Category: friends

The West Aville Sunday Breakfast Club

We live really close to each other.  We realized after the death of one of our friends in 2013 that we were leaving way too many gaps between gathering together to live so freakin’ close to one another.  We started meeting for breakfast, and it is a ritual I have come to love.

I get my own apple butter; that’s a rule.  I will drink bottomless amounts of coffee.  There will be gigantic biscuits, then there will be nothing but biscuit crumbs. We will eat enough to feed a small nation for a day and marvel at how full we are.  We will talk about the silliest stuff, and we will dig in and ponder the deep stuff.  We will laugh loudly and other diners will turn to look at us.  We will tip the hell outta our waitress for hogging the table for so long.

Connections, love, laughter: this is the good stuff, the deliciousness of life.

not letting you rain on my parade!

I’ve been trying harddddddddddddddddddddddddd (HARD!) to extend kindness and love where I can.  I’ve been trying hard to muster forgiveness.  All this effort is for my own sanity, and because I also believe love is what we’re here for, what we’re here to do at the most fundamental level of our existence.

Here’s a hard truth: just because I forgive, it doesn’t mean the other person forgives me; just because I am giving love doesn’t mean they will meet me halfway.  THAT SUCKS!  In a perfect world, when we try to meet others halfway, they are willing to meet us there.  In this world, the world we’re in now, hugs are refused and mannerisms are cool, even cold…brrrrrrrrrrrr.  I’ve tried hard with this one person in particular and there’s nearly a negative return on investment, like tossing my feelings into the Grand Canyon.

But, y’know, fuck it.  I’m not letting you rain on my love parade. If you want to join in, you know how to find me any ol’ time, but damn, brrrrr.  I’m putting on my coziest gear and marching onward.  I’ll still answer when you call if you’re ready to behave like a decent person, but for now, I’m putting up my umbrella and keeping the love parade moving.

a true story

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Last night, a friend and I went to soak in a hot tub at a local spa retreat.  Clear night, soaking under the stars, talking about everything, watching the steam rise into the night sky.  Awesome.

Afterward, I was waiting in the lobby to check out while my friend was changing into street clothes.  I was sniffing all the incense and perfumes and found one that smelled fantastic.  I was holding the bottle in my right hand and dabbing the fragrance on my left wrist while the cashier was ringing up a couple for their services.  The cashier called over to me that she loves that fragrance, and I agreed that it was so delightful (and, umm, slightly outside my price range)…the man in the couple walks over to me and says, “May I smell?” I think he wants the bottle of fragrance, so I as I turn to hand it to him, he grabs my left wrist and pulls it to his face and inhales close enough to my skin that I can feel his facial hair.  OMFG!!!!

In full earshot of his woman friend and the cashier, he says, “And now may I lick you?”

I looked appropriately horrified as I said, “Errr no, no.  Reserved for people I am on a first name basis with.”

His woman friend, now finished with her transaction, laughs, then she tells me his name as they turn to head out the door.

The door closes, and I’m still standing there, mouth open, bottle of perfume in my hand.

The cashier says, “Did that really just happen?”

I nod.  “Yeah, it really did.”

heroes

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Not every hero wears a cape or a badge or even a uniform.  Some heroes are those that can offer calm assurance while the world is seemingly collapsing.

One of my gentlest friends found himself in a bad spot.  The bottom dropped out.  Walls crashing down.  A total shitstorm for a friend who is nothing but kind, respectful, and ridiculously introverted. I recognize that perhaps this chaos was his own invention, but he never imagined this scenario playing out in this way.  He was scared, and he was hurting, and I couldn’t do a damn thing for him.

I am the fixer, the nurturer, the healer for those that beckon, those brave enough to say they are falling apart, those willing to send the text message that simply says “help.” I will show up at any hour if I am needed, wanted.  I have held hands with the grieving, made soup for the sick, listened all night long without judging those who are struggling with sobriety, and crawled in bed fully dressed in the middle of the day to curl up with the heartbroken.  Whatever’s needed, I will do, but in this most recent instance, I couldn’t help, and that hurt my heart; I couldn’t soothe this away.

I had to reach out to get my friend help; I sent a few texts to the only person I believed I could genuinely trust to help, reaching out to a friend that I hoped would recognize the urgency and respond quickly…and that’s where this story finds its hero.

This hero answered promptly, acted quickly, and showed up on what should’ve been his day off to assist.  He brought knowledge and expertise, but more importantly, he brought calm and compassion to my shattered friend; this hero soothed fears that were beyond my reach.  He brought professionalism, but he also brought heart.  Some heroes rise from their own foray into hell kinder, stronger, and smarter, their own hardest days shaping them to offer empathy and benevolence to those still fighting similar battles.

After I sent out the text asking for help for my friend in need and I got a message back from the hero of this story saying he’d assist even on his day off, I sobbed, totally relieved.  I am sure my response via text was my typical snarky smartass bullshit, but tears were raining down on my phone and on my typing fingers as I felt that wave of gratitude wash over me.  I remember exhaling a great sigh so hard, like I’d been unknowingly holding my breath for an hour.

I still don’t know how this story ends, but I know the hero remains the hero no matter what dragons emerge.  I have reverence for a healer who doesn’t operate with my same methods, but he is a healer, a fixer, all the same, even though he might shrug off such titles.  He has put my broken, sweet friend back together a couple times.  I am filled with a grateful admiration for the hero doing what I could not.

My favorite heroes are the ones who don’t even realize what great good they’ve already done.

 

Friends of Mine

Several of my friends have had all hell break loose the last few weeks. There’s been a lot of painful drama, a lot of bad things happening to good people. I’ve hugged and counseled and emailed and texted and tried to connect some with everyone, sending them all affirmations that everything’s going to be okay again soon.

