Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Peaceful Mama....?.....

In the parenting books this is how it looks:

The mother sits in the center, legs crossed in her meditation pose. Hands resting quietly in her lap. There is actual light radiating from her heart. This mama is so peaceful, so loving, so compassionate. She is flanked on either side by her beasts. The beasties both sit as peaceful as she. Eyes closed, faces frozen in masks of supreme peace. Light radiates around the two little angels. Their perfect mama is teaching them how to meditate. It is family bliss.

For the rest of the day if they have conflict with each other it is addressed in a peaceful way. They talk about feelings and love in soft voices. There is nirvana oozing out of their eyeballs. 

This is how it looks in real life:

I sit on my meditation pillow and set my timer for 15 minutes. Little Beastie comes down and stands beside me, "I want to meditate too, Mommy."

"Okay, sweetheart. Come sit right here." I pat the space beside me.

"BIG BEAST," Little Beasts yells up the stairs, "MOMMY AND I ARE MEDITATING." Silence from upstairs.  Little Beasts settles into her meditation pose. I remind her to focus on her breath.

We breathe. I focus on my heart chakra. I have been working on opening it. Little Beast begins to shuffle, hitting my thigh with hers each time she moves. Back to breath, I remind myself at each impact. 

Clunk, thunk, clunk, clunk. Down into the basement trudges Big Beast. "Little Beast and I are meditating. You are welcome to sit, but you must be quiet."

"I already have my pillow." He beams at me and holds up a throw pillow from our couch.  He then sits. We refocus. My heart chakra is not feeling like it's opening. I believe I have lost the combination to the lock. I breathe. 

Shuffle, shuffle, stifled giggle, bump mommy, bump mommy, slide, shuffle, bump. I open my eyes. "You know what?" I say in a tight lipped exasperated tone, "This is my meditation time. I just don't think it's a good time for us to meditate together. If you want to meditate with mommy later that will be better. AFTER I've had my time to myself, and not at bed time either." Both beasts began to protest, "ONE," I began the count, "TWO!" They quickly gather themselves up and start to head up the stairs.

I close my eyes, I focus on my heart, I wait for compassion to flow in, "MOOOOOOOOM-MMMEEEEE!" Little Beasts wails, "BIG BEASTS HIT MEEEEEEEEEEE!"

And then it happened, I snapped, "SHUUUUUUTTTT UP!" I yelled. Gasp. I never say shut up! I don't even let me kids say it. I could just imagine the beasts' faces, eyes as big as apples, mouths hanging open. "Go upstairs and give me some peace." I said quietly. I sagged on my meditation pillow. I closed my eyes. I found my breath. 

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPP! Times up. My meditation timer signalled the end of my peaceful meditation. 

I laughed. I stood up way more pissed off than when I sat down, and then I started my day in the real world. 

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Beer Now?

There is a man that I know in his late 20's that is not jaded about love. He went to dinner with his girlfriend's parents and some of their friends while his girlfriend was out of town. He took them eggs and flowers from his farm. I laughed and teased him about old fashioned courting. The night before that I had gotten a date with this text, "Beer now?"

I'm so jaded. I'm trying not to be. Not to be jaded and suspicious. On my Beer now? date-ish. I told the man I would stop expecting the worse. May be he's a nice guy...may be not. This week I'm gonna let Cinderella win, Lisabeth Salander is gonna have to take a vacation. I have a real date with Beer Now on Thursday. Actual dinner and conversation in a restaurant. Cue "Pretty In Pink" soundtrack now.

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Being Brave Enough to Break Your Own Heart

For a month I took a lover. I called him Pierre because I felt like what we were doing was very French. We had a great time, and it did help me feel back in my game. It was a Twinkie break while I worked on a more spiritually nutritious foundation. Contrary to popular belief though, getting under someone else did not help me get over someone else. It did not make my love for my Ex-Sweet Escape fade away, it didn't even move it to a back shelf. I knew Pierre was a substitute for what I wanted. I knew the purpose this man served was not to fix me but to help me explore what role, if any, I want a man to play in my life.

