15 Minutes...

It's a really long time when you are dealing with someone who has absolutely no awareness of "normal" Earthly time. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr....

And We're Back...

I have been working on a project for over 6 hours tonight. It is almost 1:00 am. I am exhausted, nowhere near done and feeling angry. The original project was done to specification and "they" didn't like it. The guidelines were sketchy, the two partners couldn't agree on anything and we are now back to square one, trying to get done something that had a deadline two days ago.

I am learning every moment now how important it is to be clear in my communication. Through others who are teaching me what it feels like to try to interpret unrefined details and indecisiveness, I have learned more about how I want to communicate with the world.

I am praying that my energy will maintain for the next couple hours so I can complete. I am praying that, when I am done, I won't feel hateful. And I hope that I will be able to sleep. Sometime. Tomorrow. Or, I guess that would be today.

Or, I guess I could listen to my friend who used to always say, "I can sleep all I need to sleep after I'm dead."

Drama

I am surprised to discover that, even in my space of peacefulness, I am able to create lots of drama in my head and find myself unwittingly embroiled in the drama outside of myself quickly. Suddenly, I will find myself wondering why I feel like I am walking sideways on a slippery slope with one foot continually sliding out from under me and having to struggle to find balance. I will check in and... what's this?!!! TA-DA! Drama!

Sheesh!

I have had an awareness, though, while in a current drama with someone I had thought was my friend. This person has been lying to me for a very long time. From the very moment when I stood before them and asked, "I feel like it was me you were talking about in that story. Was it?" That person chose, in that moment, to deny the truth and I willingly bought into the new story that replaced the truth that I had already intuitively felt and knew. I denied my truth in that moment and betrayed myself. I feel so angry about that!

As I wrote out my feelings about this situation, I began to understand what is going on for me:

I have listened to others before myself for far too long. I have trusted others too easily and for longer than I should have in many cases. Ten years ago I made a commitment to stop those patterns. Since then, I have violated myself more times than I care to admit. This year, when I took on the ALC commitment, I did it whole-heartedly and with full intent. I chose in fully, which left me no opening to back out on myself. I made a commitment to always listen to myself first and follow my intuition. I made a commitment to source my own safety. I made a commitment to learn easefully and with laughter. I made a commitment to drop the stories, drop the patterns and MOVE FORWARD in healthy ways. I made a commitment to recognize where I am violating myself and put an immediate stop to it.

With my patterns of the past juxtaposed with my commitments this year, I’m aware that my pendulum has swung very far to the other side and I have become slow to trust and quick to back away when I feel violated. I have also become unforgiving at the first sign of someone violating me or betraying my trust.

I broke that agreement when I sold myself out and bought into you. I feel so angry about that and how you have dishonored me since then. Your actions have brought you to the center of my crossfire as I find balance between who I was and who I am. I am certain the pendulum will swing to center when I am ready and I will find the place I need to be in to trust AND forgive at the same time. Until that time, it is no longer okay for others to violate me, batter me or betray me. I am providing no leniency in this matter. And no second chances. Yes, it sounds harsh. That is where I am.

And that, my friends, is truly where I am.

The Phone Call

My phone rang. It was my good friend, Jen. We had talked earlier and it had been a bubbly, peppy talk so I wasn't prepared for the quietness in her voice.

"Have you talked to Mary recently?"

I went on alert. I had thought I had more time with Maret. I had thought that the doctors had lied. I had thought that, since we had passed the seven day mark that we were golden. Even though I reminded myself that we all are on borrowed time and Maret more than ever, I still thought we were home free.

"Not since earlier today, before she went to the eye doctors. Is it Maret?"

"No." She choked for a moment and my heart crashed. This much emotion and it's not Maret? Oh. My. God.

"What is it, Jen?"

"Mary's doctor has scheduled her for an MRI brain scan tomorrow. There is a possibility that she has a tumor."

My world crashed down around me as the tears exploded out of me with such a force that I was certain my lungs would collapse. "NOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

We cried together and I sniffled into the phone, hiccuping and saying, "I wasn't prepared for that news. I feel like I have been blind-sided."

And then we laughed together because, somehow, my choice of words were ironically poetic and hilarious. Especially since it was Mary's narrowing line of vision that had caused her concern enough to go to the eye doctor's. I spoke with Mary later on last night. I heard the fear and the sadness and the anger in her voice. I could hear her asking questions in her mind, the same questions I was asking in mine, I suppose.

In the quiet of the night last night, while I tossed and turned in bed finding no respite from the sadness in the depths of sleep, I stared into the darkness and wondered... what am I to make of all this? I feel scared and sad and angry. It feels like too much. This week feels like too much.

I will go to Mary on Friday, in the quiet moments of the afternoon, and lay my hands upon her head. In the stillness we will find some peace and, perhaps, a miracle or two.

Grrrrrrrrr!

I feel angry.

For a long time, I chose to not advertise my business and opted for the "word of mouth" way of life. It worked for some time, until I got lost in the Nile. When I came to, after that lovely adventure, I discovered I had no clients and, thus, no "word of mouth" to rely on. I made a split-second decision one day while at one my favorite conscious-thinking bookstores and placed several of my business cards on the community cork-board.

Within 24 hours, I received a call. I was elated! Until I realized that the doh-head who was calling me was "not really in need of sessions" because he had "done it all and was good" and he was "only calling because he was curious" about what I did.

The second call came just moments ago from some woman named Leona with an accent so thick and guttural that I had difficulty understanding a word she said. She was calling, "to be up front and honest, I am not interested in healing sessions," but rather because she wanted to sell me something! WTF?!!

AAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh...

"He's in jail," his wife told me. I wasn't sure how I wanted to respond. I felt anger, sadness and fear all at once.

