Monday, June 23, 2008

Morning Has Broken

Morning has broken. As typical, the Sandman only spent two hours with me last night. I finally gave up at 4:15 when the birds started their morning chorus. Right now I can see the sky slowly starting to lighten and the moon is still bright.
I have always been a morning person. No matter how late I fall asleep I automatically get up at the crack of dawn. The best time at the beach is watching the sun come up over the ocean or being at the farm and watching the sun come up over and through the trees.
I am debating whether I want to try and ride early or go back to bed and ride tomorrow morning. It is incredibly humid out. I should ride before it gets too hot but I did drink last night. I probably will feel like crap if I start sweating it out on two hours sleep. For Veritas sake, I should go back to bed. Another reason? It is official. I do not bend as well as I used to. Veritas is ,how should I say this? Fat. Between his massive size breed-wise, added to the fact that he has had little to no work since last year,has made his girth a whopping 48". I am borrowing Dru's Albion saddle since I sold my County last year when I was tight for cash. I regret selling it. It was an extra wide British size and they don't make them any more here in the States. I just assumed Gwen was my last large horse. Never in a million years would I think I would be riding a Dutch Warmblood who has the back the size of Rhode Island, like my Gwen.
I have ridden a few times since losing Gwen. One horse was a Tennessee Walker. Even though he was wide, he was smooth as silk. No posting and I rode with a cut back endurance saddle. There was not one bit of muscle strain riding him, reinforcing my love of gaited horses. That was how riding Gwen was. You could easily sit to her trot and not bounce. The other horses have been off the track Thoroughbreds who are skinny,narrow, string beans when they come off the track. Most were rather short,ranging in the 15 hands size. Veritas is 16.3 hands and still growing.
I had actually not ridden in months when I rode Veritas for the first time. I joked with friends afterwards that when I went to get on him, my opening thighs made a creaking noise like the stairs on The Munsters and a bunch of cobwebs gave way to some moths and bats. Not much thigh action goes on in any aspect of my life, so riding this huge horse did something to my thighs for the first time in all my years of riding. I am bruised and I pulled an adductor muscle on the inside of my thigh. I am a massage therapist so I know what I need to do. It needs to rest. Not easy when you are riding a Mack Truck with a trot that is as huge as his size and heart and using a saddle that doesn't fit either one of us. I just got my tax stimulus check. It should go in to my sadly depleted savings account.
Yesterday I found myself at the saddlery shop for the first time since losing Gwen. Since both Sydney and Romeo are retired and need minimal supplies I never go to the tack shop anymore. Most things I buy at the feed store. When I saw the tack shop's circular,wormers and fly spray were on sale for half price so I knew it was worth going there to stock up.
As soon as I opened the door the smell of leather gave me a warm fuzzy. It is one of the best smells on earth. I thought it might be emotionally hard to go back after losing Gwen but it wasn't at all. It was like coming home. I found myself wandering the saddle room looking and scoping out prices. The saddlery specialist came over to chat me up. I used to massage his horses so we are on a familiar basis. He seemed genuinely shocked that I had sold my County saddle. We both agreed the older ones were better made. He told me he was traveling to Britain in the fall and he would be on the lookout for any used,older Countys. I thought of the check in my savings and my bruised thighs. I told him to call me if any thing in an extra wide #4 ,17" Eventer saddle,turns up.
Meanwhile,I think I need to go back to bed and rest my thighs. Now there's a statement that doesn't sound right...

