Tag Archives: broken heart

Wine & Cheese ~ 45th Serving

Posted on by

2

Welcome to Wine & Cheese, my weekly, Wednesday whine session.

Every week on Wednesday I devote a blog to whining. Despite being a really happy, positive person, I do have things that annoy me at times.

I never let anything grate on my nerves for long but thought it would be fun to vent them periodically in my blogs.

I also feel that good things, the cheese in life, should be acknowledged as well.

I’m even going to throw in a bit of dessert, a piece of virtual chocolate, something that made me laugh or smile just a bit more than normal.

If you’d like to read the past editions of Wine & Cheese just click HERE for all of the past postings.

Sit back and join me now for the 45th serving of some wine and cheese!

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

WINE

:(   Week 2 of this sniffles, cold/flu bug thingie.  Okay I AM feeling much better, in fact I feel great!  But my nose just won’t give it up, and I’m sick of blowing it.  I’m single handedly keeping the tissue companies in business and it frankly SUCKS!

:(   Just once I’d love to drink an entire cup of coffee without having to stick it in the microwave half a dozen times.  I pour a cup and the baby I watch poo’s her diaper.  I warm it up and begin to enjoy it again, her nose is running snot candles from her nostrils to her mouth and she needs her sock put back on, toys relocated back within reach and one of the cats is playing soccer with ornaments from the tree…again. Warm it up and the phone rings…you get the idea.

:(   These darn cats are losing their 9 little lives fast!  Well 2 of the cats and it would figure one is mine.  She climbs the Christmas trees (we have 2) and knocks an ornament to the floor at which point the youngest cat starts playing with it.  We redecorate the trees several times a day, they never  look the same twice.  Squirt bottle is pointless, it has become a game to them to see if they can remove an ornament and then dodge the water coming at them.  I give up, they win!

:(   This is the last week I have kids to watch until after Christmas.  They crack us up and make for such a great day, going to miss them over the holidays.

:(   It appears as if my relationship with The Count has come to an end.  This makes me sad.  It hurts.  I’m so tired of having my heart broken.

CHEESE

:)   While the kids are away  for 2 weeks I’ll have all that time to get out and recruit for my Avon business and seek out new customers.  :)   :)   :)   yes this makes me happy!

:)   I finally achieved President’s Recognition Club with Avon, having $10,100 in sales.  I managed to achieve this in 19 campaigns with makes me VERY happy.  I also achieved Unit Leader during that time.  I’m moving up and loving it!

:)   I LOVE all the Christmas music on the radio, and the seasonal music channel on TV, great for the holiday spirit!

:)   FREE books on Kindle!  I keep finding awesome books to get for my Kindle that are FREE and it rocks my world!

:)   Fresh pot of coffee brewing…smells SO good.  Surrounded by family that loves me just for ME not who they hope I will be.  I am so blessed and truly happy despite the  heart aches.

The Other Side Of The Rainbow

Posted on by

6

I wondered many times how long it would take for the searing pain in my heart to not only diminish but simply be gone.  That pain that began when the former prince told me he wanted a divorce, and I realized he wasn’t changing his mind.  That was a pain like nothing else I have felt.  It would increase when I saw things he would post on his Facebook page,  snide remarks, or others would post.  Everyone knew it was about me.  It would also increase when I found out he was dating someone.  His ‘present’, the moving forward with his life, was still my future.  It took a long time for my heart to be ready to let go of him.  Oh I still love him, always will, but one day my heart finally moved out of that harbor where I’d have taken him back again, that ship has sailed.

There were still times when seeing him would cause a day or two of agony, then it would pass and life would go on.  Passing him on the road, or seeing him in the bay when I passed the fire house, even just seeing his van there, would bring up old feelings and hurt.  I avoided passing the fire houses if it meant going far out of my way to get around the township.

Little by little the hurt decreased, and bothered me less and less.  Yesterday, for the first time, I discovered it was completely gone.  I was out with my daughter, taking her to lunch then running an errand.  I came to an intersection, and there at the opposite stop sign was the former prince on  his motorcycle, with his new girlfriend in my old spot on the back.  I braced myself inwardly for the flood of misery and jealousy…and it didn’t come.  Instead I waved as we passed, and he waved too (talk about a random awkward moment) and then I found myself thinking “good job, Piere, she is very pretty, and just like you like ‘em, very thin”.  Only thing she isn’t, that was always was a part of his ‘dream girl’, she is a blond and not brunette.  Go figure!  It has been a long time since I had seen a big smile on his face, and it was good to see him smiling and happy again.  He always did have a great, Tom Cruise kinda shit eating grin.  I felt a very foreign feeling toward him…real, honest joy for his life.

