my name for a few reasons.  First of all, when I
first met a girl named Curry a few years ago, I immediately fell in
love with the name.  Right then and there, I declared to myself that
when I had a daughter someday, I would name her Curry (except I would
spell it Currie) and her middle name would be Rose… and she would be
a spicy flower.

Then I began an intensive process of finding myself and realized that
I most likely do not want children and cannot see myself with them, so
I decided someone had to take that name (since it’s so awesome).

Anyway, if I change my mind someday and decide to have children, I’ve
realized it’s really not cool of me to project the idea of being a
spicy flower onto someone else. Especially since I believe that we all
come into this world being unique individuals and should be given the
dignity of our human experiences and become ourselves without too much
interference, labeling or projections from outside sources.

Another reason behind the name change was another side effect of
finding myself.  As I entered an extremely intense period of coming
into my own, and  embracing every single aspect of myself and my human
experience with loving arms… I sort of realized I’m a bad ass.  I
truly began to see the courageous, brave survivor that I am and how
each and every hardship and good time that has come about in my life
has only turned me into a more loving, compassionate and gracious
version of myself.  Ultimately, everything that has happened whether
“good” or “bad” has helped me come home to myself and learn to love
myself unconditionally.  Therefore, Currie Rose means a great deal to
me.  It was a way of taking ownership and responsibility for my life
and who I’ve become, as well as a sort of rebirth for my inner child.
It was not my future child I wanted to love and name…. it was the
little girl living inside of me that needed love,  acknowledgment and
permission to come out and play.

Happy Fun Social Times.

I am generally a very playful person.  I am light-hearted and I laugh a lot.  I do try to laugh for at least 30 minutes a day and I know I have achieved that when my face starts to hurt from holding the smile
position for so long.  I am pretty funny and outgoing… though it’s
weird… this still happens in a shy way.  It must be very interesting
to be around me, since I laugh so often… I can be loud… yet I
still hold back and when someone gives me a whole lot of attention, I
tend to reel it in and disappear into the background.  I actually do
like that paradox.  I am exceedingly friendly and often, in group
settings people tend to say the same thing… I’m like an old friend
and usually when people meet me, they feel like they’ve known me
forever.  I am very good at connecting people.

Just as I love being social, I do cherish my alone time just as much,
if not more and can spend a few days alone without talking to one
single person.  And that nourishes my soul just as much as people do.
I’ve learned that I function best if I find a balance between my
desire to be alone (for introspection and centering myself in myself)
and going out to meet everyone and everything.

Okay, this is long… I just wanted to introduce myself.

Oh wait!  A few quick things:

I still make myself the birthday cake you used to make me when I was
little… it’s still my favorite.
Nobody makes beef stew as good as yours…. seriously.
Even though I know it’s horrible for me, I still eat squiggly noodle
soup when I don’t feel well.

The other day, I was playing with my friends four-year old… we were
making a human burrito… and all of a sudden, I had this desire to
throw a blanket over her and keep fanning it as we counted together
how many times the blanket fell on her.  Then in the end,  I would let
it fall completely over her and I would start tickling her through the
blanket.  She laughed and squealed, “AGAIN, AGAIN!!!!!”  Each time we
counted to a different number and I could feel the anticipation
building since she never knew when the blanket would fall and she
would be tickled… The very last time, I looked into her eyes and
remembered being in her position.  My soul nearly jumped out of my
body as it was positively bursting at the seams with delight.  We then
collapsed together in laughter on top of the blankets.

Anyway, I found a truly happy memory that day and I was so grateful.
Thanks for doing that with me when I was little.

I hope you have a lovely day and I look forward to learning about you.

Love,
Currie

My life is not exactly “normal,” but I like it. :)

Though I know that true acknowledgment comes from within, it does feel nice to get positive affirmation from outside sources on occasion.

