Wednesday, January 26, 2011


Recently I watched the movie Howl. I initially was drawn to watch because of James Franco, my new actor crush. Then I read that it was about one of our great American poets, Allen Ginsberg. Over the last year or so I have started to read a bit of the beat writers....I find them fascinating and intriguing. The freedom of their voice, the fluid way in which they wrote, thought, lived. Admittedly I am not one that leans to the creative. I also don't have a long history or knowledge of literature. I want to learn more and soak it all in. (There are days I wish that I had paid more attention to what I found interesting in my younger days. Let my impulse and interest direct me more than my obligations and perceived expectations. Then I may have become a student of the world. Though, NOW I can do that...)  All that to say that after watching the movie I wrote. Nothing thought out but released. As Ginsberg explains, from the inside....

Letting go
Letting be
Letting live
Realizations met, expectations lost.
Stand and stare.
Fleeing from me....pushed out. Grief that there is no longer pain and sadness. 
Escaped like a vapor.
Window from inside I glare. Letting go of...
Life goes---movement---flow
grabbing the moment, expressing it, holding it. 
Rolling and moving. 
They create. The live. They watch and move.
Obligation to none.
Letting go.
Letting be.
Letting in.
I look out the window beyond that ivy wall. There lives life.
Vapors. Away.
No longer there and thats why I cry.
No longer sorry. 
The comfort.
The crow flew over. He has been absent.
Talk and fly.
Beyond the ivy wall the crow lived and moved.
Life goes on all around.
Obligation or impulse?
I Howl to no one. I Howl from within. The place that neither crow, nor man, nor woman has seen or heard.
Frightening myself.
My feelings flee from me. Consume me.
A vapor beyond the ivy wall.
Same. Same. Same. Same. Same. Same.
Da. Da. Da. Da. Da.
Beyond the ivy wall.
The same here. There. Everywhere. Same. Stir the noodles.
Cry. Pray. Wake. Sleep. Pray. Cry. We're the same.
Vapors of feelings standing behind windows. Feeling.
Push and pull.
Pull. Obligations pull.
Push. Impulse pushes.
Da. Da. Same. Same. Da. Da.
Letting go. 
Letting be.
Letting live.
Beyond the ivy wall I want to be.

There is a howl from inside I feel stir in me frequently. I have not identified exactly what it means to me or my life but I am starting to listen and express its sentiments.

As my ipod rolled songs this one came on....aptly titled "Howl."


Saturday, January 22, 2011

Exercise and Therapy

I realize I just stopped writing about the accident in this blog (or I just stopped writing altogether, again) but I am still reliving that tragedy, mentally...and physically.

One of the positive consequences of the accident was I started taking care of my body more. And as my dad taught me, exercise for the body, is exercise for the mind.

The first step was to seek physical therapy before I tried to start working out again. Since I was struggling mentally and physically, I was referred to a practioner in Beverly Hills to have CST work done (cranial sacrial treatment), which helps with healing of the mindy and body. Not only were my legs and pelvis and head and neck being adjusted and realigned, so too was my mind, as the practitioner forced me to address the mental chaos that was causing physical discomfort. He was seaking to heal me mentally as well as physically.

I always knew there was a connection between the body and mind but I never was so in tune with how body reacted to my emotions. I finally understood what my therapist was asking all those times when she would say, "So how does your body feel?" And I would answer, "Um, my fist is clenched?" Duh, I didn't know. For example, stress usually causes a headache and neck and shoulder tension. Fear and anxiety can cause stomach discomfort and irritable bowel syndrome. Anger can cause my chest to feel strained. But there was so much more my body was doing after the accident. so that after a few adjustments, it was as if I was blessed with a miracle worker and I was practically healed in body and mind.

After just three sessions, my back and neck were feeling better and I was less emotional. Finally I was learning to cope with the accident.

Very soon after I was able to get back in the gym and started with yoga and pilates. Since I still did not have a car, I was forced to get a ride to the gym and spend more time there than I ever would have had I not been waiting for a ride. Trust me, it was far better than having to be at home, stuck with the Roommate. The gym was on the way home for one of my co-workers, and if I wanted to catch a ride with her, I had to leave work early. And that's when Brad was getting off of work really late, so, I found myself working out sometimes 2 to 3 hours. Stretching, Elliptical machine, pilates. Then my strength started returning and I began"spinning" before Pilates.

I would not say I was in the best physical shape, but it was nice to still be slim rather than immobilized and feeling sorry for myself. Believe it, or not, I actually miss having an excuse to spend so many hours at the gym. Having a car again means that I am happily back to kickboxing while still managing to do pilates once a week, but now, I go in for my class and leave the gym immediately after. Also, I come away from kickboxing hurting a bit in my back and knees, which is a reminder of the accident and that it left me vulnerable to further injuries in those areas if I am not careful and I overdo it.

And emotionally? I would say that I am stable. Kickboxing is great for getting out any aggression I feel on bad days. And speaking of, I could really use a kickboxing class now while sit furiously blogging because of the Roommate. I'll kickbox now in my mind. Target = The Roommate. Upper cut, jab, roundhouse. Again. Upper cut, jab, roundhouse....

