Keeping your nose to the grindstone will only get you so far. You’ll never advance if you can’t socialize. Start small, then learn to work the crowd, today.

Even my horoscope is yelling at me. Slow the freak D. O. W. N.

I’m trying. I’m trying. I’m trying.

I am grateful for the boyfriend, who by being in my life, is keeping me from becoming a complete hermit crab. I never thought that I would be the kind of person who wanted to have a set-in-stone, weekly-date-night. But I do. I am really appreciating it right now. Even though not all of our dates are full of romance and passion, with fairy-tale kisses and firework-displays; they are perfectly suited to where I am right now, and what I need.

Last night was the perfect example of this. I had nothing planned, other than him coming over, and cooking a meal, maybe watching some of the TV show that he is introducing me too. He shared with me that he wanted to go out with this group of friends, for pizza. A group that he is slowing getting to know and enjoy their company, and I as well. They are all nice people, and of like-minds; so its nice to get to just be ourselves with them. It was a low-key, outing, where we got to see each other face-to-face, and hold hands, and talk about our days. All the while, sharing some food and good company with nice people.

So, to the Universe – I’m working on it. And Zack is helping. 🙂

PLEASE NOTE:
These are NOT my photos.  I could never take photos this good.
These are from one of the parents, at the school, who is an amazing artist.  And I am so grateful for his talents.

She's got spirit, yes she does. She's got spirit, how about you?

She’s got spirit, yes she does. She’s got spirit, how about you?

My beautiful baby girl.

My beautiful baby girl.

2015 - 2016 Cheer Team.

2015 – 2016 Cheer Team.

Doing what she loves to do.

Doing what she loves to do.

Getting to do this with one of her oldest and closest friends. Icing.

Getting to do this with one of her oldest and closest friends. Icing.

Being part of this group, she's found her niche.

Being part of this group, she’s found her niche.

When I was growing up there were no actual cheerleaders in my schools. Ever. We just didn’t have them. Not when I was in Jr. High, in Saudi because of the skimpiness of the outfits. Never would have been appropriate. Then at Willy we didn’t have them either, because every student was required to be on an actual sports team. Or find a suitable alternative, like volunteering at a local horse ranch; which was equally physically demanding. Ask me how I know. LoL

Thus for me all cheerleader-related knowledge was learned from TV and the movies. Not very realistic, to say the least. I held a notion that cheerleading was a cop-out for doing actual sports. That the girls who choose to do cheerleading were doing so, because they were not capable of the physical work of athletics. I was lead to believe that cheerleaders were ditzy. That was until Bronwyn came into my life – and as she grew up, desired to be a cheerleader.

I did all that I could to redirect her desires into more socially acceptable, actual sporting, real activities. I was fighting a force of nature. Needless to say, I did not win.

My youngest daughter was going to be a cheerleader. Period.

I thought that she would grow out of this along the way. Grow bored with it. Realize that it was just a fluffy alternative.

Nope.

Here we are and my baby girl is on the high school cheer-leading squad.

And here I am being taught that every believe I held about cheer-leading and the girls who choose this, was wrong. Dead wrong.

Cheer-leading is an actual sport. A very physically demanding sport. These girls are as much athletes as the boys and girls that they cheer for, out on the football team. I watch as my daughter limps into a warm shower each night after practice, to ease her sore muscles. She uses all of them. I witness her deftly apply an ace bandage to her left ankle, each day before a game-night, because of the extra strain it takes, when she lifts her childhood playmate, up and over her head.

Did I say that these girls were ditsy? Oh I apologize now. Watching my the expression on Bronwyn’s face, I know that her brain is working over-time, when she is holding Abby up in the air. Concentrating and adjusting her body, to accommodate her teammate’s body, so as not to allow any harm to come to her. Also, these girls are required to maintain a 3.0 or better, to even participate. That’s above the 2.5 for other athletes. Their coach’s rules, not the school’s. These are the smartest girls you’ll meet in the school.

