Category Archives: Hope

I Stopped Caring

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A funny thing happens when someone you just met finds your blog.

Panic.

Last night I re-read my posts here and many of them were very difficult for me to read.

I didn’t recognize my own words.

Then I realized I’m not that person anymore.

I’m not gloomy and sad and depressed anymore. Thankfuckinggod.

I’m happier.

Again.

Everything has changed, but for the better.

And I no longer believe that all things happen for a reason.

Because I never deserved to be mistreated that way.

No one has ever lied and deceived me, disrespected and used me before.

You are not a very nice person. But somehow I wanted to see and find the good in you.

And now I know, the only good thing about you – was me.

But you no longer have me.

And do not think for one second, dear, that the universe will allow you to get away with all you have done.

Karma has a way of repaying those who have done harm and you will pay for the damage you have caused me and to others.

I forgive you.  Because I know how miserable and unhappy you are.

And I don’t need to know how horribly your life ends up. Because I simply do not fucking care anymore.

Forgiving you was the first part. And now I’m forgetting you. Forfuckingever.

You were never worth my time, my adoration or my tears.

And I don’t hate you. I feel nothing for you. You no longer exist in my world.

And I don’t know what I’ll be doing next year, or where I’ll be, or who I’ll be with.

But I know I’ll be even happier than I am today.

Because the farther away you are in my past, the happier I become.

 

 

A funny thing happens when you stop caring.

You are finally able to breathe again. And to smile.

And move on.

And I am happy again.

And it’s the most freeing feeling in the world.

“I forgive people by forgetting about them.”

☠Chaotic Disaster☠ @That_Damn_Duck

“I woke up and I forgave you.  Now my real journey begins.”

8dBean @IMBeanz

1111aaaacat-at-window

Pretty things

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December 2012: One of the low points in my life. I had lost my job earlier that year and now it was almost Christmas.

I wanted to hide away from the world. Not only because of the embarrassment and shame that accompany hard times, but mostly to focus on getting my life back together.

I took my daughters to the Family Dollar Store to buy some packing tape. Possibly the most depressing store ever.

I found two kinds of tape. One was $2.99 and the other was $1. I joked to the clerk that I was too poor to afford the $2.99 roll as I paid for the $1 roll. After we left, my older daughter (who was only 10 at the time) said “Mommy! Don’t tell people we’re poor!” Clearly, I had embarrassed her.

A week earlier, I created an eBay account. Being out of work meant I had to start selling some personal things. In just one week I had sold two items. I was excited, until I got to the post office and spent $18 for postage on an item I had only charged a $3 shipping fee for. Live and learn.

As soon as I got home, I immediately readjusted the shipping fees on all my other items.

Which brings me to the rings. Years before, my ex-husband had given me a beautiful 3-stone engagement ring. One large center diamond, representing the present and two smaller diamonds on either side, representing the past and the future.  The other was a beautiful custom made engagement ring given to me by a man I dated for 4 years after my divorce. A beautiful 1.5 carat cushion cut diamond, surrounded by beaded diamonds and a diamond wedding band to match.  It was beautiful. I tried to return it to him after we broke up, but he insisted I keep it. Both gifts from men who had loved me at one time. Now gone, but with memories still attached.

I never imagined I would have to sell such things, but I never imagined a lot of the hard times I’ve faced in my life. Sometimes things just happen. Reluctantly, I posted both sets on eBay. The custom set alone was worth well over $5,500, but I asked for less than half.

Being new to eBay, I assumed no one would buy them, so I took them to a local jewelry store. The appraiser took all four rings (two diamond engagement rings, and two bands) to a room at the back of the store. A few minutes later, he returned and offered me only a small fraction of what they were worth. I knew his offer was unfair, but before I could think, I heard myself say “Okay.”

As I left, I suddenly felt sad. It wasn’t that I would miss the rings (I hadn’t worn them in years), but that each one had a string of memories attached. Like the warm spring day when my ex-husband got down on one knee to propose, and all I could think about was how corny he looked. (Maybe I’m just an awful person.)

Or the December day, when I was pregnant with my first daughter, and lost my engagement ring. We had been Christmas shopping all day. I never realized it was gone until after we’d returned home. We spent hours that evening, driving from store to store, retracing every step and scanning the parking lots, searching but never found it. The next day, on Christmas eve morning, I took the dog outside for a walk.  And there in the grass, reflecting in the morning sun was my ring.

Or the day my ex-boyfriend threw the ring box at me and said “Here. I got you something.”  A gorgeous engagement ring, custom made just for me and how he threw the box at me. So terribly romantic. Anyway…

I had always imagined passing my rings and all my other pretty things, down to my daughters. Not that I owned anything spectacular, but each piece had meaning.

And now they were gone. And that made me sad.