My former husband was in jail this weekend. This time, my daughter and I were not involved with the domestic violence scene. This time the police got him. This time when he called me, asking me to be involved and arrange to bail him out, I said, "I can't." I turned off my phone for the rest of the weekend.

I feel sad and scared and angry.

I am appreciating myself for staying out of it this time, even though I am judging myself to have done it in a chicken-shit way. I am appreciating that I knew my limitations and that if I heard "the call" I would don that hero cape and swoop in. I am appreciating that I did something differently this time. I am appreciating my awareness that I want to focus on everyone else's stories and "problems" right now so I no longer hurt. I am aware that my feelings of alone-ness have heightened to painful levels. I am aware that I feel weak and wobbly and as though I cannot stand. I am aware that I want someone to hold me, comfort me, wipe away these tears and show me that there IS something different for me and... oh my god... there just isn't anyone there. I feel sad. Sad. Sad...

Ah-ha!

Soooo... after my heart-rending conversation last night, I went to Life Skills in a fairly vulnerable and emotionally raw state. At one point, I was crying so hard I was doing those little baby hiccups. The sadness was so huge and soooooo old.

I was stunned to feel the impact and that it was SO big. I was confused by that. I feel like I have had huge strides in the "loving me" department and that my body is finally understanding what that feels like... after FOUR decades! Being hit with this massive pain and sadness and... shame? (What the hell?! Shame? Wow! Where did that come from???) Being hit with that was startling because it was so intense and there was nothing I could do to stop the sadness. It just came and came and came. Waves of it crashing over me and through the gaping hole that had been left by the double-edged serrated sword that had slashed through me.

I couldn't not cry. Crying was all I could do. And when I could finally breathe easy again, between the sniffles and the hiccups, I checked in with myself, walked myself backward to the moment and actually listened to myself.

After he said those words, "I am married to her because she had the balls to make the moves," the very first instinct was to lash out in anger in violent and unhealthy ways. I instantaneously wanted to punch him in the face, kick him in the balls and scratch his eyes out. I realized that that instinct was covering the truth of the fact that OH MY GOD, THAT HURT! As I looked at myself in that moment, I saw me shrink and collapse inward. Mixed in with the need to violently wound him, I heard myself think, I am never gonna be enough for him.

What the?!!!

I am never gonna be enough for him?!!!

Good lord!

I am clear now that the "him" in this sentence is the operative word. It doesn't necessarily mean my former husband. It means anyone. And therein lies the intense sadness. I had thought I was enough for myself now. I had thought I loved myself fully. I had thought I finally understood what it feels like to be enough.

Now I have discovered that there is a part of me, still, that is not on board with all this. That part is directly in the center of my body and is now a gaping wound. It is oozing sadness and "not enough-ness" and I am feeling the pain of it all.

Several of my friends kindly pointed out last night that this was a Gift. I have now uncovered the part of me that was still holding on to the old belief of "I am not enough." I have discovered, thanks to his participation, that all of me was not into this loving myself stuff. So, he gave me a gift and for that I am thankful. It was just a very painful one.

Open Spaces

The commercial said, "Are you looking for a career that has wide open spaces? Then we are looking for you to become one of the elite. Apply now to become part of the prestigious Border Patrol. Keep our nation safe."

I feel angry. What is this, WWII era Germany?

Opened and Closed

It occured to me this afternoon, as I drove down the road in a state of such writhing anger, that these days I am operating completely in persona when dealing with my current boss/former husband. It is painfully obvious to me that the occurences where I am in essence with him are becoming more and more rare. I feel angry about that.

I have committed to living my life congruently and in my authentic essence. When it comes to my interactions with him, though, I am generally on edge and ready to fight if he even so much as breathes in my direction. His stories have become so tiresome. I am surprised to feel myself bristle when his truck pulls up to the office. Before he has even stepped through the door, I have already donned my boxing gloves and tightened the ropes of the ring. When my cell phone rings and I see that it is him, I am aware that my jaw clenches automatically and I usually growl - sometimes even out loud.

I am having the story that he is always on the attack with me. This results with me always being on the defense. This morning is a good example of that. He called at 8:40 am. My assistant answered the phone, put it on hold and told me that Charles was holding for me. Silently I groaned. I successfully stopped my eyes from rolling before there was any indication that I was already bothered before I had even picked up the phone. I forcefully held my eyes opened so that I would not close them and groan into the darkness behind the lids.

Pasting on a smile, I placed the receiver to my ear. "Hello?"

"You wanting to start the day off on a bad note?" He snapped at me, yelling into the phone.

"What?"

"YOU wanting to start the day off on a bad note already?" He yelled louder. He was clearly pissed and I had no idea why. I hadn't talked to him since sometime yesterday afternoon, so I had no idea what the hell was wrong with him.

"What are you talking about?"

"Where the fuck you been? Why the fuck aren't you answering the phones?"

"We did answer the phone," I said aware that even though I wasn't feeling it, the remark sounded like I was talking back to him.

"I mean earlier. I have been calling you all fucking morning. Since, like, 7:30. I have called the office and your cell and you haven't been fucking answering. You fucking want to start the day off on a fucking bad note?"

Now I was pissed. I had woke up in a good mood. I had enjoyed my morning with my daughter. I had felt happy. I was feeling successful in the training of my assistant. The day was shaping up to be a great day. Up to that moment.

I closed my eyes and bit my cheek. I was angry. Raving, screaming, heated angry. And now my day was starting on a fucking bad note. I wanted to reach through the phone lines and slam his forehead into the steering wheel.

The conversation disintegrated from there. It didn't matter that my cell phone had no missed calls or any indication that he had ever called. It didn't matter that I had been working at my own desk in the back office which has no phone so I didn't hear any of the calls going into the front office. It didn't matter. He assumed I was intentionally ignoring him. He threw all sorts of pissiness my way until I declared, "I am done with this!" And hung up. Hanging up is not usually the best way to go with him because it generally pisses him off more. It's a control thing on my end. I know this. This time it worked.

