Tag Archives: faith

part 2

sunset dance

 

here we are.

don’t worry about what to do next;  or about telling me when you’ll call.

i want you to call me when you feel like it; when you have something to say; when you want to hear me laugh; when you want to listen.

what happens next?  whatever comes next, that’s what.  no need to commit to a plan that has to be.  expectations aren’t fair to anyone.

don’t wonder if I’m thinking about you, because I am.

i have no idea how to do this, either, but i’m in.  i won’t be afraid. let’s dance.

all you have to do is stay in it.  ride with me. don’t let go.

 

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I Don’t WANT to be Impressive

 

When people began learning about my divorce, there had been a constant sentiment coming from people.  Friends kept telling me that they were proud of me.  What!? Me? Why?

What is there to be proud of?

Proud of choosing the wrong path?  The wrong guy?  For staying static for too many years?  Proud of putting my children through some intense scary shit? Of ignoring the red flags that have been waiving in front of me for years? Of settling? I certainly did not feel very proud at first.

I mean, I know what they meant, of course.  It takes a lot of strength to make a decision with such unpredictability.  I suppose you need chutzpah to start all over, especially with little ones.  A lot of us stay in unhappy relationships or situations simply because it is easier.  It is easy to settle into being content.  It’s cheaper and “might as well” right?  Because we all know going down the other road is going to be emotionally tough, financially straining, and down right scary.  Their pride in me, though, showed support and made me feel strong and able to take on anything.

So I took that confidence and pride, the anger I was feeling, and allowed my logical brain to take over for a while.  My heart has gotten me into enough trouble and it felt as though my head had my heart in a choke-hold…So no one saw me cry.  My children saw silliness, tasted delicious meals, and woke up smiling.  I would smile big and work hard at the office.  I took all my strength from the deepest parts of me to get through court hearings, attorney meetings, debt collectors, police visits, maintaining my cool, facing foreclosure, and to pray as hard as I could.  Honestly, I had been doing alright, considering all the factors, here.

Because sometimes shit feels so heavy in your soul, but somehow something else inside you tells you that this is right.  I know somehow that I am doing the right thing.  Don’t ask me how.  Even though it hurt SO much a lot of the time, I knew it was right.  I knew that I deserved the best.  That I will NOT go down like this.  I will not let myself sink into contentedness when instead, I can grow and live.  Live outside the box of Maybe and head into the space of Forward.

So the other day, my friend Malina says to me that what I was doing was “brave and impressive” (via text).  Right there, in my car, at a red light, I literally screamed out “I don’t WANT to be impressive!!” I probably sounded like my kid when she doesn’t want to take a bath or put on her shoes.  If I wasn’t driving, I probably would have stomped my foot while I said it.  I turned into a 5-year-old and the tears ran down my face all the way home. Truth is, we can only carry our own personal world on our shoulders for so long before you want to take that thing and throw it as far away from you as possible. You don’t even want to see it.  Because even though you know it is right, it just feels so unbelievably impossible.  It is beyond exhausting.  I’m tired of being strong and keeping cool.  That’s just as exhausting.  I kept my cool for a long-ass time and right there I let myself lose the cool…and let it all out.

So as I pack up the house, crying with each book or frame I pack, with melancholy nostalgia and hopeful excitement at the same time:

I don’t feel like making you proud.  I don’t want to be brave and I do not want to impress you.  I want to lay around in sweatpants with a bottle of whiskey and a joint and cry over a boy who broke my heart.

BW-cry

 

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Punches from the Past

There are many times you might bump into someone you have not seen in a while, or get a random email nicely written from someone you never hear from. Many times, we say that was a blast from the past.
My past lately likes to sucker-punch me. I get my past punched in the face with a dash of emotional bruising.
Punches from the past keep me from slumping down into a monotonous emotional routine.
Punch me in the face to remind me of how much i have yet to process.
I preach the importance of processing life’s events so as to not fester.
Yet, this year I have found plenty left unprocessed in the depths of my heart.
Perhaps leaving that much about my past buried deep enough I would not have to face it in the mirror, has brought me so many punches this year.