But when you’ve been unemployed for 6 months, and it’s 3 weeks before Christmas, diamond rings don’t seem all that important anymore. Not to me, anyway. I used the cash the man at the jewelry store had given me to buy Christmas presents for my girls.

Gifts for two deserving little girls who still believed in and were expecting the arrival of Santa? Or a few rings?

To me, the answer was obvious.

♦

To most people, a ring is a symbol of everlasting love. But to me, a ring is simply another pretty thing that you can wear. Perhaps nothing more.

I’d give up a hundred rings to have just one person who won’t abandon me when things get tough. Someone who will always be there to support me, no matter what.

No material object – and certainly not any kind of ring – can ever replace that.

I’d rather have a man strong enough to hold me when it feels like my entire world is falling apart. Or when it feels like I’m falling apart.

I’d rather have the love and support of my best friend and lover holding my hand, every single day. Because rings and objects don’t mean anything when you’re alone.

In the end, all that really matters is having the people who you love, standing beside you.

And no piece of jewelry could ever be worth more than that.

 

Photo credit: the-collectiveonline.com

Photo credit: the-collectiveonline.com

 

An Act of Kindness

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I received this email from a friend this morning. It touched me beyond words. I had to share it.
I visit a mentally challenged man every morning when I get coffee. His name is Louie. Yesterday Louie was beside himself.
He can’t speak, he just mumbles. He was shaking his fists and making throat slashing signs. I couldn’t figure out why.
Then I found out that the state workers across the street had stolen his hat while they were teasing him.
Today I brought him a new hat. He started cheering and shaking my hand. I have never seen anyone as happy as Louie just now.
It made me feel good. How can a mentally handicapped man renew my faith in life?
Such a simple gesture meant so much.
I think in the grand scheme of things Louie may have helped me more than I could ever help him.
Life is funny. One seemingly small, random act of kindness can change your perspective on everything.

“Wherever there is a human in need, there is an opportunity for kindness and to make a difference.”

Kevin Heath

Old Man in Sorrow (On the Threshold of Eternity)
– Van Gogh

Fall Leaves… What Comes Next?

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We can’t change the past.

October. A cold and lonely month.

Memories of two October’s ago when everything felt hopeful, exciting and new.

As the sky gets grayer, I feel my heart sink lower.

I never asked for everything.

But looking back, when I had love in my life, I felt like I had it all.

I lost that love and now…. I feel lost, too.

And now as the months pass me by… and the summer leaves grow dry and crumble, I feel like a small part of me is crumbling, too.

* * *

But I’m so lucky. To have been blessed with optimism, and an open heart and the belief that hope is never lost.

So I’ll wake up each day, and try to find my smile and keep moving forward.

Looking forward. Trying to search for meaning.

And for love. Never giving up on what I might find.

And trying not to crush the leaves under my feet.

The Kiss

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About a month ago she met me at work. She waited so that we could go to dinner afterwards.

We didn’t do anything fancy. Just a simple evening with great conversation.

That was my favorite thing about her. I could talk with her for hours on end and never tire of her voice.

After dinner, we went back to my office to pick up her car. We took my normal route home from work.

About half way to my office, we came to an intersection at Snowy Hollow Road and Route 169. I stopped at the sign and jumped out of my car. I ran back to her car. She looked very concerned and asked me, “What’s wrong?”

I replied “Absolutely nothing. Everything is perfect.” Then I kissed her.

I kissed her like it was the last thing I would ever do.

She looked surprised. Floored is a better description.

Later that evening, she told me that was the sweetest, most romantic thing any man had ever done for her.

She told me how much she loved me and asked me to make love to her.

How do you go from that moment- one month ago-  to this, being apart, without any explanation?

I would do anything to see that look in her eyes again.

To see how much she loved me. I would die for that feeling again.

Just one more time.

– Anon.

* * *

How do you go from feeling like this person is your entire world, to….. nothing?

[This was written by a friend. I will add his name, only with his permission.]

Serendipity, Happenstance and Love

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I discovered a new blog today called One Thousand Single Days. A young woman, now divorced with two young sons, who has committed to spending the next 1,000 days to being single.

An excerpt from her blog: 

“One thousand days of being single… No men, no dating, no flirting, no kisses, no romantic love, no valentines day, nothing.

I intend to use this time to address some of the issues I have… I am very stubborn… I have shockingly low self esteem, I get jealous, I can get really angry….
I want to learn to be whole.”

Her words touched me. How well I could relate.

http://onethousandsingledays.com/what-does-one-thousand-days-even-mean-2/

My blog is not nearly as well-laid out as hers is. And I barely have any followers. But those things do not matter to me.

My main focus is picking up the pieces of my broken life. And not just simply putting them back together again.

But creating a new picture.

I do not want to go back to the insecure little girl who grew up feeling ugly and different and misunderstood.