But the day didn't get any better after he arrived at the office a couple hours later. I was still hopping mad and so was he. Never a good mix.

I slide into defiance when I am pushed like he has pushed me today. Rather than being smart and staying silent when I want to go into combat, I choose to go into combat. He is never an opponent that I have taken on easefully (then again, what opponent is easeful???) and, yet, I still do it. There is something about him, my relationship with him, that brings out the absolute worst possible aspects of myself, I am ashamed to admit. With very little trying, he is able to light my impossibly short fuse and I become an entire Independence Day fireworks display trapped in a five foot body.

No amount of talking myself through the episode, reminding myself to use my skills and such - none of that helped me today and rarely ever with him. I immediately forget to breathe - I haven't breathed, I am fairly certain, since 8:40 am... until just now and it is 1:00 pm. I become stupid, inauthentic and completely out of my essence.

I close my eyes in the face of this painful awareness, praying that I am going to be able to rise above this petty behavior that I succumb to time and again. I feel angry that I crash so quickly, so easily, seemingly at the drop of a pin. And then, on top of that, I feel angry at myself for still being here, all the while knowing that I am here because I choose to be. And then I feel hateful...

Waxing Religious

The father of one of my bestest friends was recently diagnosed with cancer far advanced in the fourth stage. He died peacefully a few days ago and today was his funeral. My friend is one of the most amazing people I know, who exhibits genuine kindness and love. He was born and raised in a Mormon household but has since departed the church. He and I have talked occasionally about our feelings about the church and usually, even though he is a gay man, he has had very little to say negatively about the religion's views. I have always known my friend to be a gentle soul who is true to himself.

In the last two months, I have attended two funerals, both of which have been Mormon funerals. It is the only time I have been back inside a Mormon church building. As I was also born and raised Mormon and the majority of my society were in the same boat, there was only one funeral I attended that was not a Mormon funeral. That service was warm and full of anecdotes about the person whom we were there to remember. It was such a stark contrast to what I was accustomed to.

Lately, with these last two funerals, I have become achingly aware of the insidious nature of Mormon funerals. Each time, I have walked away feeling empty and drained from the experience. Today, it is laced with anger. My friend spoke in honor of his father and also played a most beautiful piano piece which he had written just for him. Being no longer Mormon, his talk was heartfelt and sincere, devoid of any of the preaching that followed.

I feel angry that the church views a person's funeral as a moment to educate and, possibly, convert a captive audience. I was there to support my friend (as I was at the other funeral I recently attended). I had no desire to hear about the Plan of Salvation or the Three Tiers of the Kingdom of Heaven or that only those who have been Sealed will be one of the fortunate couples who receive exhaltation in the highest level of the highest kingdom. I don't care. I am not there for a Sunday school lesson. I am imagining that others who are also not Mormon don't care much either. And those who are Mormon have already heard the entire song and dance a gazillion times before, so they probably know it by rote and don't care much either. This person's funeral is just not the appropriate place to be waxing religious.

I have experienced these last two funerals, afterwards, in about the same light as I experienced Amway meetings or any other MLM meeting I have attended - and I have attended a lot of those. I realized today, as I drove away, that the reason Utah is the MLM capital of the nation is because there are so many Mormon's here and they are used to this insidious behavior. Hey, I have this great opportunity for you... that could be followed by two men in ties and white shirts with short haircuts knocking upon your door and holding up a Book of Mormon for you, or it could also be easily followed by two men in ties and white shirts, maybe with short haircuts, standing in front of you with a white board drawing circles and talking about how a rut is simply a grave with the ends knocked out. (For those of you that don't get that, don't bother. For those of you who do, I wanna know if you ever said the words "I'm goin' Diamond!" or "I'm all fired up!")

Funerals, in general, are not the most pleasant of things. Perhaps wakes are, but I wouldn't know because the society of my origin did not believe in that. Today, though, was especially aggravating for me. This funeral could have stopped after my friend's tribute. It made sense to that point. It was about the person we were there to remember. Following his beautiful piano piece, in my humble opinion, we all went to hell in a hand basket via the Celestial Kingdom.

The Power of Words

There is great power in the words that tell a group of people they are one thing or another. Like, for instance, the terminology "drunken indian." I imagine there are countless people of Native American heritage who loathe that stereotype. And I am generally not one to use derogatory terminology such as that. I am, however, inclined to believe that the person who first started that title had breezed by the Indian walk-in center here in Salt Lake. I drive by it each day on my way to the office. Each morning, there are teetering Native Americans weaving about drunkenly while waiting for the center to open so they can receive free health care. At any time of the day, I see this scene, no matter how early I pass there. There is something so sad about a system that continues to deal out free stuff to people who abuse it. I realize that all the free systems for the Native Americans were originally started out of guilt by the assholes who raided their land, stole from them and booted them into specific, lined out areas "for their own good." All in the name of the unification and progress of the good ole US of A. Still, it's sad.

I have avoided talking about this next topic because I get all lathered up and in a dither whenever it comes into any conversation in which I am participating. Today, though, I am bubbling over with thoughts about what is happening with the FLDS sect down in Texas. There are any number of stories for one to read on the internet regarding the corruption that has taken place within that compound. The USofA, somewhere along the way, decided that their way of life - polygamy - was illegal. Making their religious practices illegal has forced them underground and behind sealed walls wherein the air is becoming stale and corruption has insidiously seeped through into their very cells. Because their way of life is illegal, I imagine it is very difficult to recruit new blood, to bring others inside from the outside world. For me, their way of life looks anything but appealing, but there may be some that would choose to join, if it wasn't illegal.

