On Mother’s Day: An Open Letter and Other Thoughts

Let me start by saying, I really suck at blogging, that much is clear. I haven't updated since November. The last entry was my reaction to the Paris bombing (which can be read here), and what a confusing and heartbreaking time we're in. I have to say as well, that between the Paris and Brussels bombings, and the current circus sideshow that is the campaign trail to the presidency, I seriously just fell out of touch with everything good in this world, and went even more radio silent than I normally do in between entries. But that is going to change. All things creative will change. I kinda have to give thanks to a long catch-up conversation with my ex-creative director and friend from NC (who, by the way, has a fabulous and insightful blog related to the creative/advertising world called The Daily Manifesto). She made me realize that even when I’m down in it or have nothing to say, I should just write anyway. That I shouldn’t focus on who is reading it, or how many are actually reading it, but just simply write for myself. Which is pretty much what I do anyway, because let’s face it, who really wants to read about the daily roller coaster ride of a never-been-married-never-had-children perimenopausal wannabe artist in the middle of a mid-life crisis? That’s more of what nightmares are made of, instead of inspired reading. By writing once a week, it will keep me connected to that side of me. The creative side I keep misplacing. And the same should be applied to my painting as well because honestly, the more your hands are in it, the more your hands will actually be in it. That is my new goal. To just be in it.

So, that being said, I thought I would start the "being in it" goal today, because today is Mother’s Day. And all Hallmark and flowers aside, it’s such a beautiful way to honor and thank the women who brought us into this world. For better or worse, I suppose. And it’s a day for you, dear mom’s out there, to take a breath and a break from your hard work. I’m sincerely hoping you’re appreciated today, and are finding a moment of peace in whatever form it takes. Because God knows just how much you deserve it.

But you know, I also want to address the the women who feel a bit melancholic today. Whether it’s for those who have lost their mother, or for those who never knew their mother. It can even be tough on the women like myself who have never had the opportunity to be a mother. I know it might sound strange to some, but Mother's Day is a reminder of some sort every year. It's a reminder of loss, of the unknown, and a reminder that every year older closes the window for some, just a little bit more. People who know me, know that being a mom was never a priority in my life. I figured if it was ever meant to be, well, it would be. It wasn’t something I felt strongly enough about to seek out and make happen. And the Universe seems to feel I have other things to do instead. It's probably just as well. A fictional Murphy Brown-mom should stay fictional (wink). But that doesn't mean I don't feel it. That I'm not affected by the fact it isn't going to happen for me. And there are so many women like me in the world. Did you know it actually causes an issue with other women who *are* moms? Yes, it’s true. We're questioned and judged for not being a mom. Like we have somehow insulted all women by not using our reproductive organs. It’s a real thing. That's weird, right? That women would judge or question other women for NOT having children? I mean, too many women are having too many children in terrible conditions for terrible reasons, yet I, and others like myself, am questioned. I supposed it never occurred to them that some women CAN'T have children. And that there are many reasons why some don't. And that for some it really wasn't a choice. But I digress. And have already touched on that in a previous entry, so I will move on, and shift the focus to where it belongs today. A celebration of all mom's, and for the non-mom's, because as women, we have most likely acted like a mother to someone who needed it at some point in their lives.

So now, let's meet Virginia. Yes, it's a great song by Train, but I am referring to the utmost brightest light in my life. She is kind, strong and loving, funny and supportive, she is grounded, and simply the most beautiful woman I have ever met. She is my Mom. And however awkward it may read, I felt a need to write an open letter to her.

To my beautiful Mom...

I really suck at being a daughter sometimes. I do. So I want to apologize for that. I want to apologize for living so far away, for not sharing a lot of what I go through, and for the quirky shit I do like weirdly not talking on the phone as often as a normal daughter does. I apologize for shutting down and shutting out, and for not telling you how much I love you and how amazing you are, every single day. I don’t have an easy way to explain any of that either. 

I suppose I just don’t always know how to be close to people. It's probably because when they aren't around anymore, it hurts. When I love people, it tends to be a trillion times more intense than the average bear, so the hurt from it feels like a thousand bombs going off in my chest. I get my empathic tendencies from you, but I haven't quite figured out how to reign it in as gracefully as you do. So that often gets in the way, and serves as the mortar that keeps parts of the wall up. I don't want you to worry about me, and I never, ever want to see you disappointed in me. Therefore, I tend to remain self-contained. I guess I'm like Lenny in Of Mice and Men. I love too hard. So it’s probably a good thing that you and the other people I love can't fit into my pockets. 

