Tejas can really suck…

First night in Dallas was a wash, literally. About 9:30 local time, a flash flood warning started crawling across every local television channel. By 10:00 pm the lightning was crackling and the thunder was shaking the hotel walls. I opened up the sliding glass door to take a look and it was dumping rain, I mean downpour. Loud and cold, the storm kept up well into this morning when I got out of bed around 6:15. Lightning still lighting up the morning sky. It was pretty wild, welcome to Texas right? Monday morning feels like Seattle in the early spring, 56 degrees and misty rain with dark dark clouds. And along with the weather comes the tired that ensues from every west coast eastbound travel. The time difference… even though I attempted to be in bed at my regular west coast hour, the morning came earlier than desired as the 6ish here is really 4ish at home, so I’m pooped, dog tired, jet lagged, and well honestly, home sick. Right??? I’ve been gone 24 hours and already wish I was on my own little couch in my little apartment with my friends and dogs and my kiddo. Maybe it’s just the state of mind, I’m not really all here and well, I hope I can find the rest of me soon. Business travel needs to focus on business, and not my blog or the personal sides of my life.

Two bad cups of black coffee from the 2nd floor cafeteria and it’s on. It’s been a fairly busy morning in the Dallas office. Meeting people, shaking hands, having their day to day work dissected in white boards and documentation. It’s all pretty boring and I’m having a hard time staying focused. It’s not that it isn’t interesting, it’s just not something I haven’t seen before, or helped develop in a former business life. Nothing eye opening or even worth my trip out here. Aside from making an attempt to catch up with an old friend here in Texas, I probably could have done this from anywhere, preferably my living room. Day ended a little earlier than I had previously thought it would, my peer here in Dallas bailed about 3:30 thanks to the onset of flu like symptoms. Of course, no one wants to think it may be swine flu, but with it going around like crazy, I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest. Back to the hotel by 5:00 pm and made arrangements with my friend I hadn’t seen in at least 15 years, to meet up for dinner with her and her husband Scott.

By 6:20 pm we were off to dinner, in the rain and bad GPS directions on her Blackberry. Drove for what felt like 30 minutes through various parts of Dallas that had all 3 of us thinking this was probably not the best part of town to be stopping for a meal. We passed taqueria after taqueria (Spanish for ‘Taco Shop’) looking for a restaurant to sit down and catch up. Street after street, the deeper we got into this area of Dallas, the more uncomfortable we all began feeling. Of course, we laughed it off, not wanting each other to know that we knew, this was all wrong. After a couple of turns and heading back towards the freeway, we stumbled upon a restaurant that was just like the one we had originally intended on heading to. Finally, 50 minutes into our tour of what I would call “all of the places in Dallas to not drive a Saab and be white in” we were walking into dinner.

