He Didn’t Ask to be Born

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From birth, man carries the weight of gravity on his shoulders. He is bolted to earth. But man has only to sink beneath the surface and he is free.-Jacques Yves Cousteau

At the age of 20, my Adam Boy told me he didn’t ask to be born. I looked at him and was kind of shocked by what he said. If I’d said such a thing to my mother, I would have been slapped in the mouth. I’m not her, so I simply shook my head in agreement. Adam spoke matter of fact, and wasn’t being malicious or nasty. He hardly ever is. His wasn’t a planned pregnancy, but was a pleasant surprise. I didn’t know if I wanted him or not. Roger and I were still newlyweds, and Meg was only five months old. She was a wild and spirited child that robbed me of sleep, and my smile. How the hell was I going to have two children under the age of two? I was all of 23 when he was born.

The first six months after Adam’s birth were harrowing, in the postpartum depression coupled with exhaustion kind of way.  In my wildest dreams I never would have thought he would question his birth. But then I think back to how both he and Meggie were raised, and now I’m not surprised in the least bit. He’s a brilliant young man that studies philosophy, so of course he’d say what he did. I’m not shocked or hurt by it. I’m in awe of  him. I look at him with wide wonder, and ask myself how’d my boy get to be so smart?

I know my birth parents didn’t ask for me to be born. I was an unwanted pregnancy. If abortion had been legal, I might have become a wistful memory to my birth mother. Instead of a constant reminder of a life she couldn’t have, back in April of 1968. I was born to a single mother and my biological father was married to someone else. If you’ve spent any time reading my posts, you already know my story. No sense in boring you with the details, again.

What this post is about is the other children that didn’t ask to be born, but were. The friend that wonders how both of her parents could still be alive, but doesn’t feel cared for by them. And never has for that matter. No amount of love I give her will ever fill that void. It breaks my heart. I want nothing more than to blanket her in unconditional love and tell her she is my family. It doesn’t change the loneliness she feels.

What about my friend that I lost so many years ago to suicide? I’m sure he didn’t ask to be born with severe depression and no way out of it, but with a bullet to his brain.

I thought about him today on my way to work. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was the weather. I remember us sitting on a concrete bench outside of our high school. He’d given me a pink carnation and a bright smile. His arms enveloped me and he kissed me. It was such a pleasant surprise. I even remember what we were wearing. He was dressed in pin striped jeans and a button up shirt. I was wearing a peasant skirt and blouse with strappy high heels. I crossed my legs and leaned into him. Put my hand on his chest and kissed his soft lips again. We giggled at each other as we walked to our bus. I’m sure we sat together, but the memory gets fuzzy and I can’t recall.

And there’s my friend that’s been a martyr all her life. Did she ask to be the one that takes care of everyone instead of herself? She’s still trying to figure out that she’s worth more. She needs to be taken care of. I hope she finds the one that will, because she’ll take care of him.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this post. All I know is it feels good to be writing it. To be contemplative. Maybe even a little inspirational. Again.

None of asked to be born. Some of us probably wish we hadn’t been. What would be the fun in that though? Think of all the books we wouldn’t have read. The art we wouldn’t have seen. The music that we wouldn’t have listened to. The people we wouldn’t have met. The love we wouldn’t have experienced. The hurt. The anger. The elation. The bravery. The failures. The hate. The tears. The dread. The fear. The happiness. The strength. The weakness. The sex. The want. The need. The life!

Life! We would have missed out on life. That my dears, is why were born!

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It’s Time to Hang it Up-For a Spell

Fairy in the flowers

Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt.-Vonnegut

Slaughterhouse-Five

Yesterday I was in the front yard, screwing around with my iPhone. I took loads of pictures. Don’t ask me how, but I snapped this shot while standing behind a flowering crab apple tree. I was smiling, I think. I smile all of the time. I may be falling apart inside, but there I am grinning like an idiot.

A few years ago, I was drunk and munching on country style ribs. My drunk self proceeded to bite down so hard on a bone, that I split my tooth all the way to the root. The following Monday, I was in Dr. Fear’s chair having my tooth extracted. It costs a small fortune to have an implant put in and then have the crown placed. Needless to say, I’m still missing a tooth. It doesn’t deter me from smiling though. Much to Adam Boy’s chagrin. He teases me all of the time about my gap toothed smile. Oh well, it could be worse.

