Yesterday was a wonderful day, emotional, but wonderful. It involved deep conversations. Conversations that resonate for a long time. Conversations that make you question everything.
For some reason I felt the need to make a fire in the fire pit last night. I needed the warmth, even though it wasn’t cold. I wanted the warmth to surround me, to comfort me. I needed the warmth to surround me, to comfort me. I love watching the flames dance and swirl. At times it mesmerizes me and my mind is blank. I especially enjoy those times. There are times where my mind dances and swirls like the flames. My thoughts race between good and bad. That was last night.
Staring into the fire, the embers glowing, inviting me to reach out and feel their warmth. I know they dangerous, they would burn me. What would they burn? Would the embers and flames burn away my shell, my outer layer? Would it burn away my armor that keeps me safe? Would it burn away the fake smile? Would it burn away the lies I tell myself each day? What would be left of me? I don’t know what would be left. That is a terrifying thought. Standing naked and raw before a mirror – would what I see? What would I feel? Would I be glowing like the ember?
I didn’t want to get out of the shower this morning. I needed the warmth, the sound of the water. I needed the water to wash away my tears. This morning I kept asking myself why I care so much. Why do I care what others think? I was raised to be a “care-er”. It mattered what other people thought, it mattered what other people saw, it mattered what other people perceived to be real or the truth. I AM FUCKING TIRED OF CARING WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK.
I am also a “care-er” in the sense that I feel it is my responsibility and my mission in life to make others happy. To do all I can to show them I love them. At times that is at my own expense; sometimes emotionally/mentally and sometimes physically. And when I can’t take care of everyone, I feel like a failure. Why? Because that’s what I was raised around. Always being the pleaser, no matter at what expense.
Being a “care-er” has mad me a master of disguise. I disguise my sadness so others don’t feel it. I disguise my unhappiness so I don’t hurt others. I disguise my true self so others don’t feel uncomfortable. Why?
If I stop caring, who will? Who will care about everything? Who will care about me?
How am I on the brink of losing so much that is precious to me? How?
How will I know what is right and what is wrong? How?
How do I pick up all that is shattered? How?
How will the pieces fit back together? How?
How has my life line become so weathered and frayed? How?
How will I feel, what will happen if my life line snaps? Do I let the tide pull me under? Or will the ebb and flow rescue me? How will it feel? How will I know? How?
At times I feel I have spent my life helping and pleasing others. Being someone others want me to be, not who I want to be or who I am. Why am I not allowed to be who I want to be? Why? Why was I raised to believe that everyone comes before me? Why? I am now old enough, and perhaps wise enough to know and to see it came from my mom. She was so unhappy in her life, she was constantly doing things to please others. She will say she enjoyed it, that she wanted to – but did she? Did she always want to put others first? Did she always want to do what made others happy? Was she ever happy, is she happy?
Please, DO NOT get me wrong. I will never regret having my kids, raising them the best way I could, and giving them all my love, attention and energy. I loved celebrating each accomplishment with them and always will. I loved them when they struggled with failure and always will. I may not always like them, but I will always love them. Yes, I know that’s such a cliché, but it’s the truth.
Now, back to me (wink, wink). Has anyone really figured out what they want out of life, what makes them happy? Are we on a constant search? Do we just settle with what might be convenient, or easy or comfortable?
I’m tired of being comfortable and predictable. I want to be uncomfortable and unpredictable to allow myself to grow and to feel more intensely. Is that wrong? What does it mean? Does it mean I’m a total asshole for feeling that way?
Am I the only one who thinks about just walking away? Could I just walk away? Who would I miss, what would I miss? Do I need to walk away to realize who I am meant to be, to realize what I want and what I don’t want? Where would I go? What would I do? How far could I go before…………………….before they realized I was gone? Would it matter that I am gone? Or would it matter more that I am not present and not doing for them, that I inconvenienced them by leaving. Am I just a convenience at this point? Always there, always giving, never asking for much, in my opinion.
