The Love of a Man

{ August 27, 2011 @ 6:44 am } · { Just Me }
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I love a man who wears daisy dukes. He is a grown man, even older than myself. He also wears Birkenstocks, and sometimes he wears them with socks. He is scruffy, eats far too much meat, talks incessantly and cries more than I do. This man is the epitome of carefree, hopeless romantic, where I am neither of those two things. This man… he loves me entirely.

This shorty-short wearing man can make a steak like nobody’s business, he can fix anything that is broken, and he is the most handsome man I have ever met. When he writes, his words flow like colorful ribbons through my mind, and when he plays his guitar, something pulls on my heart driving me even closer to his own. If I am in pain or in need or in grief, he is there willing to help in any way I will allow. This man loves me entirely.

I love a man who thinks he can sing. He is messy, cluttered and pees sitting down. He showers every other day if I am lucky, sweats more than anyone I have ever met, and regularly forgets to wear deodorant. He never answers his phone when I call, responds much later than I would like to my texts and voice mails, and refuses to see any of that as a problem

This out of tune stinky man never stops smiling. His heart is involved in every single moment of our life together. His children remain his number one priority, and his ex-wife will never go without because he is  a good man. He makes maps, whereas I can not even read them. His intelligence goes beyond that of my own comprehension, and every single day that I have known him I have been shocked (secretly) to learn more of his mind. His face is rugged and structured in a way that leads me to believe we would make a  beautiful baby, and his hands fit perfectly into mine. This man loves me entirely.

I love a man who chased me for many years even though my answer was (almost) always “no”. He pursued, checked up on and loved from afar, me- even when his affections weren’t reciprocated. This man who I love has a hairy back, no ass and clips his toenails in the nude with a foot hiked up on the bathroom cabinet. He eats breakfast far too early and makes a mess when he cooks. This man wakes up in an annoyingly chipper mood every single day and wants to have annoyingly chipper conversation as soon as my eyes are open.  This man loves me entirely.

This far too happy stalker has perfect hair. It’s as healthy and as bouncy as he is. I love running my fingers through it, and just the sight of it gives me butterflies. His lips are the fullest and softest I have ever kissed on a man, and his hands know how every part of my flesh wants to be touched. This man who I love is patient and kind and would never harm me. He allows me room to grow, room to move, and room to love. This man loves me entirely.

I love a man who is late to every engagement he has, constantly tries to fix things that are not broken, asks questions like “why’d he do that”, and “what’s going to happen next?” during movies we have not seen before, doesn’t know how to whisper, wears the same pants 3 or 4 times before washing them, sleeps maybe 4 hours per night, snores, and never seems to relax. This man loves me entirely.

I love a man who pops his toe every 5 to 10 seconds of the day, whether awake or asleep. He gives far too many details to the most unimportant queries, he is never on time, he rarely obeys traffic laws and he interrupts me constantly. That loud rebel has somehow managed to tame this judgemental over-bearing, nagging, unromantic, unfaithful,  woman and I love him entirely.

The Lemonade Diet. Day -1 and counting

{ May 22, 2012 @ 8:49 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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Tomorrow will begin my seemingly ridiculous diet. I have gained 25 lbs since beginning my new meds, and I am not happy with the physical outcome. The emotional, mental and spiritual aspects are amazing, though. I never thought I would be this at peace. However, recently I have become insecure, and when I see myself in the mirror, my body looks like this: 8  to me.

Sooooo, like any good addict, I want what I want when I want it, and the lemonade diet seems to work, and work quickly. This diet means that I will have zero food for 3-7 days, and I will be shitting rivers. This diet means I will be testing my perseverance and endurance more so than when I quit smoking. This diet means I will be mentally squashed for many days, hungry like never before, and weak. This diet promises, though, that I will have a stronger morale, a deeper connection to the one I call God, and look younger/ feel younger.

Now, I know I have the capacity to give up many behaviors, give up drugs, and give up smoking (for 22 days), but food? I’m a little concerned. I’m constantly hungry these days, so I hope, I pray I can do it.

