Worlds Apart But Always In My Heart …

The heatwave has me more drained than usual.  The only thing lingering these days is this oppressive heat.  Watching movies on one of my favorite channels and heard this beautifully stirring song playing during one of the sweetest kisses on TV.

I love the voice, the words … lyrics resonate with me … hold me in your heart …

You’ve been lying awake all night
Your head’s been running around, it won’t stop
But it’s a wonderful light
I wish you could only see the things you’ve got
You’d see it’s all right

Hold me close
I’ll be there soon
Hold me in your heart
Hold me close, like I’m the sun to your moon
Though we were apart
Though we are worlds apart

So when you leave the sun for the snow
Crossing ocean tides
Know you will be safe there at home
Rest now, close your eyes

Hold me close, and I’ll be there soon
Hold me in your heart
Hold me close, like I’m the sun to your moon
Though we were apart
Though we are worlds apart

I want you to dream in fields of flowers
And know that you’re not alone
Soon come morning hours
The sweetest winds will blow

If you hold me close, I’ll be there soon
Hold me in your heart
Hold me close, like I’m the sun to your moon
Though we were apart
Though we are worlds apart
Though we are worlds apart


The sociopath will always accuse YOU of what they are guilty of themself

Time to get away from all manipulative, lying people who try to rob me of my energy, my compassion, and forgiving nature.

Dating a Sociopath

Did you feel like you were going crazy? You were losing your mind? This is all part of the sociopath’s crazy making behaviour.

Image

The sociopath will always accuse you of doing the very thing that they are guilty of themselves. They do this to deflect the attention from them.

Examples of this are

  • Accusing you of cheating
  • Accusing you of being dishonest or lying
  • Accusing you of talking about them
  • Accusing you of doing whatever it is that they are guilty of themselves

The sociopath has a bizarre ability to be able to make YOU feel guilty and feel like you have defend yourself… for things that he has done.

You see the sociopath, is actually fairly intelligent. He knows that whilst you are busy defending yourself, and proving your innocence, you will be confused, and will forget about the real issue, the truth that you are close to uncovering…

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Size Matters …

Most of my life, I have only been attracted to tall men.  Yes, I know – what woman isn’t?! But for some reason – just today, I swear today as I find myself yet alone this gorgeous weather weekend and watching how my step Dad treats my Mom after 35 years of marriage, I truly admit to myself I do not want to be alone.  Being alone in the hospital, being alone in bed, being alone in line, always alone is not how I want to live my life anymore.  Sure I am okay alone, but who wants to be just okay??

It also dawned on me, after having an hour long conversation with a nice, shorter man that I have been guilty of perpetuating the stupid stereotypes that pervade our society and way of thinking for far way too long.  Being obsessed with height — in a way that I would never obsess about any one of their other qualities — has been bad for me, bad for my dating experiences, and reinforces a society that says physical traits we can’t control are more important than who we really are.  If I want to truly find someone willing to accept and love me -warts and all – then I need to do the same … somehow.

Height was always one of those inane deal breakers, for me.  I never minded what a man did to earn a living, as long as he was hard working, honest, dependable, stable.  I never minded what kind of car a man drove.  I never expected a man to buy me jewelry or take me to expensive places.  It never mattered to me what religion a man was as long as he was spiritual, caring, kind, thoughtful, empathetic.

But that towering look, that false sense of security I would have walking next to a tall man  – is just that – false.  I get it.  I was surrounded by tall men growing up – at my 5’2″ that is an easy thing to accomplish.  My grandfather, my Dad, my brother, my favorite male cousins all were 6 feet or taller.  They made me feel safe, so I equated that with their height.  I need to rethink this.  Sure, I thought I was most attractive when I look itty bitty compared to my male partner.  But really, should this matter?  How superficial is this really coming across?

I need to re-evaluate my thoughts on the ideal man – for me, myself.  I truly want someone who is confident, a man who is secure in his own skin (and height), who shows they can handle unfamiliar people or situations.  A man who actually listens – hears what I am saying, takes the time to understand me, and makes time for me.  A generous man would be ideal – and I don’t mean springing for dinner at a four-star restaurant – I crave his willingness to give his time and lend an ear and a helping hand or two.

