Thoughts on an airplane

There were two other planes ahead of us on the runway. I watched them, one at a time, as they started down the paved path that seemed to go on forever, picking up speed and then leaping into the air as if they weighed no more than the knock-off Louis Vuitton sunglasses I held in my hand. Airplanes had always fascinated me. Not these big commercial jets as much as the smaller personal planes, but still...

If Peter was still alive, I would have asked him to teach me to fly his 4-seater Cessna.

I stared out the inadequate rectangular window. The clouds seemed to be resting on the most flawlessly-clear sheet of glass, hundreds of miles above the earth. The sun reached in and warmed my hand.

I missed him.

I was only 14 when Peter died. 18 years ago. God. Had it really been 18 years? I didn't really understand why I missed him so much. My grandparents were gone too. I loved them just as much, but didnt miss them in the same way. It didnt really make sense to me, except that somehow I felt that Peter and I were the same. Somehow I knew that when my uncle died, I lost the one family member to whom I would have felt the most connected. I felt a little cheated that I didn't get to tell him about my life. I wanted him to know about my boys. I wanted him to keep up with my photography and my achievements.

He was a brilliant man. An engineer for Boeing. A graduate of MIT. I thought he would have been proud of me.

Peter was smart. Witty. Fun. He had a gentle heart but was so obviously strong. He refused to go to church.

He loved wine and jokes and told the best ghost stories.

He died too young. A heart attack. Alone in his car. If someone had just found him sooner... If it had just happened at home instead...

It wasn't fair. And as much as that complaint means nothing in the world of chance and injustice, it was still MY sound complaint. It just wasn't fair.

The sound of the fasten seat belt sign turned my thoughts to what was coming.

Baggage claim. Rental car. Work.

I put my memories away for another day.

The stars are right...

Ive never looked into horoscopes or astrology.. I was raised to believe it was a sort of "evil" thing.. magic, "new age", witchcraft, astrology, Harry Potter.. you know.. ha...

Anyway, I'm beginning to find some of it very interesting and sort of.. oddly dead on!?...

I'm a cancer, and my dear friend and ex-boyfriend is an Aquarius. It was a very hard relationship. Similarities underneath, but so many hurdles that we both tried extremely hard to work through but could never really figure out. I looked up the compatibility between the two signs and about dropped my jaw at the accuracy. Here's just an excerpt:

"This pairing brings together people made of very different star dust. Cancer approaches life with its sensitive, emotional feelers, while Aquarius has one foot in another dimension. It's hard to make a heartfelt connection with the Waterbearer, which immediately poses problems for Cancer. The Aquarian cool glamour that intrigues others makes the Moonchild very insecure. There's some sexual electricity here, but often not enough to overcome the gulf between them. Both are compassionate, but express it in different ways. They're a formidable team if they pool their resources for the greater good. But the social Aquarius will often be mixing it up out there, when the Moonchild just wants to cuddle on the couch. And Aquarius chafes at any limits to its freedom. The issues of freedom and togetherness will have to be ironed out for this to work. This pair gets extra points for the "degree of difficulty," making relating a sublime accomplishment.."

I also looked up the compatibility between Cancer and Leo and Cancer and Scorpio. What I read was also perfectly accurate in comparison to my relationship with a Leo girlfriend and a Scorpio friend of mine. But the supposed compatibility between all three combinations are completely different. It's not like some random fortune cookie that could apply to anyone at anytime. I must say.. I'm very intrigued!!

I guess I dont see why, since the human body is so complex and connected (the spine being connected to all different parts of the body - accupuncture, chiropractic etc..) that the universe wouldnt be the same. I think it's fascinating...

Uh oh. Does that make me as evil as Harry Potter!? giggle...

