living out loud in some red, sparkly shoes.

Before I start, I want to share the website/organization information I was given to start the process of...dismantling...whenever I'm ready to start that process. Just in case anyone reading this or stumbling upon this is in a similar situation, go HERE: www.visionsanew.org. They have lots and lots of resources to help you.

Okay, that's done. Next!

I've put my underpants on backwards two times this week and three times last week, Internet, and not noticed until well after 9:00 AM. I left crucial items for science experiment lessons at home. Yesterday, I almost walked out the door with only one earring in. I think it's safe to say my mental state has been somewhat frazzled.

I'd also like to take this opportunity to formally apologize to every single one of you who reads this dreck. I'm sorry for all the existential bullshit your eyes and brain have had to endure over the last several weeks. If it makes it any better, please know it's not exactly been a wildly fun party on this side of the screen either. 

I'm just going to chalk it all up to Growth Phase Part 2 (Growth Phase Part 1 being when I initiated the separation). Let's all pray Growth Phase Part 3 is less fucked up AND I'm able to dress myself for public consumption more appropriately.

Have I written here about my most favorite movie for grown ups of all time, Living Out Loud? I think I have, but a long time ago and I bet it was very discombobulated. I re-watch/review it every time I need a reminder about what matters most in Life (foreshadowing: not what other people want). 

So the story is about Judith, a 40-something, recently divorced nurse, who gave up every dream she'd ever had to help her unbelievably douche-y douchebag of a doctor husband achieve his. And then he left her for a younger woman and that woman is having the life Judith dreamed about but was asked to sacrifice it all for someone else's happiness.

She meets Liz, a jazz nightclub singer, and Pat, the doorman of her swanky Manhattan co-op. She strikes up a friendship with Liz who teaches her about strength, and Pat who teaches her about true friendship. But ultimately, Judith learns how to love and forgive herself by making peace with the damaged child within, and when she does that she figures out who she is and where she needs to go next. And she does.

The story was written and directed by Richard LaGravenese, who has said it's based on two short stories by Anton Chekhov, "The Kiss" and "Misery." Film critic Roger Ebert (may his lovely soul RIP) loved it to pieces, and if Roger Ebert loved something, then I love it too. 

(Side note: if you write and/or love short stories, you should see this. Character and dialogue matter most, and every reviewer who's ever reviewed it always makes some comment about how it's like watching a short story in motion.)

When I first saw this movie in 1998, I was no where near married; I think Steve (he of the box of darkness) had just broken my heart, and so maybe that's why I was drawn to it. It was about a woman done wrong, and I most likely felt I'd identify. But sitting there in the theater, I remember thinking: oh. oh, this movie is going to stay with me for a long, long time. 

What's funniest to me about the fact this movie has meant so much to me is that, in 1998, I had absolutely no way of knowing that one day I'd be in situations like the one scene of the film where Judith is drunk, on the floor of a nightclub bathroom, telling Liz: "I am soooo tired of agreeing to things I never should have agreed to." And, back in 1998? I had no way of knowing that, one day, I'd be in situations where I'd have to make tough decisions and let go of things I never thought I'd ever have to let go of. Isn't that funny? How things like this are brought into our lives, and then they stay with us for unknown or un-thought-of reasons...and later on, we find out how insightful and meaningful they were all along? Things like this are what convince me Something Greater Than Ourselves is at play in our world; whether It cares or not is up for debate. But I do often feel like It's moving things along on Its schedule, as It demands they move if for no other reason than just to keep the order of things fluid and constantly propelling forward through time and space.

There are only two movies that have ever done this, that have stayed with me for almost a lifetime or half a lifetime, as Whatever It Is has propelled me through this life I am having: The Wizard of Oz and Living Out Loud. And I've been thinking, lately, about why that is - why THOSE two films? I decided it's because they're both growth movies; bildungsroman tales. (A bildungsroman is a coming-of-age story.) And what's most fascinating about THAT to me is that both of these bildungsroman tales are female-centered (which is very unusual in the world of bildungsromans - most of these stories are male-oriented) and both are stories written by MEN. And what's fascinating about THAT to me is that both of these bildungsroman tales written by men are about journeys, and finding out where your core center lies, and doing what's best for YOU...in the end. They are both empowering stories, full of the message: Don't listen to what other people want you to do or have or give...go do what's right for YOU. And that's big, because this planet loves to tell its females they're doing it wrong if they aren't constantly giving in, shutting up, and being a good little girl so others can be happy.