I will blog daily.

 

Why

{ May 3, 2012 @ 11:55 am } · { Uncategorized }
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His hand wrapped around the barrel of a gun

His body in full hunting gear

His toes curling up when he is deep in thought

The feeling in my belly when Benny lets me know that Daddy’s home

The breath that escapes me when I see his face after a day without it

The intensity of his feverish ethics

The fullness of his lips when he smiles

His steaks

The way his glasses fit his face

The way the color gray looks on him

The way he says “delicious” before he has even tasted dinner

His ability to calm me with just his voice

The way he takes charge of life when it is too overwhelming

His tighty whiteys

The way he agrees

The way he apologizes

His simple way of living

His chaotic way of thinking

His pack rat-ish ways

The tattoos that don’t belong

His face just before he kisses me

His calves and thighs

His brute strength

His brow line

His need to be shaved from his neck to his toes

His belly laugh

The excitement in his voice when he sees me

The taste of his coffee

The way he calls me “Mags”

The gray in his beard

His text messages and emails

His confidence

His green-striped Addidas

His expressions

His guitar strapped around him

The sound of my own laughter when I am with him

Are the reasons I said “yes”.

He Gets Me

{ May 2, 2012 @ 4:01 am } · { Uncategorized }
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He gets me smiling. He gets me angry. He gets me hot. He gets me vulnerable. He gets me giggly. He gets me fat. He gets me coffee. He gets me home safely. He gets me what I want, as long as it’s what I need. He gets me rings. He gets me.

He feels rugged. He feels love. He feels hairy. He feels strong. He feels deeply. He feels fear. He feels warm. He feels me. He feels out loud. He feels amazing. He feels healthy. He feels good. He feels complete. He feels like home.

He thinks I am beautiful. He thinks too much. He thinks out loud. He thinks he is sane. He thinks I am perfect. He thinks he is brave. He thinks I am sexy. He thinks I’m the one. He thinks he is lucky. He thinks what I think.

He says I have talent. He says I have courage. He says I am needed. He says he wont leave me. He says I was made just for him. He says too much. He says too little. He says he’s not upset. He says “I forgive you”. He says he would wait. (For a thousand years)

I get him.

I feel at home in his warmth.

I think it will last a lifetime.

I say I will stay. (For a thousand years).

A couple of opinions

{ October 14, 2011 @ 1:04 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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I am a Texas girl, I drive a Ford, and I’ve been told I have a slight drawl when I speak. My parents were as country as country gets, and I was raised on Willie and Waylon and “the boys”.
I live in a big city, but for the most part live the life of a small-town girl. That being said, I do tend to have strong opinions, I just rarely write about them publicly. Tonight, however, I feel the need. Most of my writing is about my life, my mistakes, and a lot of emotion, but this time I am going for something different.

Something I have never understood is the hypocritical opinion of some of the people in this country. (Some who have even run this country). I have never been a big believer that religion and politics should mesh. The two seem to make strange bedfellows, if you ask me, (which you have not, but again, I am stepping out on a limb here). For instance, the idea that one could fiercely oppose abortion yet eagerly applaud the death penalty is just plain ridiculous. Sure, I know. You are going to tell me that the baby has no choice, I know, and guess what. I believe it. I oppose abortion 100% *for myself*. (I also oppose women using abortion as birth control, but there doesn’t seem to be any logical way to prevent that and still remain a “free” country) I am not a fan of the death penalty, either. I feel pretty strongly that none of us have the right to play God, but the truth is we do have a right to an opinion. Not everyone believes in a God, so we aren’t hurting him or her, right? I still don’t get it, though. It’s like the parent who teaches the child not to hit by spanking him. It’s just not a logical thing to do. Sure it may work; eventually the child will become scared of the parent and live in fear, and then grow up with anxiety and intimacy issues, but hey, I am not a professional here, so don’t quote me. There are always the ones who say, ” If someone killed your kid, you’d feel differently about the death penalty”. I suppose I can’t answer that with 100% certainty, but I can say that I’m *pretty* sure even then, I’d oppose. I am a firm believer that the reasons a man kills or rapes or does anything that is an urge beyond his / her control is something worth studying, and you can’t really study the mind of a corpse. Does the government really think that a serial killer or a rapist is deterred by the idea of consequence? It just doesn’t work that way, I’m afraid. There are so many innocent people that have already died due to wrongful convictions, so why continue with a broken system?

