One Word: 2015

2
COMMENTS
Last year.


Free.
FREEEEEE.
Defined my life.
And folks.
2014 was as free as a year could be.

I sucked a lot.
At life and sometimes even at work.
Sucked big time.
I gave myself permission to suck.
To be better next time.
To admit I totally could have done something better, and then did it better.

I called people out on their douchbaggery.
And freed myself of the ones who really don't want to grow either.

I let myself free fall.
And at times, not comfortably.
But I allowed myself to be free.
To live.

And folks.
At the end of this year.
I feel it.

Freeeee.
To be me.
Whoever I decide that to be.

This year:
Abandon was almost the word.
To live with reckless abandon.
To abandon the people holding me down.
To abandon the beliefs that are holding me back.

To just abandon.
Live with it.

But that felt too much like free.
And ya'll.
I am living freely.
And loving every minute of it.

So.
Drumroll, please.
2015's word:





L
o
v
e
d
.
Loved.
Loved.
Loved.
Loved!

This year, I'm going to give it.
Receive it.
Simmer in it.
Feel it.
Let it envelope me.
Let it's warmth glow around me.

I'm going to seek the love of people who have asked to give it.
And stop looking for it in places where I know I won't find it.

Ya'll.
I have some of the greatest friends in the entire world.
This year, I'm going to ask them to love me through some hairbrained ideas.
Like getting rid of my cell phone.
And most social media - don't worry matterers, I'll still be here.

I'm going to move.
And travel.
I'm going to love every minute.
Unabashed.

#2015
#loved
#wematter



I know this place

0
COMMENTS
Disclaimer:
This is long
And Graphic.
And something I needed to get out of my body in a different way.
And so, if you care to not know me like this.
Skip it.

---
I had cried about my day for a few hours.
Yeah.
HOURS.
The pain of the morning.
Hurt of not understanding.
And feeling like I failed boiled.
Stewed.
And churned in me.

I had been thinking about it all day.
And the screaming match that ensued when I got home only stirred the pot.

As I twisted the lock on the bathroom door.
And.
Turned slowly the shower handle.
I heard the faint sound of water beginning to spray from the shower head.
Which eventually mixed with the bathroom fan.
And the sink H valve that I had on high.
And in a few moments they combined to create the white noise I need to be bulemic.

I drank two warm cups of water quickly.
And stared at my reflection in the mirror.

"You're disgusting."
"Everyone hates you."
"You are SO wrong."
Little self locked herself away.
Maybe I hid her.
Spared her from witnessing this.
From the noise of adults selves who know they are right.
And I tried desperately to think of the nice things people had said throughout the day.
To shed some light on the caverns Little Self had run to.
Come back.
Be strong.
"Not EVERYONE hates you."
Better.
And then suddenly, and all at once.

The world would be better witihout you.
The world would be better without you.
The world would be better without you..

Plays unstopped
Unstoppable.
I am disgusting.
And it's true, ever so true in the moment that a lot of things including this world would be better without me.

It's then that the epic things that made up the last six months fade away and my desire for the feeling of a purge.
For the control that purging myself of all the ugly would provide.
The quick fix of not killing myself.
Which seems too extreme.
Just purging myself of these feelings.
Would bring.

Getting rid of it all.
Unfortunately, fortunately?
I'm pretty transparent about this with everyone in my life.

So it's about this moment.
Or the one where I'm staring down.
At my two feet, almost eye level with the porcelain on the throne.

That I hear him.
At the door.
For a moment.
Tears welling.
Food churning.
Ungoodnessbuidling.

"Hey," he says finally through a mumble of white noise.

"Hey, I'm fine," comes out before I can even consider telling him otherwise.

There is this lapse in time.
When I think he's going.
And I breathe a little deeper.
Ready to release.
Everything.
To grab the high of slowly killing myself.

And in that second.
I hear it.
The faint click of the door being unlocked by that blasted tiny whole.
That insignificant can't stop me whole.
"Hey," he repeats as the door swings open.

And I melt again.
To the floor.
Resting my forehead on the rim of the throne.
And spraying tears from the eyes.

"I'm sorry," he utters so softly I'm not sure I actually heard him.
Tears spraying, I don't stop to figure out if I did.

He squats down.
I hate the word squat.
And puts his hand on my back.
I inch away.
"Hey," he repeats.
Pulling me back.
"Hey."

"Just," ::spray:: "Let," ::spray::

"I'm going to.  But I'm not going."
I push as hard as I can, but I'm back in the corner.
The urge is dissipating, since I won't be able to while he's here.

"You're not going to leave me, are you?"
"Who's asking?"
"Me."
"Little self?  I'll be right here."
::spray::
Melt into him.
Lay on the cold tile of the bathroom floor.

Squatting.
Laying.
Crying.
The purge is coming out in saline.
And I feel its cool release.

I'm not exactly sure when he stood.
My eyes were squeezed tight as the tears welled.
Or when the white noise of the sink and shower and fan dissipated, but they did.

And in a few minutes, I was asleep on the tile bathroom floor.
I awoke 20 minutes later.
WIth his hand on my back.
And the first sight as I blinked my salt crusted eyes open was his crossed arched legs.
Beside me.