Fear, anxiety, and letting it all go

I have anxiety... It affects everything that I do. It's not just that I am prone to anxiety attacks or worrying a lot over things I cant control - although those are part of it - but it affects my everyday, normal, simple decisions. More specifically, I feel a slight sense of urgency all the time to make the right choice. I want things to be right, right now. I fear the process. I have no patience for letting things work themselves out, or "fall as they may". I tend to act impulsively, because I worry that if I dont take the opportunity now, it may never present itself again. That might sound okay until you realize it is EVERYTHING that I approach that way.

If I dont buy this now... If I dont make this for dinner tonight.. If I dont attack this issue today... If I dont say yes to this person now... If I dont go out this weekend...

I have anxiety about missing things. I remember in college it was so hard for me to call it a night and go to bed.. until about 2 am.. all it took was one morning of waking up and hearing about what spontaneous social event happened in my dorm after I went to sleep - and from that point on I had to be around and ready just in case something fun was going to happen that I would miss out on. Yeah... it's kind of an ass whip being this way.

I have an idea where this mentality originated. I think it's true because when I go back to this moment in my mind, it brings about that anxiety in an intense way. And it's the first memory I have of "missing something great"...

At the risk of making my craziness public and regretting it later...

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I was probably in 2nd grade. My mom and I, along with my schoolmate and her mom, went garage saling. It was a regular event for us. About every other Saturday we got up early and went rummaging through the treasures available in our neighbors driveways. This particular Saturday, my girlfriend and I happened upon the find of all finds. The treasure of all treasures. To a 2nd-grade girl whose mom told her Barbie dolls were expensive, it was a little piece of heaven. We happened upon a large, white, kitchen-size trashbag full of barbie dolls and their tiny little perfect articles of clothing. My girlfriend and I looked at each other with a mixed expression of "hellz yes" and "I found it first" and raced over to rummage through the overstuffed bag of greatness. She pulled out a dress.. I pulled out a dress.. she pulled out a barbie, I put my dress back and traded it for another dress... a better, more frilly and ruffly dress.. with red polka dots.. oh decisions decisions.. it was so hard to choose! Just like at the store when my mom would tell me I could pick out one outfit for my two barbie dolls (one of which had a dented boob)... I was trying to be selective.. but it was so hard because I couldnt even see halfway down the bag to what was available!!!

Just then, an older lady came up and peeked into our bag of pure delightfulness and asked, "Are you girls buying this?"

Well for some reason, in 2nd grade, adult voices are intimidating. And such was the case here. We grabbed our dress of choice, and backed up to let the lady in... "No" we said. I remember thinking how I was going to watch to see what she pulled out.. and hope that whatever it was, it wasnt better than the dress I had found in the midst of the hundreds of outfits and dozens of dolls...

And that's when it happened... the moment that made this memory permanent in my head. The moment I believe was the origin of my anxiety and constant fear of regret...

She picked up the large, white, heavy, kitchen-sized trash bag full of barbies and took it to the nice lady sitting in the garage organizing her metal money box. "How much for this whole bag?" we heard her ask.

"Five dollars" said metal-money-box lady.

"I'll take it." She said.

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Can you hear the sound of two 8-year-old girls' hearts hitting the pavement?

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I hated that day. I hated the memory of walking away with my stupid little polka-dotted barbie dress that the metal-money-box lady gave my mom for FREE. I hated my mom for not standing up to that mean skanky witch lady who had the audacity to take a bag of barbies from under the noses of two 8-year-old girls who were CLEARLY going through the bag. I hated myself for not saying "Yes you skanky bitch!" to that lady myself! Because in a world where barbies were "expensive"... and a girl only had two (one with a dented boob)... and all of her friends had a dozen or more............ that moment was indescribably devastating.

Of course it's not the barbies I feel devastation over anymore. But that feeling - having something right under your nose and MISSING it. Simply because you were unaware of the possibilities, the opportunity... that feeling I live with on a daily basis that has encroached on almost every area of my life. As if in that moment, on that drive home from that life-changing, garage-saling morning, I made a pact with myself that I'd never let it happen again. I'd never miss another great opportunity again.

