Messages from the Other Side

I have always believed there was something 'after' this life. Some define it as Heaven, some use other terms. I'm a supporter of the Heaven theory myself. With that being said, an extension of my belief is that if there is something more than maybe there is some way to still maintain a connection with those who have passed.

If someone came to me and told me they'd had an experience with their great aunt coming to see them, I'd believe. I think it's possible but when it comes to things happening to me, I'm not always so sure.

I could make this post miles long and describe my experiences but I'm on a painting break and need to make this short and sweet. Instead, I'll give you some high-lights as background to my story.

As a child, I often saw a woman in white standing outside my bedroom doorway, just looking in and smiling. Years later I saw a picture of my father's mother, whom I'm named after and knew it was the same woman. I was never afraid and I never thought it was strange.

In my teens, my mom's mother passed and I experienced her presence in her house the day of her death. I felt her with me and watched as she closed a door. It freaked me out tremendously.

In the mid-90's an uncle I was very close to passed. I had a dream shortly thereafter where I told him I loved him and asked if he was an angel. I can still see that dream vividly in my mind. I firmly believe that was him.

Some time last year, I felt a man's presence in my house. I thought if I turned quickly enough, I would see an older man in an old military uniform. I did not mention this to my kids but my son saw him in my room several times and my daughter felt the same presence. They both told me separately. I don't know who it is but he's been back a few times recently.

I've experienced other things but these are the strongest.

After my mom passed, I did not feel her and it frustrated me. I tried and tried and begged for a sign. A very good friend told me it was most likely my walls and that when I was able to feel her, I would. Yet, I got nothing. And it ticked me off. I did have a friend who made a connection with her. She had a dream that my mom told her to tell me she was okay. I believed that but was still frustrated that she got the contact and not me. Months later I had a dream that my mom called me on a broken pay phone and said, "I've crossed over." Those would be words she would use.

When my dad died last May, I felt different. With my mom, I have not felt her at all. My dad however, seems to be here. I feel his energy. Not all of the time and not often but I do. Shortly after he passed I was half asleep at his house and I heard his voice, clear as day, say my name. Then nothing for some time. Recently I had a dream that I was walking with him and I asked if it was really him and he said yes. I then asked if he could hear me talk to him and he said, "Yes, I hear you." I woke up hoping and doubting that was a visit but I can't help but want it to have been.

I have always been close to my parents. I thought that when they passed, if they could, they would be around. But I wanted to feel them and I really haven't felt them at all. It's not as if I wanted them hanging out with me daily but I wanted to have a sense of them.

Last week two of those expensive energy smart bulbs blew in my kitchen. The next day the microwave sparked and stopped functioning. I was not happy. That week I also joined a website that deals with the metaphysical. I wanted to see if the things I've experienced could be real or just me hoping and wishing. I signed up for a medium to call me and do a reading. The odds were slim I'd get the call but I did. Last night.

As much of a cynic as I am, I had to admit to being freaked at the clarity of it all. He mentioned immediately things that he could have researched and discovered but then he mentioned something that very few people, including my husband knew. If it was my mom and dad, they would have known this but it was not in any way public knowledge.

And he told me that my father has been here messing with my electricity. He said not flicking lights on and off but blowing things up. Yeah, dad owes me a new microwave now. I was sort of floored at that too because he wouldn't have known about it, either.

The medium said two specific things that made me feel he was actually talking to my parents. Things they could not have researched with the limited information they had. How is that possible? I have to have faith that it is. That there really is something else out there and that my parents are still here with me, maybe not all of the time but still here. Goodness, I'll never be able to have sex again! :)

I'm still processing all of the information but I'll work through it. For those that don't believe, I have to say I was taking that route recently but with this, I can't help but think there's something more and maybe, just maybe if we open ourselves up to the possibility, we'll see. Maybe if we break down the walls of doubt, they're there, knocking for us to let them in.

Regaining Focus

The past few days haven't been easy. I've been cranky and frustrated about things that really shouldn't be that important but are.