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

She Was the First Song I Ever Sang

Tuesdays are my Mondays. Being a hairdresser means Saturday is a mandatory work day,therefore my weekend is Sunday and Monday. Now that I have that explanation presented I will now bitch that it is Tuesday. Even though I go in at 1:00 on Tuesdays, I hate the beginning of a work week.
I am a little extra cranky this morning from lack of sleep. The Sandman has been running around on me and has been coming in to my bed late every night. Being the overly forgiving kind, I always embrace him in to my bed whenever he stumbles in sighing in gratitude that he showed up at all.
Last night was one of those nights. I finally managed to drift off to sleep around 1AM when a banging at my door jolted me upright in a panic. As I stumbled down the stairs I heard a familiar sound from the other side of my steel door. It was the sound of a policeman's two-way radio. I opened the door to find two policeman and my neighbor standing there. I let them in and they began grilling me if I was alone,was I OK and if I had any kind of disturbance? They responded to my neighbors call that they heard a woman screaming.
"Mike, are you sure it's not the Boinkers?" I asked my neighbor. The Boinkers are the pet name several of us have given to the new couple that moved in a few doors down. They tend to have incredibly loud sex with their windows wide open. Living in a townhouse with a courtyard, let's just say their throes of passion their ecstasy becomes even more amplified while acoustically bouncing off the surrounding units.
It was funny the first night,mildly amusing the second night,by the third night in a row I was thinking,"are you fucking kidding me? What are they goats?" and proceeded to bitch to my lesbian couple neighbors about why I get little sleep.The only good thing about these prolific love makers was the fact that it never lasted past eight minutes or was initiated past one AM. After another night of porn sounds floating over to my open window and turning up the volume of an episode of Will and Grace, I questioned quantity over quality. I am yet to meet these neighbors face-to-face but I know they have a quickie every night. The thing is with the Boinkers, I am not sure if they don't realize how everyone can hear them or if they get off on everyone hearing them. My neighbors and I questioned each other if one of us should leave an anonymous note explaining the situation. Fact is, if they ever wanted to be invited to join our communal courtyard barbecues, they better shut their windows. How could we possibly be friends with someone when we are asking do you want cheese on that burger?~ and wow, you actually lasted longer than five minutes last night!*high five*
The problem was solved when we got record breaking temperatures in June and all of us where forced to put on our central air. With double paned windows and running compressors you don't hear much of anything.I had a quieter wait for the elusive Sandman.
We had wicked thunderstorms yesterday. The soaring temperatures plummeted down and last night we were left with temperatures that were in the low 70s and noticeably less humid. We could finally have our windows open again at night.
"Mike, are you sure it wasn't the Boinkers?" I asked.
"No,it was just a woman with short screams," he replied. My blood ran cold that the first person he thought of was me. I appreciate my neighbors look out for me. Yet, it is sickening to think I am one of those neighbors that everyone feels they have to look out for.
As the officer started writing out a report I went outside with Mike and the second policeman.Other neighbors were standing outside. This would be the third time officers were at my house in a week's time.I could just imagine what they were thinking about me and my choice of ex boyfriends.
I then heard it. It was a short burst of what sounded like a cry for help. I knew immediately what the sound was.
"It's a Canadian goose. It's probably crying because it's mate is injured or killed."
The officer was young. He looked like one of those guys who grew up in a middle class suburb that has a soccer league, a fenced in yard and a dog named Haley or Cody. (which always makes me feel sorry for human Codys. Whenever I say, "hey Cody,what's up?" I feel I should be tossing them a squeaky toy and exclaiming what a good boy they are.) This young suburban cop had probably no clue that Canadian geese mate for life. When their mate is injured or killed they will cry out like that for hours,if not for days. It is heart breaking to see and hear. The few times I have encountered this horror I am always amazed at the human-ess of their cry. They cry like humans but their mating for life doesn't always get replicated by humans in return.
The officer got on his two-way and reported that the woman in distress was coming from behind my development and to send back-up.
After 20 minutes the first officer came back and told me I was right. Apparently a fox or dog got a female while she was nesting. They found her torn up body across the road. I heard one of the Boinker's say,"you mean it's just a stupid goose? Can't someone go shoot it"
I knew then and there, there will never be an invite from me to join a barbecue. It was at the top of my throat to scream that at least geese stand by their mate,even in death. That's more than most humans seem capable of doing anymore. I never hated a neighbor more. I heard Mike mutter under his breath, " maybe someone should shoot them next time we have to hear them scream all night." I hugged him for that.
The show was over and everyone started wandering back in to their homes. I crawled back in to bed and curled up with my cat Kenni. She seems to have risen up in the pecking order since Sweet Pea's passing. She is incredibly sensitive and will make merring noises at me if I am distressed. I held her close while I heard the mournful cry of the goose. I knew sleep wouldn't come until his song was over.

