Defining Moments 6-12

This is an extremely difficult process for me. I keep stopping to see if I will feel better so I can continue, but it doesn’t really help much, and I really don’t want this to drag on and on. I survived all of this when it happen, and I have survived the currents these events have caused since. I am trusting that this book contains help for actually healing, because if it is just about regurgitating this shit over again, it’s really going to piss me off.


First grade is mostly a blur. I do remember I got my first kiss then, but I don’t remember what the boy’s name was. I do remember that he was cute and really sweet.


Second grade was anything but a blur. It was Mrs. Moore that made sure of that. She was young and beautiful. She wore a red dress that hand the most beautiful princess puff sleeves that I had ever seen. She hated me. She is one of the most influential people in my life, and I will write a lot about her in a later exercise. But here I want to write about an incident that reinforced all of the other lessons of worthlessness I had suffered.

I was in class, in my desk, taking a test. It was hard, and I didn’t know all the answers. I felt very anxious about a grade I knew I would be in trouble for. I chewed my fingernails then, and that’s what I was doing when Mrs. Moore came down the isle. “Cheri! Take those fingers out of your mouth or I will cut them off!” she screamed. She sounded just like my mother. Someone who was not my mother was treating me with contempt and disgust.

So, my mother was not the only one who felt I had no value. Others felt that way as well. As the school year went on, more and more people treated me with that same contempt. I learned that year that there was really something horrible about me that made people hate me. I didn’t know what it was, but whatever it was, everyone else could see it. Everyone else knew how worthless and valueless I really was. I was not likeable.

I wish could go back in time and tell that little girl they were all wrong - that Mrs. Moore hated my mother and was taking it out on me, and that the other children were simply seeking Mrs. Moore’s approval by treating me badly. It wouldn’t have helped though. I tell myself that now, and I know that now, but I don’t feel it deep inside. Deep inside I still feel worthless.

The third grade brought a new kind of experience to me. In at least one area, I did have some value.

It was lunch recess time and everyone was out playing after lunch. I had no friends, so I was wandering around the playground, daydreaming. It was then that a group of four boys two years older than me began to tease me. One of them had a crush on me (he was as hated as I was), and the other boys were going to make sure he got something from me.

They grabbed me and wrestled me to the ground. I was screaming, but no one came to my aid. They pinned me down and held me there. They told the boy to kiss me. He was reluctant at first, but complied with their demands. He kissed me on the lips. When he was done, the other boys started laughing and making jokes at me that I didn’t understand. When they had gone, I looked for help, but received none. Apparently, no one saw it happen - and no one really cared.

I can’t begin to say how lonely and confused I felt at that time. I was completely powerless and helpless. I was at the mercy of anyone who wanted a piece of me. But at least someone WANTED a piece of me.

Later that year, my mother and step father went out one night, and my grandfather (my mother’s father) stayed to baby-sit us. It all started out innocently enough, Kim and I were just sitting on his lap being the little girls we were. Then he decided he wanted kisses. So we gave grandpa kisses. Then he decided to teach us how grown-ups kiss.

We did that for a while and Kim managed to get up and leave. I wanted to know how grown-ups kissed. It progressed from there. He started touching me in places grown-up women get touched. I thought it felt good, and he seemed to think I was wonderful for playing the game with him. It only stopped because he couldn’t figure out how to unbuckle by belt. He wanted me to unbuckle it, but I knew that this game was wrong, so I got up and went into my room.

I was scared to death that he would tell my mother that I had played that game with him. I knew she would have blamed me for being a skanky little slut like the 13 year old pregnant daughter of grandpa’s current wife. Like the 13 year old pregnant daughter of my uncle’s wife. I liked being touched, and I came so close to letting him take it as far as it could go.

It was something I liked doing, that someone else thought was valuable. The thought of that toothless, drunk, disgusting old man makes my stomach churn. But the idea of someone wanting me bad enough to get in trouble for it physically arouses me even today. It doesn’t make sense to me, but there it is. (P.S. My uncle was the father of his 13 year old step-daughter’s baby, and though my grandpa’s step daughter had a boyfriend, it is unlikely that her baby was actually fathered by her young boyfriend.)