Don’t think I am about to tell you the answers to fix this system, because I assure you I do not have them, but I can tell you that murder is never the way to go. Not for them, and not for our government and not for our soldiers and not for a scared, pregnant teenaged girl whose baby daddy ran off with her best friend.

Something else that has always boggled my mind is the people who stand behind a loving Jesus and scream nothing but hate. If you believe in the teachings of Jesus Christ, and if His words are truth to you, then you know without a doubt, that He teaches love. He also teaches that no one has the right to judge another human, and that those who do will be the first ones judged by Him. I am not a Christian, however I respect any and all beliefs of a Higher Power.I have  never quoted the bible, but here I go: Matthew 7:1-5″ You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.” So why is it that you who claim vehemently to be “righteous” only seem to be self-seeking and *self*-righteous?  It’s as if you woke up one day feeling really unnoticed, and in desperate need of attention, so you picked the most debatable (and interpretable) subject there is as your soapbox. Why not practice the real teachings of all spiritual gurus and love one another? If you don’t agree with what someone is doing, write an article about it, stay away from them, and for God’s sake, don’t invite them to your dinner party.

A day like today

{ September 18, 2011 @ 8:57 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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A day like today.

A day like today

{ September 18, 2011 @ 8:56 pm } · { Just Me }
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What people think of me is none of my business. That has been branded into my brain for many years, but I still can’t wrap my hard head around it. I get the concept, and I understand the words in a sentence, and I even understand enough to explain it simply to someone, but I can not apply it to my own life. The idea that someone doesn’t like me, even if I don’t like them,  harms my over-sensitive ego more than anything else. Now, as I am well aware, my ego is my destruction. My ego is what keeps me sick and selfish, as well as self-seeking. My ego carries me to the very edge of narcissism and drops me off. My ego, (fostered by my disease of addiction) wants me dead if it can’t have me “perfect”.

I have come to realize that the voice inside of me that says “it’s totally ok to spend $60 dollars on new shoes when there’s only $75 in the bank”, is the same voice that says “you aren’t really an addict because you’ve never shot heroin, smoked crack, or walked the streets homeless.” The voice that says to me “she doesn’t like you so now we are going to go against all of our beliefs, principles and morals to impress (probably lie to) and coddle her until she sees how great you think you are” is the same voice that says ” you don’t need the meetings anymore because you have arrived, finally”. The truth is, if I really thought I was that great, I wouldn’t need to feed myself with “her” approval, and if I didn’t need those meetings anymore, I wouldn’t think I needed  her approval, either.

There are many “hers” in my life, but only a few that seem to stand out above the rest. To be the leader of the “her” pack, you must have characteristics that I, more than likely, already possess, but think I do not. Being popular is a big one, as is being funny. These two traits seem to trigger my entitlement issues, causing me to think I must be your friend. If you have these characteristics, but do not like me, I feel completely below you. I feel as though you somehow are miles above me in every area of our lives. It is most definitely just a trick that my mind plays on me to further push me into a sick place, but there are some days that my army isn’t strong enough to fight it off, and those days are days like today. I feel alone. I have been surrounded by many, but I feel invisible and hardly recognizable. Today I am in a constant war within myself to stay “on top” and have faith. Today I feel less than everyone I encounter or see. Today the bugaboos that have haunted me my whole life are standing around me, holding hands in a kind of prayer circle, and keeping me from seeing the light.

There are ways to break through this trap, and this is one of them. Writing about them, telling  on myself, and praying my ass off.

