A Song For You

I haven't written in such a long time it feels strange ~ foreign.  A lifetime seems to have passed through my fingertips in just a few short months. I got stuck and didn't know where to begin.
I guess I will let simplicity take over,  the New Year as well. As I sit next to the fire on this cold January night, the beginning of The New Year, I  know in order to move forward, I have to release things from the past that no longer serve me. The circle of life ~ hope it get's easier for this heart of mine.

James Taylor, my constant companion in this lifetime sings out ~ crisp and clear. How can I run from any truth when I hear him singing, "This is a song for you."   Letting my heart speak out brave and bold, regardless of others reactions. Just knowing what is right for me, my family. Standing in my truth.
 Not causing others pain. Wanting to spread joy, to know it myself. My heart has carried so much stuff, what  never was  mine. I am sure  many, too have traveled through the  years carrying  parcels, packages, backpacks, heavily laden with  boulders that never belonged to them.

   In August I will turn 50.  What do I really want for myself? Have I ever even really asked myself that question? I don't think so. Maybe in the back of my head. I have had such serious Martyr Syndrome.....
passed down from my mother, from her mother. And on and on it goes. I feel like I have pretty much broken that cycle with my daughter. Why, because I have wanted that more than anything else in my life, possibly more than the air I have breathed.  Now it is time that I want the same for myself.

What do I want? Joy, Peace.  Love and happiness for my family, always. Good friends.
 Find greater purpose, and follow it.  Have the courage to speak my convictions. Travel. Spend so much more time with my hubby. Dream more. Play more and be less serious. When did that happen? I want great health. To lose this 15 pounds I have been bitching about!  Feel beautiful, and not fear it.
I feel younger than ever inside. Why not let the outside match. Let my hair grow as long as I want.
Not what someone tells me. I have good judgement. I think I know when I look like a burnout 70's mama.  I am not that "Clueless in  Seattle". And this wearing black biz. Hmmmmm, now is it really because I love it so much, or to hide my gut. The legs have always been ok, my gut has never been worked on!
I have a gym membership..... fancy that!   This gal ever heard of sit ups? Pilates? Wow, nice machine collecting dust in the family room. Looks good with things piled around it, kind of gives the room a country charm.

I am going to take Belly Dancing. My gut can't possibly be the biggest one in the dance studio, will keep you posted! Get back into yoga. Loved that. Now this pony tail look really rocks the casbah.......
but I wonder what my hair would look like in an actual style. Something to ponder over. Now I know why I haven't wanted to write. Facing the demons and all. This time it isn't quite as brutal.
Much more humor with age. Taking it less seriously. Wow, I actually feel lighter.

Last week my hubby and I were in the car driving. We were talking about my 50th Birthday, and at first I was excited about him wanting to give me a kind of Surprise Party. (Wink Wink) For a control freak!
Than panic set in along with my  true seven year old fears. Who would really come? It was a very painful feeling. I am the one always giving the parties. To let go, all the way. Face possible rejection.
But what about  JOY, LOVE,  things I have not allowed in the past 49. That is a very new notion for me that I am surrendering to. So, perhaps it will be only me at my Birthday Party. All dressed up. And....... if that is the case ~ I will be Disco Dancing like no ones biz.    In a dress that makes me feel like a million bucks.   It's my one night for me!  Expressing myself! With many more to come.
 Feeling JOY and expressing it is definitely my new mantra.  Letting go of the ghosts that have haunted me in the past, and letting myself bask in the true glory of why we are all here........... to love and be loved.  I am ringing in 2011. Can't wait to see what is around the corner.

"But You Have Ray".....

 Being born  a female. Yes...... in my family that had been the hurdle I needed to overcome.
The anger I have needed  to unleash, the frustration that has burst through many tears. To be a female from birth and know the role of second class citizen. Only understanding at this age, as I awaken from this nightmare I have been immersed in..... to simply survive in an insane system.

