Welcome to…

20′ of UHaul behind me, 70 miles an hour, rolling through state after state..we did it. We finally committed to the biggest journey of our lives. This image, holds the majority of my heart. This brief, quiet moment screamed to me that I am doing the right thing. Relocating to the unknown. Leaving the conformity, leaving the comfort zone, leaving the past. Continuing together. And my heart has never been so full. I can not imagine a more beautiful picture than this one.

Fighting the anxiety overload from being outside of my norm, my son and I both are confident that we will make this be the best story yet, even with shaky knees.

I have never been happier in my life.

Welcome to Adulthood.

 

Torture Taught Me to Love Myself

I will not start this with a lie. I will not say I don’t think about you from time to time. I won’t say I don’t wonder if you’re better now than you were, even though I’ve heard you are worse. I won’t say I am over you. Unless, maybe I am.

It’s a difficult emotion to be stuck in. It’s not you, it is the “relationship”. It was the “relationship” that opened my eyes. Yes, you were involved in those conversations that went well into the next sunrise, but it was not your words. Yes, you were involved in the events that lead me on the right path, but it was not you that put me to the right path.

I despise that it was you. The “relationship” stirred the serotonin and created inner strength I was unfamiliar with, but accepted graciously. It pulsed my breaking heart, one pulse..I love you..two pulses.. I hate you.. three pulses..Come back. Confusion and self doubt were your specialty. Casting your love/hate narcissistic spells into my atmosphere that I inevitably absorbed. I was torn by the very fabrics of my soul into what seemed to be multiple people, because how could one person feel so many contrasting emotions? WAS I CRAZY? Yes, probably. But you.. you were something. Something entirely different, almost demonic yet tantalizing. You were the abomination of my relationship life. But, I wouldn’t change that experience for the world.

Because of your behavior, I learned to monitor my own. Because of your psychopathic, narcissistic self absorbed thought processes, I learned to think before I speak. Essentially, every horribly cruel and manipulative game you played with me, I want to thank you for. And I am sure the love of my life, once I meet him, will want to thank you too. You made me be aware of who I was. Initially not because I was worried about your actions and behavior, but my own, I almost believed you. I almost thought I was crazy. My family watched you try to convince me that I was crazy. But I thought I was in love, I didn’t listen.

The “relationship” was the most valuable personal learning experience I’ve ever went through, and I paid dearly. Months of non-closure, heart break, and confusion, SO MUCH CONFUSION. What did I do? Who was I? Was I really the person you convinced me I was? No, of course not.  “Once psychopaths have drained all the value from a victim—that is, when the victim is no longer useful—they abandon the victim and move on to someone else.” (Snakes in Suits, 53) Once you moved on, I did my research. You, met not only every qualifier for a psychopath in a relationship (even once sending me the definition of a psychopath), but every horror story I read… was like a page out of our book. A book that I did not burn, but filed away. A “How Not to Get Trapped” again category I started, because of you.

I would not change any of the abuse, torture, emotional distress, even physical distress you caused me, because it taught me just how strong I truly was as a female. And once I figured that out.. the doors opened and I learned to not only admire who I was becoming, but I learned to love myself, faults and all.

So thank you. Thank you for being so damned crazy. You were the best thing to never happen to me.

Living the Luxurious Life

The sun rose this morning as it always does, slightly to right of my bedroom window, peeking through the curtains at my sleepy eyes. I woke up in a soft, cushy bed with too many blankets and too many pillows. As I lay there, turning my alarm to silent, draped in 3 dogs that look to me for love and comfort, I thank my maker for this beautiful morning, I am alive for yet another day.

To some, this is a normal routine. Waking up, getting the first cup of coffee, turning the shower on and standing in the pelting water, dancing to the lyrics in my head. But to others, this is a life of Luxury. A life of luxury that they do not have. Too many pillows, too many blankets while someone, last night, slept in a back alley somewhere, under a flimsy piece of cardboard.

To some, this is remarkable as they did not open their eyes this morning. Instead they meet their maker and not the rising sun.

To me, this is luxury. For the simple fact I know how easily all of this can be taken away, I know how lucky I am to be alive today. I have a place to call my own, and I have the two things that make my world go ’round.. Love and Food.

For all of the others, that aren’t as lucky to live such a lavish life filled with puppy hair and too many pillows, my heart is with you.

Where one sees luxury, the other sees life. Where one sees life, the other sees luxury.

We are lucky enough to be able to put these emotions into words and share them with the world, be humble. Life, is a luxury.

 

via Daily Prompt: Luxury

Finding yourself at 34

A third of the way into my existence in this place we call life, I found myself. Honesty can be brutal. I was for the first time, looking at who I was through other people’s eyes. I saw my mistakes, my intentional missteps, my personality and my intelligence. I saw that I was no longer a “girl” in the sense of the word relating to wisdom, but now a woman. Unsure if this was a normal “milestone” we all walk through in life, I consider myself lucky. There are so many individuals, lost or lying to themselves, about life or love or who they are. I know, I was one.

Each and every relationship flashed through my eyes, each argument, each resolution. And I found I was wavering in my own happiness, but hell bent on others. I would give my soul to see the person I thought I loved happy, only to receive what they wanted to give me in return, not what I needed. This stunned me. I had been putting my heart and soul last, giving what I thought someone else needed first, and leaving me in their dust. On this relationship merry-go-round for 20 years, it was time to step off and find myself.

