Listening To My Life

Twas the night before...

As of this writing, I’ve been crying for 90 minutes, straight. There simply doesn’t seem to be a way to turn off the water works. So here I am, tears streaming down my face, my head hurting, my eyes squinty (how I wish that I were one of those girls who cries “well”) vision blurry, and writing—in case it somehow helps to tell this story.

The night before D leaves is always the worst (that would be tonight). Ok—it’s the worst period before he leaves home. The absolute, bar-none, horrible-beyond-measure time will be the small hours tomorrow night…the ones leading up to his leaving J’s house to get to the airport to actually fly at 7am.

I think my little person somehow believes that until that plane is wheels up, he might still decide not to go. I know better, of course, but she’s very little and thinks things are black and white and everything in the world is possible. She doesn’t get that I wouldn’t ask him to not go…not in a bazillion years.

I had an amazing session today with JC in which, among other things, she helped me understand why my little person gets so riled up, and I was surprised to learn it.

I thought it had to do with something I must have experienced as a child, but had really no clue what it might have been. Today I learned about it, and was astounded that the reality of it never crossed my mind.

JC shared that as a child, I had experienced hundreds of times when my parents left me physically that also included an energetic leave-taking (in other words, they energetically deserted me—my words, not JC’s). And so, the more important a person is in my life, the harder it is for my little person to go through a leave-taking, because she’s SURE that it’s not just a temporary physical separation. She’s scared spitless that she’s being deserted yet again.

That sure explains a lot to me, ringing true with great clarity. I can see my actions and reactions through that lens easily and clearly. I asked for more information as to why it seems that my little person gets quiet and settles down the moment D goes wheels up, and was told that she doesn’t actually settle down, but instead, disassociates. As I thought about that later, it occurred to me that what probably happens is that she screams and cries and is horribly loud and obnoxious, but the moment D’s in the air, she realizes there’s nothing in the world left for her to try to prevent his leaving from happening, and so she quiets down—right up until the next time something happens for her to rage against.

That aspect of myself beings me untold gifts. But I sure wish she’d grow the fuck up. This stuff is far too painful for me (and I’m sure for D, E, and Dawn, too). I don’t want to be the girl who cries her eyes out and wants to beg D to stay. I don’t want to be the girl who looks like she’s been punched in the face when the reality is that her face is swollen because she can’t stop crying. I don’t want to be the burdening girl who drains her friends’ energies. I want to be the girl who joyfully helps D pack and happily shares his excitement about the trip. I want to be the girl who secretly looks forward to his being away for ten days because of all the fun I can have by myself. I want to be the girl who is absolutely confident in my ability to handle whatever the Universe tosses my way. I want to call and do things with E and Dawn because they’d be fun—not because I’m a basket case.

JC gave me some ideas of how I might get there. So far, they’re not working, although one of them touched me most mightily.

I had told D earlier that my little person needed to know that our (his and mine) energetic connection isn’t being broken. I told her, but she just cried harder. Then D said he’d speak with her and sweetly asked her name (she doesn’t have one—although I speak about her as if she’s someone other than me, I’m not confused at all about the fact that she’s part of me). I let him know she had no name, and he flowed easily with that concept. He spend quite some time talking with her about not being scared, that he’s not leaving for more than a few days, and that she’ll be fine while he’s gone. It was incredibly sweet and loving of him, and if anything, she cried harder, and she’s still crying.

D’s asleep now…I can hear his gentle snores, and take great comfort in them. I’m exhausted and so I’ll bring this to a close, go curl up close to him, and cry myself to sleep. Thanks for reading. And for being there.

my inner child needs a ball gag

If you’re new to me, you won’t know that each spring, D goes to Aruba without me for about ten days, or that I nearly fall apart in the days before he leaves. He’s leaving tomorrow morning, and things are very hard for me right now.

I know that that has surprised some of my friends (the falling apart part) because they see me as very together and competent, and so it seems strange to them that I would fall apart over something like D being away for just more than a week.

In reality, I like being alone for short periods of time (like a weekend), but except for this trip he takes, I’ve never, ever, really been alone. I went to college and lived at home. Moved from my parents’ home and in with a roommate. Moved from there into my home with D when we got married…and have been here ever since. So being alone—for ten days—feels really big to me, and even bigger to my inner child.

As you already know about my relationship with my parents (here and here), and my 5%, it probably won’t come as a shocker that my inner child, while bringing me untold gifts, is also quite wounded. And there are just times when she gets scared and worried and very noisy about her distress. Being faced with D being gone is one of those times.

The fully grown and competent part of me is fine. I know, for certain, that there’s really nothing that could happen that I couldn’t deal with, and/or don’t have a friend to help with, and/or can’t hire help with. My inner child doesn’t believe that, obviously. And although I’ve lived with her for maaaaaany years, I still find it amazing that her upset can completely undo me.