Had an awesome meal, consisting of my consistent Mexican order of Pollo enchiladas en mole, a tamales and 3 bottles of Pacifico. The food was outstanding, probably because of the 3 pints I had with it, but the conversation was even better. I’ve known Emily for most of my life. And like she said at one point in the evening, and I concur, “I don’t remember a time not knowing you”. We probably haven’t seen each other since early on in high school, so it’s been at least 15 years. We had a lot of catching up to do. Time is an interesting thing, and friendship is one of those wonderful parts of life that is not eclipsed by it. Although it had been more than a decade since we last laughed with one another, you would never have known it. The time a part was like a blink of the eye, with a whole lot of living in between. We shared as many stories as we could of where we’d been and done and reminisced about times we’d had growing up at church camp and hanging out. After about 2 hours of laughing our asses off and full of food and adult beverages, I asked for the check with every intention of picking up this tab we had. I snuck my credit card to the waitress before she could even present the bill, as Emily attempted to do the same. Our waitress spun back to the register before Emily could even get a word out, preventing her attempt to do exactly what I had planned. We laughed about it for a few moments before the waitress returned to my table to hand me my card and in a very serious, and not so pleasant voice said “it’s declined”. She put her hands on her hips and looked me in the face as I asked her to say that again. “It’s declined”, she said again, and in shock and embarrassment I quickly reached for my iPhone to log into my bank account and see what the heck was going on. Meanwhile, Emily yells out “Perfect” and with a huge smile hands the waitress her card. Exactly what I expected to see on my banks website, plenty of money in both of my accounts, I turned my card over and began dialing the customer service number. The conversation with the banker on the phone took about 10 minutes as they recounted every charge in the last 3 days and explained my card was flagged for fraud due to the 2 bad cups of $1.62 coffee I had purchased from the 2nd floor cafeteria earlier that day. Apparently, small out of state purchases within hours of each other raises a red flag. Of course, there was no call directly to me to ask if I was traveling but you would assume that before shutting off my card, they would have seen the hotel, the rental car, the other charges that should tip off any “fraud specialist” that I was traveling! Of course, I mentioned this to the “banker” on the phone as recounted each of the previous 3 days worth of charges, including my hotel, my rental car, my baggage charge with Continental. “ Seriously”, I said to him, “doesn’t that list of charges pretty much tell you that I’m out of town??” He apologized and got me back up and running. I was fairly annoyed that I couldn’t pay for dinner, and convinced Emily and Scott that we needed to go somewhere else for drinks, my treat.

Rather than continuing our tour of “places not to be driving a Saab and be white” we headed back to my hotel bar to watch the rest of the Monday Night Football game and have some more beverages. After a couple drinks and some very entertaining college football discussion (which almost led to a brawl thanks to my Boise State sweatshirt and a redneck Florida fan), we said goodnight and they headed home. Isn’t friendship amazing at times? I’m reminded how blessed my life has been to have people in it, that no matter time or distance, there are certain people who find their way back to us, and it’s the same as it ever was. Awesome. I’ve commented many times how there are few things left in life that amaze us, or me, and this is specifically as case of one of them. I hope that this friendship continues without the years of contact but am sure if it is 10 plus years until the next time, the next time will be as awesome as this time was. To Scott and Emily, thanks for dinner and the tour of bad Dallas! Even more so, for simply being awesome. Here’s to next time!

Guess this trip isn’t really a total wash after all…

Stay Blessed-

Post script-
Started this post on Monday morning only to complete it now, Tuesday 1:00 pm Central Time

Chicken Little for Dinner

It’s been quite a productive week on the work front and in the life of Ryan. Even this morning, before I left the house at a quarter past six, I was able to download the new ‘Dead by Sunrise’ album, get it onto my iPhone, take the dogs out for a very wet and rainy potty, check the bank account, transfer some money between accounts, pay some bills and get the kid up and ready for the day. By 6:35 I had Jackson checked into day care, dry cleaning dropped off and picked up and hitting the freeway with my 16 oz. Quad White Hot Skinny Mocha in hand, rocking out in gridlocked traffic on I-5. It still to this day, amazes me how shitty Seattle drivers are when the rain comes, as if it’s something new to them. Thousands of stupid Chicken Little’s worried that “the sky is falling” as raindrops land on their windshields forcing them to pump the breaks as they grope for the wiper controls in the darkness of their cars interior. It’s asinine and if you happen to be one of those asssholes that can’t figure it out, please, do those of us that are well schooled on the task of driving a vehicle in every weather condition a favor; STAY OFF THE FREEWAY! Seriously, why must you bring your fear of falling rain in the darkness directly in front of my commute. It’s not as if I really want to be  into the office on a Friday later than I have to be. Your fears are only prolonging the length of my day and my level of patience is at a bare minimum at that hour of the morning.