They are punches rather than memories because I sometimes have to face unpleasantries. Some of my own doing. But to move forward I have always found it necessary to dissect myself. But where do we draw the line? Where do we begin to become obsessive and unable to function in the PRESENT. At what point do we decide there is nothing can be done. Because in actuality, there IS nothing can be done.

How many times can I tell you I am sorry?
You show up in my facebook messages.
Show up on my set.
In text messages with beautifully written memories of me.
What to learn, what to learn.

I cannot run from you again. I have been punched and confronted so as to face you.
Do I tell you I wish I could do it all over again? Do I dare, when wishing for that could erase so much of my present? But I have run and hid. I have run without looking back.
It is time to look.

Oddly enough, much of this surge began around the time of my spiritual new year (high holidays) and here at the closing of 2012, I try and make sense of it by writing a senseless blog entry that no one will read. So, my Logic and my Heart CAN be in sync. Somewhat.

Past, can we be friends?
Do people truly move on? Do I?
Because what I would really like to do is punch you right back.
Tell you to get the hell out of my face and never return.
But now that would not be very mature of me, would it?

Angry or not, I look for you in those messages now.
I look for you on my phone. I close my eyes and see your face.
I pour a glass of wine and pretend to call you.
I smoke a cigarette and have a conversation with you.
And until I can make sense of all of these memories, feelings, and fears –
I will try not to become overwhelmed with the emotion and continue to pray for peace.
I will give you my genuine self as I always do.
But could you please stop punching me so hard?

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HIGH HOLIDAYS 2011

the last time i wrote about the high holidays, it was with such negativity, i thought i would balance that out with a positive entry about this year’s holidays.

finally, after some time of searching, i had a very enjoyable; very peaceful holiday experience.
it seems that i have been constantly trying to “return” and find my place among a jewish community for quite some time. lately, the spirituality has been taken out of everything because i couldn’t “afford” to attend services or didn’t have money to pay dues. this would always lead me to a rant about how modern society has commercialized religion into a money-making scheme and ‘argh argh argh!’
this year, we finally move into the small town outside the city i was looking for which, of course has a shul and small jewish community. i start attending family events, meeting members, rabbi, sweet female cantor, and executive directors…i am told that i can attend anything i want, that i may take all the time i need to see if this is something i want to be a part of – to feel RIGHT.
so i do.

and come rosh hashanah, i was ready for a spiritual new year. i was ready to spend some time inside of myself and find some peace. i was ready to pray for my sins and those of others. to confront errors i have made and find ways to be more whole. to do better. i was definitely ready to sit in shul, listen to the song of the most soulful cantor i have ever heard and just cry. let the tears roll in joy and in pain. to let the tears roll down my face in honor of life. in honor of those no longer with us, in honor of my children, myself, and my family.
when else will i do that, if not sitting in temple with others who are trying to do the same? i don’t know about everyone else sitting in that temple, but i know i get very distracted in the daily doings that i barely take a moment to say a prayer before going to sleep. i barely take a moment to sit down and simply take some deep breaths in quiet meditation. things that do nothing but good for me.

i was sitting in services because THIS year when i asked “how much is it?” the response was “just come.”
“just come” – with no talk about dues memberships or fees. and that is all i wanted to do. just come.

as i come to peace with the fact that there are the ways of dues memberships and fees, i have to say that without that taking the spotlight from the holiday, i was able to fully engage. to fully immerse in the holidays and the spirituality that comes with it. i am so very thankful for the “just come” because my focus was right where it needed to be. i made my first brisket, baked some challah and chatted with the big guy QUITE a bit. he even threw me a curveball at services, and i met a troubled soul who made everything that much heavier.
i have to say that troubled souls are everywhere and anywhere you least expect it. a recovering alcoholic or struggling crackhead can be sitting right next to you at shul. she can be speed-dialing the rabbi when she has relapsed and used again. this, my friends, made it all so real.

yom kippur. when we talk about being good people. people that clothe the naked and feed the hungry. during a time when we give to charity and to the needy, i had needy right next to me. needing rides to services, trips to the supermarket and a friend to cry next to during kol nidre. when i first met her, i looked up at Gd and i said “really???”, shaking my head. and by the end of the holidays, at the end of my rejuvenation and spiritual comeback, when a troubled soul was on her way home to mom and dad — i heard him answer “really.”

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