I've loved The Wizard of Oz since I was 7. I lived it, I dreamed it, I breathed it, and it anchored my soul all throughout my childhood. In my saddest moments, there was always the thought, the knowledge, that Somewhere Out There, there might be an Emerald City. The background music of my childhood is Somewhere Over the Rainbow and We're Off to See the Wizard. The colors of my childhood are technicolor yellows and greens and blue gingham. 

And I've loved Living Out Loud for almost 20 years, and have loved it long before I knew that one day I myself would be a divorced woman who'd be sitting on floors in tears, beating herself up over and over for agreeing to lots of things she never should have; who'd given up some dreams along the way to make other people happy or because she didn't really trust or know herself; who'd one day have to start picking up and re-gluing the fallen pieces together. And this would be HARD, Internet. Oh my god, this is so incredibly hard. I can't even tell you. (But I do! And I do it here! Airing out my dirty laundry, including backwards underpants, for all to enjoy on a regular basis.)

Fascinating.

At any rate, that's where I'm at currently. My status update is: re-gluing together the fallen pieces. 

Sometimes you sacrifice things that make you happy so someone else can be happy; the world says that's what real love is. But I disagree, dear Reader(s). I think that's the worst kind of sacrifice to make; that it is not what real Love looks like at all. I'm not talking about not going on a fishing trip because your spouse broke her foot and won't be able to take care of a 4 year old by herself (or, you know, whatever...go ahead and go on your trip anyway, don't mind me. I'll just be icing my 5th metatarsal for 10 weeks)...I mean sacrificing what matters most of all to you, being asked to change your very essence and being told that's what people who love each other do. Which is a lie. 

Love is gentle and open, kind and honest. It's not demanding; it lets go when it needs to, because it trusts that whatever it let go of will come back if it's meant to be there and if it's not,then real Love just releases the object, the person, to the Universe and lets that bird fly free. Love is deeply wishing for someone else's happiness, even if that means you don't get to be a part of it. And that is not a sacrifice; that is simply...letting go. 

And so. If you are asking someone to sacrifice their own happiness so you can have yours, why not just go ahead and stab them in their soul repeatedly with a homemade shiv while you're at it? That's not love. 

Also: Love isn't heroic; it doesn't save anybody else. It doesn't fix anything. All the love in the world cannot unfuck up the fucked up. Love just IS. And you let the people around you fight their OWN battles, and stop trying to fix other people. I mean, you can hand them water and wipe the sweat off their brow now and then. But their fight isn't yours, and that goes for your children as well...let your children fight their own fights. You can only fix yourself; when the oxygen masks drop take care of yourself first - you're no good to anyone if you're passed out dead.

When Dorothy says after fighting to get back home, "If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I shouldn't look farther than my own backyard," I don't think she means: stick with what you know and is safe and give up; I think she means: listen to your own heart; be true to yourself. Because Dorothy always had the power to get herself where she needed to be; she just needed to learn how to do it herself. And I bet, I just bet, if Dorothy decided her heart's desire was still in Oz, she'd be on the next cyclone or traveling carnie worker's hot air balloon to go get it. Your home IS your heart. And that's where your power is. Take it with you; use it wisely.

This is what I have learned. Because when I reconciled with C in 2007, I remember thinking: Oh this is nice, I'm home, just like Dorothy; I'm not going to go looking further than my own backyard from now on. But that didn't really work out, did it? That's not what was actually going on, was it? Because, again, I was sacrificing to make someone else happy. And Whatever It Is that's driving this big boat we're all on was propelling me onward to where I am now, just as It's propelling me forward to where I'll eventually end up six months from now. And so I couldn't stay where I was, because I hadn't really learned what I wanted, or what I needed, or who I was, or what really mattered to me. And when I get to where I'm going, there will be more to learn, and more challenges to endure. Because this is the process of learning and growing, and hurting and healing. But I couldn't stay where I thought my home was, because my home was and is and always will be my own heart. And my heart was always sad, and still is, when it's in a home that doesn't fit it well.