There have been times when I have questioned if  all of my work the past few years even mattered.  I’m glad to say it has touched at least a few people.  :)

Recently, another blogger came across my blog, found it inspiring and interviewed me.  Please have a look at her post.

http://6monthstolive.wordpress.com/2011/11/19/based-on-a-true-story-meet-currie-rose/#comment-757

Feeling inspired. :)

The other day, a few friends and myself were talking about the gift of giving.  It was a lovely discussion which left a smile lingering on my heart as a reminder of why it is that I love giving so very much.

We also discussed the gift of learning to receive and how humbling that can be.  We all agreed that both the act of giving and also receiving are tremendous gifts that lead to beautiful spiritual evolution.

I got to thinking about how since I left Los Angeles, I have had fewer opportunities to give and spread sunshine… and I felt sad about that.

Anyhoo, I think due to being back in Bend and needing the authentic kindness of friends, acquaintances and strangers for shelter, sometimes food, money, transportation and all basic needs has left me very much in the position of learning to receive and see myself as worthy through the eyes of the divine.

Now that I am taking small steps to help abundance find me and see myself as worthy and safe within the warm embrace of my friends kindness, I have finally received the gift I have been trying to give myself for about 2.5 years now.

You see a few years ago, someone very important in my life sent a portion of some monthly earnings stating that her spiritual practice was to give 10% of her monthly income to someone who inspires her… and for one month that person was me.

I cannot even describe the joy I felt in receiving that gift.  I grew up in terribly dysfunctional circumstances and never once in my whole life had someone acknowledged me as an inspiration… someone of value.

I’ve always wanted to have the means to commit to that sort of giving, but haven’t ever had the regular income to do so..

And today, I was paid the small amount of unemployment I receive each week and made a commitment to give 10% a week to someone who inspires me.

And with the help of setting an intention this morning, I found a homeless man who helped me find my bus… and when I thanked him I handed him some cash.

He looked shocked… it was sort of a big tip from a little girl with a broken purse…

But in the end, he did inspire me with his kindness and I was so happy to finally be able to pay forward some of what has been given to me and begin to consciously create the life I see myself living.

Forgiveness

I’ve been thinking a lot about forgiveness lately.

Image by: Melinda Nagy | Dreamstime.com

As you may or may not know,  I’ve been looking for ways to heal past memories and ultimately forgive my mother.  However the process is made more difficult because she has refused over and over again throughout the years to admit that there was anything unhealthy about our relationship.

I’ve heard different excuses which have softened throughout the years from, “You are such a self-righteous bitch” to “No one ever apologized to me,  so I won’t do that for you…. get over it.”  But that makes it hard to say, “Mom- I forgive you.”  Without an acknowledgement or an apology it seems very ego driven to dole out forgiveness where none was asked for…

So, I am thinking about how to do a sort of ancestral healing through energy.

And today, I began searching my memories to get in touch with what forgiveness feels like.   I asked myself if I had ever experienced that phenomenon before.

In fact, yes I have.

My memories drifted to my ex-husband just a few months before we were separated, while we were deeply in the planning stages of divorce (We lived together for 5 months after deciding to part ways).

As you can imagine, being together for that long as we planned to separate was an intense, often difficult (for a myriad of reasons), yet beautiful and intensely rewarding experience.

However, I could see that was taking a toll on him.  And as I ventured out to make “outside” friends (who didn’t know “us” as a whole entity) whom I could laugh and let loose with, I saw how my ex-husband was suffering in his own  hell.  So, I invited him out with us one night to hear my new musician friends play a show.

It was a blast.

Until, my ex- husband started talking about something which had caused several arguments throughout our marriage.

To give a quick back story, when we were dating and living in Korea he bought a guitar.  Now, I don’t know anything about guitars but I know when other people saw it and knew something about the instrument, they would drop their jaws in awe and delight of this priceless and amazing musical gift.  Apparently it was worth a lot of money and capable of great things.  It was his personal possession (for which I never had any ill will and was always happy for him to be so excited about).