I need you to know that I think about you everyday. I try to be just like you every single day, and I try to do what I can to make you proud of me every single day, whether you know what I’m doing or not. I try to live the way I think you would be proud of, and avoid the mistakes I know might disappoint you. I’m not always successful, but I’m trying. You raised me, and I owe you at least that much. Your words of encouragement and support, I carry in my heart wherever I go. And always will. 

On this Mother’s Day, I thank my lucky stars that I have you as my Mom, and that God or the Universe thought that I could possibly be a true representation of who you are, by being born and becoming the woman I am. And if I can accomplish that, then I know I have truly succeeded in life. 

I love you, Mom, more than there are stars in the sky. Big much, my whole world. Thank you for believing in me, how I live my life, and trusting my heart. Thank you for being my best friend.

Love, Wendy

And so, to the rest of the amazing mom’s out there—be it of humans or fur-babies—know that you are loved, honored, and heard, no matter how your children may (re)act throughout their lives. Thank you for dedicating and sacrificing your worlds and sanity for the sake of your children. I will never know what it’s like to be a mom, so I live vicariously through all of your trials and tribulations. I can’t imagine a greater or more difficult job and experience on the planet. 

Before I go, I want to share the words from a card my mother bought me once. It was for no particular reason, other than she just knew I needed it. Because that is who she is. I keep it on my fridge as a daily reminder of her love, and who I have grown to be in her light:

I believe in you—

in the things

that are important to you

and in the way you choose

to live your life…

I believe that you can accomplish

anything you set out to do,

that you have many talents 

and the wisdom to use them well…

I believe that you have what it takes

to overcome obstacles

and to grow from every experience

life brings your way…

I believe in your courage,

your compassion,

your integrity,

and your strength.

I believe in your goodness.

I believe in you.

Mommy, if it’s even possible I have ANY of those things, it’s because of you. 

Happy Mother’s Day, everybody. :)

The beautiful Virginia.

Heartache in The City of Light: Find your peace.

It's 2:30 am Saturday morning and per my normal, I'm wide awake. But there is nothing normal about the world this morning. We all went to bed, and are waking up, to more news of the terrorist attacks in Paris. Realizing in just a very short time the world has changed, again, by the self-serving acts of a bitter and desperate, delusional group of people. I don't know if it's just my current state of mind or not, my state of personal uncertainty, but I feel like we've been straddling two different worlds for some time now, with the potential of this recent act of violence shifting us in a scary direction. It's as if we're all a part of a strength and balancing game where depending on where our next step lands, determines which world we'll inevitably fall into. One of darkness. Or one of light. I picture everyone standing in line, a foot in each world, trying to keep equal balance, feeling the teeter of each precarious step forward. Like the unstable sensation you get while walking across a tension bridge. The feeling that if one person leans too far in one direction, it will trigger a chain reaction and we'll all follow. And I just can't understand how we got to this point. History keeps repeating itself with its bitterness. With its hatred. With its bouts of entitlement. With its war on religious freedoms. With its judgement on personal/individual freedoms. Right when I feel we're moving forward with acceptance and peace we're stepping backward even further with self-righteousness and judgment from fear of what we don't understand or from impenetrably skewed perceptions of reality. Two steps forward and 5 steps back does not make a Cha-Cha, regardless of how many memes on Facebook try to jokingly suggest. It's ignorance that pulls us back. Jealousy, greed, and self-absorption. And emotional, one-sided perceptions. 

I've learned a lot over the past year about perception. And have learned once you place 100% selfish emotion into what you perceive to be true, there's no penetrating it. There's no way to ever see another side. Which is what drives people to the horrible extremes displayed in the attacks on the US on 9/11, and the attacks on France now. But where does it begin? How are we taught that fighting, violence, or revenge are the answers for change or progress? How the EF do we give certain people that much power to lead us in such a wrong direction? What troubles me is that this happens even on the very smallest of scales: schoolyards, boardrooms, churches. Even within the very confines of a family's living room. Is that where it starts? Are we really that incapable of thinking for ourselves? Incapable of seeing what is wrong or right? Of taking responsibility for our own actions? Of even knowing what is wrong or right anymore? Perception is mighty powerful. And when driven by emotion, that balance between the dark and the light becomes ridiculously fragile. A slippery slope.

