Music is by far the most intense memory trigger for me. It is such a part of my life that I have a difficult time separating a particular song from a specific memory. Right now, I'm reliving my teen years with REO Speedwagon. Man, those days were really so innocent. After being in and out of relationships, going through divorce and having children I've come to realize I've lost touch with how innocence feels; even the worst pain then, can make me smile now.
And it's those kind of recollections that make me want to bottle the way I feel right now. So totally close to euphoric, it can't be healthy ;) My cheeks are aching from the constant grinning every time another oldie-but-goodie comes on Spotify. Life really was less complicated then.
Now, I sit here wondering how to string words together to relay the train of thought I have going on in my head, only to sit, fingers hovering above the keyboard as I'm mesmerized by the sound of Styx (specifically Paradise Theatre) and Supertramp. My god the soundtrack of my life is freakin' incredible! How on earth is it possible to have a shitty day when the secret to a great mood seems to be delving into the past for GREAT music? Duh!
Guys have nothing on this music. I mean, I don't ever hear a guy's voice or see someone I once dated and get all nostalgic and permagrinned. No awesome memories are triggered or dreamy looks come over me as I listen to or look at them. Music is by far the better companion; at least on a stroll down memory lane.
Dates, events, quiet nights at home are all made better and more memorable when music is involved. When I hear Live's "Lightening Crashes" my pregnancy with my first son immediately comes to mind. Not just a mental flashback; my whole body remembers the amazing gift of carrying that life and I tear up, overcome with intense joy.
Smash Mouth's "Walking on the Sun" and P.O.D. "Boom" are nearly always accompanied by the underlying echoes of my sons singing along in the backseat of the car. And yes, there are songs that remind me of particular people; Bon Jovi's "Runaway" and Whitesnake's "Still of the Night" are forever tied to my best friend, Christine. When I hear "Your Love" by The Outfield my mind reflects an ex-boyfriend/still-friend Mike, and "Somebody That I Use to Know" by Gotye brings on those 'thankfully I dodged that bullet' relief concerning a painful, yet necessary break-up.
Were I to jot down a list of songs and the memories or people I associate with them, I might be here for days. There are those songs that just bring me back to a season, a moment or a period in time, and those that are timeless and envelope my entire life thus far. I would be bereft without music. It fuels my creativity, intensifies and clarifies experiences and preserves memories I might otherwise have forgotten.
Music is my truest, longest lasting love.
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Passing on the two types, looking for proof of a third
Be careful what you wish for.
Tonight I put my fingers to the keyboard and lamented about wasted time and lost ideas. Then I kept writing. And I'm sort of having an issue putting the laptop down and heading to bed.
I've had numerous things to work out in my head and the noise is a bit on the loud side right now. Most of it is the usual; kids, work, what to cook for my next blog entry... , but some of it is fairly intense. Knowing I was wrong when I pressed an issue earlier today, wanting to talk to/hear from someone, but holding steadfast to not wanting to 'give chase', terrible acts of violence occurring far too often, uprooting life as I know it for life as I hope will be, and wondering where this inner journey to find myself will finally lead.
Some days it's like I take a few steps, look around and really have no idea where I am or exactly how I got there. No, not literally. It's almost as though I look around in that cluster of thoughts and can't tell what is the exact purpose, and then I have to back track to figure it out.
I spent months, possibly years, waking up every day knowing I wasn't remotely the person I wanted to be at this point in my life. Far too unhappy and alone, with more than a lifetime to share. I couldn't say that the reason I am still alone is some fault I possess, but I do think it is completely likely that I have spent far too long focused on the wrong horizon to recognize a road with promise from a dead end. Self-study and self-actualization will, at the very least, give me peace of mind and spirit should I live out the rest of my days a single woman.
I know what triggers instant attraction, tongue-wagging lust, and contented comfort. What I don't know is how to feel my way through all of those and gauge for potential longevity. Being able to stand back and separate from the rush, the newness, the intensity takes a skill and self awareness that I am only just discovering. Pace. Clarity. Observation. Someday I will own those bitches!