I have always identified as a mother, as someone’s child, sister, aunt. Someone’s girlfriend, but never just, Kali. I felt it was time to finally work on me, let myself shine so bright the sun turned green with envy. I made a promise to myself that this would be my time, and it has been. Have I been lonely? No. Shocking as that may be, I have never been happier.

So onto the next challenge, the next chapter, the next Friday night in instead of out. I have the confidence of a God, the drive of a work horse, and the touch of a butterfly. When it’s time to identify as anything other than, Kali.. I’ll know. But until then, it’s me and my dogs times three.

Much Love ❤

All you did was love someone..

“But truth is, all you did is love someone. That they are incapable is not a reflection of you.”

Thank you learningtolivelikewaterblog. This was a very profound statement to share with me during your own daily progression to love and wellness, and the appreciation goes so far.

We, as humanity, have so many obstacles in life to overcome to even begin the process of not only loving someone else, but ourselves as well. It took me 30 some years to learn to love myself, and during those years, the question “How can someone love me when I don’t even love myself” tip-toed through my head, casting doubt to their words of affection. Did they mean it? Probably. Did I believe them? No.

Until HIM. And just to say upfront, this being the first post about HIM and my struggles and realizations during the HIM time, I DESPISE the fact that my most personal, life changing and self growth moments are associated, with HIM.

In reading others’ struggles with relationships, and the damage that can be done, the love that can be lost, and the happiness that can someday seep back in, I found the strength to speak the words my heart has been holding hostage for over a year and half.

So THANK YOU TO ALL OF YOU THAT HAVE HAD YOUR HEART BROKEN AND WERE STRONG ENOUGH TO SPEAK ABOUT IT.

I too, will speak. When I lasso these words into realistic and understandable sentences, they will find their way into written words.

Here is where I start telling my story.

Until then,

Peace, Love and Chicken Wings.

But Mom.. it’s my life

I believe when this is uttered out of any child’s mouth, it’s regarding going to the park, going on a date, choosing to go to college, the amount of alcohol one consumes or in defense of sitting on the couch all day while the parents still pamper these CHILDREN.

But what happens when both mother and child are adults.. well then, you get me. I am the sum of every child being raised by a single mother stereotype. I love my mother. I love her so much, that I have put myself in a position that those words “I’m a grown woman mom, if I want to sleep in until noon on a Saturday after a long week of work, damn it I’m gonna” (did I mention I do not live with her??) are a thought EVERY Saturday. I have put myself in a position for so long, that reality in that woman’s brain has become warped and I do not know that the truth will ever be known. She’s SO good, sometimes I have to do a retake on my memory to make sure it didn’t happen just the way she has shared with the entire town.

Funny thing is, I’m the oldest of 4. And I am the only one that jumps everytime she needs anything. I am the only one willing to go through the nonsensical drama, sometimes multiple time because she doesn’t remember tormenting me two times before. All of my siblings joke at the fact that I am the one always “taking one for the team”.

My mother has bent over backwards for us, she made growing up without a father memorable. She out-did herself on so many occasions. Problem is, we (I) am reminded of EVERY SINGLE TIME. Not so much while growing up, but now that us kids are grown, I have to wonder if she forgets she already guilted me for that, on a few occasions.

I love my mom. She has been such an incredible parent. I just wish.. she’d let go alittle bit. Just enough so that I can take the chances that I know will make her proud. After all, I am her daughter.

Love knows no bounds- a story of a girl and her best friend

Many, if not most people,  have had animals of all varieties at some point throughout our lives. I had several before this little girl. This is Layla, Lay-Lay, Bean, Get Your Ass Over Here, and we can’t forget about Who the hell shit on my floor? She answers to anything that comes out of my mouth, not because she knows she’s being called for, but she is already under my feet. I always looked at people that babied and favored their pets over their children, family, and friends oddly. They were odd to me. Until I watched this little girl being brought into this world. I was there for her first steps, when she opened her eyes for the first time, the first time her tail wagged.

Keep in mind, I’m a mother to two beautiful boys, 14 & 7, and have cherished each and every moment with them to the overbearingly fullest. But this was different. Bean won’t grow up and move out, Bean won’t talk back to me.. scratch that she does do that. The words I am looking for- She will be there, unconditionally, and will always have me in her thoughts (even when she poops on the floor, I guarantee it). Being a single mother, the only people in this world that I have given my unwavering love to have been my children. You mean to tell me she will love She knows momma has a migraine 💜me just as much if not more than I love her? This was news to me.

She knows when I am not feeling well, when my RA acts up, or when I’m already pissy because everyone at work sucks. The moment she hears my car in the drive, she’s there at the door, waiting ever so impatiently, for me to come through that threshold. Not because I may have brought her something home, or because she needs something from me, but because she missed me. That to me, is love.

Apparently, caring for my heart the way she does took a slight toll on her, as she has been sporting a gray beard since she was 1. She is now 3. And each and every morning, I lift the bed covers, see her lips stuck to her teeth from snoring, watch her grunt and roll on her back, and back to sleep she goes.

So in loving my dog the way I do, my best friend, I have to wonder.. is that what real love between humans is supposed feel like? If so… I may just need to get another dog.

Lint Rolling the dog hair off of my pants as I finish expressing this, I realize.. I have so much love to give. And that, just may be the biggest gift our experience together, could give me. This girl is, for better or worse, my partner https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/27030/posts/1068961266#comments 

Thank you Bean. You are my girl.