Artist: The Who
Album: Who's Next
Title: The Song Is Over

The song is over
It's all behind me
I should have known it
She tried to find me

Our love is over
They're all ahead now
I've got to learn it
I've got to sing out

I'll sing my song to the wide open spaces
I'll sing my heart out to the infinite sea
I'll sing my visions to the sky high mountains
I'll sing my song to the free, to the free
I'll sing my song to the wide open spaces
I'll sing my heart out to the infinite sea
I'll sing my visions to the sky high mountains
I'll sing my song to the free, to the free

When I walked in through the door
Thought it was me I was looking for
She was the first song I ever sang
But it stopped as soon as it began

Our love is over
It's all behind me
They're all ahead now
Can't hope to find me


This song is over
I'm left with only tears
I must remember
Even if it takes a million years

The song is over
The song is over

Searchin' for a note, pure and easy
Playing so free, like a breath rippling by

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Joltin' Joe

As much as some things in life change there are so many others that remain a constant. Like my french coffee press. Every morning my routine is the same. I shuffle down the stairs, wading through cats and rabbits, heading right for the electric tea kettle to boil the water for the coffee press.
While waiting I am still half dozing,shelling out disgusting canned meat by products to the cats. Once I have the coffee brewed and in my mug, I sit by the window and watch the squirrels eat the peanuts I tossed out for them while the cats sit around me, licking the leftover disgusting meat by products, off their whiskers.
It hit me today that my french coffee press has been the center of my every day morning routine for 15 years. I love my press so much that it even goes with me on vacation. I cannot abide electric machine brewed coffee while I am in a residence. I don't know why it tastes OK to me if we are out in a restaurant or coffee house but at home~it has to be pressed. Part of the issue of brewed coffee is the strength. If I drink coffee it has to be strong and taste like coffee. Most people brew it too weak for me to enjoy.
I was introduced to the french press from a woman who owned the farmhouse I rented an apartment in. My apartment was my first independent residence after I had left my husband. It was the perfect place to begin a new life. I had my three horses boarded there and my apartment was the small servant quarters that was over the kitchen of the north wing of the house. My back windows looked out over the courtyard and barn and the side windows over the rolling pastures. From my front room I could watch the sun rise and from my bedroom I could watch the sun set. My whole apartment consisted of two tiny rooms and a bathroom. I shared the humongous kitchen with the family. What actually sold me on the apartment was the gorgeous hard wood floors,deep window sills and the bathroom. It had a huge, cast iron, claw foot tub. Perfection. I knew immediately I was home.
Part of my rent and board for the horses was reduced for doing barn work. The owner and I would wake at the crack of dawn. She would feed the horses,her husband turned them out and I would clean the stalls. We worked well as a team. At first I would sit in my room waiting for my Mister Coffee machine to brew my coffee. It took forever. After a week Nikki asked if I would prefer to use her bodum? She was a tea drinker in the morning but said she used the press for guests when she had dinner parties. Since I had never seen one before I was clueless on how it worked.As she showed me I saw that it was too simple. No filters to deal with. All you have to do is put the measured coffee grinds in to the glass carafe, pour boiled water over the grounds, wait three minutes and the plunge the screened handle down. What it produced was the best cup of coffee I had ever had. Why would anyone bother with messy filters,grimy hotplates and clumsy carafes? So the love affair began.
When I eventually moved on and rented a house on another farm, my first purchase for my new home was my own electric tea kettle and coffee press.
So,there you have it. Not much point to this blog other than I am reflecting on the fact that I have moved five different times,men have come and gone, and I now only own one crippled and unrideable horse, but my bodum and I still have each other.
Where have you gone Joe DiMaggio? Easy, he is on my kitchen counter doing it the French way.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Life is a Beach

I think it is fair to say that another birthday sucked. You would think that by age 29...oh,you caught that? OK, 39? *sigh* Whatever. You would think by my mature (?) age I would be over the birthday thing.
Like most children of broken, alcoholic families my life has been filled with disappointments on any holiday. I can remember a Christmas day sitting alone watching cartoons until my father finally called and said I could open my presents. I called my best friend to come over so I could at least make fake squeaky noises of glee each time I opened a gift. I think I was 13 years old.
My sister can attest the birthday deal. If we wanted a party we had to be the initiators. Neither parent seemed to remember what day our birthday was even though my sister's was a few days before my mothers and I was two days after my dad. I just thought that was how everyone spent holidays or birthdays. If you want to have fun you have to be the one to initiate it. Parents were rarely, if ever, a part of it.
When I was in first grade I would attend a friend's birthday party.It is my first memory of the fact that my family was different. This girl was dressed in your typical 1975 outfit of a groovy, bright pink, mini dress with white,patent leather Mary Jane shoes. Even at age six I had shoe-envy. What stood out in my memory was how Brady Bunch the party was. Streamers and balloons, birthday napkins and plates,playing pin-the-tail (I asked for the cardboard donkey afterwards, which the mom complied) and best of all, a big store-bought cake covered with pink roses and her named spelled out. I was fascinated by that cake. The perfect lettering,the swirls of icing on the side. I didn't want them to cut it. To me, that was a present in itself and should be put back in the box and only to be admired.