If you’ve been following me for some time you know that I see my Super Therapist on a regular basis. He’s a great guy that makes me deal with my issues. I have many. Think Marilyn Monroe, but not as famous or pretty. Seriously, watch the movie, My Week with Marilyn and you’ll get an idea of what it’s like to live with a woman like me. Loving me is not easy and not for the faint of heart. I digress. Sorry.

As Super Therapist and I chatted yesterday, I realized that I’m not happy. My smile is there, but my heart hurts. I can’t tell you all why, but I will tell you one thing, my creativity is dwindling. My words are drying up, and I’m scared that they will disappear forever.

This Manic Pixie Dream Girl is going to take her leave for awhile. I’ll still participate in Friday Fictioneers, because I adore it. Rochelle and company have made me realize my potential and I’m so grateful. Think I’ll get my stories together for a book too.

I’ll be back, when everything is beautiful, and doesn’t hurt.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

Love, Sparkly Girl

Letting Go of the Mundane

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And I don’t know how I can do without I just need you now-Lady Antebellum

The hardest part of letting go of a love or what we thought was love is the fact that we aren’t involved in their every day lives. The mundane. You can’t send them a message or text knowing that they’ll get it after they’re done grocery shopping or had a doctor appointment. That part of your relationship is over. They become a stranger. That’s the hardest part to deal with, forgetting their patterns. They become a ghost to you long before their flesh dies.

Then all at once their memory comes flooding back. It could take one word, song, or a mention of their name. They’re brought back to life, and you have to forget them all over again.

Regrets Collect Like Old Friends

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My loves the results are in. Everything came back negative. I’m going to be okay. Thanks for all the love. The sweet words. For everything. Now onto my theme song from one of the women I most admire. Shake it out baby. Shake it out…..

Regrets collect like old friends
Here to relive your darkest moments
I can see no way, I can see no way
And all of the ghouls come out to play
And every demon wants his pound of flesh
But I like to keep some things to myself
I like to keep my issues drawn
It’s always darkest before the dawn

And I’ve been a fool and I’ve been blind
I can never leave the past behind
I can see no way, I can see no way
I’m always dragging that horse around
And our love is pastured such a mournful sound
Tonight I’m gonna bury that horse in the ground
So I like to keep my issues drawn
But it’s always darkest before the dawn

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaah
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaaah
And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh woah

I am done with my graceless heart
So tonight I’m gonna cut it out and then restart
Cause I like to keep my issues drawn
It’s always darkest before the dawn

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaah
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaah
And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh woah
And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back so shake him off

And given half the chance would I take any of it back
It’s a fine romance but its left me so undone
It’s always darkest before the dawn

Oh woah, oh woah…

And I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t
So here’s to drinks in the dark at the end of my road
And I’m ready to suffer and I’m ready to hope
It’s a shot in the dark and right at my throat
Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me
Looking for heaven, found the devil in me
Well what the hell I’m gonna let it happen to me

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaah
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaah
And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh woah

Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaah
Shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, shake it out, ooh woaaah
And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh woah

You Gotta Get Up and Try, Try, Try

PINK

My day started as usual. The alarm went off and I practically knocked the fucking thing on the floor to shut it off. I snuggled with Heidi Jo Jo, the Wonder Schnauzer. She licked my nose. I dragged my ass out of bed, said my good morning to Roger Darling and headed to the shower. As I was stumbling into the tub, Heidi had to have me pet her one more time. Of course I talked to her like she was a baby. Her little nubbin wagged excitedly with the extra loving. Afterward I dressed in warm clothes. Grabbed some coffee. Chatted with Rog. Did my hair. All the normal boring shit I usually do.

As I was walking outside to go warm up my car, I slid on the frost covered deck and fell on my ass. I let out a huge laugh that brought Roger to our picture window. As usual he shook his head at me. Then he raised his shoulders as if to say, “What the fuck woman?” I just kept laughing and picked myself up. Wiped my ass off as I headed out to my car and started it up. I do have a new Candy Blue, the Stripper Car. She’s more curvaceous  than my other Candy Blue. But curvy girls are always better. There’s more to hold onto.

I made my way to work with the stereo cranked to 11, changing stations constantly and singing my brains out. Typical drive in. I was screaming to P!nk’s new release, Try when my Sync system cut in. It was Roger Darling of course. He asked where I was. I let him know I was almost to the parking structure. He said he had just talked to mom and that one of our family members had been found dead this morning. I started crying. He told me to hold it together and call her back. I did. She sounded sick with grief. She told me no more details than my husband did. I made sure to tell her I loved her and to call me with any news.

