Category: relationships

Day three

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                            My first love I believe was the same as most little girls,  my father.  He is a deep thinker.  An intelligent man. He taught me about honesty and diversity.  And he was the most handsome man I had ever met.
                                  My first kiss was when I was in second grade. He was in a extra curricular swimming class I was taking.  We were bused there. It was on the back of the bus. It was sweet and innocent.  I have truthfully forgotten everything else about him.  Still the sweetness of the moment remains.
       

Emotional secrets

                 Here recently I accused someone I love of having secrets from me. It caused a fight. I wasn’t saying in a cheating sort of way,  and I was right. He was hiding his misery.  Each of us do this.  We tell only part of our lives because we don’t want to be seen as weak or wanting.  We all want to be strong,  if nothing else as an illusion to ourselves. It is truly in human nature. We expect those around us to see what is bothering us,  and are often disappointed when no one does. 
                   Our minds are mazes that we even occasionally have trouble navigating. Add in the mental mazes that exist in those we love,  And that is where confusion lies. What makes relationships work, all sorts of relationships,  is a truly open line of communication.  Trust and honesty make for strong and lasting relationships.
              So next time you feel doubt as to what someone feels or may be hiding, Ask… Don’t accuse. It may make all the difference.

Ah ha moments

                 In life I try not to judge the people around me. For you never know what road they were forced to walk. Today for me that point was driven home by a conversation I had with a man I have always considered to be very strong.  He was telling me that his Stepmother had passed.  As one would expect of a woman in her eighties.  But when he spoke of her and indeed when he ever speaks of his father…. I hear a sadness there. I had always believed it was because of the distance between them.  Tonight I saw a lot of what was under there. I still think he is strong, but perhaps there’s a reason for the strength. Perhaps in seeing  the vulnerability in the ones we see as strong we can allow more in ourselves.  We try to hold ourselves,  I think,  to impossible standards. Many  end up depressed because of said impossible standards. So for today I will accept my vulnerable side. I will stop pretending that all i am always strong. How about you?

The voice of a rose

                    This is the second time I have tried to do this post. My Facebook friends list is filled with writer’s. I did that on purpose. I surrounded myself on social media with writer’s and artists and crafty people, so i no longer felt as alone. This morning, one of the writer’s, Author T L Grey, posed a question. As she posted two pictures with it…one of her (a truly lovely woman) and one of a soft white rose with pink edges….I doubt that she wanted the answer I gave her. The question?  “If a rose could speak,  what would it say?” My response?  “That it was dying and missed it’s bush. The loneliness was unbearable.” Well at first she responded Carpe diem. Then she changed it to read “Why be one of several upon a bush instead of singled out and appreciated in the small space of time in which to bloom? The bush will bloom more flowers but this one particular flower has only a small time in which to shine.” I found this as thought provoking as the original question,  and a bit telling.  So I responded…”While that is true, most do focus on the ways that they are different.  To their own detriment.  The question was what a rose would say. I have always thought it sad that to enjoy a flower we have to kill it. So i hear the sadness of it’s own imminent demise. I hear regret that the rose did not appreciate the beauty of being a part of the bush until the bush was no longer there.  Thus I hear loneliness.”
                       Now understand please that I do realize the fact that my response was slightly morbid. However her question wasn’t what we hear from the rose’s unique beauty. It wasn’t what does the rose symbolize.  So I spoke what I feel any living thing would feel as they die. Death is usually a morbid topic.
                    As to her statement about being just another on the bush? Well have you ever seen a rose bush up close?  No two roses are exactly alike.  So it is a riotous community of individuality. I lived in a place once with three bushes. They were amazing. I admit the question and resulting conversation was an inspiration for me. So i did what my weird little poetic heart does. I did another poem for my latest volume.  And because I can,  I am sharing it with you…..

The voice of a rose

The voice of the rose
Depends on the ear
That hears and it’s
point of view.

The choice of a
Listening heart,
As to hear such
As sadness, 
Adventure or
romantic speech.

None less valid,
Each in their own
Way right.

For why can
The voice of the rose
Not be as complex
as the Heart of man.

*her rose*

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*I found this one on Google. *

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Insomnia demons and insisting muses.

                         Okay,  i am often treated to bouts of insomnia.  The reasons vary. Often it is just not being able to quiet my busy mind. Last night was the first time in over a month. I am up to thirty three poems out of the seventy I do in each volume for Life drops. I will likely share later one from that. I spent some time writing on the d20 game world that I have created. Lots of details still to do on that one. Managed about two fifty on my steampunk story, and another hundred and fifty on my drow novel. Didn’t get to the others. Helped my sister’s faeries do some for their Facebook page. Shared what i found worthwhile to my author page,  to my shop page,  and to my personal page. Still felt like I should have gotten more done.  Didn’t get my crafts done yesterday.  Still my mind isn’t slowing.  Have cut way back on caffeine.  Limiting myself to two cups of coffee a week and pretty much no pop. Heck even my tea is mostly herbal anymore.  Still there are days when i can’t sleep.  I’m about to try again for st least a short nap.  So until I return…. may you sleep well and have only sweet dreams.