When I was in the fourth grade, I tried to get my teacher to call me by my nickname, Cheri. She refused to pronounce it right, though. She insisted that the French pronounced it Shurieee and pronounced that way until I told her to call me Cheryl. She didn’t seem to have any problems pronouncing that with an American accent - guess she couldn’t figure out how the French would have said it.

Sixth Grade was unforgettable.

I had been attending the same dance school since I was 5. They liked me there, but they didn’t really know me. They just thought I was cool because I was so flexible. None of the kids I went to dance school with attended my elementary school, until sixth grade. Boundaries were re-drawn and an already difficult situation became nearly unbearable.

I was standing in the lunch line the first day of school. There was this really pretty, tall girl standing in front of me. She had the most beautiful, shiny, copper colored hair I had ever seen. The sun was shining on it and I was mesmerized. Suddenly, she turned to me and told me to stop staring at her, that I was sick for staring at her and she didn’t want my stare cooties. The stage was set.

Ruthanne McNeese was one of the children forced to attend my school after the boundaries were re-drawn. She was a friend of Shari M. who I attended dance school with. Shari liked me. I didn’t know why, but I was terrified she would soon find out why she should hate me. Ruthanne was not shy about telling her.

Shari and Ruthanne had a falling out, as young friends often do. I was walking the playground with Shari when Ruthanne came up to us and told Shari “You must be really desperate for friends if you have to hang out with HER!” Of course, she was looking at me with every ounce of contempt she could muster. I was so crushed. I fully expected Shari to stop liking me right at that moment.

She didn’t though. She never did stop liking me. It didn’t matter, though, Ruthanne had won. While I was relieved that Shari didn’t dump me, I knew that Ruthanne was right. Shari was desperate for friends to hang with me. If Shari and Ruthanne hadn’t been fighting that week, I would have been roaming the playground alone, daydreaming.

Even now, when I see Shari, she still chats with me like I’m her long lost friend. I never understood why she liked me then, I still don’t know why now. Maybe some day I’ll ask her why. Would that be weird? Is it possible that she liked me for the same reasons everyone else hated me? Is it possible that their feelings toward me had very little to do with me or who I was, but everything to do with them and who they were? If that is all it ever is, wouldn’t that make life and everything we do in it shallow and empty?

If I could talk to that young girl in me I would tell her it wasn‘t about her. That Ruthanne was being cruel - that she was wrong. She was angry about having to switch schools, she was mean to a lot of people. She couldn’t possible really hate me that bad, she didn‘t even know me. She hated me before she ever walked into that school, not because I had no value, but because I went to that school. And I would thank Shari for not walking away, for never abandoning me, for always liking me - regardless of the reason. I aspire to like me that way, some day.


Early in February we started making bi-centennial valentine boxes. I was on a basketball team with kids who didn’t know me. I think my mom was really trying to help me make my life better. We went to a Carol King concert in Sun Valley. She was starting to see me a little differently, probably because I was becoming a young woman.

On a very sunny and warm day, I walked home from school, as usual. And as usual, I suffered the anxiety of not know what I would be facing once I got home. Had I failed to wash the dishes right the night before? Were the dog kennels not cleaned well enough? Was my room picked up well enough to pass inspection? Would I face the wrath of my mother? Or would it be a good day?

When I got home I was so pleasantly surprised! She was in the best of moods, such a good mood that she even took me to Dairy Queen for a Peanut Buster Parfait! Yes, not just a cone, but a Parfait! We talked and laughed and had the best time. I was so happy and grateful. We came home, and she left. I was cleaning the kitchen when the phone rang.