My husband recently purchased a Harley - he loves it. It's a stress reliever for him and I'm thankful he's got it. He works hard. He's bearing a lot of weight on his shoulders and while they're strong and well defined, it can't be easy. He needs the stress relief. My biggest reliever of stress is music. It's always been important to me. It's always helped me through tough times, sad times, happy times, physically taxing times, most times. I find meaning in the words, motivation, relaxation, inspiration and many other 'ations' in the melody. Music relaxes me like the Harley relaxes my husband. So when my iTouch disappeared last week let's just say devastated doesn't describe my feeling.

If you know me, you know I'm fairly anal retentive. Most of my house is organized and I usually know where something is all of the time. My kids will ask me where their 'whatever' is and I can usually tell them the exact spot. With my iTouch, it has most always been in my hand throughout the day so I was never concerned with its location. The other night however, I couldn't sleep and walked through the house in a daze so I'm worried I put it somewhere and can't figure out where.

I've searched and upturned the house for days looking for the darn thing and it's nowhere. I could get another one, replace most of the music and was thankful to know that iTunes would replace the music I had yet to download to my pc but that wasn't helpful. It's still gone and it's still driving me crazy that I misplaced it when it's been so important to me for so long now.

My husband didn't understand it. Music to him is background noise. It has no meaning. I can see why he feels that way but I grew up listening to music with my father and because it was so important to him, it became important to me, too. It soothes me. It keeps me grounded...keeps me focused. It's my Harley, if you will.

I am currently using my husband's old iPhone, so at least I have my music, if not my iTouch. One day it will show up. I hope.

Knowing all of that now, it's important to understand I was one crank-ass b---- for the past few days. The lost music, the lost iTouch, the PMS, it all called upon the monster within and she showed herself but good! I thank God for my family and their ability to be patient and understanding. I was on the verge of tears for practically 48 hours. It was not pretty.

Through this whole frustration, I had a few friends who needed me. I'm always surprised at that. I often feel unstable and a total mess and it shocks me when others see me as strong and reliable. It's almost laughable to me at times. I feel like I'm crumbling to pieces yet others think I know what the heck I'm talking about. Maybe I do because they seem to keep coming around. That's got to mean something right?

My friends help me keep focused and grounded. I realize that the parents of a troubled child, who are struggling with how to handle things are so much more important then losing my iTouch and I feel silly for getting all worked up about it. I need that perspective at times. Mostly because I have to be reminded it's not all about me, all of the time. Sometimes I'd sure like it to be though. Hey, at least I'm honest, right?

Aging Gracefully...or Not.

Today (actually, yesterday if I'm being specific) at Starbucks a woman approached my husband and told him he looked like Richard Gere. As of late, this is happening a lot. Previously, he's been compared to Tom Cruise but since acquiring a head full of gray hair, that comparison has been few and far between. I'm okay with that. I've never been a fan of Cruise and have no desire to see my husband sliding around the house in his underwear. Some things are just better left to the mysteries of love.

I'm not a huge fan of Richard Gere either. Yes, I find him attractive but the whole gerbil rumor has always kept him low on my "Hawt Man Meter". Currently Alex O'Laughlin (The Backup Plan, Moonlight, some stupid hospital show and currently, Hawaii 5 0-gawd his he freaking hawt!) tops my list. Next up is Rob Lowe who just gets better with age. He's like a nice bottle of Merlot. And I don't even like wine.

As for the bottom of my list, well, I just don't know. There are just too many men and too little room on the list, I guess. Anyway, my point is that Richard Gere just simply isn't on it. It's okay though. I don't find it at all insulting that my husband is being compared to him. He's attractive, has great hair and a nice smile. I can see the resemblance.

My husband has a great mix of salt and pepper in his hair. It's as if some anal retentive colorist painstakingly frosted each and every strand individually to give it a textured, flowing look. Actually, it kind of pisses me off. I've got these nasty little gray hairs poking out all over my head at random and his flows like a freaking opera. If you ask me, it's just another reason to believe God is male. The man simply has great hair, no one can argue it. I spend hours blow drying, straightening, curling, scrunching, feathering, coloring, hi-lighting and analyzing my hair and my husband gets out of the shower, towel dries it, runs a dimes worth of gel through it with his fingers and is on to the next part of his day. (Reason number two in a long, long list of reasons Carolyn thinks God is male).