Until that day, however, I'm still as perplexed as ever about what constitutes relationship 'material'. If you have a great time together; laugh, talk, in general look forward to seeing one another, and have a pretty solid connection what else does there need to be to take the next step and become 'exclusive'? Maybe I'm too cut-and-dry or completely out of touch with reality; I don't know.
It has been my experience, over the past nearly six years that there are (predominantly) two types of guys in most dating pools; the get-serious-way-too-quick-now-it's-totally-awkward-and-creepy type and they yeah-I-dig-you-we-have-fun-together-but-I'm-not-the-exclusive-relationship type. No happy medium on this chick's horizon it would seem. No complaints, just observations. Ok, maybe I'm slightly whiny. I'm female; it's my right.
Tonight I put my fingers to the keyboard and lamented about wasted time and lost ideas. Then I kept writing. And I'm sort of having an issue putting the laptop down and heading to bed.
I've had numerous things to work out in my head and the noise is a bit on the loud side right now. Most of it is the usual; kids, work, what to cook for my next blog entry... , but some of it is fairly intense. Knowing I was wrong when I pressed an issue earlier today, wanting to talk to/hear from someone, but holding steadfast to not wanting to 'give chase', terrible acts of violence occurring far too often, uprooting life as I know it for life as I hope will be, and wondering where this inner journey to find myself will finally lead.
Some days it's like I take a few steps, look around and really have no idea where I am or exactly how I got there. No, not literally. It's almost as though I look around in that cluster of thoughts and can't tell what is the exact purpose, and then I have to back track to figure it out.
I spent months, possibly years, waking up every day knowing I wasn't remotely the person I wanted to be at this point in my life. Far too unhappy and alone, with more than a lifetime to share. I couldn't say that the reason I am still alone is some fault I possess, but I do think it is completely likely that I have spent far too long focused on the wrong horizon to recognize a road with promise from a dead end. Self-study and self-actualization will, at the very least, give me peace of mind and spirit should I live out the rest of my days a single woman.
I know what triggers instant attraction, tongue-wagging lust, and contented comfort. What I don't know is how to feel my way through all of those and gauge for potential longevity. Being able to stand back and separate from the rush, the newness, the intensity takes a skill and self awareness that I am only just discovering. Pace. Clarity. Observation. Someday I will own those bitches!
Until that day, however, I'm still as perplexed as ever about what constitutes relationship 'material'. If you have a great time together; laugh, talk, in general look forward to seeing one another, and have a pretty solid connection what else does there need to be to take the next step and become 'exclusive'? Maybe I'm too cut-and-dry or completely out of touch with reality; I don't know.
It has been my experience, over the past nearly six years that there are (predominantly) two types of guys in most dating pools; the get-serious-way-too-quick-now-it's-totally-awkward-and-creepy type and they yeah-I-dig-you-we-have-fun-together-but-I'm-not-the-exclusive-relationship type. No happy medium on this chick's horizon it would seem. No complaints, just observations. Ok, maybe I'm slightly whiny. I'm female; it's my right.
Saturday, April 13, 2013
No More Crazies Please
Finding the way to touch happy is, in my opinion, similar to being in a maze. Actually having the presence of being to recognize it, grab it and not let it slip away can be messy. This has been the on-going theme of the last five years of my life.
The moment I freed myself from the toxic marriage I had been in, I craved something more. I didn't know exactly what it was, but I thought, in that just-divorced-wild-way, that dating an alcoholic was the answer. Ok, so in my defense, I had no idea he had a drinking problem. Had I not been blinded by flattery and sex with someone new, it's likely I would have seen it and spared myself the drama. Ah, but I have spent the better part of twenty-some-odd years not recognizing the crazy, the controlling or the immature and all-around unhealthy. In due time.
After a volatile six months, I finally ended that mistake, aware that I learned another of life's painful lessons. It was also the first time I ever felt like I failed my sons. Not that I had gotten away from an incredibly messed up individual, but that they had also been subjected to him. I decided then that my boys would only meet someone if I believed they would be in my life for a long time.
