Spring

Happy sring. My favorite time of the year. Everything is new again. Out with the old and in with the new. Driving down the road recently, I noticed how green the grass was. It was like a sudden explosion of color. One day, our natural world was brown and dead, the next it was green and pink and red and yellow and vibrant and fully alive. Happened almost overnight. Oh how I love spring. Love everything about it. Warm air. Windows opened. Days are longer. Cool evening breeze. Abundance of sunshine mixed with gentle spring rains. The world even smells new and fresh. Animals appear to be more full of life. People seem to be peaceful and energized. Can't wait til I'm spring - all colorful and new again and fully alive.

Mega Millions. . . When the Dream Comes True

One in 1,766,000. Those are the odds of winning the Mega Millions jackpot. Wow! Sounds impossible and yet millions of people - people just like me - buy lottery tickets week after week dreaming about what they'll do when their numbers come in. Numbers get drawn and dreams get shattered. But do those millions of folks give up when the odds-being-against-em hits em squarely in the face? No, no they don't. Instead, they return to their local conveinece store or grocery store or gas station a day or two later and buy again. And again they start planning what they'll do when their lucky numbers come in on Saturday night. Buy this, buy that, pay off this bill, pay off that, quit the job, go on a cruise, invest in the stock market, share some with family. So many things, so many dreams. What would I do? What if 2, 8, 12, 15, 51 and 55 (my lucky numbers) came in? Would I be prepared? Would I remain calm? Would I quietly run to the lottery office to collect my winnings, or would I let my excitement overrule my logic and start calling everyone I know to share the good news? I like to think that I have enough smarts, enough control that I could keep it quiet, but I'm not so sure I could. It would be a wonderful, joyous, dream-come-true occassion that I'm sure I'd want to tell. Tell someone. Tell anyone. Just tell. Ok, I think I'll just get real with myself and acknowledge my weakness. I have a big mouth. It's hard to keep a secret, especially when it's mine. So I'd tell. I'm sure I would. But who? Who would I really want to know of my new millionaire status? Those folks that wouldn't take advantage. But who are they? Family? Friends? Enemies? Strangers? Enemies would be a safe bet. They wouldn't dare try and take advantage, would they? I'm just about mean enough that I'd love nothing more than to tell an enemy that I just struck it rich and they should expect none of my new found wealth. That would feel really good, wouldn't it? Ok, maybe not. That's just mean. So I won't tell my enemies. What about my family? Would I? Should I? Let them in on the secret that I can't be quiet about? Or should I just send them cash annoymously from time to time? Hmm. Yeah, I'd have to tell them. I'm a blabber mouth. No way I could keep this news from my family. Just couldn't do it. So I'd tell mom and dad and Curt and Jo and papa and Dian and Dan and Will and lil Zack. Little Zack wouldn't have a clue what I was talking about, but I'd tell him anyway. Just to see him grin. That happy baby grins about everything! So I know he'd grin at me as I whispered in his ear that his grannie Karen just won millions of dollars. What about friends? Would I tell them? Yeah, I'm sure I would. Probably not before I collected, but soon thereafter. I don't have alot of friends - real friends - so there'd only be a handful of folks I'd share my good news with. Who would the short list include? Nancy, Stacy, Kathy, Charlie, Michael, Susan, Julie and probably Effie depending on which way the wind was blowing that day. As for complete strangers? Hmm. I'm sure I wouldn't tell strangers - not outright anyway. I'd just let passerbys see my joy, see my happiness and they could draw their own conclusions about the "whys" behind it. Now for the million dollar question. What would I do - really do - with millions of dollars? The answer to this is much easier then the question about who I'd tell. I'd buy a cabin with a huge porch where Shannon and I could live and love and enjoy all the days of our lives. I'd pay off all of our debt and take a vow to never finance anything ever again. I'd buy Shannon a new motorcyle and a couple of horses. I know how much he loves - and misses - horses, so I'd buy him at least two. I'm sure I'd share some of the money with family because it would help them and it would make me feel really good to be able to do it. Win/win! I'd invest enough that Shannon and I could live comfortably the rest of our lives without having to work if we didn't want to. I'd buy an RV so we could start traveling throughout the USA seeing all the places we've talked and dreamed about. Last, but not least, I'd loan money to members of KAVA to give folks a hand up. In other words, I'd have some fun with the money, protect my future and invest in humanity. So that's what I'd do. Correction. . . that's what I'll do. I fully expect to win. . . any day now. Come on lucky 2, 8, 12, 15, 51 and 55! Mama's got plans. . . big plans!

