Crossroads

I'm having another midnight moment.

This time last week, I was also awake. But it was for a dark, deep reason. Several things that were out of my control have happened in the last year and the minute they happened, my body reacted with pain. Whether it was the queasy stomach or the headaches, but something made me feel very uneasy.

But with most uneasiness, especially something that can’t be pinpointed; I have a tendency to rationalize it away. I dismiss them as worries that I was bringing upon myself. Then something else happened just before Christmas that I knew made me feel very uncertain, but denial is a strong pull and again, I dismissed it, buried it deep in my subconscious.

They say that as ‘modern society’ we have forgotten that distinct flight or fight instinct set to keep us alive. But since we don’t have to hunt for our food, or fight our enemies to the death, our instincts instead become stress.

Intellectually I knew what was the cause of my distress, I just ignored it until the internal conflicts led to a diminished immune system, distressing bouts of insomnia and the disturbing dreams that left me lost and wandering. I felt soul sick. I doubted myself, I found myself restless and worse; I found myself bored. In the past, boredom has been my worst enemy. It leads to a subtle disengagement and in youth, into very dangerous territory.

Once, I found a great distraction that re-lit the fire of ambition and self-determination. But in the end, it was just that, a distraction, nothing more than a sop for my psychic lethargy.

Finally, things came to a head last week and I was forced into a deep soul searching dive. I looked for portends and signs. I talked with friends and introduced myself to friends of friends, searching for answers, directions and perspective.

And all that I needed came. My questions were answered. I finally admitted to myself that I was going in the wrong direction. I was on the road to my person hell, a place I have visited before and I did not want to visit again. Because you can only go to hell so many times before you decide to surrender to the flames and die.

If I can give an inspiring speech, dispensing my faith and optimism to someone else, why could I not take the same advice for myself? Did I not have faith in myself? Was I a hypocrite or was I going to practice what I preach?

My head and heart still discussed and over analyzed as they often do. But this time they were in agreement. So this past Monday, I did not quit. No, I gave in to the greatest ambition in life, to pursue happiness and peace. And in tendering my resignation to the corporation that gave me a pay check for twelve and a half years, I took that leap of faith.

I knew that until I took that leap over the cliff, I will never know how strong my wings truly are.

I love a nice road trip; I get into all kinds of great adventures. This time, it’s the adventure of my life. In these dark midnight moments, I am frightened of what I have done and the fear will increase when the day I finally walk out of those doors permanently.

I have been operating under fear for years but I won’t bend to it anymore. I will take that leap of faith. I will find my personal truths. I won’t be driven by fear nor tempted by complacency.

I have been several times blessed, kissed by the universe, to understand that I stand at a crossroad of my life.  In acknowledging that, I find clarity. And in a life full of wandering and musings, clarity is a precious gift.

One more week of employment, one more paycheck and then I’m left to my own devices. To find a new path, because I believe with my whole heart and soul, it has never been about the money, it has always been about my soul.

The Real Meaning of Valentine's Day

Two very interesting stories jumped out at me today. The first one was about one of the story of St. Valentine.

The Bloody History of St. Valentine

I’d never heard of that version of St. Valentine, so it was very interesting since today is St. Valentine’s Day.

Then tonight I read about Ellen Page, a young lady of great talent. She garnered much acclaim in the movie "Juno", when she was only 20 years old.

If you live in a world where you don't know one single lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender person, then allow me to introduce you to Ellen Page, who's unexpected announcement showed courage and eloquence.

Ellen Page's Eloquent Valentine's Day Speech

Take the time to watch her full speech. Listen to her voice quake and as she continues, her hand shakes harder as her other hand begin to clench, perhaps to control her emotions.

Valentine's Day is to commemorate St. Valentine, the priest who married people and was killed for it.

Ellen's bravery today exemplifies the same bravery in the name of love.

