I Must Admit

I have been asking myself what is so different about so many things in my life, but especially with Mr. Yummy.

It just hit me, that I don’t have that anxiety I used to get when I wasn’t with him. I worried. And I was living with him, so the only time we were apart, was for the work day, and that’s after we were on a long call job together.

Now I don’t see him for weeks at a time, talk on the phone…maybe monthly, and text a few times throughout the week. I’m OK with the way it is. I don’t think he’s going anywhere, and I am in it to see what we are doing.

I feel the same way about work. I’m happy there. I strive to get a little better at what I do, and I sleep well at night, when I am not hot flashing.

So that’s it. It’s Sunday. Time to just chill my last weekend night away.

I Know What You’re Doing…

 

I appreciate what the sentiment is, and the total selfless, selfish act that it is. Haha!

I don’t think you know that I totally know the extent of it for you, and that’s OK.

I’ll let you play this out. For a while.

I’m humbled at the lengths you go to, to be kind and giving to me. I am saddened that I didn’t see it years ago, but then perhaps in this dualistic world we live in, I had to not see it, to see it or appreciate it.

I know that this…bond we began forging years ago, is special and I won’t ever run away from it again. My days of running are over.

My days of denying myself  happy, are over.

My days of allowing people to treat me like shit and punish me, are over.

My days of love and joy, are in their infancy, and I am refining my skills at giving, with love and no prejudice. I like it because I know that it is true: When you give love, you get love. My two feet are more firmly planted here, than they have ever been. It was the act of having faith in my belief, we are one, that keeps me planted. It is seeing my creating with Universe, that plants the roots ever deeper.

I saw my friend, The Spoon Yielding Tax Preparer, the day after my work melt down. We had a REALLY good talk that led into Universe, vibrations, collective conscientiousness, Spirituality, religion etc…It was good and I felt…really calm and sure about my evolving experience here.

So as far as you are concerned…keep being selfish in your giving. Also keep in mind that I reserve the right to trump you sometimes.

The band, orchestra, and symphony are getting louder.

I believe I’ll go take a shower now.

Let’s Be Honest

With growth, come growing pains.

With ownership, sometimes just comes pain.

The company I work for is AMAZING.  We recently were awarded the highest rated green award for our recycling efforts. I am proud of this.

The owners and management of my company, are also caring and compassionate. At the moment…I am really appreciating this fact. Recently, a good friend’s mother passed away. I asked the owner if we could make some memorial candles for my friend, who also happens to be the company’s tax preparer, along with how I got this job. They of course, went out of their way to do it, and then because of the companies relationship with my friend, did not charge  me. Here is the final product:

After giving them to my friend, and seeing how much her whole family enjoyed them and are planning to order more for the entire clan, I was proud. I also started thinking about my grandson that passed away. As I have wailed and stated repeatedly, I never got to meet him during his short six month life. I never had anyone call me grandma, I never got to smell him, or look in his eyes, have him grab my finger, or watch my daughter become a mother. There is a lot of pain there and as much as I have not felt it…I did something without thinking how it would make me react.

I decided that I wanted candles like that, to give my mother, my two sisters, my daughter, myself and my ex-husband. Yes, I am including my abuser, he lost a grandson too. I spoke to the owner this morning and asked him if I could order six similar candles. Of course he asked questions and so my story came out. It was a condensed version without all the dirt. He expressed his sympathy and said they would do it for me. I was happy. I felt like I was doing something that made me own the fact that for once, for a short time, I was a grandmother.

I sat down and continued working. Then I realized my daughter told me my grandson’s name. His first name. I don’t know his middle name. I can assume his last name. I have ONE picture of him, I stole it from the father’s FB page. I have to go to my sister, who is the only one who met my grandson for more photos. All of it hit me, and the tears started. I sat, crying, processing candles while blind with tears for two hours. I kept working as long as the tears stayed silent. When the sobs started in the bathroom, I found my manager and checked out, grateful for the compassion that I am not always sure I deserve. (See that? How easy it is to slip in to old thinking?)

As I am feeling these emotions I have not yet allowed myself to feel, I also am asking myself what the tears are for? Are they for my daughter and her loss, or are they just selfishly for myself? Is it wrong of me to ask my little sister to get my daughter and my older sister their candles, and not tell them they are from me, or this is where I work?