She has found her niche, my Baby Girl. And I’m so proud to watch her jumping, yelling, and encouraging her schoolmates, in their endeavors. On and Off, of the field. She is blossoming into a very out-going young lady, and it is because of her love for cheer-leading.

She’s come a long way from the little girl, who just stood on the sidelines, during the game.

She's come a long way from the little girl, who just stood on the sidelines, during the game.

She’s come a long way from the little girl, who just stood on the sidelines, during the game.

Good morning Slimey!

Good morning Slimey!

Yes this is what I just found, creeping across the arm of my Grandfather’s chair. The chair that I have placed in my office, for sitting in and relaxing, as I look over pages, read up on new stuff, and plan out my day, week, month.

Obviously I have been “Doing” too much and not “Being” enough. Hence this slimey, creepy-crawler, who is very very slow at moving off of my chair – and doesn’t seem to have any plans for picking up the pace, any time soon – slithered into my path this morning.

He is not the first person to notice this, and bring it up to me. I am getting brow-beaten by my Sweetie into going to bed earlier. It turns out that I am not 19 years old any more, and cannot function in a beauteous way, when I stay up past midnight. Again and again and again and again – for nearly 2 weeks now. (*Please note: Last night I did make it to bed by 10pm – and slept until 7! I clearly needed the rest.*)

I also look back on my Sister’s Healing Weekend Retreat and the ways that Spirit was talking to me, through my Sister’s stories. I see a sweet sister working herself to death. She is suffering physical bodily problems that are directly related to burning the candle at both ends. I watched as another sister, who is Western medically trained, listen to her chest, for signs of heart-attack. I don’t want to work myself into a state where I feel a vise-grip around my chest. I know that she doesn’t either. She is looking into ways to find more balance in her life, between her work, that she loves to do and is very good at – and her home life which is suffering, along side of her body. I can take a lesson from her experiences.

But first: I am going to gently thank Mr. Slimey for the reminder, and carefully put him back outside in the yard – where he belongs. Message received. In gratitude.

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grateful vs resentful

I struggle with this one a LOT. More than I would ever like to admit to anyone. I find it hard to be grateful for what people choose to give me, and seem to become resentful towards them, for when they choose to withhold from me.

I can remember resenting my Momma, when she flat-out turned me down, at my offer to have her babysit Rebecca. Rebecca was an infant, and I was a tired brand-new mother. Momma was still working full-time as a teacher. After teaching 135 children all day, coming home to a screaming kid, was not her idea of a good time. I can’t say that I blame her. Yet, I do remember resenting the fact that I had no help in those days.

As the babies kept coming, Daphne just a year later. Then Bronwyn 3 after that. Each time asking my folks if they wanted to attend the baby’s birth, or to be there to help out, I was told, “No thank you.” By the time Russell came along, I didn’t even make the offer. Resentment settled in as I watched them traveling 672 miles to my sister’s side each time she gave birth, yet couldn’t travel the 23 miles to my home.

I used to joke that I could count on 1 hand how many occasions my parents had babysat for my children. 1 hand. That’s less than 5. Over the course of my having 4 children spaced 8 and 1/2 years apart. Yes, there was a lot of resentment built up there.

In recent years though, my parent’s attitude towards grandparenting changed, as well as their commitments towards being teachers of children. They have taken care of my children on so many occasions I can no longer keep the count. I know that it must look strange to outsiders, and feel even stranger to my parents when I gush and gush and gush my gratitude towards them, each time that they help me out. Phone calls, texts messages, even taking one or both of them out for a meal, to show my thankfulness. I know that had I not spent those years being turned down, I would not appreciate it half as much, as I do.

Along with that lesson I think that is why it is so very hard for me to actually ask for things. I’ve become so accustomed to being told, “No.” that I don’t feel, that I deserve very much in life. Instead I find myself just trying to do everything on my own, and having to work twice as hard, because of these chains.

Maybe the lesson isn’t so much as to be grateful for what I get, but to also keep in the forefront of my mind — don’t ask, don’t assume, just accept what you get and be thankful for that.