Now that that is out of the way, I will step off of my road rage soap-box and get back to the business at hand, me. Like I said, it’s been a pretty fast week all the way around between personal and business. A lot of conversation; good, bad and otherwise indifferent. Even when it seems to be going good, there’s an underlying feeling of unease and restlessness that seems to make time stand still in certain moments. Moments in which the uncertainty of tomorrow seems to be more apparent than ever and there’s an excitement, and a fear, to discover what really lies in the road ahead. In some aspects, the unknown can be pretty cool, nothing left to be predictable. Something new. Someone new. Something different. Someone different. Like Christmas morning all the time, you never know exactly what’s in the box behind the pretty wrapping paper and bows, and there’s so much excitement and sleeplessness that goes into waiting ‘til morning to tear the first part of the paper at the end and seeing exactly what you got. The fear comes when the package is wide open and exposed and it’s not what you thought it would be. After all the days and nights of staring at it under the tree, guessing at what it could be, after all the nights of laying in bed tossing and turning as you think about what could be behind that pretty paper, finding out it’s not really what you wanted and there’s no way you’ll make room in your space to fit in this new gift. I just don’t want to be let down anymore by my imagination, I’ve put too many years down the drain recently, and I don’t want to live that life again. I also don’t want to miss opening the right present. All in all that means opening a few and seeing what’s what. Problem there is it requires effort and time and untangling myself from all that I’m still entrenched in. Maybe one of the boxes will have some landscaping shears or a chainsaw. Yes, that is figurative

Heading to Dallas in a couple of days and there’s a lot to be done before I can head out. The list is long and probably not as time consuming as it looks in my hand. Jackson’s  mom is throwing a Halloween party for a bunch of kids on Saturday and my presence has been welcomed. I have very mixed emotions about being ‘invited’ to attend a party in my own home, the one I helped find, work on, live in and formed memories and began raising a child in. It makes me angry and sad that I’m ‘invited’, as if I’m a guest. It’s my house, my home, regardless if I currently live there or not and at the same time, it’s no longer my home or my house to claim. It hurts either way I look at it, being there or not being there, invited or not. I suppose I’d be as pissed if I wasn’t asked to attend, as hurt, maybe more embarrassed than I already feel. I don’t know if I’ll be there or not, it might be too hard and I also might miss out on some awesome fun times with my son if I don’t. I’m frustrated. I’m overwhelmed. Quite honestly, I’m just so tired of feeling ok, almost rad, for a few days and then feeling like someone just gave me a quick kick to the nuts. I’m also very tired of feeling like a whiner, it could always be worse.

A very good friend of mine is going through a similar separation, but one in which the child, who has been her heart and soul since birth, may be taken from her side unless she caves in, to reconcile a situation that will no doubt be worse for her, and her son, in the long run. She mentioned feeling “selfish” for not trying to work it out in fear that she’s “ruining her sons life” by stepping away from the toxic relationship she’s in. I know firsthand that parents that fight and bicker and aren’t in love with one another, don’t create the best environment for raising a child. I’ve been living it, I would know.  I mention this only because in the middle of me trying to discover the “why’s” in my own life, I’ve seen an even darker reality for someone I truly care for and want to do everything I can to help. In some weird twilight zone reality, my experiences are allowing me to give council in what really is a horribly difficult situation for her. Guess there’s a bright side to every cloud. Keep her in your own prayers as a mother who’s making an awfully tough decision, it really does suck. She’s in mine hourly.

So there it is, it’s taken me 4 hours to write this much in between solution design sessions, strategy and code development. It’s been a rough day and I am trying to bow out early. Working remote the rest of the day, after I make a stop at the Seattle Home Show and the Rack.

Stay blessed-

Le Cadeau

Winter is slowly waltzing into October, despite every attempt the sun has been making to delay it. Even global warming can’t stop my windows from being covered in a layer of frost as I walked out to my truck before the sun was up this morning. I hate the cold, the season, the dying of leaves from the trees and the migration of water fowl to warmer climates. Of course, I do enjoy the smells that autumn brings and the slight nip in the air that makes the fireplace a welcome location in my living room. The leaves turning from green to red. The extra heavy sweater that made its way to the back of my closet rotation during the summer. I do find some enjoyment in the changing of the seasons. I am however, starting to spend some time thinking through the upcoming dilemma I have to face around the holidays. As if single parenthood wasn’t challenging enough from a day to day operational standpoint, figuring out the where’s and who’s for Christmas is giving me an ulcer.