I'm not saying my husband is perfect because, though he might disagree, he's not. He's a little older now and gravity has started to catch up with his stomach just a bit. Not a lot but it's there, hiding under his shirts, daring to peek out ever so slightly. Thankfully for him, it's not obvious. I mean, when your face and hair shout Richard Gere to women walking by, who cares if you have a little extra in the middle, right? My middle's hit rock bottom. It's joined forces with my upper and lower and they've become one big blob. If God were female, I'm certain I'd be 5'10" and 110 lbs. Certain. He's male. I'm sure of it.

I confess to having a few lines around the eyes now and my cheeks don't seem to be as 'tight' as before. And yes, that can be said for both sets of cheeks but right now I'm talking about the ones falling just below my chin. I'm pretty sure I'm part Shar Pei. Just a tiny bit. My husband has wrinkles, too. He's got a forehead full of lines and when he smiles, his eyes crinkle in that sexy, "Come get me" sort of way. Mine bark for food.

God has taken an attractive young man, wrapped him up in a middle-aged man package and made him even yummier than before. He's aged him with grace and refinement. He's made him an almost 45 year old bottle of fine wine most women want to try, even if it gives them a headache (and trust me, he's good at that!) For me, he's taken an attractive woman, added hair growth in places hair is not meant to grow, taken hair away from places I'd like it to stay, dropped body parts unreasonable distances, added a 22 lb baby worth of extra 'stuff' and wrapped it up in a graying, wrinkling package with a lovely muffin top for good measure. In truth, with pre-menopause knocking on my door and menopause just around the corner, God is clearly turning me into...my father. So long estrogen, hello testosterone.

Thanks.

Most men age gracefully. Mine sure has. Women however, just get old. Proof positive God is male.

Just Another Day in the Life of Me...

Sometimes it seems my life is a never-ending road of traffic lights. First the light is green and I'm moving along, starting something new or simply heading down the road and then I come to a yellow light, telling me to proceed with caution. Next I'm either faced with a green light again, though leading me in a different direction or a red light, stopping me dead in my tracks. It's a constant start, stop, think, consider, re-evaluate and then proceed yet again, road I travel.

I'm not complaining. Life is what it is and I have many blessings in mine. I'm grateful and thankful for the people, places and things I'm lucky enough to enjoy and hold dear. What I'd like is a little consistency or maybe just a road with no traffic lights every once in a while but who wouldn't want that?

I have friends who travel their own roads, full of bumps and potholes and blocks. Roads with more red lights than green. I watch them struggle to navigate their drive, often without a GPS, sometimes falling into the ditch, only to crawl back out and start the it all over again. Some don't always get back to the drive. Instead they hop on a bus and get the hell out of town. I get that. There have been many times when I've wanted to pull off the road, jump out and run. But I don't. I keep on the road and while I may pull over to let someone else drive for a while, I'm still on the road. Still moving along. I simply keep pushing through the lights and remind myself it's all part of the experience. I'm not waiting for something to happen. I'm experiencing the process of it happening. The good and the bad. The yellow lights and the red ones, too.

I don't usually like to stop. I certainly can't stand to stop and then have to start again and with a lot in my life, that seems to be the process. Take working out. I do it. Something gets in the way. I get distracted. I stop. I start up again. Something gets in the way. I get distracted. I stop. I start up again. No, I don't like it but I keep doing it. It's part of the drive...part of the experience. And instead of constantly thinking about the red light or the road ending, instead I'm training myself to enjoy the ride.

Who Knew I had a Blog? Clearly Not Me!

"Wow," she says as she notices she's not written a thing in her blog for months. She says it to no one because she's home alone and is certain no one has even peeked at her blog in practically a lifetime.

"It doesn't matter," she says to the wind. "I'm going to write anyway and maybe someone, somewhere, suffering from lack of sleep at three o'clock in the morning will find my words and read them."


Actually, a friend of mine sent me an email...which I purposefully ignored...kindly suggesting I blog again. I ignored her because I had no excuse for not writing other than not having much to say.

Yes, that even shocked me.

She got the ball, which some consider my brain, rolling though, so here I sit on the couch, laptop on lap, pondering the days of my life.

So I write.

Writing has always been therapeutic for me and if there's ever been a time in my life that I might need therapy, now is probably it so hopefully this will help.