And so here I am: Back at the beginning of the Yellow Brick Road, trying to figure out how to get to the Wizard...who's probably going to screw me over and take off without me. Sitting, drunk, on the floors of nightclub, in tears, smacking my forehead for once again agreeing to things I shouldn't have agreed to in the first place. Looking to other people or things to make it better, to fix it. Or! Maybe it's finally sunk in. And I'll just...let go.

Here is what else I have learned, Internet: In the end, there's really nobody but yourself who knows how to find your own heart's desire and nobody but yourself with the power to get whatever those desires are. And that's the central, driving theme to both of those movies that have stayed with me throughout my childhood and then my adulthood. My soul chose stories that are about longing, and journeys, and believing in your own powers.

(This is what I think I need to do, is what I'm saying, Internet. I think I need to figure out what my heart's desire is, actually, and then summon forth the power to go get it.) (If it involves a pair of sparkly red shoes, then awesome! And all will make sense, this journey of nearly 40-something years.)

I kind of like the idea of sticking my hands in my own gore
to make peace with the pain of the past.
I bet this would be like combining Halloween with Valentine's Day:
a dripping, still-beating heart in my hands, but with love.

gifts of darkness.

Dear Atheist Reader(s): wherever you see "God," Heaven," or "Angels," just
insert "Richard Dawkins," Stephen Hawking," and "Christopher Hitchens and Margaret Sanger."
It still works, I promise.

I went to see a counselor today. She knows me. It's a working, professional friendship at this point. We don't do coffee; we do office meetups. Every so many years, for a few months at a time. And every time I go back, she goes, "Well, I'd ask you how you are, but I see that you're here sooo...come on in! Your hair looks great, by the way!" 

Her file on me, which she's been keeping since 2007, is about 2 feet thick now. Which I'm actually pretty happy about, because ha! Turns out, back in 2007? I was saying the SAME fricking things I said in 2009, then again in 2011, and in 2014. Today when I sat in the office with her and started, I went, "Well, I'm just a big mess and don't know what the hell I'm doing or why." And she flips through 2 feet of notes and goes, "Yes. That's exactly what you said when we first sat down in 2007...and then again in 2009...and 2011...and 2014." 

So basically: same shit, different decade. 

Have I told you about my favorite poet and poem? My favorite poet is Mary Oliver. She wrote a poem called "Box of Darkness" and it goes like this:

That's my favorite poem. Ever. I learned about boxes of darkness from a man named Steve, and he taught me that what Mary wrote is absolutely true: someone can give you a box of darkness and it's not necessarily a bad thing. 

For example, Steve's box of darkness was so big, and so dark, it broke my heart into a billion little pieces that took me forever to put back together, and some pieces I still can't locate. I've had to learn to let them go, and be okay with having a heart that's a little chipped in spots. 

And yet. 

Steve's big box of dark had me so hurt and upset, that I sat on the floor of a bedroom at my parents' house one night, holding his box of darkness, my tears dripping into it. But then, my dad quietly came in and sat down next to me and just...sat. In the dark. Silent. For a very long time. Probably not knowing where to start, unsure of what to say. Finally, he awkwardly stroked my back and told me what a bum Steve was, and that he was glad I wouldn't be with someone who couldn't see what a gift I was, that Steve hadn't deserved me anyway. My dad hugged me (awkwardly) and said, "Because you're smart and beautiful and I love you." And then about a year later, my father died. So that's a memory I get to keep in my heart now forever and ever: the one time my dad told me I was smart and beautiful and I clearly heard him say the words, "I love you."

Thank you, Steve, for what your box of darkness gave to me that night.

I don't know how many boxes of darkness I have handed out to other people in my life. I hope it's not more than, say, five. And I hope they were all as helpful as the Steve box.

