Writing Exercises

The Perfect Friend

The perfect friend…..what does that mean. I think back to my school days when I looked on in envy as many of the popular girls hung out with each other. It always seemed I was on the outside looking in. There they were with their perfect hair, their perfect jeans and their perfect little cuteness all about them. They even had the perfect little laugh when the popular boys walked by. I used to think if only I could fit into their perfect little mold I would be so happy. I didn’t fit. I wasn’t cute enough. I didn’t have the right clothes. And most definitely my glasses were too large to be anything but perfectly cute.

I longed to fit in. I longed to be their friend. I longed to be included in their gatherings. I wasn’t. I didn’t get invited to their parties. Oh, I think I went to a few birthday parties in elementary school. That was back when the mom’s invited almost every girl in your class I think. By the time the girls got to choose the guest list I wasn’t included. I have no idea if asked now what these girls would say about why they didn’t invite me. Sometimes I want to know and other times I don’t. I was ugly. I know it. I have seen pictures of myself back then. I think I was nice enough. I was just ugly. And while I didn’t really know it back then or I was oddly oblivious to it, I was poor. I think the ugliness and the lack of money was what got me nixed from the guest list, but those are just my assumptions.

I suppose I could ask some of the girls as they are now my friends on Facebook. Isn’t that interesting? Now some 20 years later, we are friends. I am sure time, age and distance have a lot to do with it. I can’t help but think that my change in appearance helps a little (I was a late bloomer so to speak). I’m not poor anymore. I’m not rich either (some disagree – it’s all relative), but I’m not poor. Our 20 year class reunion is this summer and I believe I am attending. I won’t have a lot to talk about as I really didn’t go to any of the events the other kids did. I wasn’t invited to the parties and I didn’t stick around my senior year and take part in any of the activities. I have no real memories of my high school experience that involve any of my classmates. But I digress…….

I find it interesting what I thought would be the perfect friend in high school is not at all what I see as the perfect friend now. Now what I want is that person who wants to know who I am. Someone who is interested in knowing what makes me laugh, makes me happy, makes me sad and makes me cry. Who wants to know what makes me tick or what would send me over the edge. That person who is willing to hear about my past and challenge me let go and move towards my future. The one who won’t let me wallow in my misery for too long but will slap me out of it and tell me to get on with it. The one who will stop me in my tracks and tell me when I am wrong even if it means I might get mad at her. The one who will put honesty first. The one who cares whether I live or die and would tell me something even if I didn’t want to hear it. The one who would have my back and hold my hand when life was rough and yet, she would remind me if it was rough by my own doing. And then, together we would pick up the broken pieces and move forward.

The perfect friend isn’t always the one that looks perfect or sounds perfect or appears to be perfect. She is the one who knows you perfectly well and loves you anyway. The one who knows where you came from, who you were, who you are and who you want to be and helps you keep on the path to get there. She’s there when the going gets tough. And she even brings you a chai now and then. The perfect friend has her own issues too. She has a past, a present and a future. And the cool thing is I am okay with all of that too. I will be the perfect friend to her just like she is the perfect friend to me.

Christianity and People, Family and Pets, Writing Exercises

Once Upon A Time……

There was a time not that long ago that the story I would have written would have been about a person who had been victimized seemingly her entire life only recently finding happiness. And although happy, pain and hurt would continue to be the underlining theme throughout the rest of the story providing a bitter sweet ending. Thankfully the ending has yet to be reached. And even more wonderful is the healing that has begun to take place and my story of pain, neglect, abuse and misery is evolving.

My past is still my past. I cannot change what happened to me and around me. I can however see more than the abuse and the pain. I can see the moments of happiness. I can see  who I was and how and when I began to change. I can see the choices I made that contributed to the paths that I took in life. I am beginning to see the people who abused me in a different light. I can see the circumstances they grew up in. What may have caused them to make some of the choices they made. Not excuses for them and their actions, but explanations of who they were and insight into what I am seeing as their limitations. This new pespective is sheding a whole new light on my past, who I was and who I have become.

Life is but a story. One that doesn’t end until we die. Some would say it doesn’t even end there as our life can still have an effect on others long after we are gone. I hope mine does. I hope when I am gone that things I have done, things I have said may leave a lasting impression on the people I have had contact with. I hope my story continues long after I am gone. I hope it inspires the people I have touched to do good things, to think about others before themselves, to long to make a difference near and far, to also leave a lasting impression when they too are gone. One can hope, right?

I think as I continue this journey of forgiveness my story is going to evolve even more. How I see my childhood and early adult life is going to change drastically. I believe rather than seeing myself as the victim I am beginning to see myself as an overcomer. Rather than holding onto anger, resentment and judgement for those who abused and neglected me I am going to have compassion, empathy and sympathy for them. I believe this change in how I view my past is going to continue to change how I see myself now and who I become. The change has begun and I am encouraged by what is happening.

Once upon a time there was a little girl who wanted to be loved…………

Family and Pets, Writing Exercises

In the Beginning of Me

In the beginning (of me) there was me. A strong confident red headed, some might say hot headed, little girl ready to take on the world. I think that’s how my mom would have put it. I was brave, strong, persistant, curious, full of laughter and enjoyed life. My hair was wild and at times untamable a little like my personality. And then as time moved forward I evolved to fit the environment around me. The me that I was turned into the me that I am not.

I would say my therapist described it best in our meeting last week. She said, “You were a fish in the wrong pond. You know like there is this pond full of bright orange fish and there you are in the midst of it a solid white fish. You just didn’t belong.” I have spent so many years trying to be like all the other fish in the pond I grew up in. I even found and dated a man that was a lot like the fish that I had called daddy. He looked the same and in many ways acted the same. And yet, he was a little different too. I was drawn in some ways to his likeness and in other ways to his difference. Neither of which were a good thing for me.