If I look at my life with new eyes instead of the ones I was born with, I will see how many friends I truly have, how many people would fight these ghosts with me, and how many people absolutely love me, imperfections and all. If I were to use my new reflection to peer inside of myself I would easily be unafraid. But today is one of those days where standing before myself is almost impossible, and asking for help causes far too much vulnerability. Eventually I will, but in this moment I choose to be imperfectly perfect.

I know this too shall pass, as always, and that alone gives me strength.

Three Steps Forward

{ September 3, 2011 @ 9:01 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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I would like very much to have a peaceful weekend. I would like to not stress about my financial struggles, my relationship problems, my ever-haunting past or my ever-piling bills.

I have done the footwork and put the action behind my gratitude. I have made changes that no one , including myeslf, ever believed I could make, I have found balance and a God center that sustains me in my moments of uncertainty and fear. I have done a lot. But here I sit on a Saturday afternoon, engulfed by a situation that I currently can’t change. Is it pride preventing me from asking for help? Is it the embarrassment of thinking I should not have these kinds of worries anymore? Did I put an expectation on myself and now can’t live up to it?

I moved into my own place in June of this year. I finally cut ties from men that I manipulated and used. I felt the consequences of that by being broke, scared and depressed for 2.5 months. I had never lived such a life where I paid my own way and there weren’t men lined up to buy my pain away. This defect in my character had been my favorite and most used tool for survival my whole life. I learned at such a young age that sex was something I could use to bend the boys the way I needed them bent, and never have to lift a finger to be self sufficient or self supporting. I perfected it and nurtured it and didn’t think there was another way…until I found out there was…

So, no job, no money and a growing hungry 17 year-old to support I relied on faith, friends and child support. I didn’t make rent last month, and I can assure you my landlord was NOT as understanding as I would have liked for her to be. This month, however, I got a paycheck on the day rent was due. I was sure my problems were over, and I would not be struggling anymore. I didn’t take into account all of the borrowing that would have to be repaid, or the bills that were piled up, or the groceries, gas and incidentals that would show up at the same moment in need of immediate attention. I assumed the job meant I was done with the worry. I assumed my broke days were behind me, and all the days ahead would be rainbows and butterflies. I was wrong.

Today I sit in so much fear that it is hard to be present for my family or friends. My landlord expects 2 months in full, plus late fees, the electricity will be turned off on Tuesday, and I have no gas in my truck. I am 100 dollars short for even one month of rent, and my son’s birthday is Monday. I feel worse than I did when I was not working. My landlord has already threatened eviction, the light company will not budge, and obviously my son can’t postpone his very special day. I am stuck and I am scared. This fear has turned to anger, and it comes out on everyone I associate with today. Everything everyone does seems to scratch and claw at me and I am paralyzed by fear, entirely.

I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. I have done what needs to be done, yet I am still in the same place. Swimming in circles while surrounded by sharks. I feel like giving up, and I feel like disappearing, yet again.

But I wont.

I have obligations today, responsibilities to loved ones, and a life that needs to be lived. I will push through this shit, and if I keep doing what I am supposed to be doing, I will one day be able to accept exactly where I am. I do not presume to think I will ever be ahead, but this three steps back stuff is getting very old, very quick.

Ahhhhhhhhhhgh!

Light

{ August 26, 2011 @ 1:06 pm } · { Uncategorized }
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Light.

Light

{ August 26, 2011 @ 12:58 pm } · { Just Me, Uncategorized }
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“God help you if you are an ugly girl,’Course too pretty is also your doom. ‘Cause everyone harbors a secret hatred for the prettiest girl in the room. And God help you if you are a Phoenix, and you dare to rise up from the ash. A thousand eyes will smolder with jealousy while you are just flying there.” ~ Ani Difranco

I haven’t always been a “looker”, in fact, quite the opposite. As a youth I was far too skinny and sported quite possibly the worst hairstyles of the dreaded eighties. Mine was never “in”. My hair, my clothes, my humor, my intelligence (or lack-there-of). Everything I had in me was outside of everyone else’s box. I was a loner, but not by choice. Oh sure, I had my part to play in my dysfunction, but I can’t say I didn’t try to hang on to friends. I would compromise my morals-hell, my SAFETY to have a friend. I would take my “friends” hostage, and when they stopped doing what I thought they should, or if they became friends with another, I would sabotage the friendship and then blame them for harming me. I didn’t have boyfriends until I was in my late teens, and then I wasn’t really anything to anyone other than “Amy- the girl who puts out.”