I have learned that I want a man who is intelligent – and I don’t mean he needs to have a degree or two, or MD after his name – want a worldly, interesting man – a take-charge type; a problem solver, a man who is always trying to learn; improve, means to me, never boring.  Intelligence is sexy!  I need to know they are passionate about things. When a man, heck a person for that matter, is passionate about something, anything – their face lights up – it’s proof that they care for and about something beyond themselves.  That is contagious. It’s inspiring to me and lets me know that he is living a life he loves.  Oh who doesn’t need a sense of humor?!  Being able to laugh at the stresses of this world is a must.  My life is harsh reality at best – so I truly need to let my hair down and just cry laughing.

Yes, so many real tangible qualities I am looking for in a man – his height should not be the deal breaker.  I am going to recite this to myself each and every day.

I know what I want, deserve – now I just have to find some time and make a real effort in finding it.  I want that hand holding, caress of the face, sit next to each other watching TV kind of life … in search of my lobster … with grace in my step and hope in my heart …

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The Peace of Wall Street

My brief time working on Wall Street again is coming to an end … bittersweet end.  It has been an awakening time for me … accepting and new found peace time for me.  I still have a strong connection to this place.  I have turned down a few jobs through the years to work in this financial downtown area because I just couldn’t bear to go through the World Trade Center and pass the site where my forever heart perished so many years ago.  This past year, I have grown to accept my life in ways that no one can understand – ways that I can barely articulate..  I still ache each time I pass through the WTC, but pain and nostalgia no longer paralyze me.  Sure it overwhelms me at times, but I keep moving forward.  I try to focus on all the good memories and new memories of being downtown, the familiar and the unknown.

I met someone briefly that allowed me to open my eyes to so many possibilities.   There are so many beautiful things in the world to explore, experience, relish and I plan to do just that.

I am going to miss being able to walk down to the South Street Seaport and just look out into the calm waters and let my thoughts drift.  I am going to miss the soft jazz music that can be heard every morning outside my work building.  I may even miss all the tourists and school groups that come this way….ah maybe not.   I will miss Brookfield Place and all the fun things that take place in the area, especially the Lowdown Hudson Music Fest!

I won’t miss the 9/11 Memorial.

I will miss the hand that held mine recently on a few walks around this area.  I wonder if he will ever know the profound effect he had on my life in such a short time …  and although he may never know, I will forever know.  The way he would apply a little pressure when holding my hand, calmed me and made some of anxiety melt away, especially when he squeezed the area between my thumb and my forefinger.

The way he evoked so many memories for me … maybe wasn’t fair to him; but priceless to me.  I knew Michael, my forever heart, was trying to still tell me something even if I wasn’t ready to fully understand all at the time.  Comforting.

I am moving forward … with grace in my step and hope in my heart …

 

 

 

 


Rose Colored Glasses Broken

Well those lingering thoughts I encouraged, wanted – all dissipated truly fast when my Iceland trekking ‘friend’ returned.  All the pretty words turned into false actions and harsh words.  But at the end of it all, after the tears I shed, I am okay.  I know my worth, know what I want, and what I deserve.

Lately, I was feeling in control of my life, despite ups and downs with my every day health leading to some issues at work, but over all I was waking up happy, going to bed exhausted from accomplishing things.  Then I let my guard down, I met someone tall, dark haired, handsome, funny … He appeared great on paper, even loved his family, was close to them, had a long standing job – I let myself go.  I fantasized, I went way out of my comfort level only to learn I don’t want a pot-smoking man in his 50s, who runs away at the first hint of conflict, and who may or may not still be in love with his ex-wife.  I spent the past few days sad, hurt, stung by his harsh words only to realize that I assisted in the demise of the fantasy.  I tested him when I should have just let it go.  I pushed, when I should have just let it go.  I wanted another chance to make it work, to see where it could go, when I should have just let it go.

Learning that I am getting better at seeing people clearly, so as to not waste my time too much.  But even when I knew he wasn’t for me, I tried because when he took my hand those few times, I felt something I haven’t felt in years.  It felt right.  I tried to base a relationship on that.  Yes.  Insanity at its best.  I clearly see that now.  I thought it was something not to be ignored.  But chemistry doesn’t make a relationship.  I logically get this.

