Author: readypen8

Writing to heal, healing to write.

Monday Musings

The beginning of a new week. Fresh, clean, ready to take on the world! “What will this week bring”, I ask. With energy and stamina after an “off day”, I head to the gym. Oh, Gymboland, you never disappoint with your many side shows and aggravations. It’s usual locker room antics, with it’s noises and views. The selfie station in front of the mirror. The “I own this whole row” spread and the mad-dog faces wanting to look mean and tough. I sometimes wonder if “we” ever left high school? (Gym Rant , Another Gym Rant, Inquiring Mind)

California’s weather is changing and with it lots of coughs and sniffles. Would it be rude to carry a disinfectant spray? People simply do not know how to cover their cough and sneezes. Then you have people with open mouth breathing…goodness! Why?!?!

Nonetheless, got it done! Endorphins flowing to the brain. Ready for the day. Here’s hoping for a “balanced”, productive day 😀

Surreal

Have you ever been in a place that seemed like you were experiencing an out of body experience? Like you are in the audience watching “you”? Yesterday, I was doing my usual grocery shopping, when all of the sudden I became aware of a “whistle”. WHAT?! ME?! WAIT?! NO?!

Today, I came across this:

AND, so in the little things; in the seemingly unrelated things; in the messages that seem to be separate yet are so entangled…I will ENJOY the sound of the whistle 🙂

A Year Plus

One year and six months…547 days…lots and lots of hours, minutes, seconds. Each second your absence is felt acutely, deeply. Life continues, even when I want it to…STOP! Your room is still the same. Your bed has the same sheets, unwashed, to preserve your essence. Remember Cam (a stuffed animal)? You held that thing, close to your face. Now, I hold it to my face. I miss YOU!

I saw some of your friends on Sunday, they miss you too. It was difficult to be around them, but it was good. Someone said to me, “We are glad you are here. We miss Angie so much. By you being here, we feel like we have a piece of her.” Angie, I hadn’t thought of that. You are missed by so many.

The holidays are coming. Goodness, how you loved the holidays. Not sure how it’s going to be, but hey, today is here. I’ll just do “today”. We will see about “tomorrow”.

I long to hold you, to hear you, to simply be with you. Time makes it feel like you are further and further away. Pictures and videos are just not cutting it. However, I am so thankful for technology, and that I have those videos with your voice and beautiful face. I view them often.

I LOVE YOU so very much and MISS YOU to no end ❤

Soap Box

My crazy brain can go from one thing to another or can be a totally Scrambled Mind

Thinking of going into my humorous, sarcastic rant (haha!), I mean post, and I wondered, “what exactly is the meaning of a ‘soap box’ “, so here you are. I figured you might be interested in its meaning:

“A soapbox is a raised platform on which one stands to make an impromptu speech, often about a political subject. The term originates from the days when speakers would elevate themselves by standing on a wooden crate originally used for shipment of soap or other dry goods from a manufacturer to a retail store.” ~ Wikipedia

Now that we have taken care of that important issue, allow me to “get on the wooden crate” and share with you some pet-peeves.

Perfume – hey, I’m all for smelling good and all, but seriously?! Does one need to bathe in this substance in order to achieve the desired lure? I just don’t get it! Again, “common sense” people! I was in the next changing stall, just minding my own business, so energetic after my workout, and BAM! A never ending spray…and spray…and spray. No one told me I needed a breathing mask. No one said I’d be fumigated by a substance that would make my sinuses go into a horrid stinging and sneezing frenzy. Ouch!

Sneezing and coughing – can we all agree that it is so NASTY to be sprayed by someone else’s germs? Is it sooooooo difficult to “cover” your sneeze and/or cough? Do you seriously think I want to wear your body fluids, even when it’s just a mist? I’m no germaphobe, but this just crosses all kinds of lines 8-/

Right of Way – I thought I knew how this works, but lately I’m beginning to question it. I’ve almost been trampled upon several times with absolutely no “excuse me” from the other person. At a walking trail, at the store, in the gym (who knew this place was much more than an exercise establishment?). I simply don’t get it.

Until the next time…where will we go? what will we see?

Do you have any pet peeves?

 

My Family

Greetings from from my neck of the woods, and no I am not little red riding hood 😉   Thank you to all the new follows and likes. Whether you visit or stay a while, I am grateful for each and every one of you fellow sojourners.