Today, which started out with the best of intentions a birthday lunch for my mother turned into frustration, anger and lack of resolution as I left the restaurant. My heart is filled with so much sadness as the tears flow. Bitter long overdue tears. Beyonce plays in my ears on the headphones as my kids sit behind me in the family room  happily chatting watching TV and enjoying one another's company. My heart feels shredded in a million pieces. So  up the volume goes, I swig some water back, and dig in.  I am lost in the netherworlds of my past,  sitting here with the amazing life I have now created.

"You have Ray," I have heard so often as though it is a prize I have won at the Country Fair. This has not been a contest. This man is my love, my life.  He is in my life because my heart searched for him, from long, long ago. Even before I  even knew such goodness existed.  I held onto Fairy Tale Dreams, and just fumes of those at times. My tears flow because I have to believe that I deserve this goodness in my life just because......  I inhale and exhale. Because I have always believed  in love, always been a dreamer. Always wanted to be loved, and love in return. Today I could no longer hear the words of having my love  somehow has made every step I have taken easier to get where I have come. The rage that came out of me was bigger, stronger and more unwilling than I have ever felt before.

Having my love Raymond, and being who I am. Those are two separate things which I only realized today. I am so grateful to be loved, know love by such an amazing man. I am better, more, kinder because of him. More thoughtful, gentler.

But I am not me, Clare because of him as my mother has eluded for so long.... and again today.
I did that all by myself. No one built me,  I did from the ground up. I am finally taking ownership.
He has spectacularly loved me through some of my darkest nights, and cheered me on   my greatest victories. He knows and loves me .... as is.

I will no longer believe the words of weakness and fear I have heard over and over again, and as I did again today. Listening especially about men being taken care of, and women fending for themselves in our family. Poor, helpless men and mean old women.  Something burst in me at lunch, hearing how ridiculous these statements were. Especially to the girl who did fend for myself at 9, and then leaving home at 16. It was "better" that way.  No, I have paved my way and then some. For myself and others to walk on my back and shoulders. I have done it in complete and utter darkness, fear. Judgement. I still walked forward. I have no more patience. I have run out. For me not to understand what it is like to be in pain, fear, aloneness, oh yes because I have Ray, that all simply goes away. I forgot. I made my own path, and second class citizen no longer washes for me. My power is flowing into me. I am sorry my mother chose a man who lived life built on fear, and she in turn bought into this life. I am now my own hero. I am rescuing me. I love the idea that I have always had a partner.

This second class citizen biz that we grew up with as girls, watching power  being infused into our brothers ~ just because. It continues and how old are we? The six of us.... three boys, three girls. The pain continues in our hearts as females. It is a role I am stepping out of. Victim. My mother has continued to live helpless victim role to my father and the males in my family. I am now happy the females have had to make our own way. It made us stronger, sassier. Maybe a certain amount of dude chick, true. Maybe that sassy biz can be sexy..... hmmmm?

I need to soften, trust. Let go. Not have to be so  strong. My hubby would be more than happy to wear the pants in the family more often. I have been afraid to let go. It is not because I have wanted to be a dude chick. Abuse, pain, fear. I relinquish, as I identify. I do have Ray, I am eternally grateful to know such love.

Everybody's A Critic

I was just thinking about the people who are willing to make themselves vulnerable.
Day in, day out. By their own choice,  because it is a calling. So much bigger than who they are as an individual. They just know, and are willing to put themselves on the line for all the Critics.
Whatever form it takes. Music, Art,  any Creative Endeavor  or risk..... let's not leave out Writing. There are so many I'm forgetting, please forgive me.  It would seem to me at times, the greatest critics..... the one's who have not left their comfortable arm chair. That has been my experience time and time again.

Support usually comes from other's who have exposed themselves on some level, and have empathy.
They don't have to be in the same situation as you, just an understanding of how frightening it is to put yourself out there in the first place. To dig deep in your soul and allow a letting go~ enough to come to a place of comfort and surrender. Then, and only then when you have unpeeled enough layers, can you start to dig in and get busy. That is how the  Creative Process has worked for me.  Feeling safe enough to let go.... to create.