In the span of five minutes and two phone calls my life changed. My mundane morning routine was turned upside down. My happiness, replaced with grief. For my sweet cousins.  My entire family. As usual death will bring us together. We will hug, cry and reminisce. We will remember and look forward. We will hold on. We will let go.

Much love my dear friends. Much love.

I Can’t Look at the Stars

I lit a fire with the love you left behind
It burned wild and crept up the mountainside
I followed your ashes into outer space
I can’t look out the window
I can’t look at this placeI can’t look at the stars
They make me wonder where you are
Stars
Up on heaven’s boulevard
And if I know you at all
I know you’ve gone too far
So I, I can’t look at the stars

All those times we looked up at the sky
Looking out so far we felt like we could fly
Now I’m all alone in the dark of night
The moon is shining
But I can’t see the light

And I can’t look at the stars
They make me wonder where you are
Stars
Up on heaven’s boulevard
And if I know you at all
I know you’ve gone too far
So I, I can’t look at the stars

Stars
Stars
They make me wonder where you are
Stars
Up on heaven’s boulevard
And if I know you at all
I know you’ve gone too far
So I can’t look at the stars

The Big 300 Video Blog!

Writing to me is simply thinking through my fingers

Isaac Asimov

Adam Boy asked me a couple of days ago, “Mom why do you want to be famous?”

I replied, “I don’t really want to be famous, I want to be remembered. To change a life.”

He said, “Mom in 100 years no one will remember you, and that’s okay because no one will remember me either.”

I told him, “Baby I was asleep for so long. I’m awake now, and I don’t ever want to go back to sleep.”

Adam replied, “Mom it’s okay that you’ve changed. That you’re awake. Most of us are only husks; shells.”

I looked at him in wide wonder. I wondered how he got to be so smart. And yet so jaded at such a young age. He’s only 21, but he speaks with the wisdom of an old man. Even though our children grow up, they still do things to amaze us. He’s so much smarter than I will ever be. Both Meggie and Adam Boy are. I’m proud of that fact. But I also told them that if they turn into arrogant fucks, I’m going to kick their asses. We’re a Blue Collar family. We are loud, opinionated, and down right rude, but we are good people. I did not raise my kids to be assholes.

Now to talk about writing. Writing has changed my life. I’m awake now. I’m thinking through my fingers. I’ve helped a young woman keep from committing suicide. I’ve connected with so many people all over the world. I’ve found my home. I’ve found my tribe. We are the tortured souls that have something to say. We do it with our words. We write what others are afraid to. Hell, the first time I posted erotica on my page I was petrified. Then I realized it was only part of me. I can write about anything. And I do. I’m so proud of that fact. So damn proud!

There are so many people that I want to say thank you to. I can’t name them all. I first want to say thank you to my best friend Lisa. She’s the one that told me to write. That I had a talent for it. She gave me the name for this fun bloggy of mine. I want to thank Kyle. He taught me so much about writing. And my sweet friend Rich too. Louise, ah my beautiful Louise. Then there’s Bradley. I love my dear Bradley. My brother in arms though, is t. I don’t have a brother, but if I did, I’d want it to be t. He’s the peas to my carrots.

Please keep reading. I promise more stories, more journal entries, more rants, and definitely more erotica. As always if you want me to write for you, send me a picture. I’ll make it come to life.
Love and hugs,