It was my mother, and she was clearly very upset. She told me that my step-dad was on his way home. He was going to take us somewhere and I was to go with him without fighting him. Of course, she knew I wouldn’t have fought him, that was not in my list of accepted behaviors. By the time she hung up I was quite upset, and crying. When he came, he knew that she had called me and wanted to know what she told me. I told him, got in the car and away we went.

I cried all the way to Arco. By the time we got there he was quite annoyed with me. I’m sure he didn’t know about, or appreciate the events that had been my day. We got to Arco, and we stayed there for a couple of months, saw a psychologist, and went back home.

He stayed in his miserable marriage for another two years. By then, Kim was old enough to legally choose to live with him.

At that time I was absolutely clueless as to why he was “kidnapping” us. I didn’t understand why we had to be taken away from our home and our lives. I felt so powerless, just a pawn. I honestly thought at the time that he just wanted to live in Arco with his family. He kept saying he was doing it because my mom was abusing us, but I didn’t believe she was abusing us. You see, I honestly thought it was me, there was something wrong with me. How can you be ok in life if you believe that your parent is incapable of keeping you safe? How can you trust anything if you can’t trust your mother? How can anything in life be ok if she isn’t? Why did he wait so long to tell us it was her and not us?

I know now he was trying to protect us. He was saving Kim’s life. It was harder for him than it was for us. He must have been so frustrated to have the children he was trying to protect fight him as hard as the woman he was trying to protect us from. But, he went about it all wrong. If I could go back and talk to him, I would tell him to start earlier. To tell us from the beginning that we were valuable, and that we didn’t deserve to be hit by anyone. I would tell him not to spring it on us like that. Give us a heads up, let us know, way in advance, what you are planning. I would tell him that what he was about to do would hurt us as much as anything she had done to us, because we had no power to control any of it. Our opinions didn’t matter. Our feelings weren’t considered. Her message was reinforced.

I would tell the young me to listen, that this was a crazy attempt to save her. I just wanted to matter. I would tell her she does. I wish I could believe that now.

Obviously not all of these events will make it in the final cut. They all seem to be echoes of the same lesson. How does one come to unlearn something that has been taught so well?