I have spent the past evening and morning trying to figure out exactly why that old, familiar torment had vanished and was replaced with good feelings for him.  Is it because I have found someone special that thinks the world of me?  Someone I’m having those “if we, I need, I want” conversations with as we look toward a possible future together?  Is it the power of forgiveness for perceived wrongs and prayers for rather than against him?  Or is it that my heart has finally healed and scarred over.  Maybe it is all of that…

…whatever it is, I’ve finally arrived on the other side of the rainbow!

My Chosen Superpower

Posted on by

4

If you could have one superpower, what would it be?

I  would want the power to heal….a healing touch.

But not to heal the physical wounds like broken bones, or illness such as colds and flu.

I have often wished  I had to power  to heal broken hearts…

Our hearts…not the ones pumping blood through our bodies, but the ones that feel emotions.  We cannot find them when we open up the physical body, they are not something that can be held in the hand and examined.  They have no substance that can be viewed, and yet they are very real and can hurt more, and deeper, and take longer to heal than any part of our physical bodies.

Loss of someone or something that is dear to us causes our hearts to hurt.  We’ve all experienced this pain, wounds to a part  of us that cannot be found, cannot be bandaged. Harsh and mean words  or actions bruise that deep place within us.  When death takes someone from our lives, it causes a tear in the tender flesh of our most fragile part.  When someone we love walks out of our lives, they tear a piece of the fabric of that heart, sometimes ripping it  apart completely.  At times the loss is so intense our hearts are completely shattered.

There is no way to fix this delicate piece of us…no stitches can close the wounds, no glue can put the pieces back together,  no medication can be applied to lessen the severity of the scars the injuries will leave behind.  No antibiotic to keep out the infection of bitterness that can seep in making the wounds fester and ooze unattractiveness that others see.   At least nothing medical science can supply will heal a broken heart.

So many times I’ve watched tears flow from the eyes and down the cheeks of a soul in agony and could only hold them while they suffered.  I’ve listened to a friend talking of a loss, hearing the pain and confusion in their voice.  And I felt so powerless, so incredibly helpless to ease that torment.

I’ve also been the one with the tears, pain and confusion, my heart destroyed and experiencing more hurt than I ever imagined possible.  Pain so deep it hurt to breathe, to  think, to even exist.  And beyond the point of being able to receive comfort,  so deep nothing could penetrate the pain to sooth the wounds.  My heart laying in ICU on life support, deep in a coma of suffering with no ability to surface.  I could hear those around me, what they said, in an effort to hold me here, keep me from slipping further into the darkness where I could remain numb and lifeless emotionally.  No visitors permitted, and no way to know if or when recovery would begin, or how long it would take.  When it was finally released, the scars had not even begun to heal, some wounds were still very raw, others open and only beginning to close.  To say I was fragile would be greatly understating the reality.

So many times I have wished  I possessed the power to sooth those that are so deep in their misery.   That when touching those cheeks and drying the tears, I could pull the pain through my finger  tips and  replace it with peace and comfort.  That when I hugged them close, the wounds would begin to close, the burning subside.  That every touch…holding their hand, kissing their face, holding them in my arms, would be a soothing, healing balm to their hearts, extracting the torment, injecting warmth, cauterizing the emotional bleeding and pouring life and love back in to resuscitate their hearts.

But, would it be a good thing?

Throughout the transition from crushed to recuperated, we learn and grow.  I’ve learned some hard lessons through the past 17 months.  Somethings about myself weren’t pretty, in fact rather ugly.  Those were pieces of my personality that were rotting flesh that had to be cut away, and grafts of change put in place to grow and heal with the other wounds.

I am not the woman that I was in January 2010 when my life and dreams imploded into a burning pile of debris around me.  My heart is not the same as it was when it’s lifeless remains were on life support in the ICU unit  struggling to continue beating.  There were days I felt myself slipping further into that comatose state of pain and depression, and it took all I had to cling to the side of my sanity and not let go when the cold darkness beckoned so invitingly.   I am not the person that sifted through the rubble of my life, salvaging what I could,  discarding what could not be fixed,  and reevaluating who I was, where I wanted to go, and plotting a new course in life.