Well I finally took my rose colored glasses off, broke them, threw them forever away.  When the very man you thought you were falling for, curses at you, something breaks, and it wasn’t my heart this time, it was expectations.  I tend to expect people to be nice, solely because I am trying so hard to be civil, to be forgiving, to be nice.  Well I no longer want to be the doormat.   I no longer want to be so forgiving, accepting.  That famous adage, “If you can’t change the circumstances, change your perspective” – could not ring any more true this weekend.  

In a relationship, you cannot be the puppeteer. People have their own emotions, behaviors, actions, beliefs, scars, wounds, fears, dreams, and perspectives. They are their own person.  As I am. I so wanted this relationship to be something that it could never be.

When  I meet people, there are certain expectations, like being treated well or being respected. Yet sometimes we find ourselves in relationships that don’t mirror what we anticipate to happen. We may feel hurt or used.  That was where I found myself this past week going into this weekend.

We cannot expect other people to treat us as we would treat them. We cannot assume anything or force change upon someone who clearly demonstrates he or she is stuck in his or her own way.  When someone is incapable of listening, hearing, understanding what I was trying to convey, share, and only managed to twist all into their way of thinking, rejecting me along the way, sure it was hard, but liberating at the same time.  Lessons learned the very hard way…again.  When this man got mad, he was no longer attractive to me.  I felt such a sadness.  I could do nothing but cry.  I think it wasn’t just for my dashed hopes but for him as well,  I could sense a pain in him that I would never reach.  I wanted to hug him and make it all better.  But I can’t keep trying to fix broken people, when I am still broken myself.  I am fully aware of this.  When he cruelly often used the phrase, “sounds like a personal problem” well it was … sadly. 

I am always so afraid of closing off my heart to new things, experiences, people for fear of being let down, disappointed again.  But as I write this, my heart is wide open.  With eyes full of clarity, I am capable of changing the relationships in my life by adjusting my point of view.  Tired of being disappointed.  I have to constantly reevaluate and adjust my expectations.  I can’t assume that people will respond to things as I would; I can’t assume that one will care like I do; just as I can’t assume one thinks in a similar way as I do.

I was living in a brief fantasy land of my hopes, dreams, ideas, beliefs, expectations, and assumptions.  And I was hurting myself most.  Learning how to protect myself more, needing to change my perception from what I hope would happen to being more open to experiences for whatever may actually happen.  It’s hard.  But I know I need to let go of my expectations … with grace in my step, hope in my heart … no more rose colored glasses!


Linger …

Today …  a very new friend of mine is traveling from NYC to Iceland for 14 days and I find myself obsessed with the very thought of him lingering in my mind, in my thoughts, in my random smile.  As I write, think on this, I hear the song, “Linger” by the Cranberries. Signs are everywhere, if you keep your mind and heart open to them.

I always tend to attempt dating each and every summer … and those months starting with the letter J!  Being June already is no different.  What is different is actually believing this may be a real possibility of me finding myself again, of falling in love – that I won’t get bored, distracted, jaded, disillusioned, overwhelmed.  I won’t make excuses, and go back into hibernation.  I am nearing the end of my 40s and I don’t plan on being alone.  I owe it to myself, and to my Michael’s forever love for me to keep moving forward, accepting love, and no more settling.

We all wish to be wanted, desired – I can easily admit that I need it.
We all want to be understood –  I will no longer settle for less.

I have had so many people I love die way too young.  I want to live with purpose, live more fully for them as well as for myself.  Life moves too fast.  In a blink, you can have it all and lose it all as quickly.

This week, I find myself more alive, carefree.  Wanting … wanting not to be alone.

Longing to be held by strong arms. Feel my fingers entwined with another’s.

Living to anticipate a kiss that takes my breath away …  again.
Looking forward to staying awake until the sun rises.

I want to slow down and listen, breathe it all in.

I want to stare into his eyes, get lost in reliving the moments.

I want to be free to be me around him.
I will sit quietly and wonder if he dares to let our lips linger without fully kissing, breathing me in and holding me tight.

I wish time could stop … I wish I could stop time –  so we can linger.
An honest life is made of moments of both good and bad – I fully understand this.  But right this minute, this instance, this small moment in time, I want my conversations with him to linger … and when I sigh, I want him to sigh.