I have a theory that when anything is stipulated as being illegal, it forces those who practice it - be it drugs or weird religions - to go underground to continue to live as they believe. This "going underground" is what brings in the perversion, the corruption, the evilness. The mere suggestion that the behavior is "wrong" by terming it illegal, creates the very wrongness and corruption that goes along with all things deemed illegal.

Thing is, in all races, religions, financial classes, educational castes and nations, there is child abuse, domestic violence, rape and murder. Everywhere we turn these days, unfortunately, we see humanity behaving inhumanely to one another, seeking to destroy one another and dominate one another. Our very country is involved in two wars in an attempt to stop the terror in those countries. It is everywhere, even here in the Land of Zion.

But, because the FLDS are a mysterious people, because they are seen as backwards thinking and "weird" and "wrong," their entire lives in Texas are being exploded with state "assistance." The children - who are innocent for godssake - have been taken away from the only life they have ever known. Near to 500 children are now homeless and thrown into a system of foster care. A system that, unfortunately, we all know to be largely untrustworthy and unsafe. They are taking them out into a world they do not understand and have been taught to fear and are placing them in the homes of strangers.

Now, the strangers (I am going to give them all the benefit of the doubt here) are volunteering to help out of the goodness of their hearts. However, this is not only scary for the FLDS children, but for the foster families as well. The FLDS children have come from a highly exclusive life that has secluded them from the ways of the world; they dress like pioneers from the 1800's; they don't know television or radio or XBox; they eat differently. The foster families are being asked to conform to the way of the FLDS children to ease their transition into the real world, to allow the children to continue to dress that way, to not use their televisions and other media devices. Several FLDS children are now in the hospital for malnutrition because they cannot/will not eat the food the foster families are giving them. These children have been cast out of their safe life into the scary world beyond their compound and have been irrevocably damaged and irreparably scarred. I cannot imagine their fears and the wondering of "what did *I* do wrong to do deserve this punishment?" And why, in the name of all is holy, WHY?! is it the children that are suffering? STILL?! They are the victims of this whole fiasco. They were before and now the state is perpetrating further damage. What in the hell is Texas thinking???!

(I am not even going to mention how I feel about what is happening for the mothers of all of these children because we will be here all day.)

In every group there are "bad" people, there are people who abuse others. In every religion there are those who go to the far extremes. Like every group of people and religion, there are abusers in the FLDS religion. I would venture to guess that there are also very gentle men in that group and that the number of gentle men greatly outnumbers the wicked. I imagine that, truth be known, the abuse was no greater than the abuse perpetrated within the Mormon religion or the Catholic religion or any other religion for that matter.

But because these people are "strange" they are a target for the nation. Humanity fears anything it does not understand. The FLDS religion is seemingly very secretive, which is an excellent reason to fear them. When a mob of people succumb to fear thinking, they do not think rationally nor humanely. They only think: destroy. Look at Hitler. Look at the Salem Witch Trials. Look at the Spanish Inquisition. They succumb to the very behaviors - or worse - of those people whom they accuse and condemn.

Can you imagine the Mormon temples being raided such as the FLDS temple was raided? (First off, the Mormon church has enough money and legal finesse that the authorities would never get near those doors, so that may be a moot pondering.) How about a Jewish synagogue? I know that the authorities say they found enough evidence to warrant the raid. Could they have misunderstood the evidence?

I don't begin to profess that I understand anything about the FLDS religion or way of life. I will not be the first to condemn or praise them. I do not have enough understanding to say one way or another that they are good or evil, nor do I feel it is my place to do so. I feel angry that this religion, however, has lost its right to practice as they believe. The nation that was set upon the creed of "freedom of religion" has single-handedly shut down a religion, an entire way of life. How is that right? Where are the people to stand up for the rights of the FLDS? What has happened to their constitutional rights???!

The authorities say that their religious practice of polygamy is illegal. Why? Why is it illegal???! Why does anyone care who anyone else is married to and how many times? Why does it matter if one man has more than one wife or one woman with more than one husband? Why does the government care about that???! Why do people care if a man marries a man??? Why does that hurt them? Why does it hurt anyone? Why is it a problem?!! I just don't understand. I don't understand how it is wrong to have more than one wife (or same same-sex marriage). If you only want one wife and he wants eight, how does that effect you, how does it hurt you???! I get that religions believe that marriage means one woman, one man. I get that! But why, if other people believe differently, why is it okay to make that belief wrong???!

I truly feel angry that groups of people can deem other groups of people to be "wrong." I feel angry that nations can deem other nations "wrong." I feel angry that one religion can frown upon another as being less than and "wrong." And all of that is acceptable, celebrated. What is happening to our world? What is happening that someone can look at another's "strange" life and declare it unfit? These modern day witch hunts will prove to be no more productive than the ancient witch hunts. It only pushes them underground to thrive in darkness until they rise again, more powerful and possibly more corrupt. Come ON, people!

Time, Space and...

...and... so what would I want more of? Time, Space and Money? Time, Space and Sex? Time, Space and Love? Time, Space and Chocolate?

Or, how about all of the above?

Today I am aware that time has accelerated. I feel an urgency around me, as though I cannot go fast enough to keep up with it all. (Which, on the heels of yesterday's post, that is sorta ironic.) It seems that it (time) is sliding away from me. And space? That is so at a premium these days. My petite guest room feels confining. And here at the office, I am being booted out of my space because Current Boss needs to sublease my half of the office for financial reasons. That means I will be moved over to a not-so-spacious space, crammed in a corner and much too close to his disasterous office of compressed chaos. Then, in the airy space where I am sitting right now, there will be a bitchy primadonna interior designer who thinks his shit doesn't smell, along with his entire staff. (Apparently I am angry about this change.)