When I love, I love fiercely. When I give myself, I give all of me. Am I being loved fiercely in return? Am I getting all of you?
Is it wrong to wonder if this is it? Is it wrong to want to experience more in my life?
When does someone start taking care of me, because they want to and not because they have to? Is that selfish?
I sound like a seriously whiny bitch and I honestly feel like that, so I’m good with it.
I am currently and admittedly in bitch mode. I’m not sure what made me decide to vent about it, so humor me.
The girl child – I’m getting to the end of my………..everything with her. I don’t like it, I don’t want to go off on her, I want to help her and I can’t. I don’t want to get bitched at by her because we went out to eat to a restaurant she didn’t approve of so she just didn’t eat or because dinner was made before she got home from work or because her car didn’t start this morning. I can’t believe she stood in front of me and told me she needs my attention while I was talking to a friend, in person. Yeah, that happened. I DON’T FUCKING CARE ANYMORE- UGH.
Why is everyone needy at the same time in my life?
How the fuck do I gain two pounds overnight?
I have a name, damn it! It’s not mom, mimi, hon, hey, yo, or bro. It’s Heather. That is my name. And because I’m in bitch mode, I realized today that when someone special says my name I like it – a lot. I want to hear it more often, please and thank you. Because for that short time I’m not defined by what I am but by who I am. I am Heather and yes there is a song I would love to reference right now (hint: Say my Name, Say my Name, Say my Name…)
Why does it rain every fucking time I scrub my floors? I clean those bitches all the time, I swear I do. I’m sick of it.
I think that’s it. I calmed down. I do love being called by my other names and I do love the people that call me those names. Except for bro. But I still do like hearing my name. I will never be skinny, I need to stop weighing myself all the time. I do still hate scrubbing floors.
I am a self-proclaimed WORDY. I love words. I love to talk, I love to listen, I love to read, I love to write (not well, but it’s for me so ….), I love song lyrics. I want to wow and amaze people with what I write. I want my words to start conversations. I want my words to invoke a feeling. Even if you hate what I write, hate is still a feeling – right? I want to use big fancy words, but that’s just not me. I like big fancy words. I love learning the meaning of words that are new to me.
I love writing a note in a card, or sending an email or text to someone that makes them feel special. It is my hope that they feel special because of the words I have carefully chosen to give them. The words aren’t always eloquent, but they are always heartfelt and sincere. I have used my words to write poems and letters to loved ones that have passed. I have used my words to write speeches for special occasions. I just love using words and seeing people respond to my words.
Three songs hit me in the face this morning with the lyrics. First, Macarthur Park by Donna Summer. The lyrics for your reading pleasure. What do they say to you?
Spring was never waiting for us, dear It ran one step ahead As we followed in the dance
MacArthur’s Park is melting in the dark All the sweet, green icing flowing down Someone left the cake out in the rain I don’t think that I can take it ‘Cause it took so long to bake it And I’ll never have that recipe again Oh, no
I recall the yellow cotton dress Foaming like a wave On the ground beneath your knees The birds, like tender babies in your hands And the old men playing Chinese checkers by the trees
MacArthur’s Park is melting in the dark All the sweet, green icing flowing down Someone left the cake out in the rain I don’t think that I can take it ‘Cause it took so long to bake it And I’ll never have that recipe again Oh, no
MacArthur’s Park is melting in the dark All the sweet, green icing flowing down Someone left my cake out in the rain And I don’t think that I can take it ‘Cause it took so long to bake it And I’ll never have that recipe again Oh, no, oh
The second and third are from my girl crush. Seriously. P!nk (sigh). First would be the song Happy. Again, lyrics for your reading pleasure. I swear she read my mind. Can you relate?
Since I was 17 I’ve always hated my body And it feels like my body’s hated me Can somebody find me a pill To make me un-afraid of me?