"It's not just a yoga ball," I say through a gritty cried out voice.
"It never is, is it?" he chuckles.

"No," I respond, "It never is."
"You need sleep.  A lot of sleep.  You not on sleep...is this."
I yawn and lean into him.

4 months binge/purge free will not be ruined by a yoga ball.
And me wanting to give everything until there is nothing left.
Tomorrow. 
I can make it.


On the Season.

0
COMMENTS
I've wrapped so much my fingers are bleeding.
Literally.
Arm knitted so much my hands are numb.
Baked so much my handes are burned.
And subjected myself to one too many nights of chanukah.

Like.
8 too much ;)

At one such a dinner, of latkes and jelly donuts.


Yeah, I went there.

I was asked, why on earth, I am buying my kiddos.
Anything.
Because "back in my day, we didn't buy gifts for kids."

Right.
Well, my teachers did.
And I still have them.
But that's beside the point.

I bought gifts for my kids because:

1.) I don't know what it's like to be homeless.
2.) Or live in a hotel with 7 people.
3.) Or go hungry.
4.) Or not know if there will be enough food for everyone in your family.
5.) I've never waited for DCF to clear my foster home of abuse allegations
6.) I've never been sexually abused.
7.) My mothers did not die of a drug overdose.
8.) I don't know what it's like to have your older brother drop out of school because of drugs.
9.) I don't know what it's like to have your mom abandon you and move to Florida...er...I mean to say, I don't know what it's like at 8.
10.) I don't have a mom who is drug dealer.
11.) Or ones who don't have time to take care of me...er...now.
and because...
12.) I know what it's like to have parents who don't know what's best.
13.) I know what it's like to not be seen.
14.) And never quite feel like enough.

You ever try to stuff your entire LIFE in a 3/4 full of a trash bag?
Didn't think so.

And if some books, and socks, and box of love make my kids feel loved for a hot, fleeting second.
Well then.
I'm gonna do it.
I do not feel obligated.
Or required.

But I do feel an exceptional amount of love.
For my littles.
And I can send them home for the vacation to their hotel room houses and one bedroom apartments.
Well then.
I will.
And I will hope in my own broken heart that they feel the love we are sending them all break long.
Because I will worry about them from the end of day Tuesday until we return.

Going home

0
COMMENTS
I keep thinking the further away we get from December 2012, the less vivid it will be.
I won't remember Lauren's call while we walked through walmart.
Asking.
If the thing I was posting about missing on Facebook was in fact, my passport.


And of course, it was.
The hours that ensued with my incredible sister Jen and my amazeballs production team.
Haven't faded in the least.

Nor, has the hilarity of finding my passport six months later while in Boston.
Sitting in my scanner.
Oye.

But.
December 2012.
And the memory of it, hasn't faded.

I can still vividely remember my amazing flights to Santiago.
Meeting my production team.
Sans Chris and Heidi.
And my luggage.

The anticipation of it all.
What would my challenge be.
Would we really drive all night to the longest pool in the world?
Where were Chris and Heidi.
And that first night of anxiety, doing a shredder in my hotel room.
5
10
15
Push Ups
Sit ups
and
Jump Ropes.

I knew whatever challege Lauren had created with Matt would be awesome.
Allbeit...a little crazeballs.

I'm wearing the same clothes I had travled in.
Remember the lost bag?
And I am living on protein bars that weeks later land me in the ER.
For my first enema.
I walk out on that dock.
Listen to Chris tell me he's not coming.
And just breathe.
And 10 minutes later, while in tears by myself, I text JoliBestFriend who reminds, I'm ready, and they are with me in spirit.
Today, I'll swim.
And run.
And kayak.
And just live.
In the most beatuiful motherland ever.

In a few hours we'll load up and head to Chile.
To meet my mom.
Matt will yell at our driver, David, no less than 10 times.
And I'll have to pee every five minutes.
Along with the fact that due to the cold water, I'm now coughing up blood.
And in the early stages of pneumatic flu.
Joy.

Life is short and sweet, though.
And meeting my mother, my MOTHER.
My heart.
Was.
Is.
Singularly, the most beautiful experience of my life thus far.
Probably ever.

And I have such a greatful heart.
To Lauren.
Jesus, probably most of all to Lauren.
For filling the role of believer.
Since we didn't have Chris and Heidi.
And chauffer.
And friend.
Speegs and I hit Valpairaso and got to see some beautiful areas.

And I told Matt and Lauren then.
That it had been them, but mostly Chris.
Who had pulled me back.
From those days that I'd hang up with production and want to die.
Want to kill myself.
Because I couldn't be myself.
Or be honest with them.
That I hated myself enough for the both of us.
And screaming at me.
That you hate me.
And working with me was the worst.
Only validates how much I already hated myself.

Chile.
December 2nd, was a homecoming in so many ways.
And the death bed of feeling like I couldn't.
And the beginning of you never know until you try.
Again, to Matt and Lauren, and our amazeballs tech crew that captured every minute of meeting my mom.

I love you.
A lot.