Years later, my sister had her friends over for her teenage birthday (sorry Petey~ the year escapes me...I'm old now) Much to her horror our black Labrador had eaten half of her cake that our babysitter had made for the occasion. My dad thought nothing of cutting the half-eaten part off and serving what was left with candles on it. My thought now as an adult is, I'm surprised my father was even home to humiliate his daughters. Kudos that pop was actually home for a change. He must of been trying to hook up with the babysitter.

Ahhhh, Memory Lane. Let's all sing Morrissey's "Late Night, Maudlin Street" because the truth is, these memories are actually humorous to my sister and I. My brother barely speaks to the family so I'm not sure he shares the same coping skills that Petey and I do. I now always refer to any impending holidays as "the Hellidays" and birthdays as "that Sixteen Candles Day" in reference to the funny John Hughes view of teen birthday angst. If it can go wrong,it does. Now we just find humour in how bad they can suck. It would be a disappointment if they didn't.

So,yesterday was no exception. Last year, I had what I thought was a final break-up with Prick a week before my birthday. He had started drinking again and sent an email from my address to my friend who is Native American. It was a copy and pasted article about how other forms of supposed spirituality are gateways for Satan. When my friend confronted me I was shocked and horrified at this. Not only did I not endorse or believe one bit of the article,it made me sick to think of anyone having such intolerance. To know it was the man who was continually trying to change my spiritual beliefs and now imposing it on a friend who I respected so much...well, it was the last straw. So I thought.
As typical in abusive relationships,Prick was great at playing the sorry game. Having his sponsor from AA call me to talk about alcoholic psychosis to seeing a counselor to verbally apologizing to my friend and playing up to her abusive past that was so like his own. He knew exactly how to manipulate. By this point I was spiritually beaten down. His non stop phone calls,coming to my work, barrage of letters and flowers where all too much. I told myself that I would not cave in and enough was enough. But somehow I did cave.
On the day of my birthday he insisted on coming to my sister's house to celebrate my birthday. I really did not want him there. The only time I enjoy my birthday is when I am with my sister, so having him there was another invasion of the only functioning relationship I have in my dysfunctional family. But once again he called me a hundred times that day pleading. He kept telling me he needed to make up to me for all the days he ruined by his drinking. I finally conceded because deep down I knew that even if I said no he would show up anyway.

Growing up in a strict Methodist environment one learns that we don't let on anything is wrong,even to our family. Things are not talked about and God forbid! Do not even think of spoiling a happy occasion such as being unhappy on your birthday. My father would deny this but for some reason I was the one in the family who got this message growing up and even now struggle to not act it out. I envy my sister that she somehow escaped this self imposed guilt thing. She can easily tell people that they suck and ruined her birthday and please pass the cake. If she is scarred she can tell people she is and let's move on.
For years I denied even to myself that days like this send me in to an internal hell. It seems each year becomes another notch on the dysfunctional family tree. Prick proved that this was something he quite enjoyed. He not only showed up at my sister's but then proceeded to propose to me in front of my entire family. The diamond was huge. My first instinct was to scream no. But the decorum in me graciously accepted it and did all the Hollywood things like gush and say yes. I pretended it was my best birthday ever and somehow became engaged to a man who deep down hated me almost as much as I hated myself at that point.

One of the worst parts of being in that relationship was the feeling of losing myself and what I always felt was a strong sense of spirituality. My friends always told me I had the gift of intuition. I was one of the lucky people who could see things through feeling energy around me. I think everyone has it but whatever your external experiences are, dictate how you use it as an adult. I am still struggling to regain what I feel someone stole from me. No matter how other relationships in my past ended they were all left with a feeling of my Higher Self intact. This time I was shattered in to a million bits. Thank God I have great friends with really good glue. We are getting there.