The person that has emerged is more like the me I was before I fell in love and married even the first time.  While there are deep and painful scars, and some are still tender and not all that attractive, I’m stronger in so many ways, and softer in others.  I’m still learning to fly again, making short, sometimes less than graceful journeys to explore love again.  I know that I want to love again,  that intense, deep, life changing, fully and completely devoted kind of love.  Trusting will come slowly, not only of allowing someone to hold my heart, but allowing myself to hold theirs.  I don’t want mine broken again, and I do not wish to inflict damage on anyone else’s.

But could any of this come about without that long and difficult process of healing?

Perhaps we all potentially have that superpower already, when we reach out and touch someone in pain, the results are just not as immediate as we’d  like…

 

Obviously MARvelous

Kindred Spirits & Road Therapy…

Posted on by

0

One of the best ways I have ever found to clear out the head and heart is to get on the back of a motorcycle, wrap around some strong shoulders, and let the wind blow through my hair, feel the sun on my skin.  I always enjoyed riding with my ex, one of the few men I trusted on a bike.  We didn’t have to say a word to each other, just enjoyed conquering the miles.  I missed that time when we divorced, a lot.

Last year toward the end of summer I reconnected with an old friend.  Probably should use the term friend loosely, as the first time we met he mostly drifted across my path but I kept him at arm’s length.  I had felt a very strange pull toward him that I couldn’t explain but being married I knew that whatever it was had to stay untouched.  After the divorce I got in touch with him after seeing someone pass me on a bike that reminded me a lot of the one I dubbed Mr. Wonderful.

We took several long rides, no destination we just got on the bike and rode til whatever was eating at either of us was out of our system.  Sometimes we talked at length, other times rode in silence just enjoying being together and rolling.  Feelings developed but in hind sight I have a greater understanding of the love between us.

Like me, he is one of those transitional people, an encourager/healer type.  Meant to  drift in, bandage the wounded, help them heal, then drift out of their lives, leaving a part of his heart.  His scars also go clear back to childhood, and his outer shell is thicker than my own, but then he is several years older than me so he has fought a few more battles.

I think the fact that we are kindred spirits in this world is what drew us together.  The encouragers and healers of the world don’t have anyone here to do for us what we do for others.  But we can draw from each others strength, shore up each others foundations when they start to crack and dry each others tears.  Lord knows  I dried many of his during that time, though he never did mine.  I didn’t cry.  I couldn’t cry.  Nothing was getting deep enough, my heart was well shielded behind some thick armor to block out all pain and anything or anyone that even looked like they might bring more hurt.  We crossed lines we shouldn’t have, but I have zero regrets.  I have never connected with anyone the way I did with him.  He is the first person that ever took the time to look into my eyes clear to my soul.  He saw things in me no one else ever has, and he understood them.  He didn’t try to change me, just studied who I was and learned all he could about the person inside that no one else ever took the time to know.  He knows me darkest fears, my greatest joys, things even the man I was married too for 22 years never took time to know.  He was the first person to notice that my eyes change colors, from their normal shade of grey to deep blue depending on my mood, or what I am feeling at the moment. Maybe because he was the first person to ever really look in my eyes, and he always made me look back into his when we talked, he wanted to see inside.

We can never have a lovers type relationship, never live together, or grow old together.  Fate again, the bitch, doesn’t allow the timing that would put us together that way.  But out of those months a friendship and understanding has forged.  One that allows either of us to call the other when the world is falling apart around us and we just need someone to hold us, rub our head, dry our tears, and listen to us vent or sometimes just hold each other in total silence.  He listened to me pour my heart out the other day, my anger, my frustrations, and my heart break from falling in love again only to have my heart shredded all over as yet again I was the transitional girl.  This time I have cried, a lot.  I hadn’t cried in over a year, but I got careless and let down my guard and someone got through the armor and I’m hurting.  A pain I had not felt in so long I forgot to watch out for it.   And he seemed to know exactly what I need to push through the pain toward healing.