 I grew up with that Critic in the Chair who never risked anything a day in his life.
He became the Judge and Jury...... we, his children  the  constant  Defendants.  Listening to  reasoning, that only until adulthood could I understand was built on fear and fear alone. Try as I may, the dutiful daughter, to make sense out of the ever changing facts." It's too hot,"  It's too cold," "Why do you want to do that?"
Judge and Jury of One, that was my father. Arm Chair Warriors are very good at holding their post. They stay until the bitter end. They fight a battle that you can never win.
I know, I tried my whole life. I questioned my sanity. My Father could make the most insane seem normal with the snarl of his lip. The Powerless Judge held Court through his Silence.

The Critic kept us all in line. Dance Ballerina Dance. The Neighbors were good for nothins.
Uncle Mike was Mr. Vice President..... who the hell did he think he was?
Meanwhile, this man, all throughout  his  life could not survive without the assistance  of his parents or my Mother. Everyone was a bum. Anyone who dared to dream or succeed. The Judge and Jury wasn't having it. I realize I have been terrified of success my whole life. My husband is a different story.  
I am  so proud of him. He is my example of breaking through, against all odds.

I have been so careful  not to rock the boat with my Father.  This has been the case with my siblings.
Make sure to give the Big Man what he needs, so he will move on to the next topic. We have learned to walk on eggshells. Learned at any early age to judge his moods. That was critical for our wellbeing.
No, I will not live like this anymore. This is his problem now.  I have had enough of that Critic in my head to last a lifetime. Mr. Armchair Warrior is firmly planted. He's not going anywhere. Believe me... he's cozy looking out the window from  the kitchen,watching the world go by.
But I am. I am creating a life for myself. I have to leave that one behind. I am not angry, just sad. Just no longer willing.  I will always make myself vulnerable, that is how I create. I am vulnerable as I write this now. The difference, I  want, need and know this is the absolute right thing for me to do. Arm Chair Warrior has done me a great service..... by making me a Lifelong Defendant, being Judge, Jury and all.
I know how to hold my own in the Court of Life.

The Wordsmith

I was thinking about the way I write, the way I talk...... me.  Sometimes  from growing up a good Catholic Girl, I think I am supposed to write a way that is according to  "The Rules." Not mine, just so I can stay middle of the road,  not to shake things up too much. Sometimes the real me is a little too real, or boring. I definitely swing either way. The way I talk, the  people closest to me.... know I just let it rip. What I think is funny, deep, whatever it may be.  Unfortunately, I have a slight fascination with certain cuss words. When I said them as a child, I got soap down the throat for saying just the  mild ones.
Makes sense I would go for some reactionary words later. I am still chuckling thinking about what old senile nuns would do, hearing it.  I must not get out much.
Things like that have always made me laugh. The price was so steep, so when you got in trouble for anything in Catholic School, or at home, you'd better be willing to pay. It wasn't that I dug paying, it's just that I always loved the reactions, and could live a while on  them. So pleasurable to me, especially coming from so much repression. So, life's simple pleasures for this gal, an occasional cuss word still has me sheepishly grinning that I am going to The Confessional for it..... for certain.

I have always played with words, much to my Mothers dismay. She was a Teacher, speaking  English  correctly being critical to her life .  It wouldn't make sense if I didn't say "Ain't" constantly. Unglue her with her hillbllly daughter's ways. She is so literal, that it made the game all that much more fun. Content of what we were saying mattered so little usually, and with six children, it was a free-for-all.  Usually as long as we said it right, that was good enough. But boy oh boy  did  those ears perk up when we threw a  few choice cuss words around. She seemed to have a spark in her eye...... get the biggest friggin bar of
Ivory Soap known to mankind out. No worn down ones with this gal. She had a mission.
She was going to teach us Heathens  a lesson. That soap was crammed so far down our throat.
Good times at the Gagliardi household.