I have been working hard at getting back into the groove of life since my mom passed. I know that life is full of ups and downs, good days, bad days, trials and tribulations, parties and celebrations or whatever other words people choose to describe life. And I know all of those expressions like, "When the going gets tough, the tough get going" but sometimes it can be a bit overwhelming.

It took me about nine months to start to feel something similar to normal again after my mom died. Normal as newly defined by her passing I guess but normal. I started moving more. Sleeping better. Exercising. Eating better. Doing projects around the house. Interacting socially. I hadn't completely given up all of these things but I started to do them more and actually had interest in them. I felt as if I was picking myself up from the sucker punch of her death and moving on.

It felt good.

Then another sucker punch came at me again. See, that's what life does. There are good times and rough times and we're (hopefully) taught to be strong enough to handle it all and enjoy what we can. It's almost a cycle. A good thing happens and then a bad thing happens, etc. I get that. I've certainly experienced that. Unfortunately in my life, I learned that when something good has happened, look out because pretty soon, something bad is going to hit. So instead of blindly walking through my life unprepared for the possibility of the sucker punch, I've always remained cautiously optimistic and on-guard for the possibility of it. Some people call me a pessimist but I prefer the word realist.

I know that it's a cycle and I know things will get better but a pessimist doesn't view things that way. I'm often prepared for the worst but still hope for the best. At least that way, if the worst does happen, I'm ready.

I was ready for my mom to pass. I wasn't ready for what it would cause me to feel and that was brutal. But that second sucker punch was just as tough, probably even more so because I wanted more time before it struck.

My dad passed away unexpectedly, almost 11 months to the day after my mom died. Yes, he was sick and we knew his health was failing but I think we all tried to deny the reality of it all.

I got the call from my 'step mom' (I really hate that word but in legal terms, it's what she is, though I consider her so much more) and I didn't cry. I didn't really 'cry' for days. I sniffled after a few days but I was pretty numb. There's only so much emotion one can handle and I'd had a lot of it after losing my mom.

I promised myself I wouldn't make the same stupid decisions I did after my mom died. I'd still workout. I'd eat well. I'd been losing the weight I'd gained when she was sick and after her death and I didn't want to gain it all back. But of course, doing and thinking are two very different things and I failed to think about what I was doing as I shoved food in my mouth for emotional support. Back on came the weight and with that, the frustration it brings.

It's been almost four months since my dad died. I'm okay. I'm feeling pretty good and doing things again, not letting that particular sucker punch engulf me the way the other did. I can't. It's not healthy for me or anyone around me. I took my time to mourn him and I always will. I still get choked up thinking about him but I have my good days and my not so good days. Mostly I worry about my step mom. I imagine what I'm feeling is nothing compared to what she's feeling.

It's a whole new normal again now that both of my parents are gone. I was blessed to have them in my life for so long but no matter how long it is, it's never enough time.

Life continues to throw those sucker punches and I continue to push through them, get through the pain and pick myself back up. I think for me, it's a challenge, even if it's a frustrating one. I'm just hopeful that saying, "God only gives you what you can handle" is true and that I get a little break here for a bit. I'd like to be fully 'up' from the punch before I'm struck with another one. Hopefully that's not too much to ask. It isn't, is it?

The Voice(s?) Inside My Head

It's 4:25 AM and I have been up for over an hour. I've not done this in a few weeks so I shouldn't complain but I am anyway. Usually when it happens once, it goes on for several days and makes me (and everyone else around me) miserable. I'm no fun miserable.

The last month hasn't been the easiest. I've been doing well since my mother passed away; thinking that there were rough days but generally, the grieving process wasn't that bad. (Except the weight gain. That's been terrible.)But recently I started to feel differently. In the past month I've started to feel more anxious and maybe a little lost. I haven't been able to define it but it's been there. I felt myself diving deeper into my private, personal space and letting fewer and fewer people in. I so rarely talk about what I'm really feeling I'm not sure anyone noticed but I did. I didn't feel right.

I haven't wanted to do much of anything; doing what's necessary to get by and ignoring the rest. This isn't a way to live and the other day that finally hit me. I'm off kilter and need to find that balance again but until that moment, it felt like the road back was very long and I didn't feel like taking the drive.