One day I left the pond. Clean jumped ship as they say. I packed up my stuff, took all that was of importance to me and hightailed it out of the pond I had called home for 28 years. For a time I was in between ponds. A fish flailing about on dry land in desperate need of water, but not just any water. I wanted to find the right fit. A pond that I could be free to be me in addition to being guided, encouraged and influenced by other fish to explore, grow and become the best me I could be. I was looking for a group of fish that didn’t just take no for an answer. Ones that didn’t believe ‘this is as good as it gets’. What I have learned is I was also looking for fish that didn’t let their past or present circumstances define who they are. A completely different pond with very different fish.

It was only a matter of time when I found my new pond. It wasn’t too difficult to re-enter the water as I had been longing for it. Initaily the water quenched my thirst and fulfilled my need to get my gills wet so to speak. I relaxed a little and got comfortable in my new digs. I begin to flow with the day to day life. A little me, the one I used to be, began to surface. It was then that I would hear people say, “I can’t believe (you ever lived in that kiind of a pond) it! You don’t seem anything like that.” It was then that I would share my story and paint the picture of my former pond. My life as a victim if you will and all that went with it. And just how that pond had ruined the me that I once was. And when they tried to deny it, tried to tell me that I was still me, I would quickly tell them that I was not. I had been tainted by the pond I grew up in and I would never be the same.

After several years in my new pond and telling the story of my past over and over again I begin to realize that although I had left the old pond and moved into this new space in my life, the old pond was consuming me more than it ever had before. The ugliness had settled into the core of who I was. I spent a great deal of time thinking about it, reliving it, wishing it were not so. Inevitably my thoughts would turn to anger and I would be filled with resentment, bitterness and contempt for the ones who had caused me pain. They deserved to be punished and to never forget what they did to me, how they had changed the me that I was. And yet, they were not here anymore. The anger and bitterness was effecting the new people around me. The ones that I love and cherish. The ones that make me happy. Not the ones that had caused me so much pain. My new pond was getting infected by the me I was becoming.

I like my new pond. I like that a little of the me from the beginning was finding a way to be. In fact I think the me that I am supposed to be has been inside waiting for the chance to come out. Over the years I have pushed it down further beneath the pain, anger and bitterness, stifling me to my core. Thankfully it was strong enough to resist and to hold on. Recently I recognized what was happening to my new pond and that I in fact am responsible for it. I have also realized that while I am not to blame for the abuse I endured I am to blame for letting it consume me and for holding onto the pain, hurt, anger, bitterness and desire to punish the perpretrators for all eternity. In letting that go, I am seeing an even better me emerge. The murkiness of my pond is clearing and I like what I see.

Now there is me, a strong seemingly confident red headed, working on not being too hot headed, woman who is excited to continue to evolve in my new pond. I am ready to take on my past. I look forward to once again taking on the world around me as I grow, learn and explore life around me.

I still have a long way to go. There is healing to be done. There are lessons to be learned. I am moving towards but not yet at the place of forgiveness. One thing is very clear. The me that was in the beginning is still here and I am now ready to let her be. I have had a desire over the past few years to begin writing. Some of you read my other blog which is a real estate and family blog. At times I have been hesitant to write on it due to what I wanted to write. I found that I have been holding myself back so as to not offend others. It was brought to my attention that it might be a good idea to have a separate blog to write whatever I want. So this is my little disclaimer that will be reiterated on the blog officially.

This blog is to be a place where I can share whatever comes to my mind to write. I chose the title: Live Think Write, because it encompasses how I feel. I am simply living life and at times I want to write about what is happening in my life and the lives of those around me. I am a thinker. At times I just want to write what I am thinking. Some will agree and others will not. I like to think outloud and process situations. And then there is the strong desire to write. I want to write. Blog posts, poems, children’s books, a book about healing and forgiveness, maybe one about mothers and daughters or about freeing yourself from an abusive cycle or other self help books. And so it is here in this new blog that I will continue to live, think and write.

Writing Exercises

Hello world!

I guess I was supposed to edit this first post when I created the blog. Oops!

I love to write. Well, at least I love to think about writing. I have long desired to write a book. I have no idea what I want to write about. When I see a good movie or read a great article or hear an intriguing story I often feel this sudden explosive desire to write. Sometimes in the middle of a movie I will be sitting there itching the whole time to get in front of a computer because I feel this suddent burning from within to write something. the odd thing is when I do get in front of the computer later I am uncertain about what to write. In the moment I fetl creative, excited, inspired and ready to put something on paper. I wonder what it was……..This has happened to me for years.

In the past I remember sitting down and writing poems. There was a time when I used to write lyrics to songs. My first husband liked to compose music. So often times I would write lyrics. It was pretty cool actually and a lot of fun. I didn’t know if I was any good at it as it never went anywhere. Nevertheless it was a way to write. When my daughter was young I home schooled her. During that time I joined home school mom groups online. I used to write a lot of posts on community message boards and that led to my first blog. It has since gone out to cyberspace as I lost track of the blog, log-in and all that necessary information to find it. Then there was a time when I tried my hand at writing a children’s story. I still have a draft of a story in my filing cabinet. Not sure if I am ever going to do anything with it, but who knows! More recently I have spent time writing a real estate blog where I blog about the market, things to do with buying and selling real estate and then the random post about my family as well. That blog led me to start yet another blog where I could write about anything that came to mind, here.

And so it is that my writing journey began. I believe it will be a long road with many twists and turns. Who knows where it will lead or what will come of it. If you like, sit back, snuggle up and prepare yourself to be a part of this journey. Much like a train in Europe you can jump on and off whenever you like.