I forgot about 'finding the happy' for awhile, and went with having a good time. What a crazy two year ride that was! Whenever the boys were away, mom did play. Partying like a rock star; well, at least it seemed like it for someone who rarely drank. Boy did I drink. And I managed to find even more guys with issues and neediness along the way. I'm the hard way, road untraveled sort of student. Oh, lucky me.
It would be untrue to say I dated the 'same' guy over and over, though there were many who might as well have been. Ok, so 'many' seems to infer more negative connotations than intended. A handful. Yes, that's more accurate. A couple of the guys I dated were a lot of fun, didn't have serious issues, but the potential of their participation in my life was always short-lived. And that's ok. As a previous uptight-panties-in-a-bunch woman, learning how to just have fun was exactly what I needed. It's a little ridiculous that it's taking me so long to grasp that concept, however.
Can I opt for the 'next' lesson? Please.
The moment I freed myself from the toxic marriage I had been in, I craved something more. I didn't know exactly what it was, but I thought, in that just-divorced-wild-way, that dating an alcoholic was the answer. Ok, so in my defense, I had no idea he had a drinking problem. Had I not been blinded by flattery and sex with someone new, it's likely I would have seen it and spared myself the drama. Ah, but I have spent the better part of twenty-some-odd years not recognizing the crazy, the controlling or the immature and all-around unhealthy. In due time.
After a volatile six months, I finally ended that mistake, aware that I learned another of life's painful lessons. It was also the first time I ever felt like I failed my sons. Not that I had gotten away from an incredibly messed up individual, but that they had also been subjected to him. I decided then that my boys would only meet someone if I believed they would be in my life for a long time.
I forgot about 'finding the happy' for awhile, and went with having a good time. What a crazy two year ride that was! Whenever the boys were away, mom did play. Partying like a rock star; well, at least it seemed like it for someone who rarely drank. Boy did I drink. And I managed to find even more guys with issues and neediness along the way. I'm the hard way, road untraveled sort of student. Oh, lucky me.
It would be untrue to say I dated the 'same' guy over and over, though there were many who might as well have been. Ok, so 'many' seems to infer more negative connotations than intended. A handful. Yes, that's more accurate. A couple of the guys I dated were a lot of fun, didn't have serious issues, but the potential of their participation in my life was always short-lived. And that's ok. As a previous uptight-panties-in-a-bunch woman, learning how to just have fun was exactly what I needed. It's a little ridiculous that it's taking me so long to grasp that concept, however.
Can I opt for the 'next' lesson? Please.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
No Lesson Books Here
A friend of mine recently brought up a coping mechanism type practice by Pema Chodron in her CD series "Don't Bite the Hook", after having read my post about learning to work through negative feelings. I have spent a lot of wasted time and energy dating Mr. Not Right For Me. Too much time, but the lessons are starting to make sense. Well, slowly.
I suppose there has to come a time when I woman up and stop gravitating to hopeless cases and start dating in my worth bracket. I'm hoping I've finally reached that point. Seriously, I have accumulated way too much awesome to be pissing it away on men who lie, cheat and just plain suck the fun out of relationships. Ok, so not all of them are that bad; they might just not be interesting enough or live on the same plain of existence as I do. Admittedly, that's part of the problem. There are just too few guys who are centered and evolved enough to truly appreciate a woman such as myself. Sure, this all sounds like boasting, but I am the first line in self-esteem and confidence. If I don't believe it, I can't project it.
About a year ago I started dating a guy I had known for quite some time, mostly in the professional arena. No, not porn or prostitution; our (legitimately) professional lives intersected often. It was a swift and total tumble down the slope of "I'm in love" only to wake up in the briar wondering just what in the hell I was thinking. Iraq War vet, pathetically used PTSD to cover up the fact that he was seeing someone else on the side. I bought that crap hook, line and sinker! For three months I was stressed and worried for his state of mind and his daughters home life. He wasn't abusive or anything, he just claimed to be completely depressed and barely functioning. Being the fabulous maternal empathizer that I can be, I was overwrought with concern and dropped 10 pounds. Bitch of that was that I didn't have it to lose in the first place.