The past few weeks were unsettling. I kept blaming the horse shows and missing Gwen (which is still true) but there was something else I couldn't articulate. It was just that gut feeling. I kept looking for signs but they weren't there. When I expressed this to my counselor at the Domestic Violence Center she was happy that I was at least feeling again. I spent the past year so traumatized I was virtually numb when it came to the feeling energy part. The only time I seem to have it is with animals but people put my wall right up. The last thing I could possibly want is feeling someone who I am terrified of. But there it was. I felt him. I knew something was amiss and he was either drinking or having some psychosis that I was picking up on.
It was one of the reasons I decided to do the beach trip. I thought removing myself from where I was and going to a place I always felt healing would jump my internal energy back on track. That was exactly how it felt. I drove home and knew I needed that.

The funny thing about our Higher Selves is that the put us on a healing path that we normally wouldn't take if we let our earthly selves have a say. Obviously I wouldn't have chosen the parents I have or the spouses or boyfriends I have had and the list could go on. Who doesn't want the easy path? Often I think to myself that I wish I was numb and dumb. Who needs to live a spiritual life? There are plenty of numb and dumb people who seem quite happy to me.
But when the a-ha moment comes and that feeling of whatever God is surrounds me for that moment, all the pain is worthwhile. It is what I keep trudging on and keep trying to achieve. That Inner peace.

This week found my mailbox full of affirmations that my birthday should be a happy day. Emails were sent,phone calls, all the nice things people do to tell you they love you. Deep down that little voice kept screaming,"BOUNDARIES!"

When I saw my counselor on Monday we scientifically chalked it up to my memory and finally processing Prick's violation last year that was giving me that feeling this birthday. It is uncomfortable, but processing it and finally feeling it are healing.
Ummm, OK. You say so. But deep down, I knew my Higher Self knew something my earth self was denying.
Confirmation came the night before my birthday. We have had a record breaking heatwave this June. All week the heat index hovered in the 100 degree mark. Tuesday night the break finally came in the form of a violent thunderstorm. I watched the sky get blacker and lightening fork across the sky as I drove home from work. The winds started gusting when I pulled in to my development. I contemplated not getting my mail since it looked like it would pour any second. My gut told me to get it tonight because I knew I wouldn't remember to get it before work the next morning.

I just made it in to my door when the storm hit. It was one of those storms where it sounds like the world is being hit with bombs. The power kept flickering. I sat on my sofa and watched the world tear around in heated fury,fighting the cooler air that was trying to take over. I started to sift through my mail. A card from Bev (thanks Bev!) a card from my exes mom (awww, she is so sweet) a card from my godson (he makes me smile) and then my blood ran cold. I knew the writing. Lord knows I had enough "I'm sorry" letters from Prick to have his writing burned in to my brain forever. I opened it and then called my best friend. All I could keep saying was "I knew it but denied it."
It's not just the fact that this is a direct violation of the zero contact ordered by the judge in Prick's sentencing or the obvious disregard of the protection Order I had served to him, it was what he wrote inside that made me have to hang up the phone with Mich to vomit.

"I saw you in LBI and your car parked at *** Street. I was so sad I couldn't sit my chair next to you. It hurts me down to my very marrow to know I can't hold you again."
My past blog of finding my Inner peace at the beach suddenly seems like a shallow lie. Once again, the man has invaded my very soul, stealing anything that has any spiritual value to me.

I called my lawyer and left a message. I never slept that night. I watched the clock turn to midnight and hugged my cat Kenni. It seemed like the best way to welcome another Sixteen Candles day. (BTW~ Thanks to Cindy for the 12:00 birthday greeting that did make me smile. YOU ROCK!)
My lawyer called me at 6AM. She told me to call the police. They came and took the card and envelope as evidence. All day at work I tried to juggle clients,birthday greetings and cake with my co-workers along with phone calls from the police,the District Attorney's office and a friend at the probation office. I was finally told at 5:00PM that a possible bench warrant would be issued some time the next day (meaning today)for Prick violating the terms of his probation.
Throughout the night I talked with family and friends making nice birthday talk. When another friend who knows my hatred of my birthday called me last night to wish me a happy day I finally told her what happened. She just kept whispering, "shit." My sentiments,exactly. I had to laugh when she exclaimed that we needed to start preparing now for next years infliction of hell.
Even my ex husband text ed a birthday greeting. Dog. Hrumph.
I finally lost it when Shoe-Man called. It was the first time I cried all day. I realized that with Prick I will never have the luxury of a pleasant birthday greeting from an ex. With him I will always feel like a piece of my soul got ripped out.
Before we hung up, Shoe-Man asked if I got any good birthday presents?
"I think I have a nice bench ordered," I told him.
"What kind of wood?" Shoe-Man asked.
I had to laugh. It is one of the many reasons why we are no longer a couple. Sweet guy, who just didn't get my jokes.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

How Can You Mend a Broken Heart?