Is this all too much to wish upon? No – already our conversation linger on my lips …  as always with grace in my step, hope in my heart, smile on my lips …

 

 

 


In Memory of Me …

I have just not been able to write as much as I would prefer lately.  So many thoughts, words, complete sentences in my head … but having a hard time expressing myself without crying at times.  Been so busy building walls so others can no longer hurt me, that I just can’t express myself in the only real way I know.   Sinking into depression … I know I am but I am not sure what I can do differently, right now. I feel lost, alone, insecure, idle, forgotten, bored … Emotional flu … yes that is what I have, lately.  Tired of feeling – especially sorry for myself.  So it’s taken me awhile to write this post.  Sometimes my hurt overwhelms me.

Anyone who really takes the time to know me, understand my life – they would know I have never had a good relationship with my mother and her daughters.  My sister is having knee surgery and will be staying with my Mom, so whenever any one of my sisters visit, even for a few hours every few months, my mother tends to be even more cruel to me.  For some reason, this past Friday we were talking about someone we knew and how they died with no family.  My mother then proceeded to tell me that I should save money to make sure I can pay for my own burial since no one would help once I die and I shouldn’t think to burden anyone.  Now I know deep in my heart that my family couldn’t care less if I lived or died.  I have known this far too long.  And sadly, yet obviously prudently, I already took measures for my burial many years ago after my first bout of cancer.  I reassured my Mom very calmly that I already took care of things for when I die.  Then I just went upstairs to my safe place, my own apartment, and just cried for hours.  My mother will never know how much she has hurt me, how much her words hurt me.  Just when I think she can’t hurt me anymore, I learn that it’s just never going to stop.  My skin just isn’t thick enough sometimes.  My heart breaks a little more each day when I am around her.  I try so hard … try not to let her words bury me alive.

So many hours I find myself too weak, too sad to do much of anything which only makes me sadder. I try.  I am in pure survival mode.  Don’t need to be saved. I need to be found and appreciated for exactly who I am.  I need others for my voice right now.

Quotes that speak to me, for me …

“Sensitive suffer more, but they love more and dream more.”  – Augusto Cury

“A sensitive soul sees the world through the lens of love.” – Unknown

“Having a soft heart in a cruel world is courage, not weakness.” ― Katherine Henson

“You soak up others’ moods and desires like a sponge. You absorb sensation the way a paintbrush grasps each color it touches on a palette. The ethereal beauty of a dandelion, the shift of a season, the climax of a song, or a certain stirring scent can awaken such wonder they’ll become your very breath itself – moving through you as fuel does to fire and wind does to waves. ~ Victoria Erickson

I have to keep reminding myself to love myself first and foremost … I have been on my own longer than I have ever been with anyone, loner by nature, alone by choice.

I’m here – I’m a survivor – and you can, too!  Everyone has to deal with their own situation, but my method is ‘distraction’.  My pain, worry leads me to writing.  Peace, acceptance, quiet, serenity, empowerment … keep loving myself.  Keep striving to have a decent life.  I have to remember who I am – that is how I will get through this life … with grace in my step and hope in my heart.


Woman of a Certain Age …

Watching the movie, “Something’s Gotta Give'” and it dawned on me that this could be my life story … well minus the beautiful beach house, the daughter, the fabulous playwright’s career, and the turtlenecks.

But when the main character’s sister recites this – it about sums up my life right now:

Zoe: This is really fascinating, what’s going on at this table. Let’s take you and Erica. You’ve been around the block a few times. What are you, around 60? 63. Fantastic! Never married, which as we know, if you were a woman, would be a curse. You’d be an old maid, a spinster. Blah, blah, blah. So instead of pitying you, they write an article about you. Celebrate your never marrying. You’re elusive and ungetable, a real catch. Then, there’s my gorgeous sister here. Look at her. She is so accomplished. Most successful female playwright since who? Lillian Hellmann? She’s over 50, divorced, and she sits in night after night after night because available guys her age want something-forgive me, they want somebody that looks like Marin. The over-50 dating scene is geared towards men leaving older women out. And as a result, the women become more and more productive and therefore, more and more interesting. Which, in turn, makes them even less desirable because as we all know, men- especially older men- are threatened and afraid of productive, interesting women. It is just so clear! Single older women as a demographic are about as fucked a group as can ever exist.”