I want to create something new. A new life that fits the new me: the me who is alone again, who lost her job. The me who thought she’d found the love of her life, who has now since disappeared.

The me who has two beautiful, sweet little girls who make me realize that each day is a gift, and should never be taken for granted.

I do not have the luxury of being a 27 year old woman who can devote 1,000 days to being single.

Instead I want time and chance, or serendipity, to choose my fate for me.

Serendipity: A “happy accident” or “pleasant surprise”; specifically, the accident of finding something good or useful while not specifically searching for it.

There are no guarantees of tomorrow. Even those who have found love today, are not promised a forever.

The only thing we have control of, is how we view each opportunity presented to us. The man who says he will end up alone, is right. He will end up alone.

The woman who says she will find love again, is right. She will find love again.

The person who sees beauty in the ordinary, will also see the possibility of the future.

Things happen for a reason. That is something I will always believe.

Each experience leads us to a better understanding of ourselves, and presents a new opportunity for tomorrow.

You can’t fast forward to the next chapter of your life without first experiencing the now.

Puzzles are intricate and challenging. But piece by piece a beautiful picture begins to unfold.

It’s impossible to make some pieces fit. So toss them aside and make room for those that will. Something better.

Believe that all things- good and bad- happen for a reason.

* * *

A scene from Serendipity: a man and woman meet. Strangers, both engaged to marry others, who are immediately attracted to one another.

The woman, Sara, decides that if they were meant to be, destiny will bring them together again. Ether now or in the future. They know only a few pieces of information about each other, not including the other’s last name.

They scrawl their full names and telephone numbers on a $5 bill and a used book. Sara believes that if they are destined to be together, one of them will find either the book or five dollar bill by happenstance. But only IF they are meant to be together.  Without any contact information, they part ways.

Sara: You don’t have to understand. You just have to have faith.
Jonathan: Faith in what?
Sara: Destiny.

* * *

Last spring, my boyfriend planned a trip for us to Colorado. He put it on his credit card. A week later, I went to the bank and withdrew five one hundred dollar bills.

I was happy in love. I recall the five crisp $100 bills. As I sat at my desk one afternoon, I took a black Sharpie and in perfect handwriting I wrote “You” on one, “are” on another, “so” on the third, and finally “SEXY” on the fourth. On the fifth, I wrote his name, “Adam.” I embellished each one with red hearts. Silly, but sweet.

The next day, I gave him the five bills. He smiled and kissed me.

Right before our trip, I discovered that he was still on a dating website. I was devastated.

I told him I could no longer go on the trip with him and one morning before work, I stopped by his house. Without a word, he handed the five $100 bills back to me.

I was upset. Distressed. Beyond hurt.

Later that week, my daughters and I stopped at a Burger King drive-thru.

I reached into my purse and pulled out the folded $100 bills. I hesitated for a moment. Then without a second thought, I handed the teenage boy at the window the one marked “sexy.” It was emblazoned with big red hearts. My daughters, who rarely miss a trick, noticed it and started questioning me.

A minute later, the boy handed me back my change. We drove home.

One by one, I spent all of the $100 bills, saving the one marked “Adam” for last.

As I type, those five $100 bills are all floating around now.

* * *

I’m going to the bank. Maybe today.

I’m going to withdraw $100. Maybe three $20 bills, some tens and fives. Who knows? On a select few, I am going to write…. something. I’m not sure what yet.

Maybe some statement or word that perhaps trigger a memory that only he would know the meaning of.

Then I am going to spend them. All of them.

Not right away, but over the next few weeks or so. At the grocery store. At the mall… I’m not going to plan where. Just where ever.

Will he ever come across one of them again?

When he stops at Best Buy to pick up a new cell phone charger, will the clerk hand him one?

One night when he’s hungry and decides to stop at Taco Bell after work, will he receive one back in his change?

Or maybe some night, when he takes a new girl out on a date, he’ll pay for their drinks.  He’ll order a gin and tonic. Or maybe a beer.

No, he’ll definitely want to impress her, so he will order the gin. Or perhaps Scotch on the rocks.

The bartender will hand him his change back. He’ll mindlessly shove the bills into his pocket and go back to his date.

She is pretty. She has a nice smile. At that moment, she is all he will see.

The next day he’ll go about his day. Laundry day will come. Or maybe he’ll decide to wear those same jeans again.

He’ll pull them on. Later, he’ll reach into his pocket. And then. He will see it. On a five dollar bill. Or maybe on a ten.

My handwriting. My words. He’ll see me.

And he will……?

What? I don’t know. Maybe nothing. Or maybe… something.

Corny, I know. But more like close to impossible.

Or maybe not so impossible.

Whatever happens after that…. I choose to let fate decide.

Serendipity or not.

The Funeral

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I did not write this.

A friend sent this to me recently. It touched me and I wanted to share.