Driving Me Crazy

I have to blog right now or else I am going to explode with anger and annoyance all at once. It does not help that I am PMSing. THE ROOMMATE. That is all I have to say.
No, that is not all I have to say. I avoid him as much as possible, and usually I can get away with it. But today, I had to talk to him. And I always say that if I spend even 5 minutes in dialogue with him something will come out of his mouth that will expose the boundaries he crosses on a daily basis and the infection he creates in this household. He has his opinions about Brad and always thinks that I want to hear them. For example, Brad went hunting with his dad this weekend and the Roommate said he just could not see Brad in hunting gear. And then the topic went into shopping, because Brad is a shopper and that is something more he can be seen doing. Then I started to share how I do not care much for shopping, I would much rather sit outside the mall on a bench with a book and wait for Brad, and that I didn't even know major labels until I graduated college. That's when the Roommate said, almost completely out of context, but yet strangely in it, that he just didn't understand guys who wear designer boxers. I knew he was talking about Brad....still. Because, yes, he does wear designer underwear, not boxers, but the briefs. Even so, why does he always have to be so obsessed with Brad. Last week he was wearing his slippers "because their comfortable" and now he pays attention to the type of underwear my man has on.
I am sooo not done.
After I have been gone ALL day, I get home ready to relax and read, but who is sitting smack in the middle of the couch, SICK, of all things to be while taking up the space in the living room. Damn it. He should be in his room. He has a TV (that we gave him, a big flat screen) and cable, so wouldn't he want to be up there so not to spread germs. SO where am I forced to go, the bedroom.
Then Brad gets home from his trip and wouldn't you think that THEN the Roommate would think to go upstairs - at 7p - so that Brad and I could enjoy an evening together in Brad's house. No, of course not. So, we go downstairs to start cooking dinner and I take my reading materials to the kitchen table and the Roommate asks, "Are you cooking dinner?" "Um Yeah," Brad says. Roommate says, "Well I'm cooking dinner soon and will need the oven."
And Brad says, "We'll be done soon." Seriously, no, we'll be done never and deal with it, is what I wanted to scream.
So the Roommate prepares a salad and takes it back up to the TV and I hear him sniffling and coughing and the TV just blaring. Needless to say that we just had our carpets cleaned and now we need to do the couch because the Roommate has stained both when eating in front of the TV. So did he go up there and eat with a tray? NO!
The second we finished eating dinner, the Roommate comes into the kitchen and is trying to make dinner around me as I'm washing dishes. I could not even say a word to him. I could not look at him. I want to scream.
And hear I am screaming with my fingers!
How is it that Brad and I are over our 30s, living together...with a Roommate. The extra money is nice for Brad I am sure, but I never, ever want to be home. "Home." Yeah, right. This is not home until the Roommate is gone.
At least I got a raise this past week. The future is looking brighter.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011


This journey of life is all consuming. There are times of bliss and hate. Of naivety and compliance. You run the spectrum in a lifetime. Some handle life well and with grace. Others muddle through. I fall into the later group. For much of my short 32 years in this life I have followed. I complied to what was told and expected. I performed like a trained dog in a circus, jumping thru hoops and jumping over obstacles. I was good at doing it too. I blended well and fit in, I conformed. I lived what I thought was an existence of happiness, until everything changed....

One year ago I sat in a spa and wept. I had no idea why. My mind was blank, absent of thought or emotion. I had been in therapy for 10+ years and had never wept like this. I felt disconnected from life...people, my husband, my children. I was unhappy and didn't know why. Fuck, I had a handsome man who was successful, 2.5 children (dog included), a huge house, a fancy car, beautiful friends, boobs, and the appearance of PERFECT. Fuck, I was living the American Dream! What the hell did I have to complain about? Nothing. Not one god damn thing. But still I found myself there....

Now after a year I am taking control. Of life and emotion. I am learning to own who I am and what I am,what I may become. How I may fail. How I WILL succeed. Once, someone told me about the story of the lotus......a flower that thrives in the muck....comes out of ugliness to become something beautiful and spectacular. That is what this year has been. I am not there....I may never get there, but it is what I strive for. To find beauty within...and in others...and in the difficulty of life, of the the serenity and peace that we sometimes find in quiet moments. Possible? I sure hope so. That's where I am headed. Deep breaths, acceptance of love and a determination to break the cycle of self loathing. This is where I go this year.....


Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Where I'm Going

My last post was a poem and it was something that I had not planned on writing, instead it poured out of me. I hadn't experienced this kind of "thing" before. I don't consider myself one prone to artistic sensibilities. Yet, there I found myself writing about my heart and soul...

Anyway some of you that occasionally read this blog have responded with what I can only see as love. Instead of it scaring you off into avoidance you sent me love. You see I have a hard time showing vulnerability because I tend to see it as weakness. (I don't like to appear weak.) Though over these past two years and especially in the past 3 months I realize I am full of raw unapologetic emotion.  And this emotion I have does not make me weak it makes me human and ALIVE.

You that have reached out to me and have stood by me through it all I dedicate this song to you.You have taken my hand because you know what I am going through. 

Some of you have had loss...loss of a pregnancy, marriage, or friends. Others have seen tragedy. Others dealing with chronic illness. Even a near death experience or a mother who's fought off cancer. You, my friends, have showed me that no matter what life brings in our paths we can stand together. So I offer you my hand because I know what you are going through...


Where I'm going I don't know but come with me...