The additional personages will take up the entire half of our office space. Good for Boss Man who is rarely here. Uncomfortable for me as I will be here day in and day out having to deal with the prissy ass. Not only that, my healing space office which is on this same side as I currently sit, will be in the middle of all that. Boss Man says, "R has agreed to let you use that room your office is in," with emphasis and snide intonation on the word "let." Yes, he has so kindly agreed to let me use that space. However, I know him well enough to know that he is going to want to lord over my time there and I doubt, highly, that he will respect the need for quiet.

I feel the time rapidly approaching when I leave this place, all together. I am scared about that. I am more scared that I am not willingly doing anything to leave this place. I have a story that there is nothing out there that fits my needs. I feel scared to leave the miserable comfort here. I am angry that I am feeling the necessity to change day jobs and find a new healing space. I feel scared that I will have to pay for my new healing space. At this point, my income doesn't allow for a lot of flex room. If I get a new day job, I have a story that I will lose either my time or money. If I add the expense of a new healing space on top of that, I may lose my head.

I am aware that this post is quite incongruent, whiny and jaggedy. Which, in and of itself is very appropriate as that is how I feel right now.

I want to go back to bed. Things seem so much better with my head under the blankies.

Ye-eah. Right.

Hippity-Hip

Sooo... It's Easter. Apparently I should be posting some sort of ode to Peeps or hollow chocolate bunnies. However, I am feeling decidedly UN-Easterish. I am sitting here in my room, hibernating until the very last moment. Not really wanting to emerge from the cool darkness here. I wonder if Jesus felt like that? Do you think He wanted to stay in that tomb? Or do you think He was excited to come out of the dampness into the sunlight to be greeted by, none other than, Mary Magdalene? (Not that I am equating the petite guest room to the tomb, nor myself to Jesus.)

Hmmmmm... I am feeling angry right now. Shit. (Sometimes I wish I could back to the days when my anger was non-existant and my life seemed more pretty.) I know from whence the anger stems. I did another faux pas with my Meditations. Dammit if I cannot get this lesson down!

I am part of a yahoo group of people who graduated from my massage school. (or I was a part of this group. I have now been removed by the moderator who is an "old" friend that I have usually butted heads with because he is set in his way and plays it so by the book, refusing to look outside the box which is his little world... okay, that was rude. I'm leaving it though because I feel petty. Petty... so not attractive) People have recently been posting lots of stuff about seminars/classes/workshops that they are hosting. Silly me. I thought that what *I* do would be interesting for people too.

So, I checked in, dropped a quick note - which I haven't done for about two years - and shared this:

Hi, Friends!

I am amongst the charter members of this here MCU Friends yahoo group. (Hi, JIM! And thanks for setting this up and continuing to monitor it!!! Love ya!)

I am an amazing facilitator of healing through the written word and intuitive, interactive hands-on healing sessions. These are my passions and my divine purpose. I felt inspired, today, to share one of my gifts with you, my Meditation of the Week. I design these unique emails every week, write the articles and include artwork - of which, sometimes, it is even my own artwork. I feel happy when I create these beautiful Meditations and want to share them with the world. I will start with you. :)

I invite you to spend a moment with me and nurture yourself. If you find yourself moved and would like to be a part of my adventure, you can go to the sample on my website www.momentsofawakening.com. At the bottom of that page, there is a sign up box.

With love,
Angie


Then I attached a copy of my latest Meditation.

Okay soooo... ugh... this was followed by a very public and humiliating (for me) reprimand:

Hi Angie,
Although we love ya to bits, this is not a personal blog space and posting this lengthy blog to over 100 people, most of whom don't yet know you and did not request this, was not appropriate, particularly without asking first.
Please don't do that again.
Now they have your link to your website so those who wish can go there and enjoy your postings.
Those who have other interests in being members of this list won't have their email spammed again by this.

If anyone else has blog space, My Space, etc. things to share with the list, it's ok to make a brief mention and include a link inviting us to go there if interested, but please don't post a full-out blog here. A paragraph that you think the group will have interest in, certainly, but a full out blog, nope.

Thanks.
James
(list owner/moderator)


Following this public discipline session, he and I had a private interchange. He was "kind" enough to send me a formal definition of SPAM, implying that my post fit within all aspects of his definition. And eventually our posts disintegrated to the result of him kicking my ass out of the group because he doesn't "need the extra drama in my life."

Whatever.

So, this is going to sound totally unenlightened AND I am going to say it anyway cuz it's what is rattling around in my head. Apparently, *I*AM SPAM!!! I feel so sad right now. I only wanted to share what I love. I want to SHARE and, yet, I end up feeling wounded, injured, rejected. This is more than just with my Mediations. It is a common theme. I am wondering how I can more easefully and more quickly spread my Meditations (how can I share ME) AND keep my sensitive heart whole and happy?

James mentioned in his last post to me: "This really isn't about you as a person, Angie, though I sense it does seem that way to you." This is common feedback for me as of late. "This isn't personal. It's business." I have never understood that statement, especially when *I* AM the business. I just heard this very same thing from my former husband/boss on the very same day, "Angie, you just take this all too personally."

I don't know how to respond to this. I am an emotional being. I am sensitive. I think from my heart because, when I think from my head I get all fucked up. My head is unclear. My heart is always pure. And so, I am emotional. I don't know how to do "not personal."

And, apparently, the universal message is that I have got to learn how to do that. Somehow, I have to develop a thicker skin. I have a story that that means changing my core self. I am uncomfortable with that.

James also wrote: "I think you're a little unable to sense other people, but that's just my opinion and I could be wrong." I wanted to fly off the handle on that one. I am unable to sense people?! WTF!

Then I hear the advice from ALC yesterday... It is quite possible that all I think I know is absolutely fucking wrong.

Okay. I will hold space for that. And I will hold the universe in solution for this question... "I wonder how I can move through business effortlessly AND with ease AND joy?"