I hate when hurts can’t be fixed easily, but I’m sending out the love, ya’ll, over and over again.

holiday followup

i vented a bit about how the holidays were a little hard on my heart and soul this year, but i wanted to circle back with an update. i didn’t just wallow in the hurt, not at all.

on christmas day, i dragged bags of groceries over to a friend’s and we made an elaborate and delicious meal that took hours. we laughed and made messes and ate until we had no room for even that beautiful pumpkin pie we made.

after christmas, i took another friend out to see some gorgeous christmas lights. i had brunch, mimosas and all, at a nice restaurant with still another friend. i spent a girls day out with my kiddo, too.

new year’s eve, i was the somewhat reluctant designated driver for some friends. with my abscessed tooth and dislike of drunk crowds, i didn’t want to go anywhere. i am glad i was coerced into going and laughing in the new year.

yeah, there was a lot on my mind this holiday, but I deliberately made some changes to do things differently. i went against my introverted tendencies, made plans, and had a lovely time, even with all the crazy health issues that popped up. not everything is within my control, but i did my best to find the good in the things that i could change.

new year’s day thoughts

it’s after 3 am on January 1.

wide awake because as designated driver, i was drinking soda all night.

my face hurts, friggin’ abscessed tooth, but i rang in (moshed in) the new year with a smile anyway.

i still mosh or slam dance or whatever you call it. i’ve always been a sturdy, strong beastie of a girl, well suited to play defense in soccer and to mosh hard in a ring of sweaty men at concerts. it’s a healthy way to deal with my stress.

my ears are still ringing from the music, but i thought i should wish 2014 farewell and greet the new year here in this space with some thoughts.

there were some awkward, hard, yucky times in 2014. i was faced several times over with “settling” for less than what was good for me…and i’m proud to say i walked away from those situations. it wasn’t easy, but i have worked hard to choose myself in the last year, to put my well-being first whenever possible. self preservation isn’t always popular, and being perpetually single sucks, but i will not compromise on some issues–i just can’t and won’t.

my biggest accomplishment of 2014 is letting good people back into my life. i have willfully isolated myself over the last few years and been very guarded, but in 2014, especially in the last few months, i was deliberately different. i gave and received hugs, tons of them. i texted and emailed people who made me laugh or made me think. maybe not a big deal to you, dear reader, but openly letting people care about me is not something i’m good at; it’s fucked up, because i can care about people all day long, but i’m resistant to letting them care about me. in 2014, i let some good ones in, closer, confiding, laughing; i hope they’ll hang around.

2015 is a blank book, a blank canvas. i hope i do good things with it. i want to love some great people and let them love me back. i want to laugh a hell of a lot. i want to watch movies on my friends’ couches and stay up late talking about everything and nothing. i want to push myself physically just because i can. i want to get to know the good people in my world, and i’m finally okay with really letting these good people know me. i want to read good books, eat amazing meals, and take walks where i notice the clouds or the stars. i wish for time for relaxation as well as time for grand adventures. i hope i get to kiss the hell out of someone in 2015 and steal their blankets. happy new year, friends.

Full Moon

The moon was full, so we danced until our hair was sweaty and clinging to our faces.  Danced and sang and laughed.

I had to work in the morning, but we should laugh and dance no matter what.  Someday, I don’t want to look back and wish we’d wrung more delight from the days, so even though there is work to do and alarm clocks to set, we will dance while we can.

wine and whine

Last weekend, I had a great dinner with a longtime friend.  Somewhere about halfway through that 1.5 liter bottle of Shiraz-Grenache, the conversation turned to how we had imagined things would be for us by this point in life.

She told me she always thought I’d end up partnered forever and ever with HeWhoShallRemainNameless.  I sighed, shook my head, and said, “Yeah, I did, too, but he never ever said he wanted it, us, just us, or I would’ve said yes.”

“Obviously, he wanted you guys to be together,” she replied.

“Yes, but he never said it, and I think a man should say it.  Say I want you only.”

She nodded and agreed, “Yes, the man should be the one to say it.”

I’ve given this a lot of thought…too much thought because of course I over-think everything all day long.  When I think back over my life all the way back to my teen years, I’ve had only two, maybe three (that 3rd one’s kinda iffy, maybe he’s just an honorable mention), Great Loves. Great Loves: the ones I would do anything for if they asked, and I’m pretty sure at the right moment in time, they would have done anything for me.  They understood me, got me, and were OK with the real me, the one behind the scenes when the public facade is gone. The Great Loves and I were comfortable together, but still sexy together…sometimes comfortable is the opposite of sexy, y’know?  I laughed with my Great Loves, traveled with my Great Loves, kissed until we had chapped lips, listened to so much amazing music, watched movies in bed, and had candlelit pizza dinners with the Great Loves.  With the Great Loves, life and love were adventures.  Life and love were delicious, something to savor, be in awe of, wallow in, immerse the soul.  I believed in a tomorrow with a Great Love by my side.

I also believed that is was my Great Love’s job, duty, role to be the one to say, “I want you only.”  It was his job to say “let’s do this,” whether that meant an engagement or a seriously committed monogamous relationship, whatever, it was his place to man up.  I’ll be the one to say “you hung the moon; I love you.”  I’ll be the one to say “I miss you.”  I’ll do and say all the things that indicate that the door is open, but to me, it’s critical that the man be the one to call dibs, commit, shut down the options.

So.  What have I missed by insisting that the man be the one to say “go?”  Is the whole shebang my fault for having an expectation of manly men who speak up??

Sigh.  I still want that.  I still want the man to be the man, even if that’s a ridiculous concept.  I like the ridiculous concept.  I want the ridiculous concept.