Seen every therapist, but I’m a cynical bitch Don’t like to talk about my feelings I take another hit, I find another fake fix ‘Cause it’s easier than healing
I don’t wanna be this way forever Keep telling myself that I’ll get better Every time I try, I always stop me Maybe I’m just scared to be happy
Since I was 22 I’ve been with somebody who loves me And I’ve been tryna believe it’s true But my head always messes up my heart No matter what I do
Seen every therapist, but I’m a cynical bitch Don’t like to talk about my feelings I take another sip, I swear it’s my last fix ‘Cause it’s easier than healing
‘Cause I don’t wanna be this way forever Keep telling myself that I’ll get better Every time I try, I always stop me Maybe I’m just scared to be happy I don’t wanna be this way forever Keep telling myself that I’ll get better Every time I try, I always stop me
Maybe I’m just scared to be happyMaybe I’m just scared to be happy Maybe I’m just scared to be happyI’m so scared of having something to lose
I’m scared of being somebody new I’m so scared of all them seeing the truth ‘Cause right now I’ve got nothing
But I don’t wanna be this way forever Keep telling myself that I’ll get better Every time I try, I always stop me Maybe I’m just scared to be happy
Maybe I’m just scared to be happy (Maybe, yeah) Maybe I’m, I’m scared to be happy
And the final P!nk (sigh) song. True Love. If you have been in a relationship for any amount of time, this fits, PERFECTLY! Don’t you agree? Lyrics for your reading pleasure. I know I am smiling as I sing along off key with my girl P!nk to this one!
Sometimes I hate every single stupid word you say Sometimes I wanna slap you in your whole face (whoa oh oh) There’s no one quite like you, you push all my buttons down I know life would suck without you (whoa oh oh) At the same time, I wanna hug you I wanna wrap my hands around your neck You’re an asshole but I love you And you make me so mad, I ask myself Why I’m still here, or where could I go You’re the only love I’ve ever known But I hate you, I really hate you So much I think it must be True love, true love It must be true love Nothin’ else can break my heart like True love, true love It must be true love No one else can break my heart like you
Just once tried to wrap your little brain around my feelings Just once please try no to be so mean (whoa oh oh) Repeat after me now R-O-M-A-N-C-E-E-E Come on I’ll say it slowly (Romance!) You can do it babe At the same time, I wanna hug you I wanna wrap my hands around your neck You’re an asshole but I love you And you make me so mad, I ask myself Why I’m still here, or where could I go You’re the only love I’ve ever known But I hate you, I really hate you So much I think it must be True love, true love It must be true love Nothin’ else can break my heart like True love, true love It must be true love No one else can break my heart like you
Think it must be love (I love you) I think it must be love (I love you) Why do you rub me up the wrong way? Why do you say the things that you say? Sometimes I wonder how we ever came to be But without you I’m incomplete I think it must be True love, it must be true love It must be true love
Nothin’ else can break my heart like True love, true love It must be true love No one else can break my heart like you
So, having said all that. As much as I love giving words, I love receiving words. I need words from those around me. I need words to really believe how and why you need me. I need words to really believe you want me and no one else. I need words to really believe you will always be my side. I need words to believe you truly love me and only me. Maybe you can’t find your own words, and that’s okay. Poems use words, songs use words. Is there a song you hear that makes you think of me? Why do I need words so desperately? I’m honestly not sure. I just do. Maybe the words give me something I can hold onto or I can reflect on when I’m doubting myself. Does that make sense?
I will make this disclaimer on any and all posts titled Self. I do not know many of my followers personally, but I do know some. And all of the followers I know are from different realms of my life. If you feel you may be uncomfortable reading personal stuff – STOP HERE. If not – let’s go.
Good Morning Campers! Did you ever stop and think about why you are the way you are? I don’t mean the genetics of eye color, height, etc. I mean things like personality. Are they part of the genetic package or are they part of the way you were reared as a child or does your personality change and grow with life experiences?
I wish I had that answer for you and for me, but I don’t. I’m sure there is some type of study out there that would say it’s genetics, another one that says it’s the way a child is reared, another will say it’s life experiences and yet another that says it’s all of the above. So what’s my point? I’m not entirely sure! However, recently I have been scrutinizing why I am the way I am. Why do I react to stuff the way I do? Why do I feel the way I feel? Deep shit, right?!