Stream of Consciousness. . . a little therapy

Stream of consciousness. Ever do that? Ever just sit and write and write and write and let whatever comes up come out? Don't give it any thought - not even one - just write and write and write and see where it takes you. I've done this a time or two and I'm always amazed at where I end up - what I find out - discover about myself. So I thought I'd give it a go again today. Just to see. Forgive any typos, I'm not proofing or spell checking, I'm just writing. I'm supposed to quit smoking. Don't want to, but have to. I can't afford the damn things anymore - $50 a carton. That's insane! When I started smoking at the ripe old age of 15, they were .45 per pack or $4.50 per carton. And now? $50 per carton plus some change depending on where you buy them. Damn! I hate that they cost so much cause I really do like to smoke. But I have to quit. I just do. So I started taking Chantix last weekend. Told myself that I'd go 10 days on the medication and then stop smoking. Well that 10th day is almost here and I no more want to quit then I did the day I started the medication. This medication makes the cigarettes taste absolutely horrible. That coupled with the cost and the way they make me feel (like shit!) should be enough motivation to get me to stop. Shouldn't it? What the fuck is wrong with me? Why would I want to stink like a big old ashtray all the time, be a social outcast, spend all my hard earned money buying cigarettes - not to mention whatever these lil chemical sticks are doing to my insides. Why? Why the hell would I want that? Because I'm a fucked up addict, that's why! I am addicted to being addicted. Yep, that's it. I said it. I wrote it. It's the fucking truth!!! Anything that I can take to an extreme that's bad for me in some way - well, that's exactly what I think I want. I just have to have it!!! I have obsessive thoughts about smoking and eating fattening foods and taking pills and gambling and those thoughts lead to compulsive behaviors. I go and go and go and go until I burn myself out. I run myself into the ground. I take any good in my life and flush it right in the toilet - all because the addict in me can't stop chasing or feeding the addiction in me. This sucks. I don't want this life. I want some other life. I want your life or your life or your life or yours. Any life but mine! It's unmanagable. It's not fun. It hurts. There's a lot of pain. But I have nothing to be in pain about. I've had a fairly good life as lives go. I can't complain - not really. Yeah, my family was dysfunctional - but whose isn't, right? I mean I wasn't beaten or sexually abused or starving or homeless. My folks did the best they could by me, so why am I this ungrateful fuck who thinks my life is so bad that I need to be someone else? What the hell kind of sense does that make? None! Grandma Karnes once told me that I had nothing to cry about. We were on our way to a funeral and I was in the backseat crying because my Auntie Pearl had just died. Bitch looked and me and said, "stop crying, you have nothing to cry about". Wow! What the hell? I was fucking 12! 12!!!!!!! Why wouldn't a 12 year old kid cry when someone they loved more than life itself died? And yet dear old grannie Karnes saw fit to tell me that I had nothing to cry about. Somehow that stuck with me. Now I'm 51 and I have lived most of my life believeing her words. . . I have nothing to cry about. So I drown my pain is shit that's bad for me. Cover it up. Pretend it doesn't exist. Don't cry. Never, ever cry. I have no right. Nothing to feel sad about. Right? So I smoke and gamble and eat and take medications that fuck up my head. . . all to keep from crying. Wear a mask. Never let em see how you really feel - who you really are - cause they'll only be critical and I can't handle critical. Ok, so it's Saturday and it's beautiful and the sun is out and the air is warm. I'm going to Lawrence to have lunch with an old friend. Had to take three pills when I got up just to face seeing her. I have to "be" a certain way in order to get through the day becuase I'm sure my good isn't good enough so I have to put on my mask and be someone else. Someone she will like better. And the laundry is almost done. I can hear the dryer buzzer telling me to get off my ass and get the clothes out of the dryer. So I better go. Better go be Betty Homemaker and make my husband happy. I wonder if Betty is made that people have come to know her as Homemaker. Or is it Suzy? Yeah, maybe it's Suzy that's the homemaker and maybe she's mad about that. But! I'm sure my grandmother - if she were alive to tell it to her face - that she needs to get over it. She - like I - has nothing to be mad about!