I am closer to 50 than I am to 40 and have been completely single for almost 4 years.  Sure I have been on a few dates but rarely find myself going on 2nd dates.  I know I put the kibosh on most the dates … but when these men who ask me out are in their late 20s, 30s, I sit there and start thinking we really have nothing in common.  I start imagining them wanting children, listening to different music, not knowing how to dance a proper waltz … they rather drink beer than order a nice bottle of wine, they rather go to a night club than a nice jazz lounge … yes, I have nothing in common with most men in their 30s.  I would love to meet a single, available, down-to-earth, honest man in his 50s.  Yet, sadly they are all chasing women in their 20s and 30s.  I never considered myself a ‘woman of a certain age’ but I am … trying to not get jaded and give up on dating.  I am thankfully not convinced I am past the age of romance, much less sexual re-awakening.  I believe I still deserve it all … I would just prefer to find it with a man closer to my age.

Now if all the younger men I met were as sophisticated, gorgeous and a doctor as Keanu Reeves’ character in the movie, I would have kept him and forgotten all about the aging 60+ Lothario.  Keanu Reeves gets me hardcore crushing every time.

I am looking forward to once again finding true love and passion … until then I continue being a woman to love  …

 

 

 


Glimpse of a Genuine Smile

I am so tired of plastering a fake smile on my face, crying in the inside, keeping my tears at bay.  I just need a few hours with someone who I think understands me, my life, who cares enough to ask me about my day.  I am so lost most of the time, so alone … especially when surrounded by people.

But last night, I had the pleasure of reconnecting with some childhood, neighborhood friends and I found myself smiling, a genuine, sincere smile that starts at my heart and ends on my face.

Social media can be a good thing if used wisely.  I reconnected with a beautiful brother and sister who will forever be my step bother and sister.  Their Mom and my Dad dated while both were were separated.  Fast forward 30 years …we met for dinner, laughter, reminisced, laughed some more.  I went home with a genuine smile.  It felt so nice.  Even if fleeting.  I get lucky and appreciate those rare moments when I feel connected, loved, cared for and my smile makes an appearance.

I have always suffered from smiling depression.  Just put on a smile, brace myself, and get through the day.  It wears me out though.  Its exhausting.  Constantly hiding my sadness, my palpable misery behind a happy mask just keeps me at arms length from most people.  I get near but never fully close enough to someone. Always find myself on the periphery of their lives and even of my own.

The pain of getting close, of losing someone again, of struggling to get out of bed, the anxiety of learning how to breathe each minute of each day is too overwhelming most days.  So I smile, lean in, and pretend just about every day.

I go to work, to the doctors, out to dinner … I take tons of photos …of my food, desserts … I dress up, put make up on, get my hair, nails done, take selfies.  I am sure 90% of the time to the outside world, no one can see my struggle. How can they when I paint such a pretty picture?!  I hold down a part-time job, run a family, stay active but that frayed tethering line of rope just barely visible to me at times – somehow keeps me going – all the while I suffer for the most part in silence with panic attacks, insomnia, crushing low self-esteem and even suicidal thoughts.  I do share my story more these days, not like 10 years ago when I was too depressed to get out of bed, too weak to allow anyone in, before social media, before my blog.  Now I vent, share, open myself up more.  I work hard each and every day on trying to put myself out there.  Even if depletes me by the end of the day.

I have learned to keep negative, self serving people at arm’s length and I find myself being more appreciative of the smaller, less tangible things.  Gratitude really changed my life.

Sincerity, honesty, acceptance, sharing all have changed my life … so with tears in my eyes, smile on my face, hope in my heart, grace in my step … I move forward.  Looking forward to reconnecting, finding my genuine smile.

 

 


I Feel Empty …

I came across this quote but I do not know who wrote it.  It captures exactly how I am feeling today …

I feel empty
yet so full
of emotion

Like the smallest thing
could push me
off the edge

What do you do
when there’s nothing
but pain
left inside you

And what if everything
we were looking for
only existed
in our
dream

How do you explain
something
you don’t even understand
yourself


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