What Makes Me Laugh

Believe me when I say I know my brain has issues.  I laugh at the most inappropriate moments.
Well, I snicker....start walking extremely fast and just roar. I lose it and have a very difficult time
retaining my composure. Thinking about that makes me laugh harder. A situation just last week that made me laugh very hard, I am snickering as I write this. I wish you could see what a ridiculous, lazy writer I truly am. The computer is perched on my stomach,  at a rakish angle. I type with two fingers, the only way I know how. This amuses my hubby to no end. I was going to go to bed, but I started thinking about things that made me laugh, so I slung the computer on my belly.... and we are off. It is tilted so crazy right now, that makes me laugh. I will never do anything convenient, easy or proper.

Last week Ray and I were up in the Central Coast visiting friends ( okay I did a belly flip, too much weight on me with this computer, it's time to get cracking with this story).
Ray loves trains more than I can say,  this was a train trip ~ so we made a stop with a fellow who was going to show Ray some train biz. This particular stop was to some kind of an abandoned warehouse area in San Luis Obispo, and what to my wondering eyes did appear but a derelict looking motorcycle... perched in the corner by a chain link fence as a perfect prop for the old man and me to sit on.  The perfect photo op.  Our pal told us it was more than likely stolen, abandoned in this area.... that's all it took for these city slickers. I put some shades and a hat on Ray at crazy angles.... gangsta style. I was roaring, we were all laughing, carrying on. Then I got on with him, the party had officially begun. Just as I was about to ride solo  for this particular prop.... out of the corner of my eye a shadowy figure appears. I could not beat feet fast enough. Ray is wearing this ridiculous hat, gangsta style, with shades and the funniest expression on his face.  I am  tailing our friend very closely, as he is wondering why? am I laughing so hard and moving away at the speed of sound.

My hubby is standing by his lonesome while this wanna be bro is ready to give him a serious case of whoop ass. This makes me want to jump through the air and roar. I know it is not funny to leave him by himself.... and normally we would do the buddy system,  but the ridiculous hat got to me. This fellow was fuming, steam was coming out of his head. My hubby, ever the diplomat apologized profusely... but this gent was not having it. He was telling him proper protocol was,"You don't sit on a mans bike no more than you sit on his woman."  I would have gotten Ray killed at that point from laughing, best I moved along when I did.( Again, laughing in the most inappropriate moments.)
Somehow the wanna be biker set my man free, and then Ray came over to tell the full tale.

This gent kept coming out every fifteen minutes to have a smoke.... and had to hear us telling the story over and over again, with much more vivid detail.... probably echoing through the valley.
Our other friend showed up,  we had to tell the story yet again. I didn't know if the guy was going to come out with a shotgun. I guess you just had to be there, but seeing Ray peering through the fence trying to see if this fellow was watching us, it was  pretty funny, not Ray's M.O.  at all. It was worth getting the pics, thinking about it... laughing,  thinking about how my sweet dear hubby lets me pose him in these ridiculous situations.That's what makes me laugh the most!  That's love. 

Trust

I  have realized something this week....  that I don't think I really knew.  I have not trusted that I was liked, loved, accepted for me.... warts and all. This has been a real learning curve week. I have gone through a whole lot of emotions for various reasons that I will bore no one with. But what I came away with, I just figured my actions were mine, and didn't really affect anyone else. False. Waves of pain sweep over,  my reactions  are anything but ordinary. Knee jerk behavior takes over... I go underground,  a true sadness I had not experienced in such a long time comes like a thief in the night. Unexpected, unwelcome... an abrupt jolt to my senses.

I am not sure what set me off the most. What  I believe it was ... judgement from others about who I am.  Something I have just become comfortable with, probably for the first time in my life. It seems when you make a declaration of any kind, the Universe shakes things up saying... "Hey little lady,  that's what you think. Let's throw a little of this and that in the mix,  see how fancy you think you are."

Maybe because this comfort level is new to  me,  or because I have been traveling with Ray so much lately and away from home, my comfort zone... or just testing different waters. Could be all of the above. It knocked me down and then some. I felt like I was in grade school again, with nothing to guide me.
Maybe that is the point, to start over again, to trust that I am lovable, even and especially when I make mistakes and hurt others. I have, and do not feel good about it.
I cannot even explain to myself how far back I went from this experience, or why it set me off so badly. I only know it brought out shame in me that was not deserved. Very reminiscent of childhood shame where I would run for cover. Public scorn is so difficult.  I wish I could go back and have the where-with-all to say calmly everything I would have liked to.  However, now I will no longer accept bad behavior and cruelty. I may not have reacted  how I would have liked to at the time, but I am learning to forgive my imperfect self. I do the best I can. Tell the Truth, Apologize. Forgive, Love.

The Troll Toll

"Always Sunny,"  on Showtime is a program my kids just love. One particular favorite is "Got to pay the Troll Toll." They can watch it over and over again and laugh just as hard each time, and I must confess when I see that one.... I do too.  Last night when I couldn't sleep, ( it seems 4-ish in the morn is the witching hour for me lately),  I meandered out to the living room. A peanut butter eating boy was lounging on the couch, with a coffee clenched amigo (my husband) to his left. This looks like a party, hmmm...