I used to believe, hope rather, that all it took was a tragedy such as the attacks on Paris and NYC to give us all some new perspective. To wake us the fuck up to how ignorant we can be, focusing on meaningless issues like a red cup. And how trivial and senseless some of the schoolyard/boardroom/living room fighting can be, changing our perceptions to make a change for the better. But now I just fear it will feed those already falling into the darkness. I fear more of this is coming. 

I feel like I'm watching a world I no longer recognize through the lens of a View-master. Remember those? News stories and experiences from my own life in stills on the 3-D reels, clicking through them one at a time as I try to maintain my own footing. Every step forward we take is so fragile. And unstable. I understand how difficult it can be to remain open. To fight the urge to be swayed in one direction or the other. But I try. We have to. I mean, it's human nature to take sides when we're emotionally involved, emphatically marching onward to support our belief systems. But shouldn't it be done with grace? Shouldn't it be done with an open mind and open heart? With the greater good being peace? Can't our perceptions and resulting behavior be based on rationale AND emotion? The problem is when you perceive something with too much emotion and not enough rationality, you risk losing the capability of seeing the truth. Just because you believe something to be true, doesn't mean it is. And this just sets us up for heartache, and divides us. Who knows what drove these psychos to attack. To actually plan, and implement this tragedy. What one person wormed their way into their heads, filling them with false power and hate, and made them believe violence was the path to progress. How any of that can actually sound rational to someone is so very foreign to me. And it desperately squanders my spirit. 

My heart is so heavy tonight. Events such as these should change the way we behave in our own living rooms, in our communities, and ultimately in our world. It should shake the blinders off of those who wear them. And at the very least, force us to pay closer attention to which direction we eventually want to swing in. We as individuals can make a giant difference. But people need to learn to think for themselves first. Need to learn how to remain open without being led solely by emotion. And learn how to take responsibility for themselves. It makes us more knowledgeable. And with more knowledge we can move forward smartly, together. Imagine a world with no "sides". Just peaceful teams moving forward tangentially with the same goals in mind. It just takes balance. And genuine selflessness. And the ability to keep our hearts open.

I know the people of France will pull together to get through this. And recover as best they can, eventually. But, as the rest of us in the world watch through the eye piece of the viewer, will WE? It's time to pick the direction you want to walk in. Be mindful. Let this senseless tragedy guide your direction and lead you to the light. Just remember, the path you choose ultimately has a direct affect of all of those around you, so "be the positive change you wish to see".  

Trouver votre paix, mes amours.

Photo credit: Wallpaper image of flag by "think0".

Through the Looking Glass: A Journey.

About 12 years ago I worked for an agency in Atlanta. When I started, I was placed on location at a major client's corporate headquarters to work closely with their design department. I was relatively new to the industry, and this was my first time working in a corporate advertising environment. My rapport with my team was great. Especially with the folks I reported to on the client side. The job was fun as well as challenging, and I actually enjoyed it. It was pretty intense sometimes though; working at the client's, with the client. But I was totally rockin' it. Or so I thought. A few months into it, my boss on the agency side pulled me into a fateful, one-on-one meeting with him. He sat me down and candidly told me that my client-boss said she had issues with working with me. Loved me as a person, mind you, but she had trouble working with me during the typical stressful moments of advertising. That my tendency to panic made me "difficult" to work with. Difficult? How is that even possible? I cared about my work. Couldn't she see that? I was blindsided. And crushed. 

I've always had perfectionist issues on top of worry issues on top of panic issues. So when something would go wrong, I would panic. When I was overwhelmed, I would react. I would often beat myself up, worrying about my capabilities, and it would project onto those closest to me. In that meeting I was told they both loved working with me, but I was skating on thin ice as to whether or not I should be moved to another team. And you all know how ungraceful I am. Picture me in ice skates. I felt defensive, but I just sat awkwardly, and listened to what he had to say. Closely. And then went home and cried my eyes out in front of the mirror. For a very. Long. Time.