Step by Step

Why is it that I can clearly identify what I want, but I can't seem to take the steps necessary to make my wants a reality? Are all humans like that? Are some humans like that? Or is it just me? Am I flawed in the "make it happen" department? When God was handing out the "get er done" genes, did He skip me? What gives? Truly, I'm a gifted list maker. I have a list for everything! I have notebooks, post-em notes, jounals, backsides of envelopes and even a computer full of lists - things to do - things to get - things to buy. But when it comes to implementation, well, frankly, I feel stuck. It's like having both feet deeply planted in cement or quicksand. I just can't take a step - the step that will get me closer to my goal. Actually, that's not altogether true. There are times when I can take "a" step - singular, but I can't seem to take the next one or two or ten or twenty. It's almost as if I need instant gratification. If "a" step doesn't net the results I expect, then I quit. I don't quit making lists; I just quit taking steps towards the end goal. And so my lists never become realities. They just remain lists. Little pieces of paper all over my life reminding me that all my many dreams are not my reality. It's really quite senseless. If I have the ability to dream it in the first place and the ability to write it on a piece of paper, then surely I have the ability to make it happen. Perhaps I'm overwhelmed by the number of steps required to make my wants a reality. Maybe it all feels too huge, too unmanagable, too much. Maybe I shut it down before I ever really try, because I've somehow convinced myself that it's impossible so why even bother. Or maybe I'm convinced that I'm not worthy, that I don't deserve the things on my lists. Such bullshit! In the time I've taken to write these thoughts, I could have gone for a walk or written a song or practiced piano or called an old friend or made love to my husband or any number of things that would move me closer to where and what I want to be. I need to take my head out of the game and let my body run the show for awhile. If my body were in charge all these many years, I do believe my lists would BE my reality. Yeah, I think I'll try that for awhile - letting my body be the boss instead of my mind. Now if I can just remember to do that. Maybe I should make a list.

Smile A Little Smile For Me

Smile. Go ahead. Turn those lips up. Show those pearly whites if you like. Just smile. Won't cost ya a dime. Not painful in anyway. Go ahead, give me a little grin. You're doing it, aren't you? Just me writing this and you reading this is causing the corners of your mouth to turn up just a bit, right? Good! Good for you! It's amazing what a simple little smile can do. I've heard it burns more calories then frowning, because you engage more muscles. And who doesn't want to burn more calories, right? And if that's not enough for you, think about how wonderful you feel when you smile. It's not easy to be angry or bitter or depressed or fearful when you're smiling. But if burning up extra calories and making yourself feel good on the inside ain't enough for you, then think on this a minute. . . when you smile, you make others smile. And when they smile, they burn calories and feel good too! Win! Win! Win! Win! Next time you're at the supermarket or gas station or movie theater or hair salon, take a little test. Put a big ol smile on your face before you walk in the door. Walk right on over to that grumpy looking employee who has likely been standing on their feet all day trying to please demanding customers who simply refuse to be pleased all for the oh-so-generous minimum wage and say, "hello". As you continue to smile, a genuine smile not some pretend - forced smile, ask them how they are, how their day has been, how much longer til it's quitting time. Engage them in conversation and keep on smiling. Let them see the happiness inside you via the smile on your face. Let them know through conversation that you see them as another human and not just some servant whose only purpose is to provide for your needs or wants. In order to score an "A" on your test (and who doesn't want an "A", right?), the person you engage must smile back at you. So go ahead. Go shopping with a smile. And don't just shop for groceries, gas, movies and hair-dos. Shop for smiles! Those are far better then anything you can purchase. They're free and they make the world a better place. They just do. Happy shopping!