The fellows soon were ready to pass out and stumbled back to bed by five.... lightweights. My mind was racing, and I hadn't even had any coffee and that peanut butter and jelly was looking pretty darned good.
I wasn't going to let Ray off that easy as his eyes drooped further into coma like state. That is when I am the most revved up. Isn't that what bed time is for?  I could solve all the world's problems at about 2 in the morning.

Somehow by the time I decided I might get some sleep,  I knew I would write this story about paying The Troll Toll. That seemed to appease my brain for a few hours. It wouldn't even matter if I explained the story of the meaning of The Troll Toll on TV.... real life will make so much more sense. I have paid that toll for so long, as I think many people have in every day life. The one that both makes me laugh and is sad at the same time.... My Father.

He would be the Temple City Troll Toll at the window. The kitchen is located in the front of the house, facing the street. This is and has been my father's domain for as long as I can remember. He has always been an early riser ( I mean 2 or 3 am, gets that radio cranked up, coffee pot going, and welcome to his world. With some people in life, you step into their orchestrated piece of reality, very carefully constructed  to the letter, this is his. Nothing changes. I think that is why I have probably changed so much in my life.... from nothing ever changing. It is not that I don't appreciate tradition, I absolutely do. I love it and am very traditional in so many ways. But a life built on fear, stagnation, rules.... I have never been able to breathe in an environment like that, and consequently left at the tender age of 16.

Part of The Troll Toll's job that is critical it would appear... is being the Gatekeeper.
The curtain in the kitchen, when The Gatekeeper  has clocked in at his post, is cracked opened at just enough of a rakish an angle that only the most discerning eye ( translating into one paranoid mo' fo' who has grown up with such behavior) knows.  The Gatekeeper is watching, waiting, lurking. This keeps people such as myself  very trained and observant when coming in contact with other Troll Tollers/ Gatekeepers.
Over the past couple of weeks I found myself toe-to-toe with such magnificent specimens to their craft.
My reaction, once my head blows up inside and goes off like The 4th of July,.... I want to flee.
The trapped feeling I get, I cannot explain. I have always felt like a wild mustang that needs to roam freely in the meadows. When the Troll Tollers/ Gate Keepers appear... I know they want to put me in a cage- harness me,  I cannot breathe, think, .... I am a roamer by nature.
We all have encountered Troll Tollers in our lives, just waiting under  the bridge to have us pay some toll they believe we owe.  Our freedom, our joy, our love...any light that shines brightly, that they interpret makes  their space darker.
Why? I believe because sitting under that bridge so long, keeping score of all the people going over the bridge, not living, has kept the Troll Toller empty. Empty hearted, empty life, empty spirit.
Their ultimate goal is to rob the unwitting person who is simply living, loving, breathing in, enjoying life as they cross the bridge, somehow making the Troll feel invisible and powerless.

I say this.... as we cross any bridge, let's stomp! Sing, dance... be our most joyous selves.
The Troll Toller only gets the power from what we give it. It's looking cuter by the second the smaller it becomes.

Dreams

"Never forget how to dream Little Star, shining brighter than all the stars in all the sky."
These words from one of Madonna's  songs... "Never forget who you are butterfly, may angels protect you and sadness forget you."

These words literally have changed my life. I needed an anthem to believe in.
"Never forget where you come from... from love"- I needed to reframe, recreate, rebuild a new me. I needed words to build from that would sustain me. Dreaming was light years away from me as a child. Survival with the pack of wolves (my brothers  and sisters and I) was the order of the day.  With lack of direction and purpose, we wildly grazed in our own lives best we could.  Dreaming would come much later for me, in the form of my angel, my husband who helped me remember what dreams are.

As I write this, listening to the music with my headphones on.... I look over at him. Tears well over,
because I know one hundred percent I would not be the person I am today without his love.
A wild stallion, lacking trust and calm,  Raymond would sit with me until the wildness, fear, anger would subside from growing up in a home void of love or affection.  Through so much confusion and sadness, he held me tight as I pushed him away, shut down, froze.... went dead.

Filling my soul with his warmth, words, dreams until I could  dream again on my own.
People have said through the years we are such opposites, what do we have in common?
Love, patience for each other's deepest wounds,  places in the dark where no light has been shined on.
Most of all, laughter. We laugh so often... as we have cried.  Deep love for our children.
Raymond is my calm, my love, my angel. He helps me to look up to dream and remember I come from love.

Looking Back

It's  very early morning as I am writing. I couldn't sleep, my brain would not turn down the volume, so here I am. doing the next best thing. It's around four-thirty, the cats and I are having our own party.
I think what got me all riled up was looking at photo albums last night. I brought many albums out from my closet and draped them all around me on my bedroom floor. Years flooded by me, my life, my family.
It was almost too much for some reason in those moments. I think because I finally understood where I came from, by looking back. The steps it took, the toil and labor... the sheer effort of all the steps.