Lonely vs Alone

Lonely vs Alone

There is a difference between being alone and being lonely.

I have been in a room filled with people and felt lonely. There being no connection to a single one of them. Not eye-contact. Not physical touch. Not a kind word. Just buzzing that goes around and around and around… with all of it bouncing off of me, instead of penetrating my soul. Lonely.
With a room full of people that I like.
With those that I’m related too.
Even those that are supposed to love me.

I have been out in the middle of the world, without another human around and felt voluminous. Though there is not a soul in sight, I have felt full of other peoples’ presences. All of my senses filled with sounds, sights, tastes, smells, and touches… all of it permeating my spirit. Surrounded.
With a just another single soul.
With my family around me.
Even with people I’ve never even met before.

This seem like an improbability. A contradiction. An anomaly. How could I feel alone in a crowded room, yet feel so complete without another human around for miles? What is it about some people that seem to drag me down and make me feel as if I don’t exist in the world. Yet thinking of the right person will make me feel so alive and vibrant.

There must be a correlation between Orendas. When we meet those that are vibrating on the same level as our own, then that connection can occur. That feeling of oneness. That wholeness. That connectedness. Which then, in opposite reaction, when we meet those who are vibrating at a different level than our own, we feel Alone.

If we are to grow and become a better spiritual wholeness, then we must find ways of bridging this gap. So that none of us feel this loneliness. I wish that I could fix it. I can’t. I haven’t figured it out yet, myself.

I’m working on it.

I am so grateful for my friends. I’m telling you there is nothing, that a good long talk with my besties, can’t be solved in my world. Thank you to Elise and Tim for loving me so well.

So I gotta admit that allowing my children to go and live with their father for a week was hard. One of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I did NOT have a good night on Thursday night. I wallowed in my shit for hours and hours.

As I sat on the plane to Sac on Friday night I tried to figure out, Why. Yes, I was in a total over-thinking mood, all weekend. Poor Tim and Elise. They do put up with a lot from me, and how I am. I can be real mood-killer.

So, Why would it bother me so much to have the children with Barry this past weekend? When in factual light he and I had already agreed that, he would keep the children not only during his weekend, but also on Sunday, and Monday nights, while I was in CA visiting with Elise and Tim. This was only adding 2 nights on, 1 onto each end. Which again, shouldn’t have bothered me; and normally wouldn’t.

So WHY did it bother me so much?

Context.

Before Barry pulled his “Hyde-personality” and “let’s-pick-a-fight”, routine on Thursday morning, I was fine with the kids over at his home for 4 days. Had he asked me to keep them an extra day, as something nice for him; like when he wanted to take them to the beach for 4 days over the summer… I would have said: “Sure. Why not. That would be great. Easier on the kids. I wouldn’t worry about them being home for a few hours on Tuesday night when I arrived home late from the airport.”

But that is not how it went down.

Instead, it was “I’m going to take you to court and sue you for joint-custody of the kids. 50 / 50 so I don’t have to pay any child support. You’re keeping the kids away from me.”

Other than him taking me to court, nothing is further from the truth. Which I pointed out to him, in a conversation about how I don’t enforce our current agreement to the letter. Ever. AND HE AGREED WITH ME.

So why the drama?

Context.

When its me just being nice to him, he doesn’t like it. Why doesn’t he?
I am not him. I won’t speak for him.
I have my theories. Elise has her’s. Tim has his. I have mine. The gal in the check-out line at the Publix has her’s. Every one has their opinion.
Opinions are like assholes, every one has one. And they all stink.

When it comes down to it, I like to be in control. When Barry pushes my buttons this way, bullies me into doing something; I don’t like it. Even if it was something that I was going to do anyways. Its the fact that he bullied me into it. That I felt threatened, and scared of him, once again. Like I was backed into a corner; and did whatever I could, to keep him from hurting me worse, than he was already doing. I followed the ‘fear’ line of thinking. And I let it drag me right down the rabbit-hole on Thursday night.

Hook – Line – and Sinker.