Some reasons I Write… And I Write…

A time of great celebration and joy. Little did we know what was around the corner, however, this day was a day of making wonderful memories. Tomorrow is not here, yesterday is past, today is what we have. Those around us are precious gifts. Let us lavishly love! Let us dance like nobody is watching, and even if someone is watching…let them see YOU – dancing, crying, smiling, splattered on the floor…let them see the real you. TODAY is a gift…what will we do with it?

 

Stigma

The stigma and shame behind “labels” can create enormous havoc in an already broken and fragile state of mind. The struggle to cope and understand is greatly affected by once upbringing and the prevailing mindset of those around you.

I grew up in an environment where the mindset was that you fended for yourself and vigilantly hid any sign of weakness. Talking about “it” was a resounding NO…not an option. Going to the doctor was not an option, either, let alone a mental health specialist. Finances were slim to nothing. Any monies had would go to feeding the many mouths that begged for a piece of tortilla to appease their growling stomachs.

Any reference to a psychiatrist or psychologist was in disgust or disdain saying, “that person must be totally crazy to go to that! That’s not needed. They are good for nothing.”

There was an auntie who dared to venture into that forbidden territory. Oh, the things that were whispered about her. Those words cut to the heart. No one else dare venture out. They did not want to be part of those cutting conversations and side glances.

Do to extreme circumstances, another family member saw herself in need of venturing out. She did, however, in the strictest most hidden way. No one must know. Eventually, she stopped going. Maybe it was too difficult to keep up the front…we will never know. In her ultimate darkest moment, the “help” needed was denied and with no power to keep fighting, she ultimately succumbed to it all.

Many months have ensued, the memory of accepting my medical doctor’s advice comes to mind. The initial phone call. The first appointment. All the voices within and without. The fight to not get up from that chair. The fight to not flee that office…to run out. Each session, a struggle to accept.

I think I’m starting to accept…I think I’m starting to give my therapist a chance…I think this is NOT weakness, but strength…I think this is not shameful, but a necessity.

~ ~ ~ AND…it is…OK ~ ~ ~

Junior High

Her awkwardness was evident. Not really sure she belonged. She and her mother had ventured a long way from their quaint little village. A never ending, so it seemed, highway brought them to the much talked about “norte”. All she knew was that she was with her mother on a journey to “visit” her Dad. At 9 years of age, no details are needed, just that you are going on a trip. Little did she know that “el norte” would become home.

Years passed rapidly since their arrival and now here she was in another unknown, chaotic environment, where puberty was at its peak. Who knew “bullying” would become such a hot topic? Who knew “mean girls” would be made into a movie? All she knew was she needed to find a way to survive. Why was it that every place she went, including “home” was a fight to stay alive? Life and the pursuit of purpose and meaning continued, hoping to find less pain.

She was not one of “them”. She was not one of “those”. Where did she belong? Where did she fit in? Her clothes had no label, but always clean. Her shoes needed to last and last, cause unless they were falling apart, she would not get another. Who knew outfits needed to match? Well, she knew, she just couldn’t do anything about it. New clothes and shoes and supplies for the school year was not in her radar.

Mr. Diaz was a kind man. He invited her to “The Mecha Club”. She decided to go, maybe she’d fit in? Who knew? Walking in with heavy feet – her feet have been heavily dragging for most of her life – there she was. Her thrift store attire was no match for this clean and pressed group. Stared at, looked up and down to see if she matched the criteria…if she fit in. What torture for a girl who couldn’t hang with the outside crowd, but she sure didn’t seem to fit in with the in crowd.

What was it that attracted her to the gang life? She sure didn’t fit in. She sure didn’t belong. Somehow she managed to get “similar” clothes, tried the make up and hair look AND got the nickname “La Sleepy” — how’s that for a fear inducing name?

Initiation antics followed. Alcohol and dabbling in other illegal substances. Although alcohol had already been the numbing agent of choice. It was the only way to numb the pain of the abuse ( The Runaway).

Junior High, a bridge between kidhood and younghood. A place where fitting in felt more like a pinball machine, however, the “scoring” was way, way off. And, being an immigrant girl with an accent did not help the volley from one place to another, from one group to another.

It seems like ages ago, and yet so readily available in the memory bank. Survived, and life continued with more road to travel on this journey of life.