Thoughts...

I'm in an Enigma and jasmine candle sort of mood right now. I am reeling and my mind is going an infinite number of miles per hour. It's like someone just turned on stadium lights in my room, and I am visually blind, which has caused all of my other senses to kick into overdrive. The word "understanding" never meant more to me than it does right now.

As you know, I've been going through this process of transformation, and I have to say, it's far beyond anything I could have ever imagined. Boy, I thought I was empowered to the hilt when I wrote my last blog. That's nothing compared to how I feel now. I can't believe it's that simple, that logical, and that obvious. Okay, you're thoroughly confused right now. Let me explain.

Again, through the direction of my physical guide, I have been led in a direction and to a necessity I couldn't see on my own. I was told to buy a book titled, "The Secret," and to give it to my son as penance to read for some recent misbehavior. I bought the book today, tossed it on the front seat of my car, and was glad it only cost me $17.50. I dropped some McD's off for my son and headed back out to get my hair cut. Just before I got out of the car, (at the dreaded mall) I realized there would be a long wait since it was a day off for a lot of people. I grabbed the book thinking, "It's got to be better reading than fashion and hair magazines." I battled my way throught the throngs of people - all in a hurry - and made my way to the salon. As I'd suspected, there was going to be a 30 minute wait. I plopped down in the wooden chair and instinctively grabbed a hairstyle book to see what magic I wanted the stylist to create today. I got bored with that quickly and resolved myself to a trim. The usual drama was going on around me, crying babies, toddlers smashing cookies on the floor, people with blank faces, and all the vibes that go with it. I opened the book and began to read the introduction. I was about two pages into it when it was time to hit the chair. I didn't want to close the book and almost decided to skip the haircut and find a nice quiet place to read. Well, as fate would have it, I looked in the mirror and realized I had wings that just had to be chopped. The chair won at that moment.

After rushing through the rest of my hectice day, I sat at my computer and just fiddled around. I knew I had to pick my daugther up at work , so I didn't want to get too involved with anything. After picking her up, stopping at the gas station for goodies and my loathed pack of cigarettes, we headed home, just chatting idly about nothing really. I wanted to get home so I could read some more. I'd been very intrigued with the DaVince code for a while and couldn't read enough about it, but that is nothing compared to this. It was like some kind of magnetic draw. My next destination was a sea salt and lavender bath.

I put on some mellow music, drew my bath, and enjoyed the wonderful lavendar aroma permeating the air. The jasmine scented candle I had burning meshed well with the floral scent. I slid into the tub, the hot water drawing me in. It was blissful. I opened the book and began to read. The words shot off the pages like little needles and covered me with a physical sensation I will never be able to describe. Each word seeped into my brain like water into beach sand, and opened my mind beyond places I thought it could stretch. The last lotus petal opened up and revealed the heart of the blossom.

My existance will change now. Everything will be as I want it to be, because that is what my thoughts will attract. My thoughts are and have been my life. Now my life is and will be my thoughts.

The Influence of music...

Music has always had a tremendous impact on me. It defines my moods, thoughts, and ideas. I'm not particularly picky about what type of music I listen to, though I have my preferences. I've never really been a country music fan and opera is something I can only take in small doses. I choose what I listen to primarily based on my thoughts. When I first get home from work and I'm all wound up, interestingly enough, I like to play something upbeat, as a matter of fact, it's the only time I listen to female artists like Michelle Branch, Dido, Alicia Keys, and others like them. I have to laugh because the music, the lyrics, give me pause to sing along and feel upbeat, only realizing afterward that most of the songs have to do with some painful aspect of a relationship. There has to be some humor in that!

Once I've relaxed and I sit down to check out my writing site, I listen to, yep silence. I download the day, all the crap that comes with it, and prepare myself for me time. My favorite time. I make it a point to lay down and relax my body, along with my mind, for at least ten minutes each evening. Creating a comfortable enviornment is not only important, it also adds to my ability to write. I have an antique, wrought-iron, gothic-looking, pub lamp (well, I don't know how antique it really is) that has a red bulb in it. It casts just enough light to smooth out the darkness, but puts a peaceful hue into the room. My favorite incense is Goloka NAG CHAMPA Agarbathi, very heady scent, but drifts around the room nicely. I turn on my small fountain (water is very important to me, must have been a fish in another life) and relax into the sensation of sound that reminds me of rain. Finally, I titillate my aural craving for music that will put me into the zone. Oh, I forgot to mention, an occasional glass of wine adds a nice touch.

Now is when I like to listen to Electronica/Trip-Hop, like Massive Attack (my favorite group and not one I would have thought I'd listen to with a name like that. It is deceptive), or Alternative music like, Mercury Tea Company or Portishead. This type of music puts me in a writing mood, as a matter of fact, I'm listening to it now, so this will probably be a lengthy blog entry. I'll apologize in advance. I fluctuate between writing and talking (via Internet, what a great invention) to the dearest person I know. Now, talking to this friend begins to evoke another thought process...

Yeah, the time comes to play Enigma, Opeth, or A Perfect Circle. This is the time I begin to realize the amazing life I lead. After fulfilling my obligations as mother and provider, I retreat into a place that is peaceful and safe, a place that gives me comfort in my solitude. Being alone is probably the hardest trial we as humans face in our lifetimes. We're not meant to be solitary creatures, every whole is made up of two halves, on equal levels. So, back to the music...This type of music makes my body feel alive. It makes me realize I feel comfortable in my skin, and I have no need to try and turn back time, I'm not so bad at this stage in my life. I feel the joy of just feeling, a new sensation that has developed. I need not go into detail about particulars, but suffice it to say desires arise...