I looked long and hard at how I react in certain situations, both professionally and personally. Where it stems from… sometimes from my childhood. Sometimes from the often too-high expectations I set of myself. Sometimes just simply out of fear. I looked at how I perceive myself versus how I have been perceived by others, going as far back as college even. It was like a time-warped journey through a looking glass. And I realized the two perceptions were completely different. How I viewed myself was so different than how I was being viewed. How could everyone have me so wrong? Then it occurred to me that maybe they didn't. And I also started to realize just how many times others had tried to tell me this. Why couldn't I see? At first I was quite angry and understandably so (I thought) because to me, I am just trying to create good, solid, clean work. How could they not want to work with someone who delivers solid work with a near 100% error-free record at that time? Can't people see how much I cared about my work? It was because of how I chose to handle situations, meaning my tendency to react before I thought about what I was saying or doing. And to who I was saying or doing it in front of. Because nine times out of ten it was hasty and unnecessary. And completely self-regarding. My frustrations where due to my insecurities about myself. And this applied to my personal life as well. I never stopped to consider how it would trickle down to those around me. I just couldn't see it. Shame on me. So, I kept looking into that mirror until I decided who I wanted to be. It was painful. I mean REALLY painful… admitting to, and owning your own faulty behavior is terribly disconcerting. I was embarrassed for myself. It was time for a change. I can't blame my actions on anyone else, or make excuses for them. Man, it's really easy to do though, isn't it? A lot easier than facing ourselves in the mirror that's for sure. Alas, it took time and mindfulness, but I ended up getting a promotion with an 8% raise just a few months later. I alone, am responsible for me. So I alone, took ownership and made a change. I started thinking before I reacted. It was life-changing.

I told this story because I've been witnessing a lot of damaging choices lately. As humans, we are the only species that has the ability to control our choices. We can control what we say, what we do, how we treat others whether they are strangers or our loved ones. Our choices drive us forward from the minute we wake up (should I shower or not shower… what socks, pants, shirt to wear… should I eat breakfast or skip it to save time) to what we do at work (should I attend that meeting… respond to that specific email… sign up for that dreadful team-building thing). All choices. All pretty benign. But, could the choice to wear one thing over the other to an interview prevent us from getting the job? Could not eating breakfast alter our mood, affecting other co-workers? It all can really snowball into the opposite of what we originally intended. I know I'm making really insignificant examples and this might all seem quite irrelevant, but really. It doesn't matter how benign, our daily choices can lead us in a direction that we simply cannot foresee, or recover from. The good news is, we can kind of gauge the direction if we're mindful of it. If we choose to wear jeans to an interview, we have to be prepared for the possibility of not getting the job. If we're uber cranky we might respond too hastily to that one annoying email, which just causes further issues. You know what I mean. We've all done it. See what I'm saying? Choices. We have control over everything we do. So we better be prepared to handle the repercussions that will inevitably avalanche afterward. For better or for worse.

12 years ago, I took a long look in the mirror, and I haven't been the same since. It hasn't been the only time, either. I do it fairly regularly to keep myself in check, because changing the self is an ongoing process. I try to be the best person I can be and I really try to think before I open my mouth or judge another person. I try to have all the facts before I assume the wrong thing of other people. Before I react, I make sure I'm fully informed. Because, most importantly, I don't want to hurt the people I care about. Or anyone else for that matter. And, if and when I do hurt someone, I'm back in front of that mirror to try to figure out why. I'm not always successful, of course. I am mindful of that too. 

You know, there are a few people who I'd like to buy a looking glass for. Not out of judgement. Nor out of spite. Just heartfelt concern. But, it is not for me to do. Ultimately, they have to discover the need for the journey through, all on their own. I'm not quite sure they're ready to see the reflection, anyway. Or even admit there's a need. It's frightening, you see. Terrifying even, looking into the mirror for the first time. Holding yourself accountable for, well… yourself. I hold out for the day they do. And I so really hope they do. Not because it's painful, but because it's life-changing. And might even fix some of the damage that has been done.

For the rest of you who already have, may you look into the mirror and love who you see. If not, you can always make the adjustments necessary, then take another look. The choice, after all, is yours <3

Beaucoup d'amour à tous. Toujours. 

W.

And through the looking glass I went...

The Dawn of All Ages: The MLC defined.

Yes, I know. It's been almost a year to the day since I've written. A lot has happened… I moved home, got a new job, found my little peaceful apartment in the woods, and I am currently recovering from shoulder surgery, as I write. To be honest though, I haven't had a lot I've wanted to write about. Nothing insightful or profound, that is. Not that anything I have written about up until now has been very insightful or profound. In fact, it's been quite superficial. And I don't mean that in a negative way, just that I write about easy surface stuff. I've had other things going on over the past year that I just don't feel comfortable writing about. Surely you understand. I don't know why I tend to keep the easy things visible, and banish the deeper things to the inside. But let's save that one for another day, shall we? And with that, let's get back into the beach chronicles. It's been way too long.