Purpose of Me and We

Slowly but surely I'm learning. I'm learning that there is a point to all of this. There is a purpose to my life. For years I believed that my life really didn't have a purpose or any meaning. Foolishly, I thought I was here to just waste space. Time and time again I found myself asking questions like "why am I here" and "what difference do I make" and "what contribution do I make in the world". I'm not particularly talented. I don't play sports. I don't have children so I haven't helped to repopulate the planet. I won't become a saint after my death. I haven't found a cure for a disease. I haven't solved world hunger. I won't ever win a nobel prize. I'm just average - typical - common. Would it matter one wit if I had never been born? I'm 51 as I write this. This year I have managed to connect with people in a way I've never before been able to do. The reason, I believe, is because I've reached out to folks and they have invited me in. Into their thoughts and hearts where all the private stuff is hidden. I've reached out and people have shared the most incredible things with me. Their dreams, their fears, their hopes, their failures. What I have discovered is folks are just like me in every way. No matter their status in life, no matter how talented or witty or beautiful or rich or wise - they are all - just like me. They have the same issues. They have the same problems. They have the same drama. But! They also have the same visions and goals and desires and loves. Imagine that. They are human. . . just like me! I'm learning that the purpose of life - not just my life but the life of everyone - is to connect with other people. To have deep, meaningful relationships. Life's problems are not nearly as troublesome when you have someone to tell them to; they just seem to lose their power that way. And life's joys? Well, they are all the better when you can share them with another. There is power in joy and it can spread like wildfire if only we will include others. My life has always had purpose, I just didn't know it before now. Now that I know, I want to help others know. No doubt there are others in this world who - just like me - falsely believe they ain't nothing - they don't matter. They do matter! We all matter! And I intend to do my part to help others see that the purpose of life is to connect with people in deep, meaningful ways. One hundred years from now, nobody will know my name. Nobody will know who I was. Nobody will know what I did. But that doesn't matter. What matters is what I can do right now. And I'm gonna go do it. I'm gonna spread the word. Life has meaning. . . for every single one of us.

No More Walls

I don't know when, why or how, but somewhere along the way I was taught that the world is a big ol' scary place. It was not a safe place where I could just be me. I was vulnerable. I wasn't pretty enough or smart enough or strong enough or witty enough or talented enough to live in this world. . . or so I thought. Out of fear and at a very early age, I learned to put up walls - defenses - to keep Karen safe. With each new perceived threat, my walls got bigger, taller, tougher so much so that they almost consumed me. They could not, would not be penetrated. . . or so I thought. And then it happened. Someone got through. Someone came along and proved to me that the world was not nearly as scary as I believed. She taught me that unconditional love does exist. She taught me that people could and would love me for me. I didn't have to hide anymore. I could tear down the walls one at a time and let people in. She showed me that I didn't have to live in fear anymore. I could take off the mask. I could be me and I could do it safely. How did she do it? Hmm. I'm not really sure when or how it began, but slowly over time she gained my trust. And as that trust grew, I let her in. Just a little at a time. I allowed her to see glimpses of the real me, and she didn't run away. She stayed! The more of the "real" me I allowed her to see, the more vulnerable I became. I didn't have my strong walls to keep me safe - not with her anyway. And she just kept right on staying. Being my friend. Loving me in spite of my guardedness, my defensiveness, my flaws. The safety I felt with her gave me a confidence I'd never known before. And with that new found confidence, I allowed myself to become more real, more vulnerable with others. And much to my surprise, they didn't leave either. They stayed! What I have learned is that the world is not nearly as scary as I once believed. It is or can be a wonderful place full of people with many of the same vulnerabilities I have. If only we could all let down the walls. Come out of hiding. Each of us reaching our full potential - not allowing fear to hold us back or hold us down. Teaching our children from a very early age that there is no need to hide. What a world this would be. While I can't save the world from a tormented life of isolation, I can do my part. I can reach out on a daily basis to others and show them, like my friend showed me, that life really is better on the other side of the wall. And to the friend who saved my life. . . Thank You! I will pay it forward, I promise.