Happy Valentine's Day 2014

Wake Me When September Ends

My birthday is Sept 30^th but every year I want nothing more than to hide myself in a cave and tell the world to go away because I hate my birthday.  It’s not about the years piling on to my life, it’s not about a fear of balloons nor distaste for cake. It’s the day and the celebration of my birthday that I detest.

It is irrational, it’s something I have always felt my entire life. So over the years, it extended to the beginning of school as well as the onset of autumn. 

In time, it became almost paralyzing. When the Labor Day weekend descended, I fell into a sulk, eventually turning into seasonal depression. I always assumed it was because I HATED school. So I couldn’t wait to graduate and never have to go back to school ever again. Oddly, I was a straight A student, advanced classes and on the Dean’s list for the last two years of college (I was too busy socializing on the first two years). Yet I hated school.

 Then when I did graduate, I thought that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach would stop affecting me at September.  It didn’t. Instead, I started to hate fall. I hated the nip in the air, I ignored the colors of the trees and I just wanted to skip fall and head straight into winter. 

Over the years, it became almost pathological how much I hated fall. 

Then it was a random conversation I had with someone that suddenly caused an epiphany. I was telling someone at the office that I really didn’t want my birthday celebrated.   

One year my boss at the time, sent me flowers. I hid it in my cabinet. You should have seen my boss’s face when she came by my cubicle asking if I had gotten the flowers and was aghast when she saw I had shoved it in my cabinet instead.  To make sure something like that wouldn’t happen again, I was telling the department admin that I would really like my birthday to pass unrecognized.

You see, it wasn’t school, it wasn’t fall; it was my birthday celebration that I hated.

You see, when I was 11yrs old, we celebrated my birthday, which fell on a Sunday that year, by going to a forest preserve to enjoy the fall colors. That year we had my mother’s cousin staying with us as well as my grandmother, so we had a full house. And cousin Joy had her boyfriend visiting as well, so off the clan went to celebrate my birthday with a picnic in the park and enjoying the fall season.

There was a fall festival so my parents let my younger brother and I run off after Joy and her boyfriend. Because the combination of my brother and me was made somewhere just north of hell, we decided we would have fun. We hid from my older cousin and her boyfriend, ducking behind trees, bushes and yes cars.

But we weren’t that good; because it was obvious they saw us. So we did something more daring, my brother and I decided that we would trail them from across the road. 

It was a two lane country road that had bumper to bumper traffic because of the fall festival.  So it was easy to just zip back and forth. I led the way and my brother was supposed to follow me exactly. It went well until it went horribly wrong.

We were close to the area where my parents, my grandma and my baby brother were waiting for us. So I shot through the traffic but I actually had to pound on a car’s hood because traffic was starting to pick up, I got honked but I made it across. 

I turned to find that my brother hadn’t crossed after me and my immediate reaction was; now where did he go? I was a bit pissed at him because he was smaller and slower and now I had to tell my parents I lost my brother. These are exact recollections.

Suddenly I heard the scream of brakes, a sickening thud and I saw what looked like a tumble weed fly across the road. It was my 7 year old brother in his blue jeans and jean jacket.

He had been hit by a car. He was a scrawny, small kid and he was lying unmoving on the ground.

I heard screams, I didn’t; that’s not how I react. I just stood in absolute stillness hoping that if I blink, maybe it will change and it won’t be my brother on the ground. Suddenly I see my father flying across the road and other people running to my brother’s body.

This was back in the day before cell phones so I don’t know who got the ambulance there, but from what I remember they got there fairly fast. I remember a blonde lady with short cropped hair who was a nurse and tended to my brother as best as she could. 

My brother’s eyes were closed and they couldn’t wake him. When the ambulance got there, he suddenly went into cardiac arrest and they had to resuscitate him right then and there. What I remember well was the anguish and the tears streaming down my father’s eyes.

I remember my baby brother with his eyes wide and wondering as grandma held him.

The rest is a blur, but that memory has stayed with me for decades. It has traumatized me against my birthday. And if I never celebrate my birthday ever again, I would be absolutely fine.