Last I wrote, I was explaining my move and why I was leaving the beach/moving home. And as a quick refresher, the blog in general has everything to do with my 40's and my mid-life crisis (my MLC as I now call it). The trials, the tribs, and the comedic relief from it all. And it continues. Because even a year later, I'm obviously still in my 40's and my MLC is still riding shotgun. If you need the full reason for, and how it all began, you can read Birth of The Beach Chronicles.

When I discuss my MLC, it's always with one part jest, one part tongue-in-cheek, and 2 parts tangibly unpleasant reality. And I'll stick to that. Lately however, the 2-parts tangibly unpleasant reality seem to be weighing so much heavier on me. Kinda like that drunk dude standing too close behind you in line for a drink, at a bar you know you're too old for. It's breathing down my neck, invading my space and smells like alcohol. I'm not sure if it's perimenopausal hormones or the pain of shoulder recovery that's causing the reflective and introspective chunks of time I've been succumbing to, but it's happening so I should at least address it before it asks me for my phone number. 

Now, before anyone decides to point out (again) that life is too short for MLC's, or remind me that I have a lot to be thankful for and positive about, I know all of this. I am VERY thankful to have my close friends and family, a good job, lovely apartment and my health. All of it is included in the aforementioned thoughtful chunks of time. It's just that I really am finding this decade very difficult. *I* am. Me. Wendy. Wendy is having a hard time with Wendy's current decade. For a girl who has always, and I mean ALWAYS, spent too much time in her head, this time period for me is just one long, relentless internal seminar/intervention that I don't know how to talk about. I mean, who really wants to hear about all that? No one. And how I choose to talk about it usually comes out in rather "colorful" ways as you already know. So, I just feel it's better to keep it to myself. Well, almost to myself, as I'm obviously purging it here. I know I'm not the only one going through it. But I am the only one going through it as me.

I guess what bothers me the most is that I never thought I would have to face all the ages I have ever been again. And by that I mean facing all of the Wendy's I've ever been. That is how I define a mid-life crisis. Facing who we were, as we figure out who we want to be as we enter the second half of our lives. It's painful, and very funny sometimes, and confusing. And painful. Did I mention painful? We are every age we have ever been, every day. And the mistake we make is separating them, and relegating them to our past. Especially the ages we're not so fond of. We're sometimes thankful even, that we "aren't who we were back then anymore". But the reality is, they make up who we are. With every age, brings a different stage, which creates an updated version of ourselves. They make up our reactions and help form our decisions. How we approach love, loss, change... So essentially, they will also drive everything we do as adults in our second half of life. And we should listen.

I'm currently trying to reconcile and define the personal stuff like the self, romantic love, home, loyalty… as they happen to me at 46. All of which span across all ages, all stages. And there are various definitions and degrees of each. Expecting others to define, or value these things at the same degree as I do, is just foolish. 16-year-old Wendy wonders why people don't like her for exactly for who she is. Why can't they believe she is who she says she is. She has so many questions. 46-year-old Wendy wishes she could explain it all to her. Tell her all of that doesn't even matter. You see? We are every age we've ever been. And our decisions, emotions and reactions are derived from the internal discussions between them. Giddy new love, jealousy, self-doubt… that would be the 16-year old. Thirst for knowledge, growth, internal (and vocalized) existentialism… mid to late 20-somethings. Independence, pride, strength… 30's. Which brings us to the "40's decade". Suddenly meeting all of them. All at once. Because ALL of these fucking needs and questions and emotions come full circle, right here in this lovely, feisty little M. to the L. to the C. 

Deep breath. Exhale. And smile. 

It's not that facing them is difficult. In fact it's kind of cleansing. And insightful. Sometimes I even realize that I actually DID know then, what I know now. The difficulty is figuring out how to use them all constructively. Where to go from here. How to use them to reach my full potential in my second half of life. How to move forward and grow into who I'm supposed to be. Because it feels more important to me now, more than ever, to try to gather the best and worst parts of me that I have been, and direct them into new greater parts for who I will be. I mean, the artist in me wants to create emotional and moving paintings. The poet in me wants to write inspiring words. The lover in me wants to love deeper than I have ever before. How do I sort through all of that to become the best artist/poet/lover I've ever been?

