Window of truth

I find most years that I reflect a lot as the new year approaches.
I think some people do it on new years, some on their dates of birth, and some don't do it at all. Perhaps I do it too often.

This week I have found myself laying in bed, ready to sleep, but unable or rather unwilling to turn the thoughts off. I am after all capable of silencing them with the help of a cd, however for some reason the past week I have decided to listen the thoughts.

I believe we each have a reason for being here. It may not seem like a huge reason to the world, and yet we picked our life for some sort of purpose.

I wonder how many people say what they have to say as if it might be their only chance to say it. Or how many, often like myself, do we think that something doesn't need to said. That we might think that the thought is already known from the actions, like love.

I do believe that when we leave this silly thing called life, we no longer give a shit about our bank account or cherished possessions though I do grasp the concept of emotional attachment to such things. My jewelry for one is important to me, or a few of the times are anyway. Either the person who gave it to me matters or the reason why they gave it to me. I would like those items to be enjoyed by another person once I am gone. However if they ended up in landfill I dont imagine it would matter to me in that place that our souls go to refresh.

I can't help but to wonder, as Dottye crashed through the windshield did she have regrets. Did she yell out " wait, I ahve things left to say." Did she see her life flash before her and bow her head in shame? Did she accomplish all that she was here to accomplish?

The only thing I can imagine for sure is surely she must have, at least once she was aware that she was dead, she must have regretted having those mid day drinks.

Does she look at us now and wish she could have a moment back? Would she be up there trying to figure out how to covey to us her regret, her love?

In the past year I've done my best to be myself and to be kind to those around me. The only thing I hoped for was that they be kind, or at the very least receptive to it. As people seem to happen upon my path, or perhaps I am showing up on theirs, I think we can only hope that we have done something to make their lives better. Even if it is as simple as making them smile by holding the door.

I don't know if there is any way to know our true purpose in each life, as well as not having a way of knowing when it might end. We don't all get to live to an old age, we don't all get a fair warning of our expiration.

I can't pretend that I will be one of those people who can live each day as if it was my last. I surely would not go to sleep if I really thought this might be my last day! I also can't pretend to think that I'm going to live each day one day at a time. I may not be guranteed a tomorrow but I'm still going to plan on getting up to feed the dogs and drink my cup of coffee!

I think the one real thing I can ask myself is to continue with my blunt ways. If my honesty scares people away, that's ok. Being true to my own nature may help me to not have regrets when my time here is finished.

I hope this doesn't read as odd, I do hope to be around long enough to acquire some more jewelry after all!

Happy new year to all who read this! I hope 2012 will be a full year, a year of truth to the core, surrounded by love.

Christmas Gift

I've been with my husband now 16 years and have spent Christmas with his family for each one.

They have one funny tradition that I took to right away.

First thing in the morning, or at least after midnight on Christmas Eve, you want to be the first person to say "Christmas Gift" to each person in your family.

The only rule is no cheating by doing it via email or text! It has to be vocal.

Shannon and I have hidden behind bushes to get his brother, we do all sorts of fun things to be the first one to say it.

This year as I opened my gifts from my sister, I could not help but to wonder what kind of traditions we might have had if we had been raised together, if Dottye had no placed me for adoption, if Dottye had not died.

Would we have baked cookies, a special kind?

Would we have cooked a ham, or grilled it?

Maybe we would have been able to open just one gift on Christmas Eve!

I can almost, just almost visualize my sister and I sharing a room and getting giddy waiting awake to see if we could catch Santa.

In later years maybe we would have taken turns sneaking through the house looking for where our gifts might be hidden.

It's not something that I will dwell on per-say.

It's just another thing to wonder. It's another thing that I can wonder because things might have been, could have been so different.

For now all I can really do is enjoy the traditions that I have with my husband and his family, a family that took me in just based on the fact that their son said that he loved me.

Damaged Goods

What do you do with damaged goods?

If you find that it is just the packaging that is damaged, do you open it up and check inside?

What if what is inside is damaged as well, but you can't tell until you have had it for a while?

Would you try to return it?

Would you keep it but just no longer show any interest in it?

Would you toss it out?

Does it matter how much you paid for it?

If you've had it for some time, do you decide to keep it for some sort of sentimental value?

Damaged Goods.

How do you really know what is damaged anyway?

There are the obvious signs I suppose.

What may seem damaged to one person might seem ok to another, especially if it was on sale, or they got a special damaged goods discount.

I "knew" I was damaged from the get go.

Added the thought that I was damaged because of my twisted ankle at birth. 

That showed that I was damaged on the outside. A cast was used to try and repair that damage.

At what point would people see the damage on the inside.

Or did they already know?

Did they get me on discount?

I don't suppose any of it matters.

Somehow, when I looked down at my wedding ring tonight and saw that one of the little diamonds had fallen out, the above is what rang in my mind.

Why  must it always run full circle to damaged goods, or in my life the equal of being adopted.

DNA = Do Not Ask

All the DNA testing in the world might not get me the answers I dream of having some day if the right people don't take the test.

The right people are who?

Oh you know, someone related to my birth father like his brother, son or father!

I can dream..................

Some days I wake up and can feel that little black cloud trying to sneak over my head.

I tried to race it today.

I hurried up and did my normal morning routine with the pets.

I could feel that cloud getting larger and it was only 9 am. I decided to do my hair a bit differently, I liked it enough.

The cloud however remained.

Depression?

Weather?

Self Pity?

DNA?

What ever it was I did the usual of trying to hide it.

I took some time off of the computer.

I shopped and didn't find a thing to buy.

I napped.

I waited.

I smiled.

I smiled because sometimes faking it works.

Shannon got home at the end of his own very long day, in time to let me crawl up on his lap for a much needed snuggle, rock and hug.

See some days it doesn't matter what I do, the cloud remains.

Other days it only seems to matter what those around me to.

Today Shannon did the right thing.

He didn't ask questions.

He just held me and let me breath out a huge sigh of relief.

We have no idea how much time we will have here in this life.

And for someone like me, that alone can not lift the cloud. 

A little love without question, judgment or suggestions with a little comfort from a hug.

Yup. Some days THAT is what it takes.

Silence in the storm

As we drove in the rain last night I made a confession to my husband.

"Sometimes it's really hard to be good." 

He asked me what I meant.

That was possibly one of his newest regrets.

I find there are times where my heart breaks and my mind gets speedy. It sometimes even feels like my heart gets dark, or slows down with sadness.

These are the times where I want to smoke, drink, be wild and let it all out.

I don't have an escape that makes me feel like it's all been vented. 

I don't often cry. I'm an extreme person on the inside but on the outside I think I am fairly even.

Black and white.

Good and bad.

Right and wrong.

My soul leads me to do the worst of things and my brain hold me in the role that I am currently playing.

I hope the pay off is a love for self though, and that's the reason why I stick to it I suppose.

Though some days I want to be just like her, wild and loved in all the wrong ways, but I want to be remembered.