I had a slightly major anxiety attack and realized it was time to do something about it. Just acknowledging the fact that something didn't feel right made me feel worlds better. I wouldn't say I'm depressed, though in the throws of my anxiety attack I did. I think, what's happening is I'm actually feeling my grief more now than in the beginning. Life has continued but missing a very important part that was always there and learning to live without that very important part is tough.

Today I opened a letter from the funeral home. The letter said that at the sixth month after a loved one has passed, the grieving process becomes harder. It's called "acute grief". One feels lost, feels more depth to their grief and doesn't understand because they thought they were doing better.

Couldn't they have told me this a few months ago? It would have made the last month easier and completely understandable.

Instead, I thought I was losing my mind.

So now my challenge is to work through it and start moving my life forward again instead of living in what I consider to be my limited life. I've postponed my goals long enough. It's time to work towards them and move forward, like my mom would want me to do.

Hopefully I can get some sleep first and start when 'real' morning comes. Not this crazy, earlier than when God wakes up time.

I Am Me but Me is Them, too (and other stuff)

It's official. I've become my parents. I'm really not sure when it happened, either. It's not like one day I woke up with their perspective on life, speaking their parental words like, "This is not a democracy" and "Because I said so." It's more like a stalker-style transition. The changes slowly creeped up on me and watched my every move, just waiting for the right time to strike and set in, shaping me into...into, well...them.

Today I drove around the metro Atlanta area (something I don't do often), listening to the local top 40 radio station. I love music. My kind of music, that is. As I drove around town (lost, part of the time but that's a different blog post entirely), I found myself saying, OUT LOUD, "Who makes this crap? They call this music? This isn't music!" And then I actually felt myself doing the eye roll. You know the one...the one we used to give our parents when they said things we thought were entirely stupid. Things like, "This isn't music. These people can't even sing!"

And then I knew. I knew it had really happened. I've excused myself repeatedly, saying I am not becoming my parents but that I have kids and many of the attributes I now share with them are a factor of birthing babies but the truth is, I have become my parents. How do I know? Because I made the comment about the music TO MYSELF. So yes, not only was I talking to myself, like most parents seem to do but I was making a parental comment to myself.

Please. Help. Me.

I may have mentioned my daughter a time or two and her not-so-well-liked boyfriend. This is again proof that I am my parents. I've lost absolutely all patience for this relationship because God love her (and so do I), my daughter is being swindled into a relationship that isn't at all what she thinks it is. Yes, she'll have to figure this out for herself and hopefully one day she will but in the mean time, I find myself wanting to shake her and say, "What! Are you an idiot! The guy doesn't give a shit about you! Get over it!" Instead, I usually say things like, "In five years this boy will mean nothing to you blah...blah...blah..." Thanks, mom. Thanks, dad.

Enough of that. I could talk about it for hours. Let's move on.

Today I met up with an old friend, someone I hadn't seen in years. Of course she looked the same and by the way, had really great eyeliner. I need green eyes so I can wear that color. Oh, sorry. Tangent. Anyway, she's a working professional and by that I do not mean prostitute but a business professional compared to me, which of course, I am not a professional at anything right now. Anyway, it was great to see her but afterward, I needed a nap. She is involved in EVERYTHING doing EVERYTHING and just listening to all she is doing made me tired. I'm pretty sure she doesn't sleep. Some people don't need it and she must be one of them.

She's that woman that knows what she wants and makes it happen. I'm that woman that still can't figure out what I want. I have that book, "The Success Principles". It's about finding your life purpose and then in 39 chapters of the book and boatloads of hard work, presto! You're a success!

I however, could not get past chapter one. In chapter one you have to define your life's purpose. THAT'S WHAT I BOUGHT THE DAMN BOOK FOR!

If I could figure THAT out, then I could work toward it and likely be successful. Once I commit to something, I'm good. It's the finding something to commit to that I'm struggling with right now.

Either way, she inspired me. Maybe a little of her energy and excitement for life has rubbed off on me and I can figure out my passion.

I have several opportunities for passion, really. I love to write. I've got books in the works and one even out scooping out publishers. I had a literary agent but he was a sham so I opted out of that contract. I've started looking for others and yesterday spent the day with my head in a book of them and for publishers that have published books similar to mine. If you are a publisher, pick me. Pick me.

