Autumn.

I felt the need to light a vanilla scented candle and put on a sweatshirt before I sat down tonight - I just felt right. If there was something I could do to make the temperature drop and rain begin to fall, I'd do it. Fall has always been my favorite season and the good thing about being in Southern California is that it seems to last until Spring, since Winter rarely shows up to take it's place in line.

I can't really remember when it started, but I'd venture to say that it is more than just the weather that I love, it's the season, the parties, the holidays, and sharing all of those things with the people who mean the most to me.

Naturally flowing from that, comes the nostalgia of years past. I don't find myself getting emotional much anymore about how this season has changed in my life over the last 3 years. I'm not sure if the third time's a charm gig works for family life situations, but perhaps I'm living proof. Also, I'm not sure what my role is in the situation anymore. What kind of power do I have?

Today at my office an affiliated business partner came in to show his face and to see what he could do for our team. He isn't typically someone I'm dying to speak with; he's bad listener, he brags, and most of the time, makes me feel less of a person and to be frank, uncool. I never thought that feeling from grade school would come back in adulthood - I seem to be very wrong.

We arrived upon the subject of marriage, but mostly divorce. I'll speak more of this in a separate post, but the correlation was too good not to say it now. My question still bounces around my head. At what point can/should one call it quits? On your Spouse (to be discussed later), on your family, on your boyfriend/girlfriend, etc? 3 years have come and gone, and I am still not really sure how I got here.

It's been something I've thought about in the last few weeks more than I have in a long time. That's all, and Autumn seems to have a way of re-igniting such activity.

Feelings: a love/hate relationship.

So often it seems that my life is spent attempting to understand what I feel about it. It's been a battle. A battle to use words that feel, words that explain, and words that bring transparency to my heart and mind. The trouble in it for me is that in actuality, I feel very deeply, and the inability to then identify, understand, and explain becomes the problem. Is there anyone out there who has an easy answer for me? I guess I don't really want an easy answer, I'd just like to be a professional describer of feelings in a way that allows people to know me without wanting to run in the other direction whilst I fumble over incorrect adjectives and descriptors. Eek.. that wasn't what I meant, again.

I bring this up again because I decided how I felt today. It only took me 2 days - that's progress, folks.

Detached. That is what I decided while I ate my frozen yogurt after a mediocre lunch that took up too much room in my stomach. For some reason it seems the world is moving to and fro, and I remain motionless. Something is not connected.

I flew home from Boston on Tuesday evening after a short dream of a week visiting historical sites, savoring delicious meals, trying new things, and spending time with and learning from one of the most amazing people I know. I'm fairly certain it's the culprit as the cause of my feeling the way that I do. For me, I've found I feel the most alive, the most myself when I am experiencing something new (or possibly something old in a new way). Maybe I'm addicted to growth, to knowledge, to broadening views or maybe the OC just doesn't cut it for me. It seems I've left a part of my spirit in Boston, because I feel only half of me has returned home. (Insert pity party here).

I suppose that all I am left with is a dilemma. I feel the social and personal responsibility to rise above the feelings I experience to complete tasks and move forward on commitments to my family, friends, and clients - I just wish feeling like doing those things came with it. Someone wise I know told me once to do what I need to do when I need to do it, and the feelings will follow. I think I will go with that for now, since I lack an epiphany of my own.

A mess in my mind.

There are days when the rain seems appropriate. Today was one of them.

I’ve loved the smell of the air when rain is on it’s way, and I’ve loved even more the smell of the crisp air that follows right behind it’s passing. Somehow natures way of cleaning things is far better than our man-made, toxic cleaners to the mess we’ve made.

In the same way that I anxiously await the first rainfall of the season, I long for a season of downpours upon my very life. I will not, cannot say that I have nothing, or that I lack at all. I cannot say that I am without love or friendship. I cannot say that I am without joy – I will not. And yet, on the other hand, I believe that the beautiful things in life can and will be tarnished by the dirt of humanity.

I’d like my life to be rained on, poured on.

It seems that much of what I claim as my own, many of the relationships I am a part of have grown dusty, dull, muddy even. Some haven’t seen water in years.

I’d like to gaze upon the beauty that I believe still exists under the muck and mire that I’m sure I’ve only added to over the years.

Oh let it rain. Let it rain on my blurred perceptions. Let it rain on my muddied mind. Let it rain on hate and pride. Let it rain on my burdened heart. Oh let it rain.

Cynic turned Realist: Love.

In Junior High I was obsessed with understanding what love really was. I’m not exactly sure what I was hoping to find, but I remember writing, reading, and thinking for 2 years and giving up a hopeless mess. I took the cynical route claiming that love was merely a choice - nothing more, nothing less. In hindsight, it was a little bit of a burden for a 13 year old.

Ten years later, I think I am finally starting to get the real picture.

Now I can see where I wanted to go with the idea of choice – I wanted it to be consistent and it seemed that if it was a feeling-based state of mind, it would be up, down, here, there, and gone before you know it. I knew that wasn’t right, but I didn’t have much else to go on. I sing a different tune these days.

Love is. It is. It takes care of, it takes interest in. It’s selfless, and remains without conditions. It sifts the unimportant and hurtful from meaning and poignancy. Love speaks, it touches. Love forgives and communicates. Love is quiet and it’s deep. It’s open and transparent. It’s grounded. It’s real.

I don’t know for sure if I thought in Jr. High that I’d find love to mimic a fairytale with a prince and princess, there were ounces of such thought, of that I am sure.

Now, I am coming to find that the beauty of the real thing is its lack of fairytale-ness in every sense of the word. Expectations are easier to meet and we are allowed to remain ourselves. Lord knows I’d make a terrible princess.

There was no amount of reading and thinking I could have done at age 11 that could have brought any sort of clarity. I needed to be taught, and more than taught, I needed to be shown.

It’s pretty wild what being loved can do to you. It’s challenging, humbling, calming, wonderful, and is worth all of the effort necessary.

To love perfectly, well, that’s a whole other story, and one I’m sure I will never be able to write. I should probably finish the one I started to write 10 years ago.

I think the 13-year-old me wouldn’t have a problem with the ‘me’ today and my take on that whole ‘love’ thing. Thanks, Whitney circa 2000, for your approval.

Lacking and Learning

When do we finally stop playing the victim and actually bring about change? I’ve struggled with this question for far too long it seems. Often, issues arrive and I find myself feeling down and depressed, claiming that I didn’t grow up in an environment that fostered the sharing of feelings or healthy problem solving techniques. I’ve felt lost in numerous situations when trying to figure out how to approach such things, even after studying them in college. There is just something about having a tangible example that seems to make all the difference.

Here I sit, without the wisdom that such experiences bring.

On my drive home tonight I couldn’t help but think that it is all just merely an excuse. My upbringing no longer dictates my life and who I will become, and yet, I allow it that very kind of control by playing it’s victim. I am the adult now, silly me resigning myself to what is expected. I can’t remember ever being OK with that kind of life – one that resigns it’s self to its expected detriment. That has never been me, and I won’t let it become that way.

Truth be told, I’m great at telling people that they are adults, and should no longer allow their parents mistakes and mishaps shape and define their person. Look who’s talking now.
Daily, I’m reminded of my shortcomings and areas in which I must grow to even begin to deserve the love that I’ve found.

If I know one thing right now, I know that I’m done making those same excuses.

Yes, that feels good.