Now that I slept off another migraine I need to get back to happier things. Like the beach. This past weekend the temperatures here in eastern Pennsylvania crept up to 99 degrees. Factor in the humidity and it was stifling. I decided that no matter how high the gas prices are rising the rising temps out ruled my eco-logic and I needed a day at the beach.
I set off early at 7am. It was already feeling like a hot wet blanket with thick fog as I drove over the bridge in to New Jersey. By the time I hit Atlantic City the sun started to burn through the clouds. When I got off on the Long Beach Island exit the sun came out and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. As I drove over the causeway I started to feel lighter. It is amazing how this is the one place that guarantees lifting me up no matter how dark my mood.
First I went to a small coffee shop and got a cup of tea. I sat outside for a half hour with my laptop but found myself staring out at the end of the lane towards the beach. The seagulls were swooping and chasing each other in what was obviously fun play. It is still pre-season at the Jersey Shore so there is little garbage and stray food to distract the seagulls. I always enjoy watching them in a more natural element before their love of Pringles and ice cream wrappers overcome them, turning them in to insane beach rats with wings.
I then drove over to the realtor who is handling my house rental for August. I wanted to put down the rest of my rental in cash.That was another justification of driving to the beach for one day. My realtor seemed shocked and ecstatic to have my full rent in cash. As I drove down towards the center of the island where there are changing rooms I could understand her elation. It seemed every other house had rental signs. A lot were by owners,meaning they were willing to rent for less and fore-go the realtor's cut. That is not a good sign for people who depend on rentals to keep their mortgage.
After getting changed in to my bathing suit I decided to go to the beach where I would be renting from in August. It is a much smaller block so there are less people even during the peak season. As expected it was practically empty except for a few small families.
I set my chair right up to the surf because the temperature was soaring. The sand was so hot I had to keep my flip flops on to just get down to the surf. I then began to read a book that someone had given me for Christmas. I had tried to start it a couple times but for some reason my brain couldn't handle reading much this past winter. For the first time in my life I struggled with the one thing that always gave me comfort which was escaping in to a good book.
Maybe it was the comforting sound of the surf driving the non stop anxiety chatter out of my head. Maybe it was the soothing feel of soft white sand that enveloped me while I lay on my blanket, maybe it was the breeze that drifted off the ocean,cooling my body as well as my over analyzing brain. Whatever it was, it clicked. I forgot everything that I left over the bridge and got lost in the book. Chosen by a Horse by Susan Richards. The subtitle was; How a broken horse fixed a broken heart. It is the true story of a woman's journey of leaving an abusive marriage and finding love and healing through one particular horse.
Thank God, it was off season and no one was around me. I read the book straight through from front to back with tears streaming down the entire time. I felt Susan Richards was telling my story. Her words were mine. There is someone else out there who knows what I am about and how much pain and sorrow in life we have to face. That my love of horses are the reason I keep muddling through. No matter how many human disappointments I have encountered, my dreams of healing with horses has always shined through. Excuse the pun but it has been the only stabilizing thing I have ever had. It was so healing to read this book and finally understand why I am me.
I read the last sentence around 3 pm. I put the book down and just let the tears fall while staring at the ocean as it ebbed. For the first time in months I felt like I had an understanding of what I am supposed to do.
At 4:00 I packed my things up and headed for my car. While putting my chair in to the back of my car I saw something shiny from underneath the hatchback cover. I pulled it up and saw that it was Gwen's nameplate from her stall. I had taken it off the stall door when we put Sydney in to her stall. I must have tossed it in to the back of my car not even thinking in my grief. I held it for a moment watching the sun shine a ray of light on the reflection of the brass. Even here at the beach,hundreds of miles away, Gwen will always be with me. Not in the nameplate but as a part of my very soul.I know the love I had with her will always be healing me.
I got in to the car and headed home. I knew that I would get home in plenty of time to say goodnight to Sydney and Romeo. What better way to end the day? I still have a lot of love waiting to help me heal.
My car rolled over the causeway and I felt an envelope of peace surround me. That was worth the trip.