I have a dear friend in Denver, who I also consider my mentor. In regard to my issues with being in my 40's, she once told me to be patient. That one day I would wake up and see that certain things just wouldn't matter anymore. The few extra pounds, new wrinkles and laugh lines. The memory of past mistakes made… That it will be liberating to not have to worry about what other people think of me anymore. It will be as if a weight was lifted off my shoulders. Maybe that explains the need for my surgery. Perhaps I've reached my shoulder weight limit. Who knows. I'm still waiting for that moment. Still working through the dawn of all my ages. But, in all honesty and despite this nauseating roller coaster ride, I kind of feel that day isn't as far away as it seems. I just need to be less 16 and more 46 in all the glory it could will actually be.

As I begin a new year of experiences and changes, as 2015 is already promising, I promise to share more and worry less. All I ask of you is to be kind to yourselves at whatever age you are. Love hard and honestly. Do right by your "self" and others. And embrace all the you's you've ever been. They've earned it. And you'll be seeing them again someday.

"The difference is this... Pain is a gift. Without the capacity for pain, we can't feel the hurt we inflict."

~ The (12th) Doctor 

The Journey Continues: A Commitment.

So, I've realized my Mom has been wrong about me, when it comes to the word "commitment", and in response to my moving about the country as often as I do. But to be fair, I haven't exactly tried to counter. Partially because I thought she was right all this time, but also because I couldn't find the right words to defend my choices in life. Until now, that is. 

As I was getting ready to move again, I asked myself the same series of questions I always ask before I move to a new city. Things like "What in bloody hell am I doing?" And "Why am I doing it this time?" And a new one, "How can I leave the beach?" as so many people have been asking me. And once again the question as to whether or not my Mom is right about me, came up. My Mother calls me noncommittal. "The Noncommittal Queen" to be exact, with the cities I've lived in, in relationships I've had, and jobs I've held… you name it. Unfortunately, that term of endearment has set me up for failure at times. And a few years ago, made me stay in a situation longer than I should have, just to try and prove it wrong. I certainly don't fault her for it. I can understand why she or anyone else would see it that way. But I'm now realizing "noncommittal" isn't the correct term to use. It has always been more about finding my way. My journey. And it's about attachment. "Uh oh", you're thinking. But keep reading… perhaps it will make sense without sounding like a total couch-needing, defense mechanism. *wink*

Let's take the beach as an example. How can I leave the beach. Well, I mean, it is true; the beach did bring me peace. I do love it so. It helped me heal a few wounds that were inflicted by my last 7 years. I sat and enjoyed the sun, the sand and the ocean both during the height of the summer and the quiet of the winter. And I met some really good people there (like my little brother, Marc… Hi little brother!). It was an important leg of my journey that has set me up for the next, and I will cherish it always. But as I stood on the deck, holding a glass of wine, looking out at it's beauty taking as much in as I could before I left, I didn't feel anything towards it in regard to leaving it. Not because I am heartless or unfeeling, but because my time there had run it's course. And, because I am not attached to it. It will stand on it's own just as beautiful with, or without me, and so will I without it. 

See, some of my attachments have been extremely strong. And beautiful. And painful. They were feelings for certain people. Jobs I've put my whole heart into. Animals I have loved and lost. Even a few paintings I've done, believe it or not. But I've learned when we attach ourselves too tightly to the connection with someone or some thing, it can suffocate the purity of it's original foundation. Think Lenny and his mouse. And the more often we form attachments, and the tighter we grab hold of them, the more unhealthy it can become. And that can either damage the connection, or make it more difficult to let go of when the time comes. And it will. I mean, people move, things change, and people pass on from this life. Life happens. It's important that you know I'm not saying that in a negative way. I'm genuinely not. It's not me being "guarded" or defensive. It's simply reality. And why lovely moments are so very precious when they happen. Because I have learned not to hold on too tightly, I can remain open to new experiences as they come. For better or for worse.

You should also know that just because I don't form certain attachments doesn't mean I don't know how to love deeply or care wholeheartedly about someone or something. Or commit. In fact, it proves all of the opposite. It's about allowing things to live and exist freely as they are, separate from, but along side of me, having the grace to let go, and understanding that all will be ok if I do. It's about doing the right thing. And about enjoying the person/place/thing while it's in my life without a choke-hold on it. It leaves a door open for people to come through, and for me to return to them.  