One night Pierre and I did go on a real date. The morning of the date, I sat on Savior Single Mama's porch and literally shook, I teared up as I told her that I was going on a date. Fear rumbled in my stomach and I felt those girls going at it again: Cinderella and Lisabeth Salander. They fight over independence and the dream of true love. I think this time Cinderella took a chunk out of Lisabeth's ear in her savage desire to have us live Happily Ever After, whatever in the hell that means. A few minutes pre-date, I walked in the house and noticed that my sweet little 5 year old beast had decorated the Buddha. She had given him flowers and a party hat and a pair of pink panties.... yeah...really. I laughed and laughed and called my mom, "Should I take the panties off before my date comes?" My mom laughed, "No, sweetie, anyone that dates you needs to see that this is a part of your life." Hahaha she's so right. Party Buddha with pink panties, that is my life. The most important part right now. So I left them.

The craziest thing is that during this time with Pierre my Ex-Sweet Escape and I were going out for dinner, and movies. The Ex knows I've been dating yet, we have texted almost everyday in the past month and I have tortured him with my ripped open heart. I can't seem to be away from him, yet when I am near him I can literally feel my heart ripping in two, and then I drink my second glass and wine and I make him hear about it too. It's really sad and ridiculous.

Two weeks ago I decided I had had enough of myself. I woke up in the early morning hours laying in my Ex-Sweet Escape's bed. Fully clothed (no sex going on there), his arm around my waist. I was so hungover and so fucking sad and I sad to myself, "I am done having a broken heart. I am done doing this to myself." I leaned over and kissed his cheek and said, "I'm leaving." He mumbled in his sleep, "You're fired." I laughed and stood to leave. The day before would have been our 2 year anniversary. I walked out the door and let it slam behind me, and then in it's slamming, the door popped open a few inches and stayed that way. Asshole door.

There is this amazing advice columnist Sugar on The Rumpus and she wrote in one of her columns, "Be brave enough to break your own heart." I have a coffee cup that says it. I'm trying to live it. I'm trying to be brave enough to break my own heart. I let Pierre go because I had gotten what I needed from him and there was no where else to go with such a superficial connection. I have let go of the idea that my Sweet Escape and I will ever be together again, but I have not let go of him. We still text everyday. Today we are going to look at motorcycles and maybe take my beasts to see a movie. His is my friend-ish; deeper and more complicated than a friend.

I'm trying to be brave enough to break my own heart. To let my love of him change into something different, something larger than what it was. I learned the words of what I was doing from Sugar, but I learned the actions from him, my Ex-Sweet Escape. One night we were driving and I said, "How can you stand this? Isn't this painful for you? Isn't this like torture? This hanging out but not being together?" He said, "Yeah, but I just don't wear my heart on my sleeve like you do." Then later he looked at me and said, "Listen, you and I are going to be like those old people who you see walking down the street holding hands. Our love is going to go beyond this. You just have to give it time." Fucking-wise-mother-fucking-biker-mean-ass-tattooed-guru-who-I-cannot-fucking-live- with-or-live-without. I should have spit in his eye.

Earlier we had had a beer at a neighborhood bar. I sat looking into his face and though for me his beauty was almost too painful to bear, I couldn't tear my eyes away. We had gone to see the Batman movie. Sitting side by side we did not touch and I breathed him in, I imagined leaning over and biting a chunk out of his forearm. Eating him up like the wild thing I am. Consuming him once and for all. Getting this shit over with.

But I didn't eat him. I followed his lead of how to do this friend-ish thing. I sat next to him with our love laying naked between us while we shared popcorn with our hands not even brushing once. In being brave enough to break my own heart I am giving up any road map I thought I had of what love and relationships are about. I'm giving up the illusion of control I had over my future. I am doing that faith thing, where I free fall and repeat again and again, "You're safe, girl." I'm being brave enough to step off the beaten path of romantic relationships and forge my own definition of what is right for me. Damn, I feel amazingly strong and afraid at the same time. In my phone his contact name has been changed to Be Brave Enough. 5 or 6 times a day I have a beautiful reminder of my goal.