He is coming to get me, and treat me with some road therapy.  Today we have a destination, and we’ll log over 180 miles on the bike before we finish.  We’ll ride the back roads to Madison, Indiana, and spend the day laughing, sharing, talking,  and for the first time he’ll be the one holding me while I cry, and drying my tears.  And when he drops me off tonight at home, the hurt will be there still, but I’ll feel better, wrapped in the healing love of a very special friendship that I’ll be eternally thankful to have.

Hair & Boobs, Brain & Heart

Posted on by

12

Dolly Parton is one of my favorite women, she is cute, funny, and so down to earth.  Recently she tweeted the following on her Twitter account:

“I hope people realize that there is a brain underneath the hair and a heart underneath the boobs.”

That got me thinking about what people see when they look at me lately.  What is it they think they know about me from what they see on my Facebook, Twitter, and blogs?  Do they just see the outside shell or can they SEE below the surface?

I know many probably think my mental choo-choo has totally derailed of late, especially my kids, and I guess I cannot blame them.  Their mother, who used to be a bible thumping, long jumper wearing, involved up to her eyeballs church lady,  is running around with a butch looking hair style and dying her bangs pink at 47 years old.  They watched their parents go from chairman of the deacon board and teaching youth in a Reformed Baptist church to riding a Harley and hanging out with their ‘new’ friends at clubs.  And then, when their mom and dad’s marriage appeared to be better than it ever was, their dad suddenly wanted a divorce, wasn’t willing to try to work things out,  leaving their mother’s heart shattered into tiny fragments while dear old dad is ‘just friends’ with a woman young enough to be his daughter that happens to be divorcing herself.

On The Surface

My boobs..yes they are um, well large now.  I come from a line of women that have some booty on them (read big butts).  The boobie fairy skipped over us but the bun fairy blessed us in abundance.  Maybe she was feeling bad that her winged sister bypassed us so she waved her magic wand over us all twice (seriously, stop trying to do us favors and just send our fairy godmothers as those wenches haven’t been seen anywhere in a very long time).  Along with the boobs I had a tummy tuck, as having kids had made a mess of my abdomen.  It was something I did, for me, that I am very pleased with and now my top half balances the bottom half.

My head is covered in blond hair with a spray of bright pink in it.  The ex hubby disliked the spikey hair do and could not stand the pink in the bangs so I only did the dye one time while married. My daughter is not overly fond of the color either, and my son…well I think he just accepts his mother will never be ‘normal’ but she has fun and he sees enough pain and stupidity in the world through his job so he figures I am harmless.

Looking Beneath The Surface

Under the highlights and the pink there is a brain.  I’m blond naturally but I am NOT stupid.  In fact I am pretty damn smart.  I held a 4.0 gpa for 2 years of night college, and when I left had a 3.75, so I am far from dumb.  I am wise enough not to get suckered into ocean front property in the desert, and not naive enough to fall for “just friends” when the friend’s car is hidden in our garage so no one knows she is there.  As the saying goes, believing bullshit doesn’t make it true.  While I may not always make the wisest of decisions, it isn’t due to a lack of gray matter in my head. You can keep telling me it is night time a million different ways, but if the sun is shining brightly (and we don’t live in Alaska), I’m not buying it.  Yes, I am a bit confused lately and no doubt I am acting like it, but my world got turned up on end 6 months ago and I don’t have it all quite back in line yet so deal with it.

Don’t let the big boobs fool you either, underneath the silicone twins is a heart.  That heart is loyal to a fault when it loves someone.  It is big enough to care for a whole lot of people and is learning to love the person in mirror for who she is and not who others think she should be.  Right now that heart that was shattered is in more pieces than you could count and it is a pain beyond words.  Suffice to say there are times still that it just flat out hurts to breathe and I wonder if there will ever come a day when I will be able to get the pieces glued back together into something that remotely resembles what it was before it was dropped.  Meanwhile, sometimes those splintered remains override the brain’s attempts to think rationally and I have a melt down.  I think after 22 years of loving someone with every fiber of my being, no matter how imperfectly by their standards, I am entitled to those moments of temporary insanity.

Most of the time I am level headed, and over all I am happy and enjoying life.  But it takes longer than 6 months to get over a lost love that lasted 22 years, and a broken heart that still deeply loves the person that broke it.  So dear son, daughter, and friends, when you see the crazy hair and the lapses of reason, crazy venting text messages, keep in mind that beneath it all there is a brain and a heart just trying to sort through the debris and don’t judge me too harshly.