The bottom line is that I just don't attach myself very tightly to what I am committed to. I live very simply and honestly, and I try daily, to always do the right thing for the right reasons. All of this leaves me open for change. It allows for mutual room to breathe. To move around. And to mutually learn and grow. And if the time comes where the path splits, or there's a plot twist, like now for example, I can move forward with integrity, appreciating the experience as it were, without hard feelings. And without regret.

I will miss the beach, for sure. I will miss my Raleigh families, who I will always be committed to, to no end. It's just time for the next leg of my journey which is to recharge and rebuild with my own family. They are my commitment and my focus now, and I am very excited about it. And just so you know, The Beach Chronicles will continue. Lake Ontario is quite lovely. And there are a number of beaches I will be frequenting. Might even end up living on the lake for it to become Lac du Jardin de Wendy. Who knows. Baby steps. That's the thrill of the journey anyway, isn't it? The unknown. And I will most surely have a LOT to say about all of it. 

Love en masse to you all. ; )

Baby steps...

The Chip. A prelude to a change.

I've been slacking in writing, I know. I've been slacking with a LOT of things. I mean, I still have to do my taxes. My last entry was an interlude. The following, a prelude. Eventually it will all come together.

So, I've totally had a ginormous chip on my shoulder this week. Like, so big that I must look like Fred Flintstone's car when the waitress delivers the dinosaur ribs to them from the drive-through. Or, as I suggested yesterday, the very Hunchback himself… Quasimodo. I have no idea why it's there. Well, that's not entirely true. I kinda do. But it's so very unflattering to say the least, and I would have to admit to feeling emotions that are less than favorable. Emotions I make the conscious effort not to succumb to in every day life. Emotions, which when combined, boiled down and translated turn out to be just one big, wailing "Waaaaaaaaaaahhh"…  SO unflattering.

The thing is, I'm making more changes. Big scary ones. And I've had to really stop and evaluate my life and how I've gotten to where I am. I have a birthday coming up that I'm dreading, which is totally amplifying it all. This past year has been brutal as I have mentioned in previous blog entries, but I had no idea how it was affecting me internally until the time kept passing. And as it passed, it would peck away at what I thought was a fairly sturdy outer shell I had created for myself. More like papier-mâché than a shell, come to find out. (It was *reeeaaally* tough papier-mâché though) And realizing this, along with time, is what most likely birthed this chip. I mean, by definition "having a chip on your shoulder" means holding a grudge or a grievance which can create a feeling of inferiority, ultimately leaving a person quite defensive. Basically, when you carry The Chip you're pretty much still pissed off over something you have experienced. In my case, I'm pretty pissed off for a number of things I've experienced. But I'm realizing I'm also pretty pissed off for things I haven't experienced. And I don't have anyone else to blame but myself. It's just that consciously making big scary changes forces you to further reflect on your current status, which brings up your past experiences, which challenges and questions your future. Inevitably. And man, at the end of the day, it makes an unpalatable recipe for The Chip.

You're probably wondering what's changing THIS time. I know. I have done/said this all before, and again I'm sorry that I'm being so cryptic. If you know me, you know how private I am with my personal stuff. The deeper stuff, that is. A handful of people already know and support me unconditionally like colorful and lovely arm floats, should I start to waver. I just don't feel like discussing it today. Actually, I don't know how to discuss it. Words are playing menacing tricks on me lately, in that I can't find them when I need them. They end up falling out of my eyes in liquid form. Which is really so bizarre. How do they DO that? It's fairly creepy if you ask me. Rude even. *wink*

Anyway, in brief, there's a lot of letting go involved and a lot of temporary compartmentalizing. There's a lot of resolution and a lot of soul-searching. All of which needs to be roasted separately and gently, then layered back together like an honest ratatouille. So, if you don't mind waiting just a little longer, I will pull enough together to provide a bit to chew on. It's overwhelming. But needs to happen soon, because this chip is getting way too heavy to keep carrying around.

To be continued. Love, in giant masses, to you all.

W.

And now for a non-musical interlude...

I research a lot of different blogs. And it's so I can see what other people write about topic-wise, if they list favorite blogs, what kind of a following they have, etc... and then follow when I find something that interests me. I usually tend to skip over bloggers who haven't posted an entry in over 6 months, because I'm like, why haven't they? Why bother if you're not going to keep posting stuff? And then I realize a month has gone by since I posted my last entry. Sigh. Life. That's why. So I'm going to be better at it. I will. I just tend to shut down sometimes when life hands me a handful of shit. It usually takes me a while to figure out what to do with that shit. Bury it? Or recycle it. Flush it? Or throw it against the wall like a monkey might. You see, it takes time to weigh my options on how to handle life's shit bundles. Therefore I can't write about them.