At some point I began realizing that it was over, despite the total lack of break-up, and slowly I started to put my life on my own path again. This is the thing; I halt all my own ventures and wants in life when I have become involved with a needy guy. My interpretation of needy is someone who willingly sucks drive and desire from your 'self reserves' and ties them to their own. I hardly consider myself a people pleaser, but I seem to be slightly addicted to making a guy feel like a god. Might be a bit of an exaggeration, but the point has been made, has it not?
The rotten act of using a real and life-limiting condition like PTSD as a front for immoral and dishonest behavior is just plain despicable. Amazingly enough, it really pushed me to see the veil and pull it back so I could move on. Like any other 'addiction' I spent a few weeks vacillating between realization of the truth and the desire to believe the lies. Thankfully, once I had thought about the situation obsessively enough, I cut all contact and reclaimed my life.
Shortly after I finally saw the truth and accepted it, I chose to re-crown my Inner Brat and make serious changes in how I see and live life. Of course, this hasn't been without setbacks or further painful lessons, but I am finally getting exactly where I go wrong nine times out of 10. I trust too easy, fall too quick, believe without question and give in to seduction with no show of resistance.
And then a few months later, I started playing social hour with the food phobe...
I suppose there has to come a time when I woman up and stop gravitating to hopeless cases and start dating in my worth bracket. I'm hoping I've finally reached that point. Seriously, I have accumulated way too much awesome to be pissing it away on men who lie, cheat and just plain suck the fun out of relationships. Ok, so not all of them are that bad; they might just not be interesting enough or live on the same plain of existence as I do. Admittedly, that's part of the problem. There are just too few guys who are centered and evolved enough to truly appreciate a woman such as myself. Sure, this all sounds like boasting, but I am the first line in self-esteem and confidence. If I don't believe it, I can't project it.
About a year ago I started dating a guy I had known for quite some time, mostly in the professional arena. No, not porn or prostitution; our (legitimately) professional lives intersected often. It was a swift and total tumble down the slope of "I'm in love" only to wake up in the briar wondering just what in the hell I was thinking. Iraq War vet, pathetically used PTSD to cover up the fact that he was seeing someone else on the side. I bought that crap hook, line and sinker! For three months I was stressed and worried for his state of mind and his daughters home life. He wasn't abusive or anything, he just claimed to be completely depressed and barely functioning. Being the fabulous maternal empathizer that I can be, I was overwrought with concern and dropped 10 pounds. Bitch of that was that I didn't have it to lose in the first place.
At some point I began realizing that it was over, despite the total lack of break-up, and slowly I started to put my life on my own path again. This is the thing; I halt all my own ventures and wants in life when I have become involved with a needy guy. My interpretation of needy is someone who willingly sucks drive and desire from your 'self reserves' and ties them to their own. I hardly consider myself a people pleaser, but I seem to be slightly addicted to making a guy feel like a god. Might be a bit of an exaggeration, but the point has been made, has it not?
The rotten act of using a real and life-limiting condition like PTSD as a front for immoral and dishonest behavior is just plain despicable. Amazingly enough, it really pushed me to see the veil and pull it back so I could move on. Like any other 'addiction' I spent a few weeks vacillating between realization of the truth and the desire to believe the lies. Thankfully, once I had thought about the situation obsessively enough, I cut all contact and reclaimed my life.
Shortly after I finally saw the truth and accepted it, I chose to re-crown my Inner Brat and make serious changes in how I see and live life. Of course, this hasn't been without setbacks or further painful lessons, but I am finally getting exactly where I go wrong nine times out of 10. I trust too easy, fall too quick, believe without question and give in to seduction with no show of resistance.
And then a few months later, I started playing social hour with the food phobe...
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