However, he decided to sell it one day and when I found out I was shocked and asked him why and he said, “Because, we need money… so I sacrificed.”  Anyway, this post is not about that but it still befuddles me how a very young married couple with a good amount of money in both spending and savings accounts which continued to grow needed him to sell his possession for much less than half what it was worth.

So,  as we stood with my new musician friends, my ex-husband told tales of the guitar  and they asked where it was and my ex- husband said, “Well, I got married and I had to sell it…. you know how that goes…” As they looked at me like the ol’ ball and chain.   I began to defend my position, “I never…” His next words were, “It’s water under the bridge now.. I did what I had to back then.”

Little did I know that the whole time I was hanging out with people, my ex husband was nowhere to be found and about 24 hours later I learned that he had taken several shots behind the bar with a new friend.  He was intoxicated and I was completely unaware of the fact.

Anyway, as we walked to our car, I made my point while we were alone.  I said, “It doesn’t make sense that you sold your guitar, up until recently, we always had enough money to spend and to save…and I don’t appreciate you saying in front of my friends that you sold it because you got married and you had to. Neither myself nor our financial situation ever asked you to do such a thing.”  His frustrated response was, “I had to sell it.  I got married.”

Our discussion escalated into an argument and before I knew it we were driving through downtown Austin at about 60 miles an hour.  I was now starting to question if he was drunk.  But I dismissed it because as far as I knew and saw we both only had 1 beer.

I began to grow quiet and decided to just bide my time until we got home and then just go to sleep in the living room.   However, he began driving quite poorly which was very out of character for him.  So, I quietly and consciously non-condescendingly said, “How much did you have to drink?”

Apparently, the sound of my voice was a strong irritant for him at this point.  He slammed on the brakes on the side of the highway and screamed at me to get out.  I began to protest since it was a cold Austin night with freezing temperatures and ice on the roads.  However, I looked at him and all I saw was pure rage in his eyes.  I quietly got out and decided I was close enough to my favorite burger joint- so I would walk there, grab a bite to eat, wait awhile for my ex-husband to cool off and then call a cab.

However, he came back about 15 minutes later as I was walking along the same stretch of highway.  “Get back in the car,” he demanded.

I did.  Which I really shouldn’t have.  I should have declined and gone to the burger joint and let things simmer down over time.

At this point I was certain he was drunk but didn’t realize how much until the next day.  Since I grew up around alcoholics and knew how volatile drunk people could be, and since we were living in a very tense and stressful situation ourselves and mostly because I knew my ex husband had great difficulty expressing himself and was dealing with about 6 years worth of our own tumultuous issues which he never talked about or dealt with, that he was pretty much a ticking time bomb that night.

So, I quietly said “When we get home I’m just going to go into our room and grab some blankets and then I’m going to sleep in the living room… okay?”

He fired off some expletives and I decided no talking whatsoever was probably the best route to go.

When we got home, I hurried into the bedroom and grabbed a blanket, where he met me at our door.  I tried to walk past him and he blocked me.

“Uh-oh” I thought.  I mean, the look in his eyes was not him.  I could almost see all of the quiet resentment he had been holding onto, refusing to release for so long bubbling to the surface.  He is a naturally docile person, so to see this rage ooze off of someone who didn’t even know how to express normal anger in a sober state was a little on the horrifying side.

He yelled something and I said, “I left you the warmer blanket…. I’m just going to sleep in the living room.”  He refused to let me out.  I panicked.  “I can sleep in here, if you would rather sleep in the living room.”  ”YOU are not going to kick me out of MY room,” he yelled as he got in my face.

Next thing I know he (who stands at about 6’2″) picked me up and threw me into our bathroom across the hall.  My head bounced off of the bathtub.  I was shocked and luckily conscious and able to move.  I went out to the living room as he came at me again.