Enjoy….

Consumed by my loss, I didn’t notice the hardness of the pew where I sat. I was at the funeral of my dearest friend – my mother. She finally had lost her long battle with cancer. The hurt was so intense; I found it hard to breathe at times. Always supportive, Mother clapped loudest at my school plays, held a box of tissues while listening to my first heartbreak, comforted me at my father’s death, encouraged me in college, and prayed for me my entire life. When mother’s illness was diagnosed, my sister had a new baby and my brother had recently married his childhood sweetheart, so it fell on me, the 27-year-old middle female child without entanglements, to take care of her. I counted it an honor.

‘What now, Lord?’ I asked sitting in church. My life stretched out before me as an empty abyss. My brother sat stoically with his face toward the cross while clutching his wife’s hand. My sister sat slumped against her husband’s shoulder, his arms around her as she cradled their child. All so deeply grieving, no one noticed I sat alone. My place had been with our mother, preparing her meals, helping her walk, taking her to the doctor, seeing to her medication, reading the Bible together. Now she was with the Lord. My work was finished, and I was alone. I heard a door open and slam shut at the back of the church. Quick footsteps hurried along the carpeted floor.

An exasperated young man looked around briefly and then sat next to me. He folded his hands and placed them on his lap. His eyes were brimming with tears. He began to sniffle. ‘I’m late,’ he explained, though no explanation was necessary. After several eulogies, he leaned over and commented, ‘Why do they keep calling Mary by the name of ‘Margaret?” ‘Because, that was her name, Margaret. Never Mary, no one called her ‘Mary,” I whispered. I wondered why this person couldn’t have sat on the other side of the church. He interrupted my grieving with his tears and fidgeting. Who was this stranger anyway?

‘No, that isn’t correct,’ he insisted, as several people glanced over at us whispering, ‘her name is Mary, Mary Peters.’ ‘That isn’t who this is.’ ‘Isn’t this the Lutheran church?’ ‘No, the Lutheran church is across the street.’ ‘Oh.’ ‘I believe you’re at the wrong funeral, Sir.’ The solemnness of the occasion mixed with the realization of the man’s mistake bubbled up inside me and came out as laughter. I cupped my hands over my face, hoping it would be interpreted as sobs. The creaking pew gave me away. Sharp looks from other mourners only made the situation seem more hilarious. I peeked at the bewildered, misguided man seated beside me. He was laughing too, as he glanced around, deciding it was too late for an uneventful exit. I imagined Mother laughing. At the final ‘Amen,’ we darted out a door and into the parking lot. ‘I do believe we’ll be the talk of the town,’ he smiled. He said his name was Rick and since he had missed his aunt’s funeral, asked me out for lunch.

That afternoon began a lifelong journey for me with this man who attended the wrong funeral, but was in the right place. A year after our meeting, we were married at a country church where he was the assistant pastor. This time we both arrived at the same church, right on time.

In my time of sorrow, I found laughter and love. This past June, we celebrated our twenty-second wedding anniversary. Whenever anyone asks us how we met, Rick tells them, ‘Her mother and my Aunt Mary introduced us, and it’s truly a match made in heaven.’

Remember, God doesn’t make mistakes. He puts us where we are supposed to be.

The One and Only…

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The night before my girls headed to the beach with their Dad, my 8yo got into trouble.

We were discussing my exBF and she used a series of very descriptive curse words to describe him. I will not say exactly what.

But imagine the worst.

I was not happy.

Her punishment was to copy an excerpt from the James Mollison’s book, “Where Children Sleep.”

For those who are unfamiliar with this book, it is worth Googling. [See link, below.]

She was not happy with this punishment, but she went off to write anyway.

Before I went to bed, I found this card [photo’s below] neatly folded on my pillow, written in her hand.

These are her exact words, verbatim. Keep in mind she is only eight years old.

The cover: “To: The One and Only Mommy.”

Inside:

Dear Mommy,

I am so sorry for saying that word….  I understand that D. is a good person and that I got a little worked up. He hurt you and that is why I get mad. I know that sometimes I can say things that are not good and that’s what makes me mad, too. I can get mad over the littlest things sometimes. I am probably the luckiest girl to have so many chances in my life. Maybe it’s because I’m spoiled. But if it is than you know what? I am sorry for being that way. It can also be because I have the best Mommy in the world. 

But whatever the reason, or explanation, I am sorry and I want one more chance. It now might be my 1 millionth chance, but I am so sorry. I promise that I will keep my feelings to myself.

Please, one more chance. I will love it.

Love,

M.

It’s hard to believe she is only eight years old. And I’ll make sure she never keeps her feelings to herself ever again.

Xoxo

Here is the link to Mr. Mollison’s book:   http://www.jamesmollison.com/wherechildrensleep.php

  

and…