Sparkly Girl

I AM Unbreakable

Fireflight
Unbreakable lyrics

Songwriters: DALEY, NIOMI MACLEAN/SANTANA, CHINK
Kick ASS Christian Rock Band
Where are the people that accused me?
The ones who beat me down and bruised me
They hide just out of sight
Can’t face me in the light
They’ll return but I’ll be stronger God, I want to dream again
Take me where I’ve never been
I want to go there
This time I’m not scared
Now I am unbreakable, it’s unmistakable
No one can touch me
Nothing can stop meSometimes it’s hard to just keep going
But faith is moving without knowing
Can I trust what I can’t see
To reach my destiny
I want to take control but I know better
God, I want to dream again
Take me where I’ve never been
I want to go there
This time I’m not scared
Now I am unbreakable, it’s unmistakable
No one can touch me
Nothing can stop me Forget the fear it’s just a crutch
That tries to hold you back
And turn your dreams to dust
All you need to do is just trust God, I want to dream again (I want to dream again)
Take me where I’ve never been
I want to go there (I want to go there)
This time I’m not scared
Now I am unbreakable, it’s unmistakable (I am unbreakable)
No one can touch me (No one can touch me)
Nothing can stop me God, I want to dream again (I want to dream again)
Take me where I’ve never been
I want to go there (I want to go there)
This time I’m not scared
Now I am unbreakable, it’s unmistakable (I am unbreakable)
No one can touch me (No one can touch me)
Nothing can stop meMy dear friend Jason posted this on my FB page today. He told me that he knew I would identify with the lyrics. I’d never heard it before. I closed my office door. Turned the volume up, closed my eyes and let the lyrics wash over me. The words that stopped me in my tracks were: This time I’m not scared, Now I am unbreakable, it’s unmistakable (I am unbreakable), No one can touch me (No one can touch me), Nothing can stop me

I believe that now. I really do. The only limitations I have are the ones I put on myself. So now I don’t limit myself. I know I can do any damn thing I want. Who knew I could lose 150 lbs.? Who knew I could write and have over 400 followers from all over the world? Who knew I could raise two incredibly bright children or be married over 23 years? Who knew I could make you feel every word I write? Who knew any of this could happen? Who knew that at the age of 44, I would finally be comfortable in my own skin? Who knew? I thank you my dear Jason for sharing this song with me. I hope you know how much I adore you. Oh and I still think that you should be wearing your hair like James Dean in a sexy pompadour. 

The Fear of Being Forgotten

I was speaking with a fellow blogger yesterday about a photograph and quote that he posted. It was a photo of one of my idols, Marilyn Monroe. I told him that I felt her pain. He then asked what emotion(s) do you feel when you look at it. All of a sudden this torrent of words flowed out of me. I was so floored by what I wrote and how I felt, I became exhausted in mind, body and spirit. I then thought more about it. What is my emotion when I look at that picture of Marilyn. It’s a simple photo. She, laying on a bed, reading a book. On thinking ability, no less.

That’s where my fears of inadequacy creep in. I think about not going to college, so I don’t feel smart enough to write well. Speak well. Act right. Be normal. What the fuck is normal anyway? As Salvadore Dali said, I am not strange, I am just not normal. On that thought, why be normal? I’m happy with my angst, my eccentricities, my stupid horse laugh, and my mannish sounding speaking voice.

I have this insatiable need for validation. To be told I’m smart, pretty, funny, loving, etc. I tell you all that I fear nothing, but I do. I fear being forgotten. Of being bi-polar. Of not doing everything that I want to do. Of getting fat again. Of not being enough. Of, of, of, of all of the above and more.

I fear the fact that I may get thousands of likes but that one dislike kills me. Why should I give a shit, really??? I’m good, I’m happy, I’m loving and I’m loved. What more could a silly blonde girl want?

I fear that I’m a narcissist, arrogant, and I fear being alone. I fear that I will drown in my own abyss of self-destruction. Of which I have control of right now, but what about tomorrow? I fear that the words within me will stop. That I won’t be able to find them. I fear that I will be exposed. That you will find out that I’m not what I say I am. That I’m not a sparkly girl. That I’m a moody girl that cuts herself metaphorically with music and the written word.

I don’t say these things to get you all to feel sorry for me. I say them because these feelings are real. My biggest fear is being forgotten. I think it’s why I act the way I do. So you don’t forget me. I’ve said before I’m like a cheap red wine. I’ll show you one hell of a good time, but you’ll feel like shit in the morning when the buzz has worn off.

I don’t want positive reinforcement from this post. I’m just saying what I feel. Bleeding as it were. I want to keep bleeding. I want to hemorrhage. Hemorrhage a fantastic novel, I hope. We’ll see.

I told all of this to my dear friend, the Biker Renaissance Man today. He looked into my eyes and said, you will never be forgotten. You are our Nae. We come to you to share our stories. Our sadness, and our joy, because you love us and you applaud us. You feel everything we feel. He took me in his arms, hugged me and then gave me a fist bump. He said, you will never be forgotten because of what you give us, and that is connection. I was so overwhelmed that I couldn’t speak. I just let him hold me, and in that hug I knew, I knew I would never, ever have to fear being forgotten.