musings on life, love and laughter from my spoken heart to yours


A new day brings silver-linings and disguised blessings… (an update)

Today is a new day and I realize that in spite of it all I am OK. I am thankful for all I have. I am thankful that I do not have to allow abuse in my life any more. That even though I have felt helpless in the past, that does not mean I am helpless or that the situation is helpless. There are silver linings even in the darkest of clouds, and that many terrible things when re-assessed are really just blessings in disguise.

Why must blessings so often come in disguise? Why do we have to peel back the layers of stinking garbage in order to find the precious gift that is hidden deep inside?

So sometime late lastnite or early this morning my ex sent the outstanding support payment. I’m just sad that he had to play his games first. He had perform his sadistic, abusive little ritual. But you know what it is good, because he has cut the cord this time. I do not have to communicate with him. He created his rules and I am sticking to them. He doesn’t realize it works both ways. He has said that I am not welcome to text him, email only for contact. I’m good with that. This will now ring true for phone calls as well. (ha! ring true! the pun was not intentional…)

I am still going to push ahead and get this over and done with. I will be divorced before I hit the 6 year mark! Why have I waited 5 1/2 years to bury the carcass? I suppose that is the silver-lining on this dark miserable cloud… it has lit a fire in my belly. I have to finish it, make a clean break. It’s the only way I can truly move ahead. I no longer want to lug an old, ugly, stinky dead body around with me. Besides it makes for poor company. I think that I shall cremate it and bury the ashes. And I will pack up all the the garbage that goes with it and burn that too.

I realized today that if I had experienced the day I had yesterday say 2 years ago I would have had a complete meltdown, that likely would have lasted days. Now I shake it off my shoulders like spring rain. I am growing, evolving, maturing and healing. It has been SLOW. But sometimes slow is what we need in order for proper healing. When a wound heals over without being cleaned it gets infected and the only way to fix it is by re-opening it and cleaning out the infection. That is painful and tedious (and gross). But if you take the time to properly clean out the wound before it heals over then you can avoid infection. I am hoping that, that is what I have done here by going slow. That I have allowed all the debris and infection to be properly cleansed, I have applied healing balms and now I can close the wound up and let it mend.

Yes, It is time.


Forget Storage… throw that sh*t out!!!

“Yeah but you don’t really forget when you hide it. It’s just…in storage.”

A friend of mine said this to me a few days back and I just can’t seem to shake it. The words dig down so deeply, and resonate with such truth, at least for me they do. I suppose for them to make sense to you, you may need some background information. You see we were talking about past relationships, you know romantic/love relationships. Both of us share sordid pasts, and were discussing how those pasts have affected our relationships. I mentioned that before I had gotten married I had laid all my cards on the table, you know so I could start with a “clean” slate, this is something I am pretty sure I will never do again…

Why would some-one who professes to love you use your own experiences against you to cut so deeply? Why would they take your secrets, deep dark secrets, that you have entrusted them with as a sign of your love and trust for them and use them against you, as a means to control you? As we were discussing this some icky dark words filled with so much hurt, shame and pain came out of the dark recesses of my past… BAM! Like a slap in my face as fresh as the day they were first spewed at me. Once they came forth my heart bled and I cried.

That’s when I confessed that I have taken all the pain, all the hurtful abusive words and experiences wrapped them up and hidden them from view. Pushed it all aside in an attempt to forget about it. I am not really sure who I am trying to protect by hiding it, myself – my pride, my kids, possibly even my ex. And there came her words of wisdom…

“Yeah but you don’t really forget when you hide it. It’s just…in storage.”