The only thing I could do was cry and plea for him to stop…. “Please don’t,” I said.  As he prepared himself to make another attack, the only thing that stopped him was our cat.  Dizzle wrapped his body around my legs and meowed the loudest/deepest meow I ever heard.

My ex-husband looked at the cat who he had no beef with, then looked at me and wiped drool which was beginning to fall from his lips.  He shot daggers of hate toward me from his eyes and stumbled to our bedroom where he passed out.

Dizzle slept cuddled tightly to my chest that night.

The next morning, I stood cooking the one egg we had in the house as food.  I felt like I might pass out from the adrenaline of stress and needing calories to burn (During that time in my life, my stress levels were so high that I was quite thin and even a size 00 fell off of me).

My ex-husband came out to the kitchen looking very sick and tired.  He leaned on the table because I think he was still drunk and dizzy.  He tried to look at me, but his gaze quickly dropped to the ground when my eyes met his.  Struggling to look me in the eyes he said in an almost whisper, “I don’t even know how to begin to apologize for last night.”

I felt flustered with tears, but only one single drop fell from my eye.  I walked up to him and gave him a hug. ”It’s almost over… I know this is a stressful situation.”  A few tears fell from his eyes and he told me he didn’t deserve the hug or reassurance.  I said,  ”It’s not okay, but I do forgive you.”  I honestly meant those words.  I knew in the very depths of my heart that he was not a violent person.  I knew how stressed he was and I knew how much difficulty he always had talking about anything uncomfortable.  I knew without any doubt that he was doing the best he could and without any inhibitions, I released any pain associated with the night before.   I wanted nothing more than for him to  know that I saw him… the beauty of his human experience and had nothing but love and empathy for what he was experiencing.

He reluctantly accepted my words and hugged me back.

We separated a month or two later and he met his current wife a few weeks after that.  Our peaceful attempt at a divorce went quickly downhill from there.  Misunderstandings swirled like a very angry tornado which violently cast me out onto the sidelines as the wicked villan.

Through that, I lost the only family I had and some other material possessions.. It was something that always pained my heart terribly..

And just last year, I met with both of them and they both apologized for their past actions and gave me the gift of seeing me just as I am.   It was so beautiful.  We all hugged.  I forgave them.  And the past truly became the past.

So, I do know what forgiveness feels like. It is a wonderful thing that sets one free… and it’s not hard.  I have experienced that it releases even more endorphins than a good work out and leaves a perma grin on my heart…

As I’ve said, my mother sees no reason to own up to anything.  And often, discussing anything usually leads to more verbal abuse.

I guess what I need to do is see her… really see her in the beauty of her own human experience and release that pain as it transforms into something beautiful.  After all, as I understand it the very essence of forgiveness is giving others the dignity of being human, having their experiences and seeing them as they really are which at the very core is love- no matter who you are.

Until we meet again

I just finished up a teary good-bye with a dear friend of mine.  And I am so glad I was here to see her off. 

She is leaving from Oregon and biking down to somewhere warm..  where she’ll end up, she has no idea (South America has been tossed out there), but she will be riding her bike, camping and having adventures until she gets there. 

This is a person who has been one of the most positive influences on my adult life so far and I will miss her terribly… though I am incredibly proud of what she is doing. 

When I met her, I was convinced that she hated me and I tried to maintain as far a distance as I could from her since I didn’t feel worthy of being in her presence… like my very breathing would probably set her off. 

When I told her how I felt when I first met her, she looked at me like I was crazy since we had become such close friends so quickly. 

Recently, we had that discussion again and again she was dumbfounded, “Why??!!“  I’ve always answered that I don’t know why… until the other day that is. 

I realized that I was terrified of being around her because not only does she radiate, but ooze everything about me that I was disowning; that free-spirited, gutsy… gonna do something crazy (in the best possible way) but effing exhilarating and experience life COMPLETELY outside the box  kind of energy.