One picture caught my eye in particular. It  was from eleven years ago. Just thinking about it brings a sadness to my heart.  I think because it is the true acknowledgement of what it has taken to get here today.
What I saw.... a very sad, overweight, depressed  person trying to figure out my life.

I think it is very important to be able to look back at ourselves, all the parts we have wanted to discard.
That very sad person- the one who was always me inside, who just got trapped and needed to find my way yet again. I was no less lovable for my pain, I just needed to heal and believe that I was worthy of love in one of my lowest states. As I am writing this, I am thinking what do I really want to express of myself to the reader?  Oh yes... we don't just arrive in our lives with a pretty bow on, and we are done.  It takes effort. Some make it look incredibly easy and some fake others out, how did they get there? It didn't look like any work at all. Those people,  I have learned,  are the ones who have usually worked the hardest.

Standing up for what we believe in along the way, finding your voice.
 Everything takes effort. Nothing is going to feel comfortable right off the bat. Saying" no," especially  women we are so conditioned to please and say" yes." It is on shaky legs to become the person you want to be. Through the years I fell more times, felt like moving backwards instead of forwards.
It  felt so imperfect, I judged myself so mercilessly. There were no maps to guide me, only my internal radar that didn't always serve me, due to fear and disbelief that I would not  be a good leader for myself.

I listened to the "experts" instead of me, the theorists, the ones who easily tell you how it is without the slightest clue. I fueled my body, mind and spirit with  negativity and fear  and crappy eating along the way out of desperation, holding on to the only past I knew.
Then something finally snapped. I wanted  different~ things started making sense, falling into place. This was definitely not overnight. Years in the making, actually. But I finally woke up.
I wanted more, I wanted to be whole. I would do whatever it took to get there. I had no idea what "there" was, but I was willing to go.

That started many years ago, and has and will continue until the day I die. Feeding my mind, body, spirit good thoughts, food, people.  LOVE. No longer punishing myself. When I am  surrounded by negativity, it is time to move on. My body feels this and reacts. Nothing is worth these miserable feelings anymore. I treat myself with the same respect I treat others. That was my biggest challenge.... ever.
Life is indeed what we make it. I would never have believed or have understood that many years ago. I was too invested in being a victim to my circumstances. I still get frustrated at times, want to be further up the road than I am. But then all I need to do is..... look back from where I have come.

Beauty

Beauty... knowing our worth. Allowing how we feel to flow joyously without apology.
For some that is their second nature. To breathe in the air, to feel life to be as natural as the breeze.
For others like myself, that comes with much practice. To be able to accept all the parts of self as is... to dive in head first .... Life I'm here. Now let's get this party started.

That is where I am at, let's get this party started. I am blooming at an older age to some.
Fifty would appear to be over the hill. I have never felt younger, more exuberant... alive.
I understand  my body, my rhythms, my mind. I connect with my soul.


I have boundaries now, that were once merely words that sounded good in a book I had read.
They now keep me safe, grounded, able to live the way I choose to.
I have learned an incredibly valuable lesson lately. Beauty wanting so to be released from deep inside of me... my true soul essence. This has been my greatest life challenge.


I have watched how beautiful and natural  my daughter is, allowing this beauty to radiate and shine from deep within her. Growing up knowing  your own worth is critical to allow this light to come out and shine bright, free and to understand it was always your birthright.

A recent experience, although painful actually has moved me to this birthright way... even faster.

When we are criticized, commented on, not accepted for who we are, over and over again it sends a message  to the child in us about our worth.  The adult can easily brush this nonsense off, say things such as,"Well consider the source,"  or what most of us think... "A__hole."

Okay, well that's  my thinking...... probably the cleaned up PG version actually.
The truth is,  and I really do know this when I am in my rational "non -painful", "ouch- this- hurts" frame of mind. It is just their pain and limitations, not mine.
Whatever they are carrying from their life from day to day, year to year. Hmmm, time to unload again, that looks like good a place as any to unload. Plop.
Usually on someone who is an easy mark, sensitive, who won't fight back,  etc, etc, etc.. Then...surprise!...when you challenge this person who is usually very vocal, rarely holding back while letting you know about you . What happens nine times out of ten? They crumble. Cowardice. They slink away and crumble, acting the victim themselves! They spew their volcanic wreckage for the world to enjoy and  many will accept this behavior.  "Oh that's just so and so, it's just how they are."  As if  treating people badly is acceptable behavior because  "that's how so and so is", or "They don't mean anything by it". The fact is yes they do.
My siblings and I  grew up in an environment with  spewing volcanic lava with words. It burns, it scars, it sears.
"That's just how so and so is" is not good enough. Abuse is abuse, and it needs to be addressed and
not excused.

A flower blossoming takes time. Needs to be in the right soil, nurtured, loved protected.
Sun is essential or the flower will die. Weeds will choke the flower.... as they love to take over garden beds.  Spring is coming.... to all the beautiful blooming flowers whatever age we decide to bloom.
You've never looked more radiant in your true light.