I actually am realizing as I write this, I have a lot to thank that Old Dame for. Through her constant criticism, it actually made me play with words. Have fun with them. I have always enjoyed
words so much. I never realized the backwards gift she gave me. It takes what it takes.
Sometimes to create, we have to come at it from a different angle. Maybe I needed an angle like her to be me. Not one I would wish on the feint of heart, yet somehow I am starting to see, just this year....
is it in spite of? What would be the proper term and who would care. I am here, I have figured it out, or am well on my way, and I am leaving the Ghosts behind. Ain't that something?

Mirror, Mirror On The Wall.......

I haven't written  in a long time. No desire. it happens when it happens, usually in spurts.
Today would be born completely out of pain. I am riding this wave until the finish. I know it will be a biggun. What kicked it in to overdrive.....fear. Nothing less, bone chilling, gut wrenching, feel like puking your guts kind. So  here I  type, ready to slay another dragon. This one is one of my own making.
I thought it was "Out there,"  but alas.... this sucker belongs to me.

I have reunited with a childhood friend. It has been wonderful. Great fun reminiscing. Sharing stories of past times, our families, etc. I have enjoyed this time immensely. What I didn't realize about myself, is the separate life I keep. I really got it today more than ever. The Private Lives of Clare Spencer. I have lived them in one form or another for so long, I had just forgotten. Always representing the truth, the picture I wanted people to see..... depending on what crew I was with. I am sure many people show the many faces of their lives. This is probably quite normal and healthy. Called boundaries. Some things are appropriate  with one person, totally inappropriate with another. What I realized today through uncontrollable tears, my fear of being accepted for me. All the way through. My story. Who I am. Not the glossy, cleaned up version. The one that I can make so normal, funny, whatever I need to.  The real me. Foibles, warts, fears, pain, and all.

Yes I love a good laugh, in fact live for it. Thrive on it, crave it. Get's me through everything. Literally has saved my life. But the real me, is one intense little lady. Built on some very intense experiences, that quite frankly I wouldn't  wish on anyone. I am so glad I had them, though. They have made me~ who I am.

I am stronger, wiser, much more compassionate.  I was one very lazy gal pal. My experiences shook me to the core, and then some. I was supposed to be shaken, just as I was today. I tell everyone else to love themselves. Yet I lack so much compassion for me. Today I came face to face with terror.
For being me, all the way through. My friend may soon see all my stories I have written, not just the two funny one's  I sent him. I will be revealed for my humanity. My weaknesses.  For me. This had me very frightened. Yes, I am still uncomfortable. The truth is, I finally understood, as I am supposed to......
it is time to face myself. Obviously imperfect, but a throw away  as I am suggesting. No.
Mirror, mirror on the wall...... am I still lovable after all? Absolutely.

Looking Up

I am making a conscious choice, today right now. I am walking down a new road. Creating the life of my dreams. I have been off to a pretty good start, I think I just forgot to look up.

I have had my nose to the grindstone for so long, I didn't see the life I have created.

It is coming together. It has been bound tightly with guilt and shame. They no longer fit.

Now I see love, trust, faith, endurance, and beauty replacing the former occupants... bye bye.

The things I placed so much importance on, will now be placed neatly on a back shelf.

I have a renewed zest in health. Imagine that, tired of feeling sick? Hmmmm? 

It seems like a new way of life and acceptance I possibly feared, is coming to me. I have fought the quiet. Today when my hubby and I were  at   Home Depot, I asked him if I were hyper.  He just laughed and said of course. I wondered why no one gave me the memo. Isn't that funny that I don't see myself as hyper. I'm not really sure what I have seen myself as. Many different things, I suppose.

I am antsy and have a hard time sitting still, my mind goes a million miles a minute ,with one idea after another..... I exhaust the poor fellow. Seems normal to me. "Two speeds," he calls me.

On and off. I keep going until I crash. Time for another life of balance and kindness.

