Saturday, September 29, 2012

Tell it to My Heart

I remember when Cori destroyed her journals, years ago. I couldn't fathom why she would do that.

This year I destroyed my old journals. I went through them and saved some poetry, but not all, and the rest was consigned to be recycled into something else. Some of it was buried in the wreckage.

I get it now.

I get it alot now. These moments of clarity that spring forth singing, some of them having been straining at their ropes of restraint for 20 years now. Glimpses of truth I had as a teenager, as a 20-something year old woman who didn't realize she was living a life construct that others had built for her. Pieces of wisdom I couldn't see beyond to the bigger truth they were trying to bless me with.

At Cori's, I remember I googled "wherein lies the Moral Compass" and nothing could be found. I feel like, up until now, I somehow started my search with the purest intentions, but following someone else's compass directions.

I hurt for the girl and almost-grown woman I was, then. I feel something else as well, now, for that she-being I was...forgiveness. I forgive myself for being weak and irrational, for being near-sighted and full of excuses, for using selfish logic and self-psychology as a twisted weapon, for being too much of a coward to fully go-it alone and face-up to what I had become. "I rely on bravado, you know I've made it an art." - Sheila.Nicholls

I also embrace and cherish those clear moments where I remember I found peace, where I embodied, for a moment, every bit of the woman my heart intended to be before I stopped trusting my own path and borrowed that compass off the world around me.

There are more of these moments full of the light, than there are that need forgiveness. But those that need forgiveness took up so much more space than the light, and that is why forgiveness is necessary. I just figured it out, maybe because I just got to the point where I could forgive myself.

I feel...happy...and at peace, even though there are some very hard things happening in my life with the closest people possible. I feel all brand-new and chrysalis-sticky with hope. I also feel in control of my happiness. Life will not always be happy, nor should it be, but I now have the resources within myself to make the best of each day. I won't always succeed, I know this, but I also know that this means the rest of my life will continue forward with a sunshine ratio. My life is guaranteed, from here on out, to be happier more times than not.

Simply because, I choose to smile. I choose to forgive myself my past and thusly cast the burden of their ghosts from me so that I can move forward unencumbered, into the space I was intended to fill. I am free to be brand-new, with all the elation and fear such movement entails. This is powerful stuff.

Friday, September 7, 2012

An Ode to Broccoli...

Or perhaps a better title would be, How Growing Up Adds More Flavor to Your Life. Or something of that nature.

When I was a child, I loathed broccoli. I distinctly recall sitting in my slip one evening, facing a bowl of broccoli and cauliflower that my mother was insisting I eat. I ate it...and then promptly threw it up. I didn't touch the stuff again. In fact it would be better stated that I adamantly refused any offerings of the cruciferous little vegetable with the best yucky-face that I could summon. In my mid-twenties, I had a friend convince me to try steamed broccoli with a chicken meal I was cooking. It was actually okay, but nothing to write home about. Or that bore repeating as far as kitchen-time went. Fast-forward nearly a decade to my pregnancy last year with my little Matchgirl where I began eating broccoli out of the motherly duty that noted how good it was, nutrition-wise, for me and my Wee-B (what she was called before we knew she was a she). Voila, I fell in love with broccoli. I ate it and ate it and ate it. Craved it. No pickles and ice cream for me, I wanted broccoli, and baked potatoes, and salads....and root beer or peppermint shakes. My HMLA makes a fantastic homemade peppermint shake. I digress. I became a broccoliholic, jonesing for those steamy little green trees, first with seasoning, then just plain. "No sauce, please" became my aside in restaurant settings. Then, wonder of wonders, I began crunching on raw broccoli. Raw broccoli. The previously mentioned scourge of my existence. I loved it. (I still hate cauliflower. Don't try to feed me that crap. :P) I probably try to get my hands on broccoli at least once a week. Which just goes to show you, that with age can come a greater appreciation of life's bounty.

In fact, let me segue into our pre-Labor Day holiday my HMLA took he and I on. My Matchstick girl stayed with her Nana for 3 whole nights (!!!) and we skyped almost every night, but there was one day I didn't get to see her. (sadface) My HMLA and I had a fantastic time, though. We went to the Islands of Adventure the first day and immediately got on the Hulk coaster. I haven't been on a roller coaster since I was 19. (That's 16 years for those of you counting.) It was awesome, so much better than when I was a kid. I can't even explain it. My HMLA and I larked around the park, riding all the rides (except the Jurassic Park ride where we were denied entry because we didn't have a kid with us - rejection!) and we even rode the Harry Potter Dragon Challenge twice, because we wanted to sit in the front row the 2nd time. Front row made it the best ride there. Just a note: Dr. Doom's Fear Fall - not fearful at all. Very soothing and disappointing. Two thumbs down. Universal Studios Park we went to on the 2nd day was not quite as entertaining. We rode the Rock-It coaster twice: first time through we both simultaneously picked Motley Crue's Kickstart My Heart because...duh. The entirety of the 2 days in the amusement parks were just wonderful, though. It kind of felt like my HMLA and I were just 2 crazy kids, again. The 2nd day I wore inappropriate shoes and wore blisters home like trophies, which grossed my HMLA out. He's sensitive that way.

Tonight, my Matchstick girl has her first cold. So I will be torturing her with the blue nose-sucker of death (her reaction to it) shortly. I've been wanting to rhapsodize about broccoli for a few weeks though, so now seemed a good time to play catch-up while my HMLA was out at Hooter's celebrating our friend's birthday. I can't really concentrate to write when he's around, he's so distracting.