So, I decided when that happens, I will just post some smaller stuff like recent creative work. Or the latest recipe I'm proud of, or have enjoyed if it wasn't mine. Like the blondie bars I just made recently. Goodness they were delicious. I found the recipe on the Smitten Kitchen blog in case you're interested (click here if you want to try it, and I suggest you do!) Chewy and sweet little golden beauties that I balanced with dark chocolate morsels of delight. So good. After making them, I read further down her list of "add-ins" to discover her suggestion of adding bourbon or whiskey. I see Maker's Mark, or Jameson blondies in my future for sure. Perhaps Jameson's as a little treat for my cousin, Matt. Oooo, I could even add some little pieces of candied ginger in there, since he does love a Jamo and Ginger… oh the possibilities are endless. See? Inspired already.

Thanks for hanging in there with me. I shall learn how to better deal with life's "little handfuls", so that I can continue to share my personal and beach experiences with you. Stay tuned.  : )

For now, I leave you with a vision of loveliness …

My blondie with a Jameson nightcap. SO good!

Phew… That Was a Doozy, All Right.

It's January 17th already, and another round of holidays have come, and thankfully have gone. I don't want to sound ungrateful, or like I didn't appreciate being with my family and seeing some old friends. Because I did. Parts of it were lovely. It's just that 2013 was exhausting. And the holidays aways amplify what ever you felt throughout the year. Have a great year? Celebration abound. Have a shit year? You're on your third martini singing "I'll Have a Blue Christmas" while watching the most horrible of Christmas movies on the Hallmark Channel. Of course there were some good moments in 2013, for sure. Some small and important victories. But it seems the bad times were really bad. Like almost 2008/2009 bad. Or could have been. And if anyone in my family can remember, that time frame was devastating. 

And so, I made an interesting observation while driving back to the beach for the first time in 2014, that I felt notable enough to share. Now, let me back track and tell you that I refer to I-40 and US-1 as "death row" and "death alley" because there are so many animals that simply get pummeled daily. Most likely because there aren't any damn street lights on the roadways here. Shit, I even collided with a deer on a very dark, and rainy trip back to the beach. It's bizarre. Especially US-1. I mean, it was so bad at one point that I swore the zombie apocalypse was going to begin right there in the middle of rural North Carolina, and all of the deer, raccoons, squirrels, dogs and "unidentifiables" would just one day rise up and wreak havoc on the human population. It's fairly unnerving to see. And highly possible if you ask me. Add in the "walkers", the nuclear site and the ominous river ways along US-1 and you have yourself an excellent creepy zombie series for the Animal Channel. What's a "walker"? It's exactly what it might sound like. Humans walking. It is nuts how many people walk along the highways here. Some stepping right out of the woods, some hitch-hiking with huge backpacks, some just wandering in an obvious, chemically-induced stupor. I'm not even kidding. Walkers are a "thing" here. One morning during rush hour, a guy was walking in and out of traffic at the friggin' I-40/US-1interchange. He was shirtless and very angry. Best you can do is avoid eye contact, sip your coffee and hope the cops come before he hurts himself. But I digress. Getting back to my observation… 

On my way to the beach for the first time in 2014 I saw life. I saw a few deer pop out from the woods, run a little ways, then turn to head back in. I saw two dogs running and laughing in the grass along the highway like they had just made the grandest of escapes ever, and I prayed they made it to their getaway car without being hit by it. I saw birds and tiny things that were not dead. Surely this must be a good sign of things to come. I'm not big on "signs" like I was when I was a girl. Sometimes I think looking for them suggests we're not confident in our decisions. Or we're looking for false hope out of the need for comfort. But perhaps I'm wrong. I just have to believe this year will be a better one than last. And that life will have more, well, life in it. And good life in it at that. Good energy. Progress. Forgiveness. New opportunities. Love. Yeah, definitely love. And growth. 

Some things need to change. And perhaps this will be the year they will for the better. My only resolution this year is to let go of 2013 completely. You can't move forward if you're holding on to something behind you. Try holding on to a doorknob and walking through the doorway. You won't make it out if you don't let it go. 

Happy new year, everyone. Cheers to a healthy, prosperous, safe, loving and down right AMAZING 2014.