For as long as I can remember, my family has always made Christmas a special time. From my earliest memories of having someone in a Santa suit showing up with a bag full of Hot Wheels to those early morning hours where my brother and I would start singing at the top of our lungs around 5 am, to wake my parents up so we could start opening presents, Christmas has always been about family and being together. In 32 years, there’s been only 2 Christmas mornings when I wasn’t present with my parents. This is where my struggle begins, as this being Jackson’s third Christmas of his life, I want him to have the same fond memories each and every year and begin building the same traditions that my mom and dad built for us kids. As I see it right now, that’s not a possibility in the same way it was mine. I know I’m not the only single parent in the world that has had to face down this dilemma, and I also know that Christmas gatherings aren’t the same for every family. For mine, it’s a big deal, and I want it to always be a big deal for Jackson. Maybe I’m selfish, but I can’t imagine ever having a Christmas morning without him, and I’m struggling with him ever having a Christmas morning without his parents, either of us, both of us. His mom is very understanding of this at this time in his life and fully expects that he and I will be traveling to Idaho for Christmas with my family, which is more than awesome. She didn’t have the same type of big deal that I have had and she wants him to have the type of memories that I’ve had with my family, this year. It’s a gift she’s giving me, and gave to me just over two years ago, whether she knows it or not. Undoubtedly though, there will be the conversation at some point a year from now, where she’ll want to be with him for that Christmas, leaving me without him next year and I cannot begin to explain the anxiety that immediately hits me in the chest. Well over a year from now and I’m already melancholy about the scenario. Can I repay the same gift?

Maybe that means I am as selfish as I think I am about my son and the experiences we share together. Maybe it really is a truth that I cannot face, the holding onto my ideal vision of what family really should be. Reality isn’t as cool as I want it to be and less than ideal. Why is it this way? Why can’t I just allow this to be what it is, two parents with equal moments of parenthood, equal desires for themselves and their child, separate? He deserves that, as do we, and yet, I don’t want to miss a thing, and I don’t want her to miss anything. Again, I know we’re not the only parents in the world who deal with this and there will be those of you that tell me it’ll all work itself out, it’s just a part of life. Well friends, it’s not the parts that I signed up for, it’s not the reality that I asked for, but it is what was dealt to me. So I will deal with it, as will they. We get to, not have to, get to. It’s something my old therapist used to explain to me time and time again. We don’t “have” to do anything, we “get” to. You don’t have to do laundry, you are fortunate enough to get to have laundry to do. I wasn’t a subscriber to the thought process for a long time, it took some serious coaching to get me there. One day it just sank in and I’m thankful it did, made these predicaments much easier to “get” to deal with. I don’t want to though and that is an entirely different mindset. I don’t do things I don’t want to do but do things that are less than ideal for the sake of my son, and his mother. It doesn’t make it easier and it doesn’t take away my distress or pain or emptiness. Yes, I guess I am selfish.

Started learning “The Gift” last night in my weekly guitar lesson. The lyric of the song is haunting and so personally close to me that I’m always amazed that someone else found the words that fit before I could put pen to paper. Don’t read too much into this as I swear I’m doing ok. The side of me that thinks like this isn’t running the show, but can be found from time to time, late at night, alone, thinking in the dark. Shaun Morgan just has a way of peering into my head and heart, way too often it seems. If you don’t own a ‘Seether’ album, go get one… “One Cold Night” is a great starting point…

Hold me now I need to feel relief
Like I never wanted anything
I suppose I'll let this go and find a reason I'll hold on to
I'm so ashamed of defeat
And I'm out of reason to believe in me
I'm out of trying to get by