Last night, I told E that although I’ve held things together this year better than others, I was actually beyond fragile…and then he called it right when he said that I’m “brittle.”

I thought a lot about that, and finally got it full throttle when in going to bed, and being held by D, I lost it. It wasn’t that I exactly broke into a million pieces the way something brittle would when it breaks, but it was close—an apt metaphor for what happened. Gut-wrenching sobs, the inability to breathe, feeling lost and so very alone and lonely, waves of sadness and near panic rushing over me...collecting the pieces of me would have been a task, for sure. So I cried myself out, and feel asleep exhausted.

This year, I have more support than ever before (although I’ve just learned that I’m unable to count on someone I thought I was really going to be able to lean on in a big way, and that brings it’s own sadness to the mix). And I’m grateful for that. You have no idea how grateful I am (especially to E and Dawn, who show me every single minute that they get me in the most profound ways) for their love and caring.

And I’ll weather the time apart from D just fine. I know that, too. It’s just the days before that are beyond hard.

(icon by Danae)

Springing my toes? Not quite yet

The trees think it's Spring. The grass and daffodils are starting to think it's Spring. The calendar says it's Spring. But the greyness of the sky, and the people still walking around in hats, gloves, and heavy coats let me know that it's really not yet Spring. Not here in Baltimore, anyway. As such, it's not yet time for me to break out the sandals and set my toes free for the season (and you don't know how badly I want to do that--especially after they were freed so wonderfully in Vegas!). Maybe next week?

(photo via my crackberry, in some restaurant parking lot)

The road less traveled

I’m a road follower. A shunpiker. An “Oh, I wonder where this road leads” person. A “What happens if I turn left here" person. I am a lover of the paths I’ve not yet taken.

I think that’s something that’s a part of my soul, and maybe I would have always been wanting to go off on journeys of all kinds just to see what’s over there, but maybe not. Maybe I do it frequently and with great joy because my father taught me, when I was learning to drive, that I should take chances, and take different routes, because, in reality, I could never get lost. He said that if I just kept driving, sooner or later I’d end up somewhere that I recognized.

I took that to heart, and, making sure I have enough gas in the car so I don’t get into that kind of trouble, I often go exploring. That’s why I can detour around just about any traffic mess I stumble upon in the Baltimore metro area. That’s why I didn’t even buy a GPS until recently, and even then, LE had to let me borrow his to have me understand the beauty and the magic of GPS (in truth, now that I have it, the thing I love most is having Mistress Garmin talk to me in languages I don't speak. I've mastered "left" and "right" in about seven languages so far. lol).

Another place I explore is online. I'm one of those insatiably curious types who follows links from ads for things she's never seen before, or from blog posts, or from things in magazines or TV. And last week, one night in Vegas as D lay beside me sleeping peacefully, I did the online version of shunpiking when I read Carla's post, and found myself clicking through to her 365 Days self-portrait project on Flickr, which then led me to the rest of her photos. My goodness...it's really taken me through today to go through them all (with reading her comments).

I've always admired Carla, starting on the day at an Oprah event when I first experienced her magical candles. And, in truth, her blog, her style of writing, and her voice are what led me toward starting Listening To My Life. Today, I can say with great certainty that I have a whole new level of respect and admiration for her, and add to the list of things I'm in awe of, her ability as a photographer.

And that's the best thing that shunpiking (in all it's varieties) offers--something fresh and different that would have never been seen or experienced on the main roads. Thank God for adventures and the untold joys they bring!

Redo

Gah. I hate it and love it when I realize I've been judgmental. I hate it because I don't want to be a person who judges others as not appropriate/good enough, etc. I love it because when I realize it, it gives me the opportunity to undo/redo what I've done.

The other night, tired in Vegas, I wrote this post about the silly names for the slot games found there. And I still think they're silly. But I went on to make fun of (judge) the people whose jobs they are to create those games and game titles. That was unfair of me, and I'm sorry for having done it.

In truth, I think any work that's done honestly and fairly is good work. I may not want to do it, but that doesn't make it less worth being done.

In thinking about this, I remembered a story from when I was a student at Coach U. I'd written about this story, for a different reason, in an old blog of mine, and in the spirit of transparency, some of what's below has been copied from that post.

Back in the day, I was a CU student, and the VA to Thomas Leonard, founder, and then owner. In fairly short order, our relationship ended. It hadn't ended well (actually, it ended as well as possible and with complete integrity)--I'd needed to leave it behind and T wasn't thrilled with me. And I felt a little bruised and tender.

Unfortunately, as I continued with my classes, T was everywhere because he'd created all the program materials.

I'd purposefully not registered for one specific class, because he was really all over it, but my time was running out and I needed to take the class so I could graduate.