Defining Moments Ages 1-5

I have already written about most of these things on this blog, and some of it is word for word. I rewrote some of it, so now I feel drained. It is hard to relive these things enough to write about them. I don't imagine this process is going to get any easier, but I do think that two of these experiences were absolutely two of the most traumatic experiences of my life. Here it is.
Someone was up. I can still see the shaft of amber light that radiated beneath the door. I was small, still just a baby, alone in my crib, and surrounded by an infinite darkness that was pierced only by that shaft of amber. I was ready to get up and go. I decided I could just climb right out of the crib, which is exactly what I tried to do. I had practiced this climb and was sure I could make it. I held on with everything I had and pulled myself up. Over the rim I flung my foot, and secured it on the other side. Ok, now what?I was farther than I had ever been, and now, I was stuck! I had gone too far to get back into the crib, yet, if I let go now, I would fall into that abysmal darkness, to be lost forever. I was trying so hard to be quiet, it was not good to disturb mommy. I must have been crying because the door opened and there she was.Her form silhouetted against the glow of the light behind her. Suddenly the abyss wasn’t so frightening, not compared to the wrath I knew she would bring against me. But something unexpected happened. Instead of yelling, she said “are you ready to get out of bed? Did you get stuck? Here, let me help you.”The incident shouldn’t have mattered. The trauma of being swallowed into the nothingness surely wasn’t so traumatic. Getting yelled at was not unusual. People aren’t supposed to have memories that date back before age three, and I couldn’t have been three yet. I have a distinct knowledge in that memory of being in a room at the top of the stairs. The only house I lived in like that was one I lived in before three years of age. Unless my mom lied about the age at which I was potty trained.I also remember my mom telling me about my sister crying a lot, and thinking it was so cute that I stood at the bottom of the stairs yelling “Ki!, oh chi!” every time she started to cry. I am 16 months older than my sister, so I must have been close to that age.I know I was being potty trained when we lived at the house on Highland. I remember it because my grandma Irene had come to visit and was leaving. We were walking her out to her car. Something caught my eye.There was this most beautiful woman riding her bike with such grace and elegance down the street. I watched her bare feet as they somersaulted, heal over toe over heal. I was completely mesmerized. Her long brown hair was twisted into elegant braids. She passed me without even a glance. It was magic. Of course, my adult memory recognizes that she was probably all of nine or ten, and that she was just a little girl riding her bike up and down the street on a hot summer evening. That would have put me at about 20 months!As I was watching her ride away down the street, I was suddenly shocked back into “reality” with a swift swat on the butt, and an angry mother yelling that she had told me not to go into the street! I remember my grandmothers face. She was shocked, surely more by my mothers violence than by my act, but I saw it as concurrence at that time. I was sent into the house, crying.My step dad met me in the kitchen. “Why are you crying?” he asked. I tried to tell him about the beautiful woman on the bike, failing miserably to be understood. “Are you saying you have to go ‘try’?” Try was the word for having a bm in the potty chair. The next thing I knew, that was where I was, in the bathroom, on the potty chair, step dad saying “Try, Cheri, Try!”So according to these memories, I had to have been living on Highland just before I turned two. I remember that before we moved, my aunt Mila was visiting, trying to shame me into not wetting the bed. My sister was already successfully potty trained then. So that memory had to be closer to four.I know we moved out of that house when I was four. That was when my great-grandpa Al sold my mom and step dad a house for a more than reasonable price.Why is any of that important? Why would my mind hold onto such memories? The one thing they both have in common was the intense fear I felt for my mother. I think that is sad. I wish I didn’t have to be afraid of my mother. I wish that I had a mother that I could love and confide in. Someone who would tell me I’m loved and valued. No matter what, no matter. I can’t make this feeling disappear. A large part of me really doesn’t want to. How can I miss so much a thing I’ve never had?In the first memory, I remember feeling a great relief wash over me when my mother chose to help me. I suppose that she had already taught me that my needs never had nor would they ever be as important as hers, and that I would never really know what her needs would be from one minute to the next. It