Grief


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I found an old stash and lit a half burned joint as I listened to the slow sensual beats of Sade Pandora.

“Ooh hey
I’m trying to decide
Which way to go
Think I made a wrong turn
Back there somewhere

Didn’t cha know”
Eryka Badu
Maybe I should up it up a notch to some “Parra Cuva.”  All this sulking and crying isn’t for me.   No, I leave it on Sade.  Maybe this is exactly what I need right now, so I roll with it…
“My hands are tiedMy body bruised, she’s got me with
Nothing to win and
Nothing left to lose…

And you give yourself away.”
U2

I try to always see the lesson in every bad situation.  What did I get out of this?  Every tragic experience needs a positive perspective to heal and move on from.  I couldn’t find any positive thing out of being left pregnant by a cheating ex during a complicated pregnancy and then losing that baby.  I’m consumed with grief.

It took me an hour to make my bed this morning. I was so mentally exhausted from the miscarriage that when I came home from the hospital last night after I drank a glass of red wine, I fell asleep in my panties and hospital diaper w nothing but a blanket.  My hair was in a tangled messy bun and my eyes were puffy from crying.  This is not a sight I would want anyone to see me in.  The sheets and blanket and mattress cover I just got out of the dryer were in a ball next to me.

It felt like I was on an adrenaline high all week, anxious and in suspense of what is happening; took some pain killers on Saturday, when I hit my lowest; and dropped ecstasy and fell in love on Sunday when they pumped me full of hormones (oxytocin) post miscarriage; then took a xanax and smoked some weed on Monday to take away the hangover and unbreak your heart.  A new kind of personal low for me and I didn’t know how to feel because I know I’ve been in far worse situations that this and am thankful for what I do have, but it feels equally as bad but in a different kind of way.  A bittersweet kind of emptiness that leaves you scarily alone with your sobering thoughts.

As I slowly made my bed, I had to stop every 2 minutes to cry.  My house looks like a hurricane hit it.  It’ll give me something to do for a month; cleaning so good for the soul.  Clean and cry and think about Serah every step of the day.  I managed to clean out a couple bags today and clean off my  bedside counters.  The room was covered with clothes and junk from being on bed rest for the last two week, and Kai wrecking the room while I was in the hospital.

I think often; I’ve always felt it was appropriate to get out and move on from hard experiences instead of internalizing it and accepting that grief fully. Sitting around, crying and eating foods that make you fat, feeling guilty with every bite, but being so care free that you don’t care anymore.  I use to allow myself to get so care free and out of control and allow my spirit to be free; so free that it scared me into bringing myself back to a centered place before I got too lost out there.  I think this is why experimental drug use and living life on cruise control never harmed me spiritually.  I think it made me a better person; a better mother, friend, entrepreneur, lover, a more open minded individual.

When you learn to love you learn to give, and when you learn the joy that comes from giving to others, you become aware of the high sense of the power of love.  When doing good becomes an actual high we finally realize we are on the right track to obtaining that higher Nirvana we were blindly seeking for.  I now understand the power we possess to warm our own hearts and others with kindness.  When we are full we find a greater purpose in giving love to others in need of love. In learning to accept I have also learned to give.

“I want to cook you a soup that warms your soul.” Sade

I caught Kai, my 11 year old daughter stealing and lying.  She stole my $180 Fly Knits which are now stained with red dirt while I was in the hospital, then lied about it.  I was so mad I swear my uterus was going to fall out.  She knew she had been caught and she didn’t even talk back when I told her she was grounded from the computer and the ipad the rest of the week.  I gave her the look like “how could you do this to Mommy while she’s going through all of this” look and she already knew.

I don’t like grounding Kai that long.  Punishing kids long term is punishing myself because I have to uphold that grounding.  That’s punishing parents. :/  I want to make sure she gets the message.  When she comes home from school I’m going to make her toothbrush scrub those shoes till they are white like new because I took good care of those shoes, they are my favorite gym shoes.  Then we’re going to see what she has to say and depending if she is humbled or not will determine if she is off grounding.  I hope she takes the humble route, because grounded kids are bored kids. ūüė¶

 

Ok Pandora is killing me.  I gotta get to a doctors appointment.

RIP angel Seraphim Ossa Manning

Sometimes pain is the road to transformation.  Grief is necessary to move forward and acceptance is necessary to grow.  

xoxo

I Hate Narrow Minded People Who Can’t See Past Their Nose.


I’m a writer. Some days when I have nothing to do, or I find my mind drifting, I lay in bed, open a bottle of cabernet, and grab some cheese and crackers and spend my day releasing all that is in my head. ¬†By sunset, often I have a headache, but I find these blog days very therapeutic. ¬†I often work problems out in my head, make discoveries on my own. ¬†I’m like my own free personal psychologist.

When I was younger, I was often frustrated with people not understanding me, especially my parents.  This caused me to be a troubled teenager, and I believe, engraved a strong rebellious attitude in my personality.  But I was afraid to express myself, because I felt oppressed by a dominating father who forced a Mormon household religion on me, which I did not agree with.

Sharing something a little personal with you…

I got locked up in Juvey hall when I was 13 and lived in different programs and group homes with other juvenile delinquent girls for several years of my teenage life in Provo, UT. ¬†That’s another story, you can read all about it in my crazy ass book, “No Love in the Champagne Room.” ¬†Anyhow… I found it very hard to get along with many of the girls. ¬†I had not developed my own self identity, frustrated with fitting in, I became somebody else. ¬†However, in these programs, we studied therapies and the art of communicating. ¬†It took years of being in programs, but I have learned to efficiently express myself. ¬†I’ve learned to be honest with myself, and express things in a cordial way. ¬†I’ve even studied psychology and thinking patterns which is quite useful.

I think it’s okay to disagree, but to respect others opinions at the same time. I think so many adults in this world are communicating on the level of 13 year olds still. ¬†They never fully understood how to properly form normal bonds with other human beings, or relate with people on a social norm. ¬†I’m thankful for what I have learned, but also, there are battle scars within me that run deep. ¬†I’m not perfect. ¬†I don’t always see the big picture. ¬†But if you explained it to me, and helped me to understand, ¬†I think that I could apologize if I was wrong, come to accept the truth, and move along without holding grudges or feeling any less of a person for being wrong. ¬†Sometimes people have so much pride that they are holding on to. ¬†They can’t be wrong. ¬†And often times… it’s never about who’s right or wrong, it’s about miscommunication. ¬†If there is no communication, there is nothing.

I’m good at expressing myself. ¬†I get frustrated when somebody can’t reciprocate their feelings, or help me understand their point of view. ¬†That is what it boils down to, not disagreeing, but understanding. ¬†The difficult part… finding the conclusion to the dilemma. ¬†Solving the problem. ¬†If you never take a step in the direction of diplomacy then there is no solution.