From Peeps, to Jesus, to SPAM... what a trip!

Violently Domestic

I have posted a bit about the violence that has been erupting on the perimeters of my life and splattering in little, dripping globs about my feet. I have only touched the surface, somewhat out of self-preservation. Mostly because I chose that this time I was going to take care of myself for real and that didn't look like hashing it out over and over in gory detail in this blog or anywhere else for that matter.

I was surprised to realize that what I had thought had been healed from my violent marriage had not even been addressed. It all came exploding to the surface with a blinding flash when I heard my daughter's terrified voice on the other end of my phone begging for me to come help her fast!

Throughout this past week, I have done so many sessions with my Reiki Master Teacher, my mentors and a Rapid Eye Therapist. I have enrolled my daughter in several of these sessions, as well as providing the way for her to have her own sessions. It was imperative that the imprint of that night move out of both of us. The greatest gift I could give her was to allow her the space to process it, really process it so that she didn't walk around for the rest of her life a ticking timebomb waiting to explode at the drop of a pin. I offered that gift to myself as well.

Tonight I am tired. Moving energy, realigning memories and releasing imprints can leave one exhausted. When one takes it on as fully and as HUGELY as I have, tired is a guarantee.

And yet, I still felt the need to write...

Another friend, during this week, has been doing some of her own revealing on her blog regarding her own violent marriage of years past. She did it in three parts, three consecutive days of release. On the third day, someone chose to anonymously comment, "My don't you make a good victim."

I felt enraged when I read that. This person showed a total lack of plain human compassion. Yeah, I am sure there are people out there who roll their eyes when they hear tales of seemingly unbelievable horrors experienced in moments of domestic violence. And blessed are they that can never imagine it because they have never experienced it. But, I would venture to guess that most people are tactful enough that they keep their belittling comments to themselves.

I found myself wanting to ask that person questions like: What if it were your daughter who was crouched on the floor protecting her unborn child? Would your daughter make a good victim too?

Domestic violence is no respecter of race, religion or financial class. It is, unfortunately, everywhere and even, sometimes, in those perfect houses where you could never imagine anything bad happening. Maybe even worse in those very places. This insidious destructor undermines our society and strips our children of their sense of safety, security. It crawls like vermin through the streets and seeps in through the doors, showing up on calm faces and in quiet voices. Sometimes it is words that hurt the heart, purposely destroying dreams and sanity. Sometimes it is livid silence that speaks louder than any sound. Sometimes it is a withering look filled with acid. Sometimes it is a striking fist, a swinging belt, a head meeting the wall.

And as long as there are people out there willing to stand in the shadows and taunt the abused, as long as there are people who are willing to show their hateful nature without revealing their true identity, this world does not stand a chance in healing itself.

I have a story that this person who chose to victimize and taunt someone who was revealing their pain in the hopes of healing is very possibly more damaged than me or my friend. It is the only thing I can come to because I believe a healthy human being could never show such a lack in judgment and compassion? So I long to reach out to this person and show them that a cracked face and a wounded belly does not crack my heart, does not break my soul. Instead, it gives me the courage to forgive and to love. Even the one person who hurt me the most.

Out, In and Out Again

Up front and honest... I feel REALLY SCARED to write this out. I feel vulnerable and raw and exposed.

It has been about 60 hours since I got that phone call which stopped my heart and sent me spiraling through fear and nausea. I am angry. So very, very angry. and confused. and angry. I feel infinitely and seemingly unendingly tired. I feel like I could lay down right now and never wake up. I am pushing myself to go forward, pushing and pulling because if I don't, I fear I will get stuck here. My head feels like it is full of cottonballs soaked in acid and interspersed with anvils. Breathing is difficult and exhausting. My shoulders and back of my neck are caught in a vice grip of death and I have hot pain shooting from my lower back and down my legs.

Today, as I sit here at my desk wondering what I am supposed to do, I am scared. I used to be so proficient at everything and now I feel like I know nothing. I want to curl up and sleep, yet fear that will be a disservice to myself. I am angry that my daughter is startled at every loud sound now. I am angry that he broke his word to me. I am angry that I believed and believed and believed and... still... it happened. I am angry that his mother wounded him so violently and so deeply that I fear he will never surface as a healthy human being. I am angry that my daughter was scared. I am proud that she was brave.

In the instant that I was dashing out to the car, frantic and literally running to get her although I was a good half hour away, I was surprised that I was dialing 911 before I even realized it. To my detriment, I have usually wanted to handle things myself. This time I couldn't. I was too far away. My daughter needed me right then and I was too far away. She was alone, fighting off a beast and her mommy wasn't there to help. I feel angry about that.

I feel angry that this situation superceded my life. I feel angry that my commitment to ease and flow showed up LIKE THIS. i feel angry that while I am choosing differently for my life there are still others who are choosing to remain the same and it is directly effecting my life. I feel angry that HIS decisions, HIS behaviors are pouring over into my life. I feel angry that I was in a shelter. I feel angry I had to sit for ONE FUCKING HOUR at midnight and fill out forms before they would let us go to bed. I feel angry that I had to worry about if we were going to get lice. I feel angry we had to find sheets and blankets before we could make the bed before we could go to sleep. I feel angry about so many things about my experience at the shelter and the reasons we were there.

On Friday, I felt drained in sadness and fear. I hated that I was going to a shelter. I hated that I was hearing Marcus say, "I want to die I want to die I want to die" as he called me in desperation, feeling like a trapped wild bear, gnawing off his foot to save his own life. I am so fucking angry that this man was SO FUCKING WRONGED by his mother that he cannot see through to the light. I am so angry that she will never acknowledge the damage she has caused and release him from his bondage. And I am SO AWARE that there does come a time when an adult has to stand up and be an adult. I fear that he will die before that time comes for him.