Just before I go to sleep, I put on Amethystium or Bluestone, to accompany me into slumber, and then I dream...

While writing this, I had to smile, because I've lived in the pits of hell, and here I am, reveling in my freedom and strength. I feel empowered enought to say that I can achieve anything I set out to do, and I plan to do much.

Now, if there is head scratching going on, wondering what the hell this blog means, each of these entries is a piece of the puzzle that is me. As each piece falls into place, the big picture of who I am will become a realization. I hope to inspire women out there, who think they are stuck in a hopeless nightmare, that there is absolute peace (despite the daily struggles to make ends meet) in regaining their lives. There is nothing more precious than that.

The darkness is fading...

The visions are becoming obscure to say the least. I reflect back on a time when moments of standing still in my life would evoke memories of a very painful past. The snipets of emotional peace were few and far between the darkness that enveloped me. Eventually the "why me's" became "when does it stop." I tried to come to terms with the reasons for events in my life, but the answers never really seemed to come to me.

I developed an aversion/fascination with men. The underlying current in my life was that I was destined to gravitate to the "bad" ones, either that or they gravitated toward me. I must have had that "treat me like shit" magnet. The progression of my male influences set me on a path that was bound for destruction. Self-destruction.

The beatings and emotional abuse as a child didn't begin until I was seven. There was no escape, no way out, after all, I was just a child. The feeling of being trapped became a reality that developed over time and placed me into that pattern for years to come. I spent a lot of time alone as a child and teenager. My comfort zone was in my room, listening to music, reading, writing, and dreaming of the day that I would be free. In the meantime, I tried like hell to avert the abuse by putting every ounce of effort I had into being the perfect daughter. I had no idea what perfection was, but I still tried to obtain it. My last beating was at the age of seventeen, I finally stood my ground with no regard as to what the repercussions would be. My father must have sensed a certain danger in my words and actions, because it stopped as quickly as it had begun ten years earlier. The sense of empowerment and control over my life created a change in me that was profound. I would never be a victim again. Little did I know that ten years had already created the need to please an "audience of one." The path was set and I was on it for the long haul.

At nineteen I met the "man of my dreams." The abuse began early on; however, the need to please, to love, to be loved, was paramount and strong enough to make me ignore the reality of where I was headed. At twenty I was married, and at twenty-one I had a child. A daughter. At twenty-four I was divorced and broken in every way because of the emotional abuse. He never laid a hand on me, but at times I'd wished for that, at least bruises heal. The attack on emotions is a difficult demon to battle. The nightmare was over, but the path was even deeper ingrained in me.

At twenty-five I was remarried to a man that had witnessed much of the trauma I had gone through with my first husband. He was a friend, a confidant, and someone that reiterated on a regular basis that he could not understand the reason for the abuse I had endured. It sickened and angered him; he could never fathom treating me that way, because I was an amazing woman. I trusted those words. The next eight years would prove those words to be chains that bound me to an even darker and soul draining existence. At thirty-four I was alone again, this time with two children.

For six years I struggled through days and nights trying to survive in a harsh world while battling the unforgiving self-blame that consumed me even further, then I met "him." Tall, dark,handsome, intelligent, and very kind. On the surface. His brand of abuse was one I had not yet experienced. I was convinced that I loved him more than life, and I spent every day trying to show him that. He was an alcoholic, like my second husband; he just disguised it better by lulling me into that world. Though he wined and dined me, took me places, bought me gifts and was nice to my kids, there was a darker side to him. As time passed, I found myself crying more and more on lonely nights while hugging my pillow and asking "God" to make it better. I needed a reprieve from the bad. We were together for two years, until I walked away from him. I was devastated, crushed, emotionally destroyed and determined to never get involved in a relationship again. I didn't have a problem with the idea that I would spend the rest of my time here alone. It gave me a bizarre sense of peace and tranquility.

Eight years have passed since then, and I am still a single woman, still raising my children, and still fighting the world. Though I have become stronger, more determined, and much more forgiving of my choices, there was a sense of something missing. The solitude of my life has given me a sense of comfort and stability in the reality that I am not being abused and never will be again.

I only realized recently that there has been an overwhelming amount of love buried deep in the recesses of my being. The fear of letting it go was more intense than any fear I have ever felt before. There has always been a very real and very healing sense of being for the love of my children, but in that reality I came to understand something that rocked my world. Through the role of daughter, wife, girlfriend, and lover, I had never really given or recieved love. I never shed a tear during the "it's over phase," and just moved forward in life with the understanding that I could heal quickly, because I had never really opened myself, mind, heart, body, and soul to anyone. I had never received it either. The risk of being hurt beyond repair has been a powerful tool to keep me from taking that step.

That has changed. I have felt a deeper sense of love for who I am as a whole, and I have given a deeper level of love than I thought possible. Not storybook, cliche love, but love for what it is meant to be, the acceptance of myself as a beautiful spirit with much to give and the ability to receive in return. It has all come from "allowing," and I am grateful beyond words.