Silence is cruelty

               April is child abuse prevention  month.  So many of my friends, myself included,  are survivors. The thing about surviving is we mostly don’t talk about it. It becomes a dirty little thing that gets hidden because no one wants to hear the truth.  We get told to be quiet or told we are lying. This makes trying to heal all that much more problematic.  One of my friends is waiting to write her story until her mother dies. Simply because every time she tries to speak of what she went through,  her mother tells her not to. The man who molested me was allowed to harm others because when I finally stepped forward no one believed me. It took another to send him to jail. Another friend worries about her son as his father molested him, and was court ordered visiting rights.  Speaking up only works when it is believed. 

My voice shakes… but I have not lied. So for those today whom are out there fighting what you have survived… you are not alone. Speak… no matter who tries to silence you. Write,  if only for yourself,  no matter who tries to stop you. What you say, even if you are afraid,  may help you find your bravery.

Rainy days and Sick Mondays

I woke up aching all over. Now my daughter had it yesterday. So I figure it may just be a spring cold. Then I look out the window….Ugh. It is a dreary rainy day. It would certainly not be the first time my body reacted to the weather. Today every little thing has been setting off my anxieties. So here I am, a true mess. Instead of getting anything accomplished…I have been aching and bellyaching. I think today will just be a wash. However I am refusing to let the rain and dreary knock me down. I am making homemade chicken pizza (From dough i froze a couple of weeks ago) to pick up the spirits of my angel and I. Then after dinner dishes i will sit and try and write….even if I delete it tomorrow…I think the discipline may help me be a little less anxious.

The Faeries of Birchwood Grove

The Faeries of Birchwood Grove
By Patricia Harris

Dancing about to and fro,
Look at all the faeries go.
Birchwood grove is a busy place
Where all the faeries dance and play.
Advice and help for you to care
are easily found in abundance there.

Tips on animals, food and herbs,
gentle fun and lots of preserves.
Goods made with Love and care
easily found over there.

Dodging the dust today

Some days it feels like I have too many plates spinning. Hence the Picture above. (credit goes to Jim Hunt Illustrations…for the awesome image.)  Today was no exception. Somehow all those various hats….(mother, Writer, adult, Social media guru, blogger, Friend, Girlfriend, cook, gamer, etc, etc) all seemed to fit. I kept moving and I got stuff done. Even found time to watch a favorite movie with my little girl. Somedays it feels like the dust settles over me. creating a blanket. making it hard to move. Not today. Today I wasn’t sitting long enough for the dust to settle. Today I kept on my feet and managed to get things done. I maybe didn’t do as much in crafts as i did in writing, or maybe I was less attentive to this part of my life as I was to that. Still no broken plates. How about you? Any broken plates today? Did the dust settle? If so that is okay. Tomorrow you can try again.

Stress and its cause

I ended up blocking someone on Facebook yesterday. My reasons were simple. Them being in my life was causing me issues. Stress headaches are counterproductive for me. (probably for everyone). Normally this is no big deal and a no brainer. However this one was a big deal, this one hurt. She is the mother of my grandson. She has a habit of moving him around and keeping my son from knowing where he is. Now don’t get me wrong my son is not blameless in the whole mess. He has been lax in sending in support (because he was unemployed and looking for a job). Still my grandson is autistic. And in his three years of life she has moved ten times. So I worry because she is making it worse for the baby, and then instead of allowing his family at least contact, she uses him to play mind games. I cannot handle them anymore.  So I finally had enough and blocked her. It was painful and not an easy decision. Unfortunately because my son is still involved in it I know she is still playing the mind games, claiming that my son is trying to take her child away simply because he is worried about his son. I really hope she eventually realizes how badly she is hurting her son. I hope she realizes before doing any permanent harm to her son. I wish her luck in life, But I am done. I refuse to play her games and be the mom in the middle. Instead I will live my life and do what makes my life work. Under stress I can’t write. Under stress I can’t be a good mom to my youngest. So for the sake of my world, I have to accept that I can’t help my Grandson. That saddens me.  I hope she straightens up her act up before she ruins his life.

My block list is small. Less than ten in all. I only block if I need to for my own sanity. When I do it is because I can’t deal with the person at all. Why do you block? Or do you?