I'm so afraid of the gift you give me
I don't belong here and I'm not well
I'm so ashamed of the lie I'm living
I'm right on the wrong side of it all

I can't face myself when I wake up
And look inside a mirror
I'm so ashamed of that thing
I suppose I'll let it go
'till I have something more to say for me
I'm so afraid of defeat
And I'm out of reason to believe in me
I'm out of trying to defy

I'm so afraid of the gift you give me
I don't belong here and I'm not well
I'm so ashamed of the lie I'm living
I'm right on the wrong side of it all

Hold me now I need to feel complete
Like I matter to the one I need
I'm so afraid of the gift you give me
I don't belong here and I'm not well
I'm so ashamed of the lie I'm living
I'm right on the wrong side of it all
Now I'm ashamed of this
I Am So Ashamed Of This
Now I'm so ashamed of me
I Am So Ashamed Of Me

Stay blessed-

Disconnected Thinking

I’ve spent a lot of time, or what a lot feels like, over the past few days working on my book. Mainly talking through stories and situations of the past 5 years, focused mainly on the last two+ since the beginning of the life of my son. How vivid the details are of the moments leading up to his arrival, and how different the world has been since he’s been in it. Different in the way that it pains me to think what it would be like without him in it and how clearly changed my life is because of him, in it. I’m a better man because of his life in mine, and I don’t make the choices I had made in my past. I am aware however, that I make some of the same internal mistakes, wish for the same wishes that have never come true, and feel myself feel things I didn’t ever want to feel again, and more so, said I wouldn’t. I’m changing, changed, different than I was at 17, 24, 27, and 32.

I’ve also spent the good part of this week battling a cold, brought straight into my house from disease infested daycare and delivered from my poor two year old who has been miserable since Sunday. His cough, and lack of covering his mouth, has been constant along with a runny nose, fever and itchy eyes. Thanks to his neglect in covering his cough, this same flu has entered my body, rendering me fairly useless to write in this blog. My thoughts have been scattered and without point or direction. So, I’ve started and stopped, started and stopped and tonight, finally trying to make a way through some words. I doubt there’s any wisdom to this post, or even insight. It might be a total waste of your time to sit there and read it, but then so is the countless hours spent on Facebook or Youtube . Yes, guilty as charged, I do it too, living vicariously through other peoples status updates, crazy funny video’s and wishing to participate in the festivities that show up in other peoples “mobile uploads” folders. Sometimes not though, after the last few nights photo’s that have popped up, I’m convinced it’s sometimes safer just to stay home, if nothing more than than for my own posterity. Some of you guys are having way too much fun.

Over the weekend, while doing my rounds at my favorite boutique store, Target (pronounced in a French accent Tar’zay) I came across the newest book from one of my favorite authors, Mitch Albom, titled ‘Have a Little Faith’ . If you haven’t read any of his books, I implore you to go pick any of them up. Each and every one of them is literally food for your soul in one form or another. Some will make you cry from the very first page (‘One More Day’) and others will hold you through every page making you thankful for understanding the written word (‘Tuesdays with Morrie’ and ‘The Five People you Meet in Heaven’). None of them have ever disappointed me and each has led me to other insights into my own interpersonal questions.

Two road trips forthcoming, business in Dallas, personal in Boise. I’ve never been a huge fan of Texas outside of Austin, so there’s no super stoked looking forward to my visit feelings going on. I do, however, have an old friend out there that can hopefully meet up for dinner and catch up from nearly 18 years of life’s various roads. In Boise, I get to meet my new niece who was born Wednesday night. She finally got a name this morning, and thanks to the power of text messaging, my sister, still hospitalized, shot me a message with the name ‘Lily Carter Gross’. My three year old niece, Lily’s sister, Chloe, told her mommy that she thinks the name is stupid. Typical three year old response, I’m so interested in knowing what suggestions she made for her baby sisters name. I can’t wait to meet her and welcome her into our ever growing family.