Like I said, we became close friends quickly and throughout the years, as we’ve both been out and about having adventures, taking some down time to heal and regenerate inner limbs for our next journeys we’ve kept in touch… sometimes closer touch than other times, but I’ve always enjoyed hearing about her inner and outer travels.

Anyway, I have no idea how long I will be in Oregon for.  I do know I have dreams that live way far out in distant lands… and I can hear them calling.  However, I do know I have to take some down time here in Oregon to regenerate my inner strength, heal and create the opportunities I seek for adventure, learning and living the way I see in my minds eye.

I’m seriously glad that I got to see Red again and be here at her home to say good-bye.  I honestly don’t know when I will see her again.  Not only because her current journey is open-ended… but because the home she lived in on and off throughout the years is now up for sale and I have a funny feeling that it will be sold by the time she moves on to the next leg of her path.  And after that, I don’t think she’ll have any ties to Central Oregon… they’ll all be in D.C.  And who knows where I’ll be.

A few months ago, I was asked to house sit and watch the dogs at her home, though I wasn’t given an exact date.  The time came up quickly and Red still wasn’t sure when she was leaving….

And now I know that not only am I helping out at the house- but on a more spirtual level, I was here to say good-bye. 

Today, when we hugged- she started to cry and said, “I’m so glad you’re here.” 

We both agreed that we hate good byes so we kept it light and said, “Until next time.”  I couldn’t help myself as she turned to walk away though, “UMMMMM, I’m really proud of you.”  She stopped and said, “Thank you.  I’m proud of you too.  Don’t let anyone look down on you for what you’ve done… it takes guts.. and some people just don’t get it… don’t let those people get to you.” 

And she was off.

I feel sad. 

However, I know she left a piece of her vibrant, “I’m just gonna do it and no one’s gonna stop me” badassness right on my heart and I’m now more energized and oddly enough clear on how to go about doing what I need to in order to get where I’m going..

Good-bye soul sister.  You will be missed.  I can see you already in your sparkly bustier and fuzzy pink hat enjoying a daily bike-ride in the sun meeting random people and spreading your inner Neverland everywhere you go.

I love you and happy trails…

Until we meet again.

My Homeless Home

My Homeless Home.

I miss the place that some people playfully refer to as “The Junk.” 

I miss the place where I would drive in all groggy eyed at about seven AM every morning to always be the first one there.  I miss putting on the coffee in the morning for all the smiley and lovely members.  I even miss my morning chores and taking time to consciously put a special energetic touch on my duties so that the space would not only feel clean, but loved. 

When I slept in my car, I worked out a trade with a club in Los Angeles.  I would be there to open the door,  give tours to prospective members and clean up in the morning. And in exchange I had a place to rest when I needed it, companionship, a hug if I so desired, a good laugh when I least expected it, a home for my organic veggies when I could afford them and even a big brother (or 2) I never wanted.

I miss my homeless home.

I miss the holiday parties, the happy hours and watching the guys stand around to “perfect” the Christmas Peppermint Martinis.  It was very serious business, you know.  I miss sampling the Chocolate bunt cake to make sure it was safe for members consumption and carefully inspecting the sugar filled delight for blemishes so our members wouldn’t have to set their eyes upon pieces which were unsightly. 

I miss standing around the kitchen most every night discussing the most random topics while sharing the community peanut butter.  I miss making green smoothies and sharing big obnoxiously healthy salads with other members. 

I miss “Honey Bear,” a talented and wicked funny New Englander who was always happy to share his Bay Cities bread with me.  He knew what I was doing and couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that sleeping in my car did not mean I was starving… but I happily gave in and ate the yummy food he routinely offered up. 

It was the most lovely way to have the experience I did in Los Angeles and the way this club so easily floated into my awareness and accepted me unconditionally goes to show that I did indeed make the right choice.  Had I never chosen to sleep in my car, I never would have met these amazing people…. and I never would have seen the amount of love that can pour from complete strangers so easily and readily.