The problem with writing is that I am a perfectionist. I can't just write and let the words flow like music from a violin. Instead, I re-read and re-read and re-write and re-write and I can't get past page 50 in my worlds greatest novel. My goal this month is to get past it without re-reading it and just moving forward with the story. The time to re-write is in the editing stage. Wish me luck. The concept is good and I think I can make something out of the story but I have to finish it to make that happen.

Hmm...I'm starting to feel like now is a good time to work on it. So, here I go!

Out With the Old...In With the New?

I must admit, I am so glad to see 2009 end. The year went by quickly, for which I am thankful but it was nothing short of rough. My mom was diagnosed in February and gone in June. My husband lost his job a few weeks before she passed. I gained 15 lbs from the stress of it all (15 of which I still have yet to lose, by the way) and things just generally sucked. The stress was overwhelming at times. My husband is wonderful but there's only so much each of us can handle and we spent more time bickering than normal. Thankfully we're solid, even though we do, at times, drive each other crazy.

I have lived by the theory, "That which does not kill us, makes us stronger" so if I consider last year, I'm a freaking powerhouse now.

I have always made resolutions and never really kept any of them. In an effort to feel successful, I've still made resolutions but I've made ones I'm confident I can keep. In light of the new year, I've decided to give up drinking, drugs and smoking.

It's amazing how easy it is to give up something I don't do! Instant success!

Okay, seriously, I have decided not to have any 'resolutions' this year but to effectively work towards making my life and my self, better. I don't look at it as having resolutions because I believe that to be a trigger word for failure. Instead, I'm doing what I should be doing but focusing more on it than I may have had the opportunity to in the past.

Because last year was so stressful, my husband and I, as I mentioned, bickered often. He is very involved in this business he's started and I am working hard to be supportive. I get that he's busy and I get that he's a control freak. We made a decision that he would 'opt out' of the daily decisions around the house to focus his time working. It was a mutual thing however he continued to forget that each time he didn't like a decision I made. Frankly, that really pisses me off. It caused some stupid, senseless arguments that didn't get resolved and I was starting to feel a bit resentful. We talked it through recently and while there's still no answer, I do feel better about it. I'm working on figuring out a way to handle his at-will participation. Maybe he'll get bored and move on to something else. One can hope.

I've decided that this year, I really have to focus on me. I spend so much time family-focused that I tend to neglect myself. Which is why I feel pretty crappy a lot of the time. There are several things I've wanted to do. Half-started projects that never seem to get completed because guilt sets in or something more important comes up. This year, I plan to finish them. My books are something I'm going to really focus on. I'm hoping to have them out to publishers by August. It's a long process but I will eventually get it done. Once I give up the perfectionist issues attached to them, that is.

Many other Carolyn-centered things come to mind but I'm not going to detail them. I've learned that talking is pointless when it comes to this stuff. It's the doing that counts and I'm ready for the doing. It's time to start living life again, not sitting on the sidelines feeling empty without a mom, or frustrated because I do everything for everyone else and rarely get a thank you (though I get a boatload of eye rolls, that's for sure!)

It's my year and I'm looking forward to it.

I Want to Age Like Meryl Streep

Went to see "It's Complicated" again yesterday with my friend. Once you get past the fact that Alec Baldwin is old, it's a great flick. What's sad about it though, is I can easily relate to how the character Meryl Streep plays feels about herself.

She's aging, she's finally comfortable with herself, she's a bit afraid to show herself naked in daylight. She wants to take life a little less seriously and she is ready to do things for herself. Well, she's already started that but that's because the character is divorced. I'm not so that part I can't quite relate to.

Her ex-husband is remarried to a rather young, physically fit (but not all that hot, if you ask me) woman and it's still quite shocking to MS's character. I'm curious when I started siding with the older woman and didn't feel some sort of connection to the younger one?

WHAT'S HAPPENED? When did I age and why didn't anyone tell me?

I haven't really ever been a fan of Meryl. I never disliked her. She was just always that older woman in a whole bunch of movies. Some I saw, some I didn't. But watching her in this and in Julie & Julia recently, I've really comet to enjoy her.

She doesn't seem to have given into the pressure for plastic surgery and while she's not some extremely fit, wrinkle free woman, she's aging beautifully and has the class of a queen. She talks wonderfully, carries herself well and radiates confidence.

That's what I want to be next year, when I'm 'older'.