I know it’s irrational, but I blame myself for his accident. Maybe if I hadn’t talked him into playing spy, we wouldn’t have been running between cars. It was my idea, but I got out of it unscathed, he nearly lost his life. But the actuality is that if it wasn’t my birthday, we wouldn’t have been there that day.

My brother rarely talks about it, it was a long time ago and he’s moved on, or not. I don’t know we don’t talk about it. 

But this post is my first step in dealing with it, it’s time to enjoy the season and time to forgive myself.

Invisible

I had another very vivid dream last night, as with all dreams, they start in medias res. I am with a co-worker who I normally don’t see other than to a few casual exchanges in the hallways. But we are together in this dream as a team.

We are in a hotel and another co-worker has been killed in a very suspicious manner, blood and destruction are hinted at by the employees who have seen the room. For some reason, my co-worker and  I have been entrusted to investigate the killing. (Ok, I know, I just finished reading a detective novel).

Someone hands me a wooden box with a sliding cover, instructing me to lay the box in the hallway to set off a catalyst that will allow me to see how the killing took place. As I finish laying the box and opening it, a fog begins to seep out from the opening. I run to the end of the hallway and suddenly, I am holding hands with my coworker as we are plunged off a balcony and drifted off into reddish pink clouds.

We land in the midst of a crowd, she turns to talk to someone, I turn to talk to someone, we need to know where we are, what has happened, etc. But no one talks to us, and then I watch as my co-worker tries to get someone’s attention and I notice that they don’t even see us.

I come to the realization that they don’t see us because we are already dead. We are invisible.

My co-worker gets a look of blunted affect; she has accepted her death with surrender and drifts away from me. After a turn of panic and despair-will I spend eternity wandering the world dead and forgotten? I turn to my original mission; I need to find out who killed my other co-worker. I am determined.

I find my way back to the hotel corridor and see the corridor filled with smoke still pouring out of the box. I run in, close the box and the smoke dissipates quickly.

Then I watch as I stand in the detritus they have removed from the room, I wait for someone to open the door so I can go inside the room and see the crime scene. Oddly, even as a ghost, I have my iPhone which I use to take pictures of the objects they have placed in the hallway.

One man is talking, he’s throwing out theories on why the killing occurred. I can hear my iPhone’s camera clicking and I’m taking notes on my iPhone when I feel a tentative touch on my arm. I look over and it’s one of the managers at work, she’s looking straight at me. The man who’s talking turns to me, his theories were for my benefit. Suddenly I realize, they can see me.

“You can see me! I’m not dead! OMG! I’m not dead!”

End of dream.

I think it isn't difficult to interpret that dream, it’s just a resonance of several themes that have been rattling in my head lately.

There are invisible people, we see them but we don’t. We ignore them; they are the disenfranchised, the homeless, sometimes they are the people you pass who turn away instead of making eye contact.

Lately, I've been feeling invisible. I can’t count how many times I’m suddenly confronted with some car jumping in front of me as if my car wasn't already there. Or the lady who bangs her grocery cart into the back of my shins but doesn't apologize and instead glares at me for being in her way. Or the jackass who has pulled his chair out and when I pass, I say excuse me because I’m polite. Instead of him moving his chair in so I can pass, he nods at me as if he had deemed to acknowledge MY apology for disturbing his ruminations. He never did move his chair up. 

I acknowledge the fit of pique this provokes in me. But apart from walking around screaming “I’M WALKING HERE! I’M DRIVING HERE! HERE I AM!” There really isn't much I can do if people find me invisible. But I don’t have to feel invisible.

In my dream, I brush aside the panic because I had a mission; I needed to investigate the murder. Was it my insistence on doing my job, not surrendering to the despair and simple acceptance as my co-worker had that resulted in my becoming visible again?

Perhaps it is in that single line that I found redemption, at least in my dream. It's a start.