The class was called "Buff," and it was all about how to live a buff life (you can still find it online—for instance, here, from Coachville). The challenge was that it was T's idea of buff, and I was super resistant to it.

But I dialed in for the first of the four teleclasses I'd have to attend about Buff, and sat on my side of the phone with my arms crossed, listening to the chatter that always goes on on telebridges before the class begins. I had a major attitude that day.

And then the trainer started to speak. I listened more closely. It seemed that she was drunk! She was stumbling over her words more than a little, and there was a definite slurring going on. I thought it had to be a joke—no drunk would be allowed to lead teleclasses for Coach U!

And then she started the class. She introduced herself, and said, "For those of you who don't know me, I have MS, and sometimes my voice is better than others—today isn't such a great day."

I don't have the words to tell you how instantly ashamed of myself I felt right then. To have judged her without knowing her or her situation was just heart wrenching for me.

She went on to talk about Buff, and to my surprise and delight, said we didn't have to do it the way T set it up. If something on the assessment didn't feel great to us, she told us to feel free to replace it with something of our own.

And then she said, "For instance, I'm living a really Buff life when I can get to my wheelchair from the bed in the morning without falling on the floor."

Ok… now, if you didn't look at that link above when you read past it before, take a second and do it now. And think about how profound her statement to us was. Somehow, by comparison, always wearing "shined, attractive, and well-heeled shoes" pales, you know?

She changed my feelings about living a Buff life. And she changed my feelings about judging others.

What I try to remember, and did a horrible job with the other night in Vegas when I wrote that post, is that each of us, when we do our best, is buff. And that's why I've rambled on with this story. The next time you see a young person with green hair, tattoos, and fifteen facial piercings, instead of shrinking in horror, look at him with admiration and think, "Wow...what buff hair, tattoos, and piercings!" When you hear someone trying to speak English and struggling, instead of making a disparaging comment, think, "How buff that she's trying it out!" And the next time you see something like slot machines, remind yourself to write and tell me about the buff names you saw and about the buff creativity that went into naming them!

And thank you for the opportunity to share this story (again), and to correct myself in front of you. There are many times that redos aren't possible. I love to take advantage of them when I can. :)

On friendship

I got a lovely surprise from K tonight--a little gift book with quotations about friendship, called Friends are the family we choose for ourselves. Ours (hers and mine) is just in the blooming stage, it's really quite lovely (beyond lovely, in fact), and so this book was the perfect gift. I haven't asked her, but I suspect she chose it for me, as much for the title as for the quotations it contains, as she knows how I feel about having a chosen family.

In it, there's a quotation I wanted to share with you all; I'm a quotation lover, but had never seen this one!

Friends bring out the beautiful things in each other
that no one else looks hard enough to find.

-- unknown

I know that that's absolutely true of my dear friends. And I am always amazed, thrilled, and grateful when one of them truly sees me. When it happens, I feel vulnerable, but safely so, and completely able to be authentic. Those, to me, are the best gifts that come from friendship!

5%

Before I left for Vegas, Dawn and I were talking about the sadnesses that we carry inside us. For me, it’s that I will never have a nurturing relationship with my parents. It’s not something that gets in my way—it doesn’t stop me from having a great life, but it is the thing that I carry with me that will forever keep my life from being perfect (from my perspective). It’s always going to be just about 5% “less than.”

Dawn said that she thinks we all have that thing—that sad thing we carry that keeps life from being absolutely perfect and that can never be fixed or reclaimed or gotten in any way. And after thinking about that for several days I wanted to ask you…what’s your ‘5%” thing?

(posted from the Atlanta airport enroute to home--free WiFi is the coolest thing, EVER!!!)

Who thinks up these things?

One last thing from Vegas...

As I mentioned, we spent no time in casinos, but the way things are set up here, we spent an awful lot of time walking through them.

And tonight, I felt seriously drawn by the names of the slot machines. Unlike Hallmark-card-writer, I can't imagine ever being interested in the job of slot-machine-game-namer.

Consider these gems: Twice Your Monkey, Lucky Lion Fish, Rich Little Piggies, Village People Party, and Fairy's Fortune....

I realize they're designed to capture the eyes of people who like whatever topic or theme the name brings to mind, but...c'mon. In general, I wonder what the likes of Dean, Frank, and Sammy would think of today's Vegas?

So many animals, so little time!

I'm a smartass. I know it.

Actually, someone called me that a few months ago, and I quipped in reply, "I'm not a smartass, I'm quick-witted!"

Yeah...ok, I'm a smartass.

Anyway, I swear, I've seen more animals here in Vegas than I've seen, in total, in the past five years!