Chloe and Lily

My chest hurts and my fever is still present, and outside of that, I can’t think of much else to say right now. Clearly my thoughts are all over the board and totally incomplete. Much like my status updates that always end with a dot dot dot, there’s always more to the story and yet, I keep it short and sweet. Like today’s posting, maybe there will be more soon…

Stay blessed-

Ms. Dilemma, why you bother me?

So here we are on a Tuesday afternoon and it feels like the week is already half way over. Mostly due to the fact that my calendar is overwhelmingly full of meeting after meeting during the day, and with the daylight fading into dusk earlier and earlier each day, it’s starting to become easier to stay in and do nothing , rather than  something more productive. That’s such a different mindset to me these days than it was ten years ago, being productive.

In the workplace, I’ve always been a workhorse. Usually trying to tackle more than I should at any given time, working more hours than I should have and investing one hundred percent of my passion into my work. It was always so personal to me that when I wasn’t working, I was fine to do nothing more after hours than sit back, watch TV and veg out. Weekends were for partying and living it up, and there must have been more years of me doing just that than there were of this other mindset, feeling like I always have to be getting something done. The plan tonight consists of getting home to my dogs, walking them to keep the 1’s and 2’s with the great outdoors, a guitar lesson followed by a deep douching of my apartment that needs to be vacuumed and dusted and have laundry folded and put away, a kitchen wiped down, a bedroom or two to be picked up and put away, two bathrooms to be cleaned and after all of that is done, maybe I’ll hit the DVR and a pint of Guinness. Maybe, or maybe once it’s all done, I’ll head to the gym, but only if it’s before 9:00 pm or else I won’t be able to sleep before 11 or 12 and that will roll into another full calendar of meeting after meeting on Wednesday.

“Oh dear dilemma, why must you bother me?”

So this weekend is the final chapter in the saga of couch finding and buying. I cannot go another week without a full-on sectional sofa with a chaise lounge, so that I may run from one end of the apartment into the living room for a giant dive into sweet plushness that will hold me and keep me cozy whilst being non-productive! I’ve narrowed it down to three choices and by Friday, I hope to know exactly which of these three beauties will be coming back with me to stay awhile. No, I’m not speaking figuratively, like some of you noticed in a previous post and called me out on, I’m dead set serious about having a full blown couch in my living room. The search has been painful to find something large enough for the room, which typically wouldn’t be a problem for apartment living, but this place is way bigger than any apartment I’ve ever lived in. In fact, it’s living room is bigger than most of my friends condo’s or even homes. For as much as I have agonized and tormented myself in this search, I am almost certain that as soon as I get this bad girl home this weekend and everything is perfect for a few months, my next place won’t be able to accommodate it and I’ll have to look for a space large enough for it to certainly remain part of the landscape of my living room.

“Um, Ms Dilemma, can you take a break for a few weeks?”

Matisyahu made my playlist this morning, and whether or not you like the idea of a Jewish white guy from New York rapping as if he was a Jamaican Dancehall champion, the guy has got a sound that doesn’t allow you to sit still. ‘Live at Stubbs’ is an awesome live album recorded at a giant Texas club/ BBQ Joint a few years ago. My only problem with any of it though is, what is a Hasidic Jew doing in a BBQ in Texas? Isn’t that completely and totally sacrilegious? All jokes aside, it’s a great album that should put you in a good mood or help you wake up on an overly tired Tuesday morning.

