On Writing Blood

Hemingway-1

Hemingway. HEMINGWAY. A man of unfettered passion. He lived his life fully, he wrote from his vast experiences; he dominated his life.

I was having a conversation with a friend last night about the poetry I write. I generally don’t share it because it is often intensely personal. I write it when I’m feeling strongly. I write it from experience or longing. I write it when I HAVE TO GET IT OUT.

Hemingway has a quote, “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” To which I say YES. YES.

I write from my heart. It’s not going to always make sense to somebody else. Sometimes it barely makes sense to me – these mutterings that sometimes only resemble coherent sentences – but they are the words that cascade from my heart, tripping through my brain and down through my finger tips.

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I want to live my life and feel every moment and then I want to write about it. Fully. I don’t want to apologize for the things I felt. I don’t want to hide what I felt and not be honest. I want to say this is what I did and, dammit, this is how it felt! And I’d do it again. Or I wouldn’t, because it hurt too damn much, but at least I felt something. I didn’t hide away and forget to live my life. I want to love and be loved. I want to feel and experience and when I’m 90 I want to say, boy, I can’t believe I did that but it sure was fun!

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I’m so practical. I’m so inhibited, most of the time. But I’m also such a romantic and I can be very creative – but I bury it. Because.

Because . . . why? I’m scared. Of doing the wrong thing. Of hurting others. I’m scared of judgement & condemnation.

I want to live without apology. Without guilt. Without worry. I want to LIVE. Why should I apologize for wanting to make the most of my life? To celebrate life? To love, to dance, to kiss. To have Wednesday afternoon dance parties with my sons. To have midnight walks with friends. To have adventures. Why should I apologize for that?

Ernest Hemingway Quote

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hemingway. I want to be Hemingway.

 

With love,

Stef

 

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Recent Inspirations, part deux

Hello my lovelies!! Happy Sunday! Happy Spring Break! Happy vacation!

I’m feeling a little giddy because I have the next week off and I’m looking forward to fun, fun, fun with my little men.

I’ve had a lovely weekend and, honestly, I’m feeling much stronger than I have recently. I’m so thankful for the support I get from friends in both small & large ways; you never know what a difference a quick text, FB message, blog comment or a hug can do. Just having that support, YOUR support, makes all the difference!!

Here are a few awesome things I’ve seen recently that I loved:

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I hope these nuggets of wisdom help you like they have me. It may seem small, and even silly, but the reminders are so helpful to me.

Be kind to one another. We need more kindness and less pain & misunderstandings. I wake up everyday with good intentions and the desire to give & get love in return. I hope most of us wake up and say, “what good thing can I do today?”

Love,
Stef

>

A dark poem

Wrong, wrong, wrong
March 18, 2014

Everything I knew is wrong;
There’s no end in sight.
The road is long;
Dullness, stupidity, like night.

Up, down, right, left;
Nothing where it should be.
Dammit, so bereft;
Don’t you know me?

Run away then, old friend!
Act like it’s not real.
Don’t expect me to bend;
I didn’t break that seal.

Ha, I did it right, as always!
Smug little bitch, I am.
Now stumbling through this daze;
Who are you? Ma’am?

Open up the wine;
Consume it all.
Overindulge & dine!
But don’t bother to call.

That’s enough, like she said:
Crumpled up piece of paper.
Help me, I feel like lead;
Lift me up out of this labor.

Head down, mewling.
Didn’t I do it right?
Right is wrong, soothing.
Hell no; trampled in the night

On Jiggly Butts

My 10 year old, little J-man, is Autistic. One of the most awesomest by-products of his Autism is his lack of artifice. He doesn’t know how to read facial expressions and only tell people what they want to hear. He just calls ‘em like he sees ‘em. He’s no Eddie Haskell.

For the last year or so J-man has had an obsession with my butt. Flattering . . . . except he’s 10, and my son.

When I’m laying on my tummy he’ll come up on the bed or couch next to me, start pushing on either side and say, “It’s so squishy!” or “It’s so jiggly!” Then he says he loves it and “hugs” it. It’s so silly. And cute. And, you know, it IS squishy and jiggly so he’s just making an observation.

So a few days ago we were getting ready for school and work in the morning and I was flying around my bedroom in my panties and bra looking for the rest of my clothing. J-man came in so I could help comb his hair. As I was spraying and combing he started poking at my tummy. Poke. I shifted away. He followed. Poke. I shifted, he followed. Poke.

“Stop!” I said.

He’s unfazed, “I didn’t know your tummy was jiggly & squishy too!”

“Hey, buddy, people don’t really like to hear that,” I said, feeling the familiar disdain for my own body.

Jamie seemed perplexed, “but why? That’s what makes you unique, momma.”

And I may have teared up, hugged him close and told him he was so very right. *sigh*

What a kid. We could learn something from him. He hasn’t been sullied by the magazines and tv and everything that tells us beauty is about appearance, and only a thin, unwobbly body is what makes a woman beautiful. To him, I’m his momma, his beautiful momma, who loves him and whose round, squishy body is unique and it’s what makes my hugs and my cuddles so very soft.

I often feel like my body holds me back. That I could be further in my career, I could have felt stronger and more confident, that I could have kept the attention and love of some people in my life who may have been disenchanted with those exaggerated curves. I think those things at my low points.