I’ve previously written about growing up in a house with a perfectly beautiful sister and how that impacted me. I felt I had to become flirty and funny to get attention. I did and still do have to be careful that I don’t cross the line with the funny part of my personality. I never wanted to be the funny fat girl that over did it and became the obnoxious fat girl that is just trying to get attention anyway she can. Although, I will admit here that I do feel like the obnoxious fat girl in many social instances.
I have also been questioning how my personality affects how people perceive me. And perhaps how they feel they can or can’t approach me, talk to me, etc. Who cares, right? I do.
I was recently cleaning out some drawers at home and came across folder. I knew what was in the folder. I told myself not to open it. I told myself to burn it in the fire pit. But I opened it. And it hit me, like a slap in the face. I was pissed off, hurt, scared, embarrassed, humiliated, fucking irate. It’s a folder filled with notes, cards, letters and emails from a person who was first my co-worker and then my supervisor for 26 of my 32 (and counting) years of employment. Why do I blame myself for this occurring? Why did he think he could share his feelings for me? Why did he think I would be interested? Why, why, why? What did I do to make that happen? Was it because I am too flirty? But I’m that way with everyone. Was it because I talk to much and share too much? But there are people at work I have talked and shared far more with. What gave him the right to create an uncomfortable work environment for me? Why did I allow him to perpetuate a relationship to others that didn’t exist. Why did people believe this? What did I do? Why didn’t I try harder to stop it? Where was the #metoo movement when I needed it. Why did I let the political “good old boys” scare me into not pushing harder? Why was I threatened with “PA is a fire at will state”? How is that okay? But what was it that I did to make this happen? Why didn’t I govern myself differently? How is it fair that I let it impact personal relationships? Christ, some days I really question every decision I ever made. What do I do about it? Higher ups knew and did nothing. My job was threatened. I needed my job! A young family, a mortgage, three kids, two of which who have/had medical issues and needed insurance, family members that were too close to see what was happening, small town politics – I let it all control me and I did nothing. I sat back and took it.
I know this “experience” enhanced my overall lack of self-esteem. My God, I was fat and this person was pursuing me. Part of me thought I must be imagining it. I am not or was not a person who was pursued, certainly not being a fat, flirty girl. So, I got fatter. But it still continued. I was pregnant three times, but still it continued. I changed how I behaved, what I shared, what I allowed people to see – but still it continued. I don’t think I can explain in words or otherwise how this seriously changed me. But it did. It will always be with me, it will always make me question me.
Basically the only word that I can currently come up with to describe how I’m feeling. And when you say it, say it in a very sarcastic manner because that’s how I meant it.
The girl child (big sigh – like huge, ginormous sigh if you could sigh for like five minutes sigh). As of last week, she was kicked out of her individual and group therapy because she missed too many sessions. She now has no therapist and no psychiatrist. I know she is not taking her meds as prescribed, if at all. At this point I guess it doesn’t matter. The fallout will happen. I can see it coming, but I don’t have an answer or even a clue as to how to proceed from when it happens.
This constant feeling of living with a feeling of …………………I guess it just living with the unknown in general that is so exhausting. Nothing I haven’t said before. I’m a scratched record and the needle playing my song is stuck in a deep scratch. That needle keeps trying to skip over the scratch, but the scratch is just too deep.
I will make this disclaimer on any and all posts titled Self. I do not know many of my followers personally, but I do know some. And all of the followers I know are from different realms of my life. If you feel you may be uncomfortable reading personal stuff – STOP HERE. If not – let’s go.
I feel like talking about personal relationships, like very personal relationships. There might be sex talk. Correct that, there will be sex talk. So be warned.
I am currently 50. My significant other is 51. We have been together since 1987. That’s a loooooooooooong time. We have been married 29 years. As with everything in life, relationships change with time. And I think that’s supposed to happen and it should happen.