Yesterday started with D wanting to go see the shark reef at Mandalay Bay. There I saw sharks, and eels, and stingrays, and lion fish, and well, tons of fish. Of greatest interest to me was this picture in front of the piranha tank:

I've heard about their teeth. I've seen their teeth in a freeze-dried skeleton. But that picture.. it really drives home why you want to keep your hands away from those things.

Then, it was on to Sigfried and Roy's Secret Garden at the Mirage (I find something slightly perverse about that name, btw). Although old S&R are no longer doing their animal act, they've apparently lent their name to this zoo-like enclosure where you can see lions, tigers, panthers, and leopards. My fav pic from there is this one:

Or maybe it's this one...I'm not sure:

Then we went to see the baby dolphin (named Dr. Pepper), also at the Mirage. Cute, he is.

I thought I was finished, but today had me standing underneath a plexiglass ceiling looking up at the underside of three sleeping lions at MGM. In case you've ever wondered what that looks like, here's a glimpse:

And here's how they looked from a regular view:

Tonight we saw animals of a different sort... humans, this time, performing in Stomp Out Loud. I mention it here, because there was something even more wild and primal about their dancing than I witnessed in any of the "wild" animals. It was awe-inspiring, to say the least. If you have a change to see it, do. This is what a live show should be, and it gives to the audience what live theatre should give.

We're back home late tomorrow. Oddly, I feel well-rested, even though this trip has been more active than any other Vegas trip we've done. This is, as D pointed out to me tonight, because we didn't waste any time, energy, or money sitting in a casino, and instead went and saw things and did things we thought would really make us happy. He's right, and I'll have to remember that the next time we're back here.

More later in the week... hope you all are well and happy!

I am such a comfort whore

My closest friends know how true that is.

If it's not comfortable, I don't want to know about it, much less experience it. Life's just too short.

I used to write about it now and then in my old blog, and for a time, even had a blog devoted to all things comfortable and comforting (I still haven't taken it down, so although there's nothing new there, if you care to see it, look here). I just don't seem to do very well with blogs that are tightly focused, and as happened with that one, I get bored doing only one topic, and move on.

One of my absolute favorite things, though, is amazingly comfortable/comforting hotels. For a hotel to qualify, it has to be both of those things, and be beautiful, welcoming, and offer a high quality of service. The one thing it cannot be is snotty or pretentious; pretending to be more than it actually is (and that, btw, usually is transmitted to guests via the hotel staff; I look for a staff that's been trained to make everyone feel welcome and valued).

Right now, for me, there's just one hotel on the list, and that's The Benjamin in New York. It's just the most delicious place!!!

But I suspect I've found another here in Vegas, and I'm already drooling at the prospect of coming back to stay there and actually find out if I'm right.

I've been in every major hotel here in the course of my visits, and really haven't been overly impressed with any of them. But today, I walked into Wynn, and was blown away. It's funny, too because I haven't heard much about it, and the one person I had heard from didn't seem impressed.

I, on the other hand, was utterly blown away.

There's a feeling I got the instant I walked through the door that I just wanted more of (there's the whore part). And I was fascinated by the decorative detail throughout the public spaces. Nothing about any of the spaces was without fabulous use of color and detail. Nothing was cold or sterile in the least. Even as I was surrounded by very high end stores (like Chanel, Dior, Louis Vuitton, and Manola Blahnik) where I would never shop, I didn't feel out of my element or as I've felt in other places that, "this isn't the place for me." In fact, every time I turned around I found another surprise to delight me--a wooden tub in a corner with flowers floating in water, gorgeous "non-traditional" chandeliers in the Esplanade (shopping area), restaurant menus that would keep any foody insanely happy for months, marble floor inlaid with mosaic flowers, sparkling lights in trees leading out of Reception, curved escalator, amazing use of light through monsterously huge doors and windows, a bar that uses parasols for it's decor (and name!) --it just never seemed to end. Here are a few snaps to show what I mean:

I've spent a lot of time trying to figure out what it is about Wynn that fascinates me so. And I have it....it's whimsical. Gorgeous, elegant, refined, top-shelf, and whimsical. I felt invited to be there, and called to play. And that's a good thing, to me. A great thing, actually. What I realized it's missing, here in this big beautiful gaudy town, is a theme. There are no sirens, no canals, no living statues, no dancing fountains, no knights, no slanted pyramid rooms. It's just a gorgeous, inviting hotel with plenty to do and see. Brilliant, that!

Oh, and back here at the hotel, I went to the website for the first time. Go. It's another welcoming thing--and you'll understand when you see it. I especially love that Steve Wynn's greeting on the main page talks about how the site has "surprises" for you to find. See? Whimsy and an invitation to play, even on the site. Yay!!

If you've been and stayed at Wynn, I'd love to hear your experiences. Before I leave Vegas, I'm going to try to arrange to see one of the suites for a retreat I lead; I think Wynn could be a magical next place to have it. :)