I even miss the cleaning guy… he was so sweet.  And I miss sharing my food with the homeless people who slept outside in the parking lot…

I miss my homeless home.

I mean, I am sure that I’m on the right track to something wonderful… but sometimes at night I wish I was getting ready for bed at “The Junk,” bidding a good night to the regulars and driving to my parking space on Ocean Avenue to wake up and be a part of this AMAZING group of people all over again.

I even miss, “Cupcake- The big brother I never wanted.”  Boy did he push me past my limit sometimes…. and truly test my patience… but I know beneath that gruff exterior he had a GINORMOUS heart of gold.  Sometimes in a moment of weakness, he would admit that I was a little too Pollyanna for the “Real” world and he was just trying to toughen me up. 

The night before I left, he hugged me good-bye a few times and for our last hug in the parking lot he embraced me with a tremendous amount of authentic warmth as he said, ” I think you are a great girl and I wish you luck… ” I laughed because he had only given me a hard time since we met and he said, “No-seriously.  I wish you nothing but the best.  I really hope you find what you are looking for.”

I really do miss my homeless home.

My last morning there, I did my last cleaning with excitement for what was to come yet sadness for what I was losing.  I had lots of hugs good-bye.  I was told I would be missed and as I turned in my keys, I found myself washed over with a sense of sadness.  It really was like a family and this club really did epitomize everything I wanted to experience during my car camping tour.  I had a special little family at “The Junk”… people who understood me… or didn’t, yet unconditionally accepted me.  Special little routines with certain members… and a few who tested my patience.  A true family. 

I miss the girl talk and brownies and watching movies starring beautiful men…. Oh and the abundance of chocolate as a bunch of us watched Glee one night in the “Family Room.” 

There’s so much more to say about “The Junk”… perhaps I should write a book about that experience alone.

My heart now aches a little with nostalgia… but I’m glad to talk about something which touched me deeply and truly gave me the exact “home” I needed while in Los Angeles. 

I once referred to myself as the Homeless Vagabond Mascot of the group, and the owner replied, “Don’t say that!…. Well….. You’re OUR homeless vagabond and we love you.”

I do miss my “Homeless” Home.

Is all that I am seeking really seeking me too?

I am currently sitting in front of a regular computer (the battery on my laptop recently went kapoot) with a corded phone (yes, CORDED- I no longer desire to own a phone) resting quite uncomfortably between my left ear and my left shoulder.  I have been on hold for the past 45 minutes or so and the first time I was on hold for 90 minutes only to be hung up on. 

Little annoyances have been the theme of my day today.  Like when I took the two dogs for a walk this morning and the puppy pulled so hard on her choke collar (to go on hot pursuit of a deer) that she actually tore the collar from the leash and ran off.  Boy did she have a good run and thankfully she did come back after awhile with me attempting to find the “on” switch for my “yelling” voice that most always seems to be “out of order”.  Seriously, I have this little pixie voice that does not yell well… so I sat sort of half screaming/whispering in a cracked voice that I imagine is what a teenage boy who is going through voice change sounds like.  During my half assed attempt at a “yell,”  I had time to think of every worst case scenario that could happen…. “What if she can’t find her way home?”….. “What if coyotes get her?”….. “Or worse, a cougar”…. What if she does catch that deer????  They are docile… but what if something less than half their size is giving them trouble… would the deer charge at the dog?”  “Oh my God Corinn and Weage will never speak to me again.”

Luckily she came back. 

I went today to deal with paperwork which was a consequence of my lifestyle for the past few years.  This does not upset me.  It actually makes me happy to finish up some unfinished business.  Though the person I worked with today said something which kind of triggered a sort of Spiritual upset in me.  He said something which is not unfamiliar to my ears, “Don’t give up… You have such a special innocence to you.  I can tell you are a very positive person. You are a free spirit, make sure you keep yourself free.  Don’t fall victim to the machine of society and commit to something that just ties you down without a sense of purpose.”  I know, I thought… this I know. 

