Memphis

2017 has had a very emotional start: there's been heartache, devistation, financial worries, work stress, confrontation, anxiety, extreme loss...we've had it all. So I made plans with 3 of my closest, best friends to take a weekend for the 4 of us to just have a getaway and have fun.

We decided on Memphis as the destination. We booked an incredibly cute home on Airbnb. We made minimal plans besides having fun and enjoying each other. We brought games and went to the grocery on the way to stock up on snacks and drinks. We enjoyed a little bit of the city, and most especially the zoo. We also enjoyed just catching up.

I am feeling beyond thankful for these wonderful ladies this evening as I sit back at home, listening to the rain, waiting for my daughters to fall asleep. I needed a break from it all, if only for 48 hours, to process all that I have been carrying in silence for the past few months. I needed to laugh, dance, act like a total fool, indulge myself with good food and a little too much alcohol. I needed a reminder that I am not alone, that it's okay to ask for help, and that there's no shame or guilt (or large amounts of apologies) needed.

I'm also feeling incredibly thankful for the men we each have in our lives. They willingly let us all abandon them for the weekend and go to a "rough city" and let us be free. They cared for our babies, human and fur, and endured dealing with parental units of their own. They didn't complain about us going one bit (at least not to our faces). I'm not sure which of them knew the circumstances that lead me to request this pilgrimage, but regardless they all seemed to fully support us.

I know there's still more work to be done on my emotional health and healing journey, but I can't even begin to say what a difference just getting away and speaking what's been in my head for the past few weeks did. I feel ready to take on the world and like I have some new tools to try to fix things.

I was drowning, but three amazing people came to save me. They threw the rescue rope just in time. Now I can work on traveling back to the shore and putting on dry clothes and recovering. You gals are the best, and I hope that I can repay you half of what you've given me in our friendships. All the love, all the love.

"You've Got Yourself Stuck in a Moment..."

It's just been one of those weeks. Everything's on fire and I'm just watching the world burn. I've been a terrible teacher, terrible mother, terrible wife, terrible friend, terrible everything. I can't seem to get my act together...I can't seem to focus on a fucking thing.

I need motivation; I need a muse. I think I've just had too many soul crushing blows to my world this year. I'd rather just lay lifeless on the ground at this point because that seems safer than running the risk of taking another blow.

Maybe it's just that time of the year. I just want to go back to feeling productive. I want to feel successful. I want to feel like I am cultivating and growing things in the minds of my students and my own children. I want to make music with "the blood" (Mozart in the Jungle, anyone?) and passion you can hear, see, feel, maybe even taste. I want to see my students beam with pride. I want to hear my daughters laugh.

What does one do when the emotions paint a landscape of black and blue? How do we fight the darkness? When will this feeling that it's not enough go away? I need to stop yelling, need to stop blaming, need to just...stop...

"You've got to get yourself together,
You got yourself stuck in a moment,
and you can't get out of it."

Tonight I am going to sleep. Tomorrow I am going to wake up, step in the shower, and wash it all off: wash away the anger and the fear, wipe myself clean of the guilt and depression, rinse away the pain and the hate. Then I will get dressed, trying to remember the key things: a smile, listening ears, understanding and forgiveness, love and compassion. Hopefully we will make music, be it good or bad. Hopefully my students will laugh at least once. Maybe they will be off task at least once. Hopefully I will not yell or glare or scrunch my eyebrows even once.

I have to get out of this moment...it's time to break free.

Drowning

It's funny how exhaustion can feel like something else. I can't focus today. I can't motivate myself to care what-so-ever about anything. I hear people talk but I don't know what they are saying. I seriously feel like I am not inside my body. I feel like I used to feel when I would save up my anti-depressants for several days then take them all at once. I just can't even function.

It's funny, I never really thought I would deal with depression again like I did in high school, but I think that's where I am. I need a break from life. I need this year to be less harsh. I need to stop losing things. I need more sex. I need my kids to sleep at night. I need an entire bottle of rum.

On that note, empty void of the internet, I am out.

Sylvia's Servants

It was Valentine's Day, 2008.  We'd just moved into a tiny studio apartment together and decided to go kick around the new shopping center, The Avenue. Supposedly there was this HUGE cat named Merlin available for adoption at Petco and Casey wanted to show him to me so I'd fall in love and let us adopt him. Merlin, however, was gone...but there was a beautiful grey calico there and she was looking very sweet.

I was never a cat person before the night we brought Sylvia home. I'd been clawed in the face by a cousin's cat when I was a kid. Then we adopted a cat when I was in high school and she was nothing short of a hellion. Cats weren't cute and cuddly like dogs and therefore I wanted nothing to do with them. When your 6'2", almost 300 lb fiance gives you sad puppy eyes and begs for a cat, though...you just have to say yes.

What I learned over the next few weeks was that cats are fabulous. They can entertain themselves. They love to sleep. They will just curl up in your lap and purr while you stroke them and watch TV. You'll laugh when they beg for pepperonis off your pizza or when they knock over a glass of milk and just lick it up from the ground while the milk continues to drip on their head. Basically the only thing that sucks about cats is cleaning up their shit from the litter box...but you have to do the same with dogs, so oh well.

Sylvia always had this air of prissy little miss about her, but I didn't fault her for that. She was particular about...well...lots of things. She always showed us love, though. She never once seemed to miss a beat or care when we moved somewhere new (we moved 3 times with her): every new home was yet another new kingdom for her and we, her servants, were still there to feed her and make sure the litter was kept clean. What I most enjoyed was everything was purr-worthy for her. She'd just sit in the floor and purr. We'd pet her and she would purr. She'd purr while she ate. She'd purr even when she was angry. It was pretty comical.

Sylvia was not very tolerant of other cats or people, but she was oddly very tolerant of the girls. She'd let the girls pick her up and carry her around. She'd let the girls slap her with a toy. She even once let Meredith pile blocks on top of her for a good 5 minutes. Somehow it was like she knew they were just small children; somehow she knew they were our babies and she knew to be extra nice to them.

I think my favorite thing about Sylvia was how she always seemed to know when I really needed a cat in my lap. She was always there when I needed a hug or a distraction. She was also always there when I didn't want her to be. Ha!

It's going to be hard to be without her. 2017 sure is testing my strength so far. It's also showing me how absolutely wonderful the world still is and how many lovely, loving people with huge hearts of gold I have in my life. There's seriously been some rock stars placed in my life and they are really getting a chance to shine during all of the turmoil these first few months have been filled. I'm feeling the love big time again. I guess it's all part of the plan, isn't it? It's there already set in my road of life. 

Someone said today that they think they see beautiful things ahead for later in the year. I can only hope that my eyes are open and ready to see them when I get to them. There's no sense looking down at the ground or back behind you...the real beauty is what's up and ahead, right?

And Sylvia, I just know you and Harley are catching up over a bowl of cat's milk curled up in a pile of daddy bear's clothes, purring away. Just don't go stealing anyone else's pepperoni pizza, okay?