It's been almost a year since my last post...and I know, just KNOW that all 14 of you have been thinking: "Gah! Mo! Hurry up! This is worse than Harry Potter anticipation!"
Well...I'm sorry. (<--with so much non-sorriness there's not even room for me to pretend there could be a percentage of truth to that statement).
The REAL truth is...I've been on hold. Everything has been on hold this past year while trauma after trauma kept piling up and, rally I had to wait til I got enough good material to tie things together nicely for you.
You're welcome, rally. (<- I like "rally" better sometimes. But only when I want to be fancy).
It's as though my breath has been waiting for the rest of me to catch up with it. And now? It's almost as though I've rubber-band slammed into myself and I'm still kind of waiting for the wobbling to stop.
BUT...I want to write again.
So, I am.
One of the greatest lessons I've learned thus far is figuring out how to balance myself.
I was sooooOOOOOOOoooooOOOOOOOO*gasp!*OOOOOOoooooOOOOOOOO lopsided to the point of being shmoosed dangerously (and uncomfortably I might add) into the corner of the wall I burrowed into for so long that I still have floral-wallpaper imprinted into my SOUL.
I'm still learning, and thankfully once I started eliminating the toxins from my life...SOMETHING had to fill in those empty gaps...the Law of Opposition stepped in to use it's powers for good (finally).
Poisons turned to healing energies.
Hate, Resentment, Fear...Love, Peace, Courage.
I don't want to eliminate or gloss over anything, but I do have an irritating habit of seeing the best, looking for the best and hoping for the best in not just every situation, but person as well.
I think I just really really super needed a giant dose of being able to do all that Pollyanna-ing with a healthy dose of reality.
Now...I don't take "reality" to be a bad thing, nor do I observe myself to be a naive, Bambi-eyed idiot (don't let my giant eyes fool you, folks).
I used to be told all the time that I need to just live in reality, that I wasn't being realistic.
But...what does that MEAN? I am a firm believer that we create our own realities.
I choose extraordinary (go big or go home suckas...and no, that's not an ironic fat joke. But it would be appreciated if it was).
When I say I needed more balancing reality to my Buttercuppish ways...it's because of the fact that i could and did and still DO just naturally see and feel the best in others, I was forgetting to give them AND myself credit for being human.
I believe we are made of Light. Of God. And since mortality is the opposite of Godhood, one can only assume that one of the greatest gifts this Life experience is here to teach us is how to balance the two.
Spirit combined with Flesh: the opportunity to KNOW...
...And now I'm entering into a phase I never thought I would. I am experiencing ideas and feelings and ways of being that seem completely foreign to my "first novel" self if I were to take a good, hard look (which incidentally? Having giant, Bambi eyes just works in my favor in this regard).
But the deliciously odd thing is...it's not foreign in the least.
I am stepping into a world that only really existed in the nethermost reaching corners of my mind and imagination that I've been stifling for a Time that existed before I was born it seems.
And it's decision time.
I cannot be clear on what things will look like anymore, and that's a bit disconcerting.
I'm letting go of forcing things, of getting bloodied fingers from cliff holding things that either aren't me or aren't mine anyway.
I am still very much me, and I'm self aware enough to know that I am nowhere near settled into a confident walking pattern for myself.
(um...can we all just take a moment for Monty Python? And if you don't know of that to which I'm referring, our friendship may be in jeopardy).
I remember when I started needing to do some intensive work to save my life...I had to change it. The word that kept popping into my space was "balance, balance, balance." Having an addictive personality and not knowing that (even if I did...how does a child of 3 know how to pull themselves out of their comfortably addicting Wonderland if it's the only Loving air they know? How does a 3 year old understand addiction ANYWAY?! Nooo Clem! We Love you! You don't need Baby Mum Mums to satisfy the whole in your soul!)
(and yes, I just named my pretend 3 year old Clem. Shut up.)
Anyway, after I began having babies...at an alarming rate mind you...all I needed to be happy and get through the day...was something to balance me.
Bad relationship where I felt stuck, unwanted, unloved and unappreciated...the tiniest bit of balance let me breathe through the constant cuttings into my Spirit.
Balance also looked/looks/feels different depending on the circumstances as well. I never know what I need to get in alignment til I ask myself. And I'm to the point now where I'm rather adept at figuring out how to get it. And I know I'm doing the right thing when i can step back, observe my remarkable little life (that is rounded with a sleep...thanks Dad ;))and see that the level of Love has an increase.
I am...messy right now.
Which is fine with me. Some of the best things in life are messy. Case in point? REESE'S PEANUT BUTTER S'SMORES. (<- I just had one for the first time last week and...my wardrobe may be in trouble or I might need to have a stern talk with my metabolism, I'm just sayin).
BUT...I'd rather be messy than completely careful anymore. Messy is what is happening when I just allow things to be as they are right now.
My home is most of the time more messy. My hugs and kissies with my kids are more messy (and scrumdiddlyumptious, thank you very much). My schedule, my closet, my mind, my heart...
...and I am just great with that.
Because it's honest.
And I spent far too much time NOT being honest. I still have a...healthy? protective? dose of being able to compartmentalize my feelings and actions because, despite how silly and paint-splattery I am...I'm also very very careful when it comes to certain things.
So, you know...messy/careful = good balance :).
My ability to be hurt isn't the same anymore though. Things I used to care about for unhealthy reasons are not an authentic part of me.
Sometimes...things I used to do or say with conviction come out on auto-pilot and I realize i have a foreign taste in my being.
What does it all mean? I can't say. And I'm not going to analyze any further than...I'm transitioning. I'm breathing. I'm...relaxing into me.
I may get hurt now...because I allow myself to. Does that make sense?
I used to get hurt because I was spending so much damned time in survival mode...hence the wallpaper smudges on my liver.
But...nobody puts Baby in a corner...especially not Baby (anymore).
Baby Got Balance.