Today, I talked a lot about why, since 2007, I've been so up and down. Why am I fighting Life so hard? Why am I struggling? Why does this pattern keep happening? But then she noted today was actually very different, because even though I'm saying the same things, I'm (literally) not in the same place. I've taken an action. I'm on my own now. And even though I'm still struggling, I've taken a step forward. And any step forward, however small? That's progress. And Life is not about a series of successes, it's about a series of small progresses.

And then we talked about when I'd be ready to take one more step forward and then another step and another, and she said only if there was no chance I'd go back to a life with C. And so we talked at length about that, and we looked at her notes. What I most noticed from her notes was a continuous pattern between C and me, wherein I'd be told I wasn't ever going to really be enough. In one session, he said he knew I was the perfect raw materials for building who he knew I could eventually be...and he was still building me. In another session, he talked about wanting me to reflect back to him who HE wants to eventually become. 

And this, at heart, is the C problem: When do I get to be just perfectly raw and not have to be sawed and hammered and bent and molded? And when do I get to see a reflection of who I want to become? Who's going to reflect that back to me? These are important questions seeing all summed up in, literally, DECADES' worth of notes, had a big, crazy impact on me. I needed to see them from someone professional's side, and talk about them and why I'm not crazy to have them. Because I've got a girl who's going to have to ask herself these same questions one day.  And ultimately, my whole reason for existence these days is Miss M. I want her to be happy. I want her to be loved, as is. I don't want her worried about reflecting anyone else's reflection but her own (she will have to, eventually, because her father knows who it is she's going to be...and this will be very hard for him, if/when she has a different idea). 

And so I closed a window today. I quietly, gently, sadly closed a window that, I'll be honest and tell you: I was kinda sorta leaving cracked. A bit. Just in case. I really, really miss the safety and security of being with someone else; of not having to do it all. But I took a deep breath today and went ahead and made the decision to firmly shut and lock it. 

And I took C's box of darkness and closed its lid. It's sitting with me right now, for the moment, because I'm still kind of attached to it. It's The Known. But when I'm ready, I'll tuck it in the back of a closet somewhere, next to Steve's. And the other Steve's (there were actually 2...ask me if I'LL ever date a Steve again). And my dad's. 

I've learned a lot from C. He's been one of my life's greatest teachers. The reason I am the way I am right now has a lot to do with him. C taught me about good taste - in people, in material things, in restaurants, in adult beverages. C turned me from Kentucky girl to cosmopolitan Atlanta woman. C also taught me the best way to get good customer service over the phone (ask THEM to help YOU). I learned it's okay to say you're excellent at something; you don't always have to be self-deprecating. C taught me how to throw a good barbecue AND a great dinner party. C pulled me out of my shell. I will always, always love C. Forever.

But when it's time to let go, you just have to...release. Hug it to you, tell it thank you, and let it go.

Today, I was given resources and contacts so I know what (legal) steps to take next, where to go, who to talk to. I know what I need to do to keep moving forward. Which I thought would make me scared and sad, but really just left me with a deep sense of calmness, and peace. I am sad. But I am also calm. I'm at peace now. That's really huge. I'm not angry anymore. I only want good things for C, and I want him to be happy and at peace, too. 

I realized today I haven't really been at peace with myself about my decision to move out. And this is what progress, baby steps, looks and feels like. And the closing of boxes and windows and doors and the packing up of hopes and dreams and memories. 

C gave me a box of darkness, and I gave him one, too. And so boxes of darkness are gifts we unknowingly give one another, essential building blocks of growth. And sometimes important memories. The End.

.........oh wait no! Ha! All this peace and calmness talk. You do know that there will be moments of melodrama and angst here still, yes? I mean, I'm a pretty pretty princess on the inside, with a penchant for melodrama. Yes, yes...I'm peaceful and cool right NOW. But don't get comfy. Winter is coming - I think next weekend is Daylight Savings Time, which means the days will be shorter. Less daylight, longer nights? That's when I get REAL dramatic. 

I'm just saying: I can see the light at the end of the tunnel now. I'm still in the tunnel. But I see some light. (It'll be better when we're back in Summertime, though, because daylight lasts longer and I get more sleep.)

heart smile.