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This morning I had this realization... that if I can change the way I view that day, that situation.. then maybe I can start to let go of that anxiety, that fear of being out of control, of missing out... That maybe if I go back to that morning in my mind, and let go of the idea that I missed out on an 8-year-olds treasure, that I will be able to accept that sometimes it's better when things play out in ways we don't see as beneficial or rewarding to us. Sometimes it's better when we ARENT in control...

I stood in the shower thinking this through. I closed my eyes, and relived that morning.. but THIS time I told the skanky mean lady that I was in fact buying the bag of dolls. She walked away. My mom asked the metal-money-box lady for the price. She paid the $5. My girlfriend and I took our new treasure to the car and began rummaging through our new toys.

My mom began the drive out of the neighborhood...

She looked in the rearview mirror with a smile on her face watching our excitement...

"Mom! Look at this one!!" I said, beaming from the back seat.

She turned around to look. None of us noticed the oncoming car... she turned back around just in time to see that our car had drifted over into the left lane... Her swerve back was too abrupt and too late...

THIS time, that morning... it played out much differently. We hit that car. We ran head-on into the oncoming car and what was left was sheer devastation.

My mom, my friends mom.. both hit the windshield... as the car skidded over to a stop on the other side of the street.. it was just me and my 8 year old girlfriend.. left alone and terrified.. our mothers killed...

...dolls and their dresses everywhere...

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Maybe if I can rethink that day. Maybe if I can remember it as the day I didnt get what i THOUGHT I wanted. The day that I didnt get what I would have chosen for myself had I been in control. The day I would have lost the most important thing to me at that age, in exchange for a bag of plastic dolls. Maybe now I can start to let go of the need for control, the fear of regret, the distrust of the natural process of life. Maybe by trusting that the universe, or God, or karma or life itself isnt something I'm fighting against, but something that is on my side... I can stop worrying about every decision and every opportunity and every circumstance.

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*shrug*

Or maybe I just missed out on the best garage sale find ever.

running

I've decided I am determined to learn how to LOVE to run. I used to run in junior high and early high school because I was in basketball/athletics, but I hated it. Of course back then, there were no ipods. You probably werent even allowed to bring a "walkman". Sometimes the coach would put a boombox out (yes, a boombox) and play a mix tape she had for off-season running - but still - laps around the basketball courts to old school dc talk really wasnt great - but it was better than running to the sound of everyone's squeaky gym shoes.

I envy runners. I know it leans you out and it's easy to do anywhere... and I've always WANTED to LOVE running. Find the therapy in it. But I dont. I HATE it. My brain wont turn off. I think about how far I've gone. How far I still have to go. How many times I'd have to do what I've already done to finish what I said I would finish. Then when I get really tired, I tell myself I've done enough... and I quit. And then I feel guilty, and defeated, and that's the end of that. Somehow that never happens to me on the elliptical at the gym.. but running... grr....

However - I believe that I have what I need now. I have figured out what will keep me on the road from now until the heat gets unbearable and I move to the gym track. Two things.

1) A great playlist. Finally. I dont normally listen to the kind of music you'd want to run to. Brandi Carlile, Blue October and Katie Herzig dont really get you going. But I've gathered some new favorites and some lists from friends of mine who run - and I feel ready.

2) A photoshopped image of what my body COULD look like if I was a runner... I'm 5'10".. Come on.. I have potential (just based on my height and the fact that I'm a pear shape with long legs) to be really HOT! I took a picture of myself, "liquified" that sucker, perfected my legs and BAM! really? I could look like THAT?!? I am keeping that picture on my iphone. And right next to it, the picture before I edited. And if that isnt a kick in the pants...

So that's it. Those are my tools. That, and I'm going to be running the road - trying to keep my mind from analyzing the track. I'm just going to put everything I have into this.. believing that even *I* can learn to LOVE to run. So... here goes nothing.