Knowing it is perfectly okay to rest. I have fought this my whole life. I have never been a good at rest person. The more tired I am, the more work I do. As if that will teach me, snap out of it!

Feel like a complete failure. I have always been jealous of people who go on vacation, and rest.

Walk on the beach. I come back from vacation more exhausted than when I left.

Time to learn the fine art of rest and relaxation. People come over our house and say it feels like vacation. I look at them like they are on crack. It  has been anything but that for me, for Ray because it has taken so much to create an atmosphere of beauty and serenity, from nothing. Less than nothing.

Today however, something changed. Raym and I went out and bought the simplest Weber kettle BBQ.

The gas BBQ we hardly used ~I think I know why. It didn't smell good. That wonderful BBQ smell

that only a real one can provide. We had so much fun.  Music was playing all afternoon in the backyard.

Matt and his friend were swimming, and all seemed right with our world. We had such a nice dinner, followed by the best s'mores. The sweet simple  things in life. I looked at my family, and my heart  welled  with such love and gratitude. This world I am creating, I don't think I need to worry.

I looked up today. It is here ~ now. I have done the leg work. Faith and gratitude go a long way.

Looking up is never a bad way to go. It was time, and boy  am I glad. What a sight.

My Convictions

I felt certain I was ready to make this decision. I take nothing lightly. Too much has gone on from the past for such flippant behavior. This past week has been Boot Camp. Hell Week. I have not written in weeks. I have had so many feelings brewing inside, I just didn't want to add more.
What I have is insidious. Only writing this, do I understand the trickery. Several things I bought into.
That I had come so far, I had done enough work. Let go of enough demons, I could downshift just a little. I always talk to my Doctor first. I decided I would self diagnose. Just a tiny bit. I know why. I did not honor myself. All the experts, The Naturalists on the Internet. Believe me, there is one every where I look. Until I saw Ron Howard  and Glenn Close again,  talking about real life. Through a little Angel who posted Mental Health issues today. Very uncool. Treat every one with herbs..... natural concoctions. Until it comes to YOU.

I am the "YOU."  This is my story. I am Bipolar. I played so slightly with fire, lowering my dosage of medication. Not very smart. Even when I write that word, I want to take it back and scream no, it's not me. I'm writing about somebody else. There's been a mistake. Just  say it's depression, sounds better.
I could feel my emotions starting to change. I figured it was only down by a third. I had conquered this beast. Until the depression and tears came flooding in~ again. FAST. I immediately started back a week later. I have allowed myself, this is one hundred percent on me~ to buy into societies belief that you can just take natural  remedies to cure all that ails. Guess what? I feel rage. Wait until it happens to you.
I am past being polite. Politically correct. I have been a good girl my whole life. I have listened, tried,
and done every possible method under the sun. Lighten up and let there be enough room for both sides.
Quit making people feel ashamed for needing help and not doing it  one way. Please.
That is the most narrow way thinking in existence. Why do you think people hide out in their rooms,
homes, darkened hovels? Judgement~  deciding that if they can't get better the natural way. Bullshit. Sometimes chemicals are just off. Are you going to blame someone with cancer, tell them if they don't do it naturally, they are bad, wrong? I am so tired of being ashamed, towing the line.
I will not hide who I am anymore. I have survived and thrived BECAUSE  of medication.
I tried every way known to mankind first for years. Thought and planned my death every day during that time. Just didn't work for me. Got healthier though. I love doing both. Still do. Just not
 going back there, that world~ to be anyones friend. To say I did it naturally. I am me. I am standing up proud, strong. I am a success story. I have come through. Not just come through, I have flourished.
Because of the help of my medication, therapy, psychiatrist..... most of all: LOVE. SUPPORT.
BELIEF IN ME. REBUILDING A HUMAN FROM THE GROUND UP. This is my life.
I am proud of me. I would never again want to be around someone who does not accept me for me.
That is my declaration. I have a family that is healthy and happy. Thriving. What more could I ask for?