One last navel-gazing post and then I'm going to focus on writing about writing for awhile. Or at the very least, I'll throw up a couple of WTF, public education?! rants along with some WTF, Life?! rants over the next coming weeks. But no more Amy inner angst for your brain, I promise. You know why? Because it's not working for me. Sometimes, you just gotta let shit go. And when shit be gone, phew! Bullets. Dodged.

I was thinking today about how Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love) did it when she went on her year-long journey of self-discovery. She made a vow to herself to be alone and just figure herself out. She ate a lot of pizza and gelato while learning Italian, took a vow of silence and got very superior at yogic meditation, and learned to smile with her heart in Bali. She made some sweet new friends on her journey, but mostly she learned how to just BE. And BE alone. And be okay with BEing alone.

Because I do this too.

This is basically what I've decided I need to do for the next year. From today until August 16, 2016, I am just going to figure ME out. I'm going to spend a lot of time in silence (when Miss M isn't around, and maybe also sometimes with soothing music on in the background), reading and meditating and doing a crap load of writing. I'm going to do what Anne Lamott said to do in Bird by Bird: seat in butt, every day, creating shitty first drafts. I'm going to get superior at this. I'm going to teach myself to smile with my heart. Even if I can't smile with it in Bali next to Javier Bardem.

Which means I'm going to have to let a lot of shit go, even if that means people. That's hard for me, because once I decide I like you I just want you around forever and ever. And especially in this day and age of social media; letting go of people who aren't good for you and you aren't good for them is very difficult to do, because letting go of social media is very difficult to do. And maybe that'll be something I'll spend the next 52 weeks or so working on as well. 

Here's the thing. Something happened tonight, I had an exchange with someone I've grown to like an awful lot, but it was weird. It's been weird for awhile now, actually. And then I talked with another friend about it, and while I was getting some pharmaceuticals to deal with the cold virus beginning to overtake my body, as I was standing in front of the Cold-EEZE boxes? The Universe or my heart or some Thing, just kind of gently placed itself on my shoulder so it could whisper in my ear: Amy, stop. Stop placing yourself in situations from which you'll only find disappointment in other people and yourself. And stop being distracted by shiny objects in the road and focus on where you're going, my love; just take care of YOU. Be gentle with yourself. Be kind. (and Miss M was included as well by this Thing, I'm assuming, by default.)

I've always believed every single person we cross paths with are brought to us to teach us things, as we are placed on their paths to teach them. Sometimes they're things we need to learn about how things work. Sometimes it's things we need to discover about ourselves. And some people are brought to us because simply because maybe we just need to repeat lessons we didn't learn the last time we were in this place. And when we're in those places, we have to make some hard choices, based on what we already know, what worked/didn't work last time, and what we're being shown now. And we have to take all of this learning and evaluate it, analyze it, and synthesize it so we'll get where we're hoping to end up eventually. Because when we don't, that's when the Universe sighs, throws us somewhere else really odd, and then we have to start all over again. 

For some people, that constant process of being fished from the sea and then tossed back in somewhere else and then fished out again and tossed back in lasts an entire life time. I do not wish to be one of those people.

My student teaching mentor told me our last day together: "Give everything you do a good year before you make any major decisions. You can do anything for a year." So I'm just going to be alone for the next 365 days, and learn to embrace solitude (when not being hounded for attention by a 6 year old drama queen). I'm going to write a novel. And I'm going to focus, really, really focus. I'm going to be really gentle with myself, and very kind. I'm not going to put myself into anymore situations that will cause me anger or distress or angst or sadness. Okay, fine. I'll probably be in about 3,655 situations that cause me anger or sadness over the next 365 days. But if I am, I promise it won't be because I put myself there; it'll just be because that particular situation has something to teach me. And when not being put in learning situations, I'm going to spend a lot of time looking for beauty and art and things that, you know, make me smile with my heart. And people too - I will always be on the lookout for people who make me smile with my heart. And if they are wild and eccentric, then my heart shall beam with joy to have stumbled upon them.

Because where I hope to end up eventually is somewhere like Bali, where I'm smiling with my heart. I want to be able to smile with my whole heart.