We basically grew up together. We learned from each other, we hurt each other, we grew apart, we grew stronger, we learned what buttons to push and when to stop pushing those buttons! We had loved ones pass and shared the miracle of child birth. We have shared life’s triumphs and life’s failures. And we continue to love each other.
It’s a love that changes and grows with us. One day it’s the rush I feel when he walks out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. One day it’s the feeling of wanting to throat punch him because I’m tripping over him while I’m trying to make dinner! And it’s all those feelings in-between.
So, I will admit that it has been way too long since we have….you know. I don’t know about you, but there are so many words and ways to describe “it”. In my humble opinion, being intimate doesn’t always have to be about sex. There are so many different facets to both intimacy and sex.
The intimate side of the relationship is a feeling for me. It can be his hand on the small of my back. It can be a look that makes me feel desired. It can be a kiss that makes me warm in all the right places. It can be his arm draped over my hip when we are laying in bed.
Now, the sex part – there are just so many directions I could take on this topic. I think that in any adult relationship there various types of……….you know. We can have sex. To me, that is when we are both into it, let’s go, and we go from point a to point z. We might skip some points, but we are both getting what we need. We can fuck. That would be the wham, bam, thank you ma’ma. That might be one of of us just needs that release – NOW, and the other is more than happy to oblige! It’s really a win/win for both participants, again, in my opinion. Who doesn’t want to have their lover look at them with that wild desire?! And last but not least, we can make love. That slow, touching, feeling, tasting, licking, love making. We pick the pace, we pick the way, we are one. It’s like I can’t get close enough to him. I need to find a way to crawl inside of him to get just a little closer. It’s languishing in the afterglow. It’s complete togetherness.
Let’s not forget about self-love. Why this is a taboo topic for so many people I don’t understand. Who knows you better than you? Who doesn’t occasionally need the release without all the extras? It is okay to say the word – masturbation. It’s not a bad word! Now, I will say that solo play should not take the place of or have a negative impact on your relationship togetherness. I mean, if you are having alone time multiple times a day and there is nothing left for your partner – that’s not cool. And don’t pretend it doesn’t happen! What is hotter than (again, in my opinion) hearing from someone that they were thinking about you and just couldn’t help but touch themselves?!
And yes, I know there is much more to a happy, healthy sexual relationship. I think I could honestly write page, after page, after page on the topic. It’s something I enjoy doing, as much as talking about it and writing about it. I have written many stories for my significant other. And I will tell you, they are damn good. However, here is where I ALWAYS fuck up my mind regarding sexy time. Try not to get lost in my mind on this one! I wish you all the best.
Let’s take last night, for example. I have been feeling particularly amorous recently. As I stated before, we have had a bit of a dry spell. It’s no one’s fault, there is no blame – it’s just life. Anyway, in my mind I create this scenario of what/how I would like to seduce him. Who doesn’t want it to be like a movie scene, what could go wrong (LOL)?! Last night was just one of those nights where I felt like I needed a shower before bed. I know TMI! But, it gave me a great scenario in my mind. So I shower, smell nice and I am squeaky clean. I didn’t dry my hair, I let it wet, and sexy in my mind. I put on a men’s v-neck white undershirt and nothing else. That would certainly get him! In my mind it played out like a soft porn. In reality I looked like a wet manatee in a white undershirt. And nothing happened. Which is okay.
I keep overthinking this and trying to delve into why things aren’t happening. This is where my self-doubt enters. It has to be me. I’m not appealing to him anymore. I am too fat for him to want me. I am too ugly for him to want me. My super short haircut makes me look like a she-man. (This is no joke – prior to my shoulder surgery I had my hair cut very short, like basically buzzed short. I needed it to be something easy. I have always had short hair, but not this short. Negative comments from people made me so self-conscious that I paid to have eyelash extensions put on the week after my surgery so I would look more feminine. The joke is, I had more positive comments than negative) And then my favorite go to thought is that he found someone else.
Am I seriously the only person who undermines their own sex life?
How do I...life? 