But, you know what? Screw that. I am so much more than my body.

I’m right where I need to be in my career – and it’s not a bad place to be! I am just as confident in my professional life as I need to be, and that’s only growing over time and as my expertise increases. I’m realizing at a certain point in your career your appearance really doesn’t matter as much. To say that another way, if your appearance still does matter then you haven’t proven yourself yet.

Also, not insignificantly, I’ve been told that my curves are pretty enchanting so, you know, those people who don’t like them can go take a flying leap.

My curves are ME. They are who I am. I have been curvy as long as I can remember. Even when I was super-thin, I was curvy. It’s the way I’m made. As J-man said, it IS one of the things that makes me unique.

I’ve been within the same 10 lbs for the last 3 years. No matter what I do. I can sign up and train for 5Ks, I can cut out carbs, I can eat a box of Milk Duds twice a week, and I will still stay within the same 10 lbs. There comes a time when you just have to say, “this is my body.” This is me. Accept it or not. Love it or not. I choose to accept it.

(Except at the beginning of bathing suit season when a certain amount of trepidation is perfectly normal. I think).

Disclaimer: Health is important. There is body acceptance and then there is just being in denial to health problems. A happy medium is recommended.

You don’t have to love my body, but if you love me then you need to know that this is the package that the fabulous gifts that are my brain, my heart, and my soul are wrapped in. Love me or don’t -  but I recommend that you do.

Below is a video of a women, Allison Hatfield, telling her story of summoning up the courage to pose naked in front of a stranger and the life-altering thing that happened when she saw the end result. It’s truly powerful so give it a watch/listen:

Or read the transcript here: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/oral-fixation/i-hated-my-body-until-i-let-a-stranger-draw-me_b_4860925.html

This is also a good time to remind you that April 2 is World Autism Awareness Day! Light it up BLUE! More to come on this, but if you want to prepare your home for Autism Awareness month, April, then blue lightbulbs are available at Home Depot.

Remember: Different, Not Less. (And that applies to sooooo many things!)

All my love,

Stef

Struggling

I’m reclining in my bed, drinking a delicious mix of Alka-Seltzer cold medicine & Emergen-C while my boys are in the living room apparently trying to bring the house down around us.

I’ve been sick with an off/on cold since the day after Christmas. So, essentially, for 2 months.

As I’m laying here, in the dark, I wonder if this sickness is a reflection of the illness in my soul. I’m struck with so much unhappiness right now. So much strife and negativity. So much sadness. So much parting of ways.

I hate this.

I’m a lover. Of people. Of good feelings. Of good conversations. Long kisses. Meetings of minds & souls. Sipping Starbucks together. Going on adventures together. With my friends. With my lovers (using that term loosely to mean people I love).

This ickness has invaded my heart & my soul. I was so hopeful last year. I felt that through, and after, all the pain we would, all of us, find joy and peace. A niche where we fit, where we figured it out. Where we made our own love & happiness. But through blow after blow I have just grown so weary, so sad. So bereft.

I wish finding the joy everyday wasn’t so hard.

I have some wonderful people around me who I’m so grateful for because, without them, I can’t imagine where I’d be now. I can’t imagine the pain if I didn’t have the relief they provide.

Laughter really is the best medicine. Smiling is a balm for the soul.

I am a very strong woman. I know that, and I’m so very glad for it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel “all the feels.” That doesn’t mean I’m strong enough to will the heartache away. I’m just strong enough to know right from wrong and stay on the right path as much as I can.

All the sad songs on the radio are for me. Not you, or you, or you – just me. Just a Fool, Drink You Away, Say Something, All I Want – these are the songs fueling my heart & soul right now. Sometimes I can’t bear it and turn on Gold Rush or White Walls just to get out of my own head. But the other part of me says, “yes, feel that pain. Let it permeate throughout your soul so that you know how this loss truly feels; when you come out on the other side you’ll be all the better for it.”

I loved so hard. Sometimes I think I won’t recover from it. The rational me says I will. My heart, though, is weeping over that gaping hole.

My, that was melodramatic! True, though, it feels. Thank goodness I’m not *just* a romantic.

Logical mind, please take over –

{{mental slap & a good shake}}.

It’s a 3 day weekend, my lovelies! Let’s go have an adventure and bury this heartache as much as possible, shall we?

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All my love,
Stef

Recent inspirations, part one

As with most people of my generation, I spend a good portion of my day online. Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, Instagram – they are my daily companions. Not my only companions, of course, but my early morning, late night, midday break companions.

As I cruise around these sites I often find bits if inspiration. Lovely pictures, amazing words, things that I want to remember & feel for a long time to come. I generally save these to my phone to look at & weed through later, and I thought I’d share some of these with you:

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8:05 pm

It’s 8:05 pm, my friendly little angels. My darling, my sweets.

I’m waiting for truth. Strength. The power to fully be me. I feel a 1,000 lb weight on each foot, each shoulder, hanging from each hand.

Too much hurt. Too much sadness. Too much stinkin’ disappointment.

I’m working so hard to push through – to be a good mom, to do my job well, and to strengthen my faith in myself.

Too often I go to bed feeling beaten and wake up with the same reality.

I thought love was enough.

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“The more you hide your feelings, the more they show. The more you deny your feelings, the more they grow.”
~Unknown