Sunday, June 8, 2008

So I'll do flips, and get paid in chips from a diamond as big as the Ritz~then I'm calling it quits

Sally: He just met her... She's supposed to be his transitional person, she's not supposed to be the ONE. All this time I thought he didn't want to get married. But, the truth is, he didn't want to marry me. He didn't love me.
Harry: If you could take him back now, would you?
Sally: No. But why didn't he want to marry me? What's the matter with me?
Harry: Nothing.
Sally: I'm difficult.
Harry: You're challenging.
Sally: I'm too structured, I'm completely closed off.
Harry: But in a good way.
Sally: No, no, no, I drove him away. AND, I'm gonna be forty.
Harry: When?
Sally: Someday.
Harry: In eight years.
Sally: But it's there. It's just sitting there, like some big dead end. And it's not the same for men. Charlie Chaplin had kids when he was 73.
Harry: Yeah, but he was too old to pick them up.

Quotes from: When Harry Met Sally

This was supposed to be a healing day. Actually as crappy as I am feeling right now, it probably still was one. As typical of myself, I hate change and I hate the rug being pulled out from under me. If there is healing, I am fighting it and feeling miserable while it is processing.

These past few weeks have been rough. Between Prick's petty vandalism to my home and car, to his bizarre postings online and the approaching date of my birthday and our supposed engagement anniversary, I have felt on edge.

Spring is a time of constant equine functions,whether I am attending horse shows, riding or stepping up my massage business. This is the first year I have noticed a decline in work and in attendance at the horse shows. This,along with the fact that I miss Gwen so much has left me crying at the drop of a hat. Losing Sweet Pea while I was already in a state of despair was the icing on the cake. So I thought.

I was just starting to get back in the saddle emotionally. I was spending a lot of time with Sydney and Romeo. I would spread a blanket on the hill next to the pond that is in the middle of the pasture. I would then lie back and meditate, letting my brain go loose with whatever it needed to do. After a week of depression and anxiety I finally started to feel like "me" again. I was more in tune with my surroundings and began to feel the healing energy of everything around me. I took comfort in seeing both Gwen and Sweet Pea's graves having a fresh carpet of green grass growing over them. I knew their energy was growing in to the trees and flowers that surrounded the area. Now when I look up in to the trees it is if they are embracing life around them. Watching Syd and Romeo graze underneath the branches on the sweet grass that grew from the energy of my lost ones gave me hope that life is continuing on spiritually even if physically they are no longer here to keep me company.
I was just starting to feel like I was moving forward when once again, my rug was pulled. My ex husband stopped by my work Saturday morning. My client was under the dryer so I sat outside on the step of the salon and chatted with my ex for about 15 minutes. It was a pleasant talk. I was worried that I hadn't heard from him from for a while. He assured me he had just been busy. Before he left he gave me a kiss and said we were, "always good." I took that to mean we were friends and always would be. Considering how much hell we both put each other through with constant break ups and make ups over the years, I was happy that we have found a comfortable place to be friendly with each other.I finally came to that understanding when my ex told me it wasn't that he didn't love me,it was that he could never be married. It just wasn't for him. Unfortunately,I always did want that commitment. We finally parted romantically knowing that marriage was not for him. Ever.
After my marriage ended I dated several men seriously. All were long term relationships. Most were nice. None were men I wanted to marry. I wanted to be married but somehow knew these weren't the ones.
Then I met Shoe-Man. He was a farrier, owned horses seemed to share the same spiritual beliefs I did. In the beginning he seemed to really be a partner who I would share the rest of my life with. We were together for over 7 years. Slowly I began to realize that when the beginnings of love wore off, he didn't really share my visions. Finally one day it hit me. No matter how much he proclaims to love me he will never marry me. He didn't come right out and say it but after 7 years you get it. There were a lot more dynamics that were going on but it was definitely one of the reasons I knew we were over. I figured he never wanted to get married. To anyone. Nothing personal, just his bag.At that point I believed I carried the same bag.