I rose with the dawn this morning, feeling beaten and groggy, as though it had been me he had battled with. I have held space of calm for so many people this weekend. I have been an anchor for Marcus so he did not pull that trigger and end his life. I have held onto trembling little girls while they cried. I have comforted them when they were afraid to feel. I have helped them dance and scream and wail and cry and move their little bodies in the hopes that all the energy of that night will not get lodged in there deep to haunt them in the darkness. I have talked him off the ledge and into the light of reason. I have held her up when she couldn't hold herself up. I have been strong for everyone.

And now I feel so very weak. and alone. and tired.

And I am sad that... here I am again... alone.

Left Out

Apparently my sister and her husband were in town from Idaho Falls last night before they flew out to Hawaii this morning. I know this because my father called to talk to my brother just now and brother told him he had gone to dinner with sister and her husband last night.

I wasn't invited.

This is a common occurence.

What I don't understand is why I am still bothered by this, after all these years.

But, I am.

Place of My Own

I began the process on Thursday of finding a place of my own. I called the mortgage dude - the guy that will have all the money answers - to have him start the prequalifying process. And I noticed that my stomach heaved and bubbled during the entire 30-minute conversation.

I am afraid I will only qualify for enough to get a box in an area where I need to be a tae kwon do black belt armed with mace and pepperspray.

I am afraid that I will qualify for much more than that and, yet, never be able to afford it.

I am afraid that the house I love is way, way, way! out of my price range.

I am afraid.

Oh! And, god! Apparently, I am angry too. Shit.

Holding Up My Head

I had an interesting session with my Reiki Master Trainer yesterday. It has been several months since I have been on the table so it was much needed.

For my entire life, I have looked to outside sources to define who I am. I needed other’s approval and definition. Perhaps that is why my sense of “aloneness” is so intensified as of late. There is no one “here” to tell me who I am. For a decade I have been without a guide, without a compass and I am exhausted from the wandering.

Many say, “You are your own compass.”

Yes, well, that is all fine and dandy for those who have been raised up being their own compass. When one is raised in a religion that teaches its people to seek outside oneself to find answers and guidance, it becomes a way of life. It is not an excuse. (And, yes, I am an adult, already.) It is simply a fact. I was trained to seek and find myself outside of me – generally to God who is a distant being “up there” and only attained through a conglomeration of correct protocols. My compass was a deity that was difficult to reach, thus I settled for flawed human beings to be my guide.

For the most part, these human beings loved me. I rarely sought opinions from others who exhibited negative emotions about me as a person. I rarely bought into their beliefs about who I am because somewhere deep inside me I generally believe I am a good person. I just don’t know who I am.

That is a disconcerting statement for many people I know. How can you NOT know who you are? Well, I don’t. Plain and simple.

In other realms, I am also faltering. I think money is a cool concept. However, I have no education about or understanding of money. In my session yesterday, my RMT asked me, “Angie, how do you create money?”

I stared at her, feeling mute and dumb. It was as though she had spoken to me in Atlantean or some other exotic, lost language because there was absolutely no understanding anywhere in my body or head. I imagine I looked at her as though she was daft and I responded, “I don’t create money. I earn it.”

I understood from her sound of disbelief that there was something screwed with that logic. I looked at her, just staring at her, as I let the words sink in. Money is just a symbol. It is paper with an energy assigned to it. Thus, it is, at its very core, simply energy. I understand about creating energy and that it is my divine right to play with the energy I create and that it is comes from an unending source. I, however, have to earn this particular energy human beings call money.

See, I have been putting forth some concentrated effort to reprogram my thinking patterns on many topics. Money is one. Weight is another. Sexuality is, yet, another. This "create vs. earn" way of thinking was a brand new realization of an old pattern. I get the distinct impression that all of these issues are linked for me. I must earn my money, earn my beautiful, healthy body and earn my right to be a sexual being. Somewhere in me is a program that says these are not my divine right of which I am already worthy. I must earn these things.

She and I discovered that I stop myself in all of these realms. Apparently, I am a control freak. Sheesh. Who knew?! (I imagine that there are several people out there [none of which read this blog, I believe] who would say, “Uh, ye-eah. Duh. Tell me something I don’t already know.”) Well, it was news to me.

And it goes back to this: *I* do not know who I am. *I* do not know how I feel. *I* do not even know, at times, how to actually feel. *I* do not know what I want and, for the most part, don’t know that it is okay to want something for me. *I* don’t know how I want to live, who I want to be or where I want to go.

For me, I am starting out as a newborn. And, I am angry about that. At 39, I am just now learning how to hold up my own head. Damn it! Hello, anger. Is this what this is all about? Feeling my anger??! Enough already! I get that.

Or, maybe I don’t.

Indisposition

...or in other words... sickness.

I read this morning in the blog of one of my mentors, Megan Sillito, the following statement: Take a moment to notice how the universe is giving you exactly what you said you wanted even if it isn't taking the form you thought it should.

In the moment I read that, I felt a myriad of emotions colliding in me all at once. Anger. Sadness. Frustration. Anger. Anger. Anger.

Yeah. There is anger again. Sheesh. Can't seem to get away from her, can I? Even as much as I want to and even as much as I have spent my life being successful (?) at escaping anger, I cannot do it any more.

(I am continually surprised how my blog posts tend to take on their own legs and take me in directions that I had no idea I would be traveling at the moment I began writing. Perhaps that is why I use this to process myself.)

Honestly, I feel angry that I am sick again. And I feel angry when I think that this could be the Universe showing me what I am missing...

As I have written before, I made no resolutions this year. Instead, I have three things that I am going forward with into 2008. One Question. One Statement. One Reminder.

Question: Self, what is my divine purpose or my design today?