But I’m so SICK of chasing things down only to be disappointed or find out that every door I try to open slams in my face or won’t quite open no matter how hard (or gently) I try to open the dang thing.  I know the path to success is not by any means a straight line.  I know there are twists and turns of fate at every corner and part of success is the attitude.  Surrendering to the unknown and keeping the faith alive that one is indeed living a life of purpose.  These things I know. 

The wise side of me says, “Create the opportunities you are seeking.” 

Dear wisdom: 

Please refer to the paragraph above.  I try like mad to create.  NOTHING opens for me.  I have written pages and pages and yet more pages about my ideal career.  Who is there, what it feels like, where I am…. the food I eat… the clothes I wear…. EVERY detail of my ideal career is mapped out.  (Honestly, if you are so wise you would know this).  Action steps?  YUP.  Got that covered… to the point where I am paralyzed into non-action… I don’t want others to think I’m some crazed obsessive person who gives others no space and doesn’t respect boundaries.  And yes, I know I can’t control the how- I have no desire to.  I do know amazing results occur in the place of action….. and there is a balance between action and surrender.

***

You know, today was actually not the first time I heard those words.  I’ve actually not been hired because apparently what I have to offer is too “special,” “pure” and “unique” for the “regular” world.  I’ll never forget the non-profit I tried  to get a job with a few years back.  I never heard from them with any of the resumes I sent in. … until….The hiring manager asked me out of the blue to a special meeting to discuss the amazing charity I work I had recently done on my own… This woman just wanted to meet and congratulate me because she was so impressed with my work.  I thought for sure she would DEFINITELY hire me after this meeting.   ”I’ve received your resumes,” she said, “I want to hire you… you are so special….. Let me tell you something- I’ve spent years chasing the “perfect”  job to be sadly disappointed, over-stressed and driven by making money alone.  I now work at a non-profit which does feed my soul and it allows me to be with my family.  You know the value of doing something rewarding rather than chasing money alone.  And I do see you helping people.  You are obviously a driven person with worthy goals… but you are almost too special for a small town organization…  I think working for us is not your path… it’s too small… this would hold you back.”

I used to question if her response was a sort of cop out… but really she didn’t have to ask me to a meeting and I only sent in resumes to her… nothing else…

People often comment on my “light” my “energy” my “presence”…. even at times like this when I feel anything but special. 

I always take it as a compliment and I know since I receive those compliments so often, that it must be something that naturally radiates from me… and most times I see it too.

I’ve also learned that you cannot force these things to come to light prematurely… hence the time I spent in MN…

However, I would just like something to happen.  A sign.  A paycheck.  “Special” people deserve a paycheck too.  I mean, I have nothing against working.  I look for work REGULARLY.  And I have to tell you that I am SO GRATEFUL for my friends here in Oregon who believe in me, who have helped me and even if some of them don’t understand my choices over the past few years- still completely love me and have no issues supporting me with food, a roof and unconditional love. 

But I am SO SICK of mere survival being the name of my game.  I have desires.  I have goals.  I have something of value to contribute to the world at large.  I just want to contribute it already.

One (out of 2) of my goals is to publish a book.  People often tell me I’m a good writer.  This I know.  I appreciate the compliments.  But no matter how many doors I try to open- nothing happens…

So, I’ve tried to start small… here.  I have a blog.  In the past it’s gotten a lot of attention.  Nothing ever happened.  I’ve even tried to get freshly pressed… apparently not.  I’ve been “discovered” by others who have referred me to very well-known places to try to at least get some publicity.  I’ve been told my story is missing a sort of universal truth to it…. not quite compelling enough for the general public….

No- I’m not giving up.  I just needed a good vent.

There it is.