Sally: When Joe and I started seeing each other, we wanted exactly the same thing. We wanted to live together, but we didn't want to get married because every time anyone we knew got married, it ruined their relationship. They practically never had sex again. It's true, it's one of the secrets that no one ever tells you. I would sit around with my girlfriends who have kids - and, actually, my one girlfriend who has kids, Alice - and she would complain about how she and Gary never did it anymore. She didn't even complain about it, now that I think about it. She just said it matter-of-factly. She said they were up all night, they were both exhausted all the time, the kids just took every sexual impulse they had out of them. And Joe and I used to talk about it, and we'd say we were so lucky we have this wonderful relationship, we can have sex on the kitchen floor and not worry about the kids walking in. We can fly off to Rome on a moment's notice. And then one day I was taking Alice's little girl for the afternoon because I'd promised to take her to the circus, and we were in the cab playing "I Spy" - I spy a mailbox, I spy a lamp-post - and she looked out the window and she saw this man and this woman with these two little kids. And the man had one of the little kids on his shoulders, and she said, "I spy a family." And I started to cry. You know, I just started crying. And I went home, and I said, "The thing is, Joe, we never do fly off to Rome on a moment's notice."
Harry: And the kitchen floor?
Sally: [sadly] Not once. It's this very cold, hard Mexican ceramic tile.

Within a month of our breakup he was involved with a married woman. She divorced her husband and the two of them along with her three children got married the next year. No grass growing under his feet.
After Shoe-Man I met Prick. Although he proclaimed to have the same visions of life it became obvious fairly quickly that it was bullshit. The problem was this man was the complete opposite. He not only wanted to marry me but wouldn't take no for an answer.He wouldn't take no for an answer in anything. I was left powerless to cope with this type of abuse. After having no commitment in my past relationships I thought that maybe this is what commitment was supposed to be like. He went as far as proposing to me in front of my entire family,knowing I wouldn't refuse him and embarrass myself. I felt bullied in to wearing a huge diamond that I thought all those years I wanted.I felt like love abandoned me and left me with a cubic zirconia version representing what I thought I wanted. I blogged enough about him. We all know how that mistake ended and I was never so happy to stop wearing a diamond.
Charlotte : You're engaged!
Carrie : I threw up. I saw the ring and I threw up. That can't be normal.
Samantha : That's my reaction to marriage.

~Sex and the City
I confess,it made my day to have the ex husband stop by and say hello. One of the topics we briefly discussed was Prick's stalking me online. It was my ex husband who gave me advice on how to stay private,especially on MySpace. I was surprised. He never struck me as someone who would be on a computer,let alone MySpace. "Who isn't?" was his reply when I questioned him. It then occurred to me that this man is the president of a motorcycle rights group and most likely uses the web to get info out there and to network new members.
When I got home from work on Saturday I punched in his email on the MySpace search expecting to find a page about his motorcycle group and their charity work or functions. What turned up left me speechless. It was a page dedicated to he and his obviously young bride. It was one of those squishy romantic pages that usually 20-somethings post. The worst part was, it was his email that turned the page up and it seemed from the postings it was his words that filled it.
Not once, in that fifteen minutes, did he mention 'we' or 'us' let alone,"hey I am married."
I wanted to throw up.
Once again, I had that "When Harry Met Sally" moment. Or, the "Sex and the City" moment when Carrie realizes Big married his girlfriend after his break up with Carrie.
I could know that lamenting of the fact that it is not that these men never wanted to be married. They just didn't want to be married to me.
The truth is,I am not sure if I ever want to be married.I often think Shoe Man just started to live life without me because that is what I thought I was supposed to do. The feelings I had for my husband are so long gone. Prick managed to erase any hope or trust that love like that is possible. This latest indiscretion just proved that honesty is just not something men in my life value. What the hell does that say about me?
Crap. I have no idea where this blog is going and I have no idea what the Higher Powers are trying to tell me. Besides the fact that I am apparently not the marrying kind who is in agony over losing her horse and cat.

Tuesday, June 3, 2008

Thank You Dear Friends

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.
~Henri Nouwen

Sunday, June 1, 2008

Oh, Sweet Pea, Won't You Dance With Me?

May 21 - June 20
Remember that you should always leave a loved one with loving words, dear Gemini. Each time you exit a room, think of that action as if you are never going to enter that room again. Perhaps you will never see those people again. Make sure you take care of the people you like. People may need an extra amount of attention today in order to feel appreciated and important to you. Cuddle up closely to the people who mean the most to you.

This was my horoscope this morning.
After a fast decline and in a matter of a few hours, my twenty year old fur-baby Sweet Pea, passed over the Rainbow Bridge. She was in my lap with me holding her when she passed.
Thank you angels for answering that prayer. All I asked was that it be swift and that she be here at home with me. Once again, in spite of my internal agonizing pain, I know that the Higher Powers are always looking out for me.
I just wish it didn't hurt so bad when you finally lose them.
Shine on Little Pea.

Baby Sweet Pea with Kimba in 1988