Writing in the afternoon of a workday is totally contradictory to productivity, as I am sure some of you were dying to point out. However, I am skipping lunch to provide some comic relief, fascinating insight and wonderful musical taste. The only other question here now is what to make for dinner? and will Ms. Dilemma be joining me? I sure hope not tonight, I have a whole house to pick up before any company can join me. She’s gonna have to wait until tomorrow

Stay Blessed-

Morning Drive

It has been an interesting mark in time in my life, to say the least. Days go by where there's not a care or stress in the world of "Ryan", and there's days where time just doesn't move and memories flood my perception of reality to a point where attempting anything productive is futile. I mention this, only as an underlying theme that more than likely runs true in many peoples lives, not just my own. Although, one could gather from reading this dialogue, that my roller coaster of emotion and living is much more up and down than the normal, average, every day Joe. Maybe it is, or maybe because I choose to acknowledge it publicly, it just seems that way. Regardless, I know positively that I'm not the only one riding this same figurative ride, as much as I wish I were. That's the point though, if I was the the lone rider going up, down, side to side and upside down, you wouldn't read this except to feel better about your own life and find solace with yourself. See, I don't think I'm too far left of center when it comes to struggling with living a life that doesn't meet some idealized expectations that we have created for ourselves.

I was almost there, that idea, that everything I had expected to have in this life was right at my finger tips. I had the girl, the home, the dogs, the yard, the child. All of the "things" that from the time we're born to the day we die, we measure ourselves against, and I was the poster child for people to look at and say "damn, he's got the life". The truth is, I didn't have the life, not the way I pictured it and felt as complete as I should have. It's always easy to think those things are the "end all, be all" of dreams and expectations, and they almost were. At the core of every "thing" there has to be one very simple yet complex addition, one in which, all things being equal, has to be given and received. Love; unending, unwavering, unfettered, unconditional, love. There's no room for the "but's" in love, like "I love my house, but I hate the location", that's not love. That's accepting compromise and I've done it my whole life in an effort to not be let down, to not fail. We've all done it, we've all given way to accept the unacceptable from time to time. It's taken me years to realize that I've done it too often in spite of looking out for myself. I've done it to please other people, other women, friends, family, work. I've done it, because I was never convinced that I would meet my own expectations and truly have the picturesque vision of my dreams. Now, that being said, am I saying that I've finally faced down the problems in my own life and heart? Absolutely not, they are still as problematic today as they were last week or last month or even last year. Am I saying that I realize now that the relationships of the past were all wrong? Not for a second am I saying that. For every relationship that has started and ended, I've grown, learned more about being a man in a world full of assholes and douche bags, and I have spent the time dissecting why they ended. I am somewhat convinced that the line between reality and dreamland is fairly skewed and consistently works against us in relationships. Preconceived expectations aren't as possible as we wish they would be, and by no means should anyone settle on second place. God knows, I'm too damn competitive to have anything but the best, but sometimes what we see or perceive to be the best, is a pipe dream, an oasis in the fathoms of desolation that we think is the promised land. I can tell you first hand, from high school until my mid-twenties, every girl was that oasis, and I loved harder each time and fell harder each time and gave of myself more, each time. All for nothing more than a book full of memories and volumes upon volumes of lessons learned. At one point, I vowed to never go down that road again, never letting anyone close enough to have to go through that emotional roller coaster that I figured would inevitably put me back at the end of the line, to wait for my next ride.

If you asked me five months ago if I was right, I would have most certainly said yes. Yes, I'm back in line; alone and hurt and confused. I would have said everything I actually have said in this blog about it over the last five months, but I wouldn't change a thing. That vow to not get back on was one I'm happy to have broken, one that has provided me the greatest gift in the world and another massive volume of lessons learned with some insight into my head and heart that I possibly never would have known otherwise. I have moments where I wish that I could have skipped the last four plus years in that relationship, as if they'd never happened. I have times where I wish I had never met that certain someone, in hopes to escape the pain I feel today. Those moments, those times however, are nothing more than my internal "easy button" escape pod to avoiding the truth. That truth, that I loved unconditionally and unfettered and it wasn't enough. That truth that showed me first hand what it takes to be an amazing parent despite every challenge put in front of you, the same truth that showed me that I'm stronger than I thought I was and patience, be it a virtue or not, can be learned. It's the same truth, that has reminded me that it takes more than just patience and caring to love, it takes work. I've never thought it didn't require work, in fact I preached that more often than I ever should have had to, but it was worth it.