was a lesson I would learn well in my life.In the second memory, I was not understood. It was only the behavior they saw, not me. I wonder if this is where my feeling that no one in the whole world really cares WHO I am. The only things that matter to others is how well I fit into their expectations of who I should be and how I should act. Work hard, Cheri, to hide that beach ball below the water’s surface, for no one wants to see it. It is not important in this world, and the world should not be subjected to it.I think it was also the first lesson in knowing that no one would ever step in on my part.The next memories I have are in the house my Grandpa Al built for us.The grown-ups were painting the living room orange. There were other kids there about my age, and we were all running in and out of the house, laughing and having fun. We were told not to touch the wet paint, but we were little kids having fun, and I probably was the first one to get orange paint on my hands. I knew immediately to wipe it off, I knew I would be spanked with the dowel of the toy broom if my mom saw it. The other kids saw me wiping it off, they knew I had touched the paint. So when my mom came out and started screaming at us, they expected me to confess to my crime. I would not. Letting them take the blame was far preferable to facing my mothers wrath. I remember being so surprised and relieved that she didn’t know I had touched the paint.I look back at that experience and realize that I participated in my isolation. Even at age four I knew that in order to have any peace in my life, I would have to play by my mother’s rules. My life was to be about not setting my mother off. It was to be about being invisible. The less my existence impacted my mother, the more peace there would be in the house.When I was five, my mother stepped up the abuse.It was April of 1969 and my long hair was the only thing that was special about me. I had developed a rather nasty bladder control problem by then - not just wetting the bed, but having big accidents - even in public. My mother was sitting on the toilet and I stood in front of her while she combed it. She pulled a tangle, and it hurt, so I cringed and said ow, which made her angry. She told me if it hurt so bad she would just cut it all off. She then proceeded to get the scissors and start cutting. I was sure I that without my hair, my one and only object of value, I would be swallowed up into worthlessness, just like Kim (yes, Kim‘s life was worse than mine).I was just five, and that nasty wetting problem kicked in. I peed my pants right there in front of the toilet. That was absolutely unacceptable behavior on my part. She immediately went into a full rage. She grabbed the hair at the back of my head, threw me to the ground and rubbed my nose in my urine. My urine hadn’t even become cold yet. I tried to push away from it, but I was no match for her. I watched the pink and white fibers of the rug go up and down, my nose aching with every stroke. Suddenly they weren’t pink and white anymore. My nose was bleeding into the bathroom rug. When she saw the blood and calmed down, she was very sorry and showed me how she had only trimmed my hair and put the clippings in an envelope to put in my baby book, where they remain today.I thought that I had dealt with this. But when I allowed myself to actually “be there” again so I could write it, I broke down again. How could anyone do something like that to an innocent five year old little girl. I learned right at that moment that there was nothing she would not do to me. Even things I couldn’t control about me were subject to her wrath. I still had my hair, but I was fading fast.I was sitting at the little kids table in the middle of the kitchen eating my cheerios. I had eaten most of the bowl, but really wasn’t hungry, so I dumped them into the garbage. As I was dumping them out my mother came into the kitchen. When she saw that I was dumping out my cereal, she few into a rage. How could I waste food like that? She grabbed the bowl out of my hands and instructed me to eat the cereal out of the garbage.We had little dogs at that time, who were trained to pee and poop on newspapers. She had picked up those newspapers that morning just before breakfast, and that was what my cereal was sitting on. I knew I had no choice. I took one spoonful to my mouth. The odor was revolting. The cereal was mushy an unrecognizable in my mouth. I tried to swallow it, but began to throw up instead. She decided at that point that I must not feel good, so she didn’t make me continue. I didn’t go to kindergarten that day, I stayed in bed.What does a little girl learn from being treated like that? Not even the dogs were forced to eat off of their potty newspapers. I was terrified of her. She was the mother of two young children who treated them the way a horrible, spoiled rotten brat treats her dolls. I had no value as a human that morning. It was gone. I was living a nightmare with no hope of ever waking.