Statement: I live my life fully and experience all aspects of my Self, taking one hundred percent responsibility for who I am, what I do and how I communicate.

Reminder: Life becomes lively when I participate instead of watch.

With that being said (again), I am stumped as to how this being sick is working for me in support of any of that. I don't see how it is part of my purpose. I don't see how it is helping me participate in life. I can see how it may be an example of being not responsible. Perhaps I am slacking in that area.

I just. don't. know.

I feel angry.

And, really, come on, Angie! Who wants to read this drivel? This is so not the direction I thought I was heading.

Yep. I feel angry.


... and then... a miracle happens...

Just as I am getting ready to post, this song comes on...



Okay. I get it now.

Weeping

Okay... so this is the day of many blogs (four thus far). "Enough, already!" You say? HA! I am just getting started!

Soooooooooooooooo... I started a blog a few days ago. A blog that stayed in draft for some reason, which I no longer recall. (Perhaps because the blog is now being taken out of draft and being placed in the trash.) What I had written looked something like this:

I am so excited!!! SO SO SO EXCITED!

I have been invited to join a group of women - called Master Minds - and create this marvelous manifesting energy. I think it is going to be the most beneficial thing I have done for myself yet. I attended for the first time today, not knowing what to expect, and totally got my mind blown. It was unlike anything I have ever experienced and although the entire thing was weird and wild and foreign, it was a perfect fit! I am so excited!!!

Ummmmm... yeah... so that is where I stopped. I got interrupted there and had planned on going back to tell more about my experience, about what I am playing with manifesting and how it felt.

Now, about this group... it is a closed group. In other words, people do not just come and go as they please. You are in and you are in for the long haul. There is a scheduled time, every two weeks and it is never missed. They start on time. They end on time. And that... is... that. These women have been meeting for years. One of them moved away and there is an open slot. I was so completely honored to be asked to fill it. I didn't even know this group existed. Yet, they asked me. And my dear friend who asked me said a few days before the first meeting when I was worrying about my different schedule (all of them have huge flexibility because none of them work for anyone else), "Don't worry about the scheduling. Amazing things happen with this group. If you are meant to be there, it will happen." Well, it happened the first week. Something came up and the meeting had to be miraculously moved from Tuesday (their standard day) to Friday. So I got to go.

I work Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday full time. My boss has been so gracious in accomodating me in my funky schedule and wants me to succeed in my own business. He allows me to work only Mon-Wed full time, then a couple hours on Thursdays and Fridays so that I have time to build my own business. He wants to see me happy. He supports me in my success. He wants to see me do it. I feel so very grateful for that. Because I work only Mon-Wed full time, I have to work Mon-Wed full time. All the vendors and employees know that is when the office is open.

Friday's meeting was breathtaking and life-altering and so...so... amazing. I was excited to go forward into this year with that new energy. It was something I was really looking forward to and felt like it was where I was meant to be. But, no! NO! And I am so sad about it. However, I didn't start out sad. I started out ANGRY! Hello anger...

Thing is, I really despise being shown something and then having it taken away. I have the Gift of Sight and sometimes I can see the future outcome for myself. Which is a huge detriment because then my human side gets all involved and steps in and fucks things up, trying to get to the beautiful end earlier, avoiding divine timing and forgetting about others' Free Will. Well, this group was like that for me. I got to try it out and experience it. I got to feel hmmmmm... this feels really good! This feels like I am meant to be here! This feels like a perfect fit for me!

"We're sorry," My dear friend said tentatively. "I have talked with the others and it just isn't going to work to only have it on Thursdays or Fridays. They really want to stick to the Tuesday schedule and we like the flexibility of having the entire week to pick from, if there needs to be a change."

"Well, then," I said, trying not to sound like a rejected puppy dog and failing miserably, "I will have to pull out of the group." I wanted to vomit on the words. And the anger flared up so big and strong that I wanted to throw my phone at the wall.

I could hear the dejection in her voice, "I know. I feel so sad. I'm so sorry."

And I am hearing... No, you DON'T fit in here. No, you AREN'T enough for us to open up for changing it to Thursdays or Fridays. No, you can look, but you can't touch. No, sorry, go away. Only the cool girls get to eat at this table...

I am hearing that, mind you, in my head, not my ears. The other women are really being compassionate and willing to look at the options.

They are.

However, they are unwilling to commit to keeping it on those two days so that I can commit to attending. They want five days a week open at their disposal.

(And, the enlightened side of me wants to tell you that I can totally understand their side of the stories and I see their compassion and can feel their sadness at me not being there.)

And, frankly, right now? The unenlightened side of me does not give a fuck what the enlightened side is saying. It is one more thing that I have been shown and then have had taken away from me. Why couldn't they have discussed this first? Why couldn't they have discovered they would not limit themselves to Thursdays and Fridays BEFORE they let me in?!

It would have been such a different situation if they would have just said, to start with, "So sorry, we cannot conform to a Thursday/Friday situation instead of our standard Tuesday. It won't work." I could have rolled with that. I would have not even minded, actually, because I hadn't tasted it!

But no! Now, I have tried it. It's like letting me have really good, mind-blowing, earth-transcending sex for the first and only time in my life and then saying, "Ha ha ha! No more. You got to try it out. You got to see it. Now... psyche! Nope!" (this group wasn't that good, but you catch my drift.)

I have had way too many things as of late be shown to me and, even in some instances got to try out, only to be told... nope, not for you.

I really, really hate (and, yes! I fucking said hate!) it when I hear the, "If you're meant to [fill in the blank here...] it will work out..." because, in the moment that it doesn't work out I am left with that why not me feeling. That is the worst!

I am fucking tired of it! Tired, I say! TIRED!

(And yes, goddamn it! I hear the victim in that. I need to vent to get this out and that looks like playing victim right now, apparently.)