If I could reach you by letter...

I miss you so much! I feel like I might forget you are real. I don't know how much longer I can do this. The time we get together is so little... And it's gotten less and less

often as time goes by.

I know without a doubt that you love me deeply. I have to make myself remember sometimes, but I do believe even though I don't feel it often, it's still real. I think sometimes, that maybe I'd be happier if I let go, and found someone else who would be better at showing how he feels about me, or someone who was more consistently happy. But I keep believing that if I just hang on a little longer, you'll come back.. more often... and stay longer each time.

Everyone tells me to stop. I don't even like telling my friends anymore how I feel about you or that we're sorta back together. Because I know they disapprove. I look like that stupid girl who doesn't know when to quit. But they don't understand. They don't know you. I know you. And I achingly love the man that I know. Even the shadow of yourself that you leave behind when you go. I love that part too, but he is draining me. He doesn't give back, so when you leave, I keep giving, in so many ways, trying to show him what you and I have together. Hoping he'll see that it's better whwn we're together, and he'll let you come back more often.

But I don't think he gets it. Or he doesn't seem to care. He just isn't happy. I wish I could help him be more like you... So there wasn't such an obvious difference between you. But he's empty I think. Like a shell. He has nothing to pull from, no way to be filled. I can't fill him. But I keep trying. I don't know any other way.

I don't tell you all this to make you feel bad for leaving me here. But so you know why I cling to you so hard when you come back. And to tell you I am hanging on the best that I can. I had given up for a while, but I'm trying one more time to wait. Please hear me.

Yours always,
A

is it wrong to be satisfied?

I guess I am surprised at how I honestly feel about my life at this point. If you asked me ten years ago where I wanted to be at age 30, I seriously doubt I would have said "divorced, dealing with a big loss in my business from an economic disaster, and living back in the same area I basically grew up in." But then again, you'd be asking a 20 year old. And WTF does she know?

I'm happy. I am where I am and it's not what I planned, but I am at peace. I am growing. I am watching myself become who I decide to be. I am learning from my mistakes. I like my personality. I am proud of my accomplishments, my ability to make a living from my hobbies, my family, my beliefs, my opportunities, my experiences and my newfound ability to be okay with these stretches of life where things are hard, painful, destructive and demanding of change. A good friend told me a few weeks ago "Wherever you are in life right now, BE there."

I used to feel the need to be in a place where others would look and say "she's on the right path. she's making the right choices. she's got it together." But you know, right now, I'm not there. I AM in a place that's good for me. But on the outside, it's anything but obvious. I am accused of making bad choices. Being selfish. Not seeking. Not growing. Disconnected from my foundation... But it's not true at all. And I'm finally okay with whatever it might look like on the outside. Because for once, I'm at peace because I know in my core that I'm learning more in this single year than possibly the past 29. It looks to my parents, my brothers, my old friends, that I've fallen apart... gone off the deep end.. whatever.. but it's actually quite the opposite.

I finally know WHO I AM, and that is an amazing feeling.

Have I made mistakes? Obviously. Do I have any regrets? Only one. My only regret in life is the pain I caused my ex-husband. I dont regret our relationship, and I wouldnt trade it for a different marriage that didnt end. But I do regret that I didnt know at 22 what I know now. His pain is the one thing I would change in my life if I had the option.

But everything else, all the mistakes, I own them and I have grown from them and I dont want to know what parts of me would be missing, different, unfamiliar if I hadnt made them.

I dont know how long this stage will last. But I'm owning it... recognizing that I'm still being transformed into whatever it is I'm supposed to be. Even if you don't see it. Because I honestly dont need YOU to see it anymore. Because really? WTF do YOU know?

big

fat

smile :)

Dirty Laundry

Disorganized.

Impatient.

Inconsistent.

Insecure.

Scared.

Clingy.

Depressed.

Anxious.