 “You can see me! I’m not dead! OMG! I’m not dead!”

I cannot vote...

I cannot vote for a mentality that considers me less than important because I am a woman. I cannot vote for a mentality that says I was raped because I somehow provoked it because I’m a woman. I cannot vote for a mentality that says if I were “legitimately raped” – (as opposed to legally raped?) and a pregnancy ensued, I wouldn’t be allowed to abort.


I cannot vote for a mentality that dictates who I should love. I deserve to love whoever my heart choses to love even if my heart beats to another rhythm.
I will not support a mentality that says my autistic brother is included in the 47% who don’t pay taxes and therefore shouldn’t be encouraged. Money is not the standard by which life should be lead, money comes and goes, but dignity and respect is priceless.

God doesn’t participate in politics. Politics is a human affect. Look to Iran where the Ayatollahs have been raised to governing status. No faith is perfected, we are all human. That is why there is secular and faith. The United States was formed on a basis of separation of Church and State.

Politicians are what they are because they are politicians. I know they all lie, they make promises they will break, they will tell me what I want to hear. But when a candidate supports views that are a completely anathema to my life, I cannot vote for them. And it is with my conscience I am compelled to post this because I have to stand up for something I believe in.

I know God loves me for he gave me a family who has brought me challenges as well as joy, but above all, they give me love and through their love, I feel the love of God shine. For I believe in love, for the family and friends who love me unconditionally and whose love I try to return unconditionally. I cannot vote for a mentality of exclusion and derision. I am not subhuman and I will not be treated as one.

God bless us all.

Midnight Thoughts

There is something about sitting in the dark, remorseless from lack of sleep that makes every silly pain sharpened. As if our daily machinations dull our sensitivities to the inevitable gravitas that weighs upon each of us. Each day is a weight of experience that we carry, each moment of life another ounce of wisdom, thus the eventual slowness of our movements, the bending of our backs as if we drag ourselves to decrepitude.

It is to these morbid thoughts that I find myself on this dark and dreary night. Left alone to my thoughts, I lean to towards angst. I feel a keenness of emptiness, bereft of purpose other than to find a good night’s rest, I lack greater ambition for the moment.

Instead, I find myself, nay; I find my soul, uttering a soft keening and a susurration of surrender to admit that some things are forever lost to me. My youth, my vigor, my mind will eventually melt to time. Yet, as my conscience seems to have resigned its hopes for some mad last affair, my heart still seems to natter on believing that love is never lost, simply misplaced and will one day be found again.

I do wish my heart would shut up and let me sleep. Because that constant war between my heart’s hopes and my mind’s reality, leaves me torn, like pages from a journal full of lies.

Melodrama is the greatest injury this night when my only wish is to sleep. 

Fall Unrequited

Autumn or Fall, for some people is the most glorious of all the four seasons. I too adore the manifest colors of the season but for me it seems so indelibly marked with melancholy. For years I always thought I didn’t like Fall because it meant school was starting again. I was an honors student and on the Dean’s list for many years, yet I detested school.

I think what I really hated was the discipline of having to wake at a specific time during Mondays through Fridays, when I would much rather lie in bed daydreaming.  Then as the year marched on, the days would get darker, longer and colder. I really don’t think that there’s anything wrong with hibernating. The bears have got it right.

But as the years went by and I left school, gradually, there was no need to detest Fall for the forced discipline, instead I’m motivated by the primal instinct of self-preservation. I go to work to feed, clothe and house myself. There is no season(nor reason for that matter) for work. It is 52 weeks of the year and if you’re lucky, sometimes they tell you to stay home.

So why the melancholy at Fall? Why the incipient sadness? Is it because the eagerness of Spring has passed and turned sullen? Is it because the promise of Summer’s sultry nights went unfulfilled? Is it because as the year fades to its end, does Fall simply become the realization that all the sunshine of Spring and Summer were wasted on hopes and aspirations unrequited?