My first “want” when I left work was to call Mr. Yummy and look for a band-aide, but that is an old pattern. I decided to come home, FEEL this and write, burn my Clarity scented candle and center myself back to the now.

I felt my growing pains and didn’t stuff them. I think this is a good thing. It hurts, and it sucks, but I did it, which must mean I was ready to feel it.

One thing I know, the love and support of my friends and family, is a very nice offset.

 

Flashbacks

They come and go.

Some are sweet and innocent and some, are not.

Most leave me shaking my head in amazement and I continue to be grateful.

From the very first time I was near him, (He was sticking his head out of a ceiling above me on a construction site) his smell stabbed me in the brain. He wears a different cologne these days, but I still smell HIM. He still stabs me in the brain.

I like coming home and having moments where I miss him. I don’t think we ever really had that before. Not till I went to Alaska and then, it became tragic because we broke up.

I am so overwhelmed with emotion that when I drove home last Saturday, I cried for at least the last ten miles. Not sad, just…joy.

It is delicious, delicious coffee time.

How Strange Was That?

I left some things behind at Mr. Yummy’s house when I left Saturday morning. He informed me last night when I text him. We just met so I didn’t have to drive all the way out to his house. He lives North of Seattle and I live South of Seattle, so it’s a drive. He picked, of all places, Lawson Harley.

Lawson Harley is next to the old rice grinder showroom floor, where The Face Breaker was injured on the indoor track, sending him into a coma and TBI (traumatic brain injury). This is where TFB was buying his scooter, but Lawson Harley is where he sold his bike, not too long before he broke my face.

I parked my car, walked in and looked for Mr. Yummy. Once I saw him, I said hello and thanked him. I was standing in the showroom with all these pretty, beautiful and gorgeous machines and all I saw, was Mr. Yummy. We stopped for a minute while he looked at a bike and I glanced out the window. I could see the Face Breaker and myself in the parking lot. He was being his usual selfish and self-centered self and for a change I had a smile on my face. In the vision I saw, I was smiling because I knew that one day, I would be meeting Mr. Yummy in the same said store, because I left some of my clothes at his house after spending a night with him. The fact that the night was something the Face Breaker could never have pulled off in a zillion years, is so amazingly…glorious to me. TFB and I used to fuck, not to be graphic, but that is all it was. Almost every time we fucked, I felt like some bitch in his porno clips. ONE time, after we broke up and he was trying to woo me, he asked if he could “make love” to me.  I had a hard time keeping a straight face, and NOT laughing. I wanted to ask him, “I don’t know, CAN you?” Instead I said no.

I am not saying that everything I have gone through was worth getting to Mr. Yummy again, because it wasn’t. What it was, just happens to be the recipe I used to get me to that point where everything changed. It was the change that was so ever-loving important in my life and the me I saw in the parking lot with TFB, knew that I would reach that state, REGARDLESS of the obstacles I allowed into my life.

Ever observant, Mr. Yummy saw something in me as I was having my small vision and asked me, “What?” I didn’t share with him. Some things should remain private and he knows all he needs to about The Boy aka The Face Breaker, and that relationship. And I know enough of what I need to know about Mr. Yummy, to know what he would contemplate, were he to have the information he wants. (A name and address)

So then we walked outside to the parking lot, where I was given two pairs of pants and a shirt I have managed to abandon at his house in the two nights I have stayed over. I thanked him, gave him a kiss and walked back to my car, watched him gear up and noticed his delicious, brain penetrating smell had followed me back to my car. I paused and breathed him in and while he was looking at me, the other me, walked over to my car and joined me.

I have now had two visions where a younger me reunited with the current me and I realize how much more full I am feeling, as opposed to having that constant void and ache of something missing. A lot of the time, I thought I was in need of someone to come along and fill that hole or void for me. The REAL secret, and the secret I got only from my fall into the rabbit hole, is that it took ME to reclaim the various me identities I have created over time.

I’m not sure where Mr. Yummy and I will end up. In a way I think we are already there, because we have that connection, I realized that when he pulled a bottle of shampoo I bought fourteen years ago and left in his apartment when I moved out, from under his sink. He’s moved since then. He’s had other girlfriends since then, and yet, there was the hemp shampoo I bought so many years ago. He handed it to me while I was in his shower Saturday morning and told me it was mine. I didn’t have my glasses on, so all I could see was the hemp leaf on it, and I knew he was full of truth, it was mine.

I love this guy.