The sweetest part is that since I decided to be brave, since I decided to just fuck it and go ovaries to wall with breaking my own heart, I have been meditating again. I have been cooking and making my diet more healthy. I have been paying attention to my body working out, doing yoga. Ha, look at that. Isn't it amazing? Taking care of myself has bred taking care of myself. Breaking my heart has made my self-love multiply like rabbits. Who knew taking a sledge hammer to your heart could create something so very, very sweet?

Friday, August 10, 2012

Love Yourself, You're All You've Got

Last night before I went to bed I wrote "I love you" right in between my boobs. In ball point pen. And then I giggled. Today I didn't take a shower all day. I went clothes shopping and every time I took off my shirt there it was to remind me. In garbled writing, half faded, there it was, a little reminder that, Oh, yeah, I  love myself so stop with the fat comments.

I need reminders that Queenpin is okay. I'm still a little bit of a mess with the quitting smoking and the Ex-Sweet Escape. I have days like that. Weepy, emotional, things-just-don't-feel-right kind of days, and I can't always explain what is causing this discomfort. It's just a funky day. On those days I try to be nice to myself and being nice to myself has taken some pretty funny turns lately.

These are the ways that I've been nice to myself: kissing my shoulder, talking myself down in French accent, writing in between my boobs, and buying cute dresses instead of elastic waist old lady pants to deal with my new non-smoking figure. You know normal everyday stuff. I am trying to just love myself through this time when I am struggling out of my cocoon. Who do the butterflies have but their own instincts to talk them through their transformation? Those babies don't have anyone but themselves to get them through their struggle, but they don't guzzle a bottle of wine, eat a pound cake, and start smoking again, they just do what needs to be done to survive and to thrive.

Savior Single Mama and I have been cracking up at my silliness, but it seems to be working. The other night I was on her porch putting myself down about something. Ranting about some personal flaw or other and in the middle of the rant I turned my head and, completely unconsciously, kissed my shoulder. Then I continued on the rant until Savior Single Mama, eyes wide, said, "Wait, HOLD UP. Did you just kiss yourself?" And then I had to acknowledge that yes, my subconscious was doing something I have such a hard time doing. She was being sweet to me. Savior Single Mama and I laughed and laughed over that one. But it was such a tender thing it really touched my heart. It made me feel so whole to know I have this caring part of myself that will stick up for the Queenpin, even against my worst enemy: me.

I do have the sense that I am healing and kind of settling in to this stage of my life where, just for today, things are uncomfortable and I am walking into the unknown. It's like I've just jumped out of a plane and my descent is going sooooooo SLOOOOOOOOW.  I guess sometimes faith is like that. We always talk about the jump, but what about the fall? The fulfillment of our faith isn't always immediate and then we have to wait and remind ourselves that, oh yeah I chose to make this leap.

Somedays my parachute (or wings if we are sticking with the butterfly metaphor) feels so securely on and I feel myself floating, flying, relishing this leap of faith I have taken. Other days I swear there are about 80 holes in those fuckers and I am free falling, floundering, and choking back a scream as I hurdle into the unknown. Then there are days that I just pray for a nap so I can get through a few more hours of this part without feeling or thinking.

This week I sat down to meditate twice. Finally, I sat and I focused on the breath, and I held my mala beads in my hands and I tried to just be. Another way that I am trying to be nice to myself. Another way I am trying to find peace. Another way I'm trying to pull myself out of this hole I've fallen into too (remember the Alice post? I think I'm still finding my way out of the rabbit hole).

I have an amazing family. I have kick ass friends. But they cannot make me love myself. This is something I must do all on my own. I've got to love myself, because this is it. This is my one deliciously, delicate, and short life, and I don't want to waste it being mean to me. I don't want to waste it waiting on someone else to make me beautiful or smart or whole. I've got to learn to love myself, because in the end, I'm all I've got. And when it comes down to it, that is pretty amazing.