At the age of 15 I was removed from my father’s home by Children’s protective Services. It had only taken them 13 years, 20 + phone calls, 2 letters and finally a busted eardrum mixed with what looked like a body mural of bruises, to accept there was a “problem in the home”. I went into the Texas system for what was supposed to only be a few months while they taught my father how to be a good Daddy. That few months ended up being 3 long, grueling, interesting years, and I learned more in that span of time than I had in my previous years combined. Leaving the custody of the state I felt I had graduated LIFE.~ I learned how to steal, flirt, lie (without getting caught), manipulate, and play the victim role. The girls in that home were, by all counts, common thugs, and those thugs had been my life coaches for a long time at an impressionable age. Upon my release into the real world, I was given new teeth, new clothes, a nice new family and apparently something of a body. In my real world teachings by my thug friends, I had also learned how to look at a man, walk around a man, and use a man. It became my most useful tool, and I became something of a sought after commodity. I had finally arrived!

Within 6 months I was pregnant. The moment I found out about the pregnancy I was in love with that baby. He would “fix me”. I would love him, but most of all, he would love me. I was sure my philandering would end and I would become a responsible and productive member of society.(My skewed view of reality had led me to believe this~!)  I was sure his father was the man of my dreams and the love he vowed was sincere and infinite. Nevermind that he already had a 15 month old son. Nevermind that he didn’t have a job. Never mind that he was never home and always partying. Who cares about the other girlfriends and the “starving artist” mentality. He loved me and once the baby came he too would become a responsible productive member of society. That’s what babies do, they grow us up!

I moved out of that situation at 8.5 months pregnant. Before the end of my term, I was already engaged to someone else. It took me all of 2 weeks to make that happen. While in the hospital having my baby, who is now my 17-year-old son, I received flowers from my new beaux while the “baby daddy” was telling me to “push”. Thus began a whirlwind of short-lived “love affairs” that would be my sole source of income, emotional stability, and survival for the next 16 years. I was married but I was never faithful, I had jobs but I couldn’t keep them, I had another son but he didn’t fix me either.

Miraculously I managed to be a really good mother, that part was easy. But never did I have a real connection to another whom I didn’t give birth to, never did I feel emotion that wasn’t laced with anger,  never did I forgive anyone who I felt trespassed against me,  never did I let go of a childhood I could use to further my victim mentality. When the men stopped being enough I turned to women, when they didn’t work I turned to drugs- when all of it became too much at the age of 35, I hit a bottom. A dark, lonely place even though I was surrounded by many. A place cold and seemingly damp. A place with nothing to call my own and nothing to believe in. All I could see as a future was death, and when my attempt to accomplish that future failed and I realized I couldn’t even kill myself the right way, I reached out for help.

On January 2, 2010 I walked into a room full of open arms thinking I looked like a million bucks, and picked up a desire tag in a meeting of Narcotics Anonymous. I was jaundiced, my skin hung off my bones, my hair was breaking off, and I had been shitting rivers for weeks from a detox words can’t even describe. I walked in that day and I never left. In these 20 months I have learned to live; something I was unable to do before. Something my parents were unable to teach me. In these 20 months I have learned to believe in something greater than myself and trust that this divine presence wants for me only happiness and the ability to finally love. I struggle with issues still, but the progress is more than I ever imagined. I had been in the rooms of NA and AA for many years, but I could never “get it”. I didn’t realize I had a disease and that I was sick. I thought I was a monster that was pure evil. The latter is something I assumed I would just be for the rest of my life. Today I know differently, and today I know peace. Today I am whole. I am grateful for every single day of my life, for without those years of dark moments I would not know these filled with so much light.

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