In storage… I had to think about that. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was true. The funny thing about burying the past, you pretend it’s been dealt with, but it hasn’t been. Putting it in storage is a way of keeping it, but not necessarily using it. It’s been packed away, never really forgotten, certainly not let go of. But in order to truly move it on it has to be thrown away. Putting it in storage is like saving it just in case you may need it one day. You know that box of keepsakes that is kept in the closet, never opened, but never forgotten, and for some reason we just can’t seem to part with the stuff in the box. But why would I choose to keep painful, heartbreaking, bitter memories that crush my spirit? Perhaps deep down I believe it? Perhaps I feel I have to own it to protect myself from going there again? I am not really sure but I am exploring and trying to understand.

It’s amazing how we can convince ourselves we have dealt with something when in reality we just stored it to be dealt with some other day.


Days 66 & 67 – Let’s talk about sex… or, uummmm, maybe not…

This has been on my mind a lot the last few days. What? Yes I am saying sex has been on my mind – a lot lately, but more so has been the issue that people don’t, won’t and can’t seem to talk about it.

My bloggy friend Merbear, you can visit her over at Knocked over by a Feather, has written many little quips about sex and other related ‘no-no’s’ under the category of ‘Taboo Topics’ and apparently she received some flack for her latest taboo, oral sex. I think it’s crazy. She isĀ  always most usually tactful and puts a fun humorous spin on it to relieve the heavy of speaking about naughty bits and the things people do with them .

Personally I think that if we were to be honest, perfectly honest, and if we were to share the thoughts that swirl around in our heads, most of us would shock those around us. How can people get in a tither over some-one mentioning things that they have most likely done plenty of times before, or even worsefantasized about.

It seems that people (primarily North American, White Anglo Saxon/European descendants, who are of course generally the Christian middle class) have a bee in their bonnet when it comes to being honest about sex. Most of these same prudish individuals do partake in actual sexual behaviour. They must – they are married with children.

I look at other cultures where expressing yourself sexually is normal and acceptable, and wonder what’s wrong with us. India has the Kama Sutra – basically considered the ‘bible’ of sexual expression and position. Or Japan which has sex museums and the Kanamara Matsuri: The Penis Festival (literally Festival of the Steel Phallus) with penis shaped carvings, popsicles, key chains, pipes, candles, you name it, all for sale during the festival; they even have parades in honour of the manly phallus.

So why are we so uptight? Maybe we could should all go back to sleeping in separate beds fully clothed and meet each Wednesday evening for a quick romp, unless of course we have a headache, just to keep the marriage valid. I kid, yet in all honesty I have a hard time with expressing myself sexually and I don’t get why. I never used to. Now I make the entire room feel awkward if a make-out scene happens in a PG13 rated movie. What happened to the free spirit I once was? That seems so long ago now it feels like her life is built on some-one else’s memories.

OK I am going to get personal here; something I have a hard time with. Most of my readers know as I have previously shared about my trust issues that I do not like to share the deep intimate stuff, so I am going out on a limb and taking a chance. I have a gentleman friend that I have known for a long time. He and I connect ever now and then but mostly we text, and occasionally sext. He is one of the most forward and up front people I have ever met. If he’s thinking it he tells me. He makes me blush – often. I on the other hand am just a wee bit more reserved and pensive when it comes to sharing my dirty little secrets and private thoughts (you can read the word private in more than one context there). Anyways I am learning to take it in stride and actually find it kind of refreshing. There are no games, no guessing just honesty – frank, up front, honesty. (I must admit there have been a few moments where I nearly sprayed coffee out my nose as I have read a message coming in, but…)

But truthfully A part of me wants the freedom to be able to express myself like that. To know that it is safe to just say whatever I am feeling, thinking, wanting etc. And yet a part of me is, well, mortified at the mere thought. It’s those nasty trust issues again. It’s the fear that my honesty will later be used against me, used to shame and manipulate me. Or maybe that a thought will now be forced – “well you did think it, say it, express it, or imply it” or even harder – “you tried it once so…”. I know I can trust this person, yet a part of me is so protective, so secretive and guarded; it is just so hard to let go.

So you know, let’s talk about sex… or, uummmm, maybe not….