Although it's ended, over, finished, there will never be a time that I look back and wish that it had never been started in the first place. The spite that I've had fall from my tongue from time to time in a defensive fashion has never been encapsulated with true feelings in completion, except in that moment of weakness and despair with my back against a wall and wanting someone to hurt as bad as I did. Which of course, isn't love, it's anger and bitterness, and yes, I've found room for both inside this broken heart of my mine. This process of grief and coping has allowed certain things into me that I never wanted or needed and thus, I'm purging. Trying to put them out of my being and reaching to get my fingers on the handle of this roller coaster, as it's mine to drive.

My Way Home- Citizen Cope
Sometimes I miss a step
I stumble here and there
I'm findin' my way home
If I'm lost then I'll admit
Sometimes i plain forget
I'm findin' my way home
You can try and stand in my way
You can say what you're gonna say
But I'm finding my way home




Stay blessed-


*Post script-
I've been working on my book and think that this section has
a place, thoughts?*

Une fleur willting dans l'obscurité du soleil

I had a panic attack last night, first time in at least three years. Debilitating and scary, I thought my heart was going to explode from my chest as everything went blurry as I hit the floor. At least twenty minutes went by before I could get up and then I cried for the next two hours, scared to death about what had happened and how to prevent it in the future. That's where the problem is, prevention, and knowing that one is coming on, which in my experience has been next to impossible. I'm even more scared by the situation where my son is present or needing my immediate attention and he finds me on the floor. Last night I couldn't even get to my phone to place a call or send a text off if I had had to. Am I becoming agoraphobic as I seek to find the doorway out of this mental prison my whole being feels trapped in? The first step here is knowing what triggers them and staying away from those trigger points, which at this time, is a blurry island in the distance. I'm starting to think this physical solitude is getting the best of me despite my best efforts to beat it. I don't know how else to spell it out other than to continue to stress my fear in it all and not knowing if help will be on it's way if this continues. What if I can't get to the phone, what if there's no one here to help me, what if something worse than a panic attack happens. I'm scared

I layed in bed for hours this morning with the same questions and emotions flooding my ability to think or see clearly. It was hard to get my feet to the floor wondering if moving would bring on that heart thumping anxiety, which turned into more anxiety about being anxious. By noon I was out of the shower, laundry making it's way through cycle after cycle and I went out the door for some cathartic isolation in a humid guitar room where the only sounds come from the smell of real wood, which drown out the voices in my head. From each strum and pick of a copper string, colors morph from black to blue and red and the simplicity of the guitar becomes the only thought it my head. It's a perfection of beauty in solace.

3 sets of new strings later, I've identified my next guitar purchase to join my growing flock of stringed beauties that make hours feel like minutes and further inspire me to write more and more music and learn those songs that bring feeling to words and emotion to the eyes of those folks smart enough to hear it. I couldn't imagine being one of the people on this planet that doesn't allow music to enter their souls and effect them the way music impacts me. Maybe I should though, from time to time, forget the music and just stay oblivious. HA, as if that would be possible.

Redemption Song keeps running through my head today, which finally defeats
3EB's "How's It Gonna Be", which has been on the tip of my tongue for days now. Today feels like a Bob Marley day, think I'll go grab 'Exodus' and jam out for a bit. Feel free to do the same, turn the lights down, sit back and... yeah, good stuff.

Think anxiety is a good reason to smoke weed? Wonder if I should take that up? Probably not, unless you live in California, maybe there you can do that. Hmmm

So there's the insight into my Saturday (minus one not so awesome conversation, and one really awesome friend who listens to me no matter what), still a lot of day left to go attack as soon as I figure out exactly what that entails. Until then, I'm going to sit back and watch my Bronco's play football, my Sounders play futbol and me taking deep breaths to avoid any further panic immobilizing nonsense today.

Stay Blessed-