self matters 1st Day

Today I start in earnest. I have had this book laying around for year, and have know for all of those years that reading it and completing the assignments would be imperative if I ever wanted to find my authentic self and live my authentic life. It is Dr. Phil’s Self Matters, and I believe it will really help me.I am posting some of the things in the book that really got my attention. My hope is that I can come back to them from time to time when I feel unsure about where I am going.



Page 18-19 “Hey, wait a minute here. Screw the expectancies; screw living for everyone else. They (whoever ‘they’ are) don’t pay my rent, they don’t come home with me at night and bathe my kids and cook my dinner! Why, then, am I living for what I think some ill-defined bunch of people expect of me? They don’t get a vote anymore. I will no longer give my power away. I want it back, and I’m going to use it to be me.I want to be happy by being true to my self doing what I care about. If I love music, I want to have music in my life. If I want a career, then I want to find a way to have it. If I’m tired of being fat, I want to prioritize that change into my lifestyle. If I’m not being treated with dignity and respect, that’s not okay, not now, not ever. I would rather be alone that sick with someone else. If I miss God being in my life because my husband is not spiritual, then he will need to adjust, not me. I’m tired of being scared all the time. Scared about kids, money, job, boss, parents, and acceptance. I want some upside here. I want to feel alive. I want to feel valued by others and myself. I want to get up in the morning, instead of dreading it. I want to have tremendous clarity about why I am in this world and what I am supposed to do while I am here. I want to realize this is not a dress rehearsal; it is my life, my one shot. I want my kids to know and have all of me instead of some half-assed counterfeit. I want them to really see all of the real me, my interest, my sense of humor, my values. I believe that children learn what they live, and I want to teach them by example to be proud, instead of showing them how to compromise. I want to live with peace, fulfillment, joy, and excitement.
I want to be able to finish a day and say that the day ‘ felt really good.’ I want to be able to say that I am proud of me and proud of what I did today. I want to be able to say, ‘I like who I am and what I’m all about.’ I want to feel calm and peaceful. I want to feel satisfied. I want to be able to say, 'I feel good.’ I want to feel like I belong and I deserve what I want just because--just because! I want to like me for being there for me and putting what’s important to me on my priority list.”Page 31 Not living faithfully to your authentic self creates a void, an ever present feeling that you are incomplete….There’s a restlessness, a yearning emptiness that won’t go away. It’s as if there is a hole in your soul. You try to fill that hole in any number of ways; by smoking or drinking, by incessant working by over investing yourself in a mate or children……You cast about to find something, anything to fill that hole in your heart.
Page 39 But suppose someone confronts you about some aspect of yourself that is not so objective and easily measured, such as your value, your worth, your desirability, or your sensitivity. Those things are not nearly so cut and dried. I can’t show you a quart of your worth, or a pound of your value. Whether it is you or someone else who is “opining” that of you, for example, are worthless, you have to know the facts or you’re dead meat. If you don’t have the absolute bottom-bottom-line scoop on the real deal, you’ll go for the con job like Jesse went for the train.Today I completed a couple of assessments that I am going to post here. You may think this is quite personal, but I can’t think of a better place to chart my progress than this blog. I realize that in the past few months I may not have been as brutally honest as I should have been. It wasn’t because I didn’t want someone reading this and finding me out, it was because I was afraid to write it, because then it would be real. It’s time to get real.The pictures are of the authenticity scale. I scored 103, which is explained on page 50.


71-110 This range suggests that you are operating, most of the time, from a fictional self-concept that has become distorted and is therefore a fictional version of who you really are. It would not be surprising if you were usually confused about what you should be doing, at any time, or what would be the best use of your time. You may be bewildered about what the world expects of you, and you may feel really disconnected from your life. In many ways, a score in this range is the most problematic: The person who scores here may be aware of his or her fictional self and may understand that life doesn’t not have to be this way, but he or she may also fear the responsibility of change.
I feel that this is a very accurate description of how I feel, and why I feel this way. I look forward to fixing it.The following is a congruency test.Circle all the words that you think describe the ideal person you want to be, the person you believe is the full potential of who you are and will ever be.Pretty attractive beautiful nice-looking appealing cool sweet spiritual wise nice friendly faithful leader strong supportive moral ethical principled good honest decent warm loving tender warmhearted demonstrable caring kind affectionate hospitable welcoming amiable cheerful passionate fiery enthusiastic zealous arrogant egocentric altruistic sympathetic humane selfless philanthropic smart dependent free gentle thoughtful domineering submissive autonomous creative compassionate self-sufficient private liberated conventional objective elegant clever stylish intelligent quick charming tidy neat thoughtful attentive careful watchful alert reliable inspired inventive resourceful ingenious productive exciting energetic lively vigorous bouncy active joyful blissful pleased ecstatic cheery sane rational sensible reasonable normal complete capable genuine inspiring proud approachable peaceful honest giving nurturing accomplished whole perfect undivided achiever great confident compassionate content humble unassuming happy satisfied comfortable at ease relaxed able knowledgeable skilled proficient expert adept rich wealthy affluent prosperous full gorgeous valuable abundant fruitful powerful deep productive prolific understanding dynamic useful helpful constructive beneficial positive functional worthwhileTotal Circled words (Total Potential Score)=___128______________Circle the words below that describe how you actually are at the present.Pretty attractive beautiful nice-looking appealing cool sweet spiritual wise nice friendly faithful leader strong supportive moral ethical principled good honest decent warm loving tender warmhearted demonstrable caring kind affectionate hospitable welcoming amiable cheerful passionate fiery enthusiastic zealous arrogant egocentric altruistic sympathetic humane selfless philanthropic smart dependent free gentle thoughtful domineering submissive autonomous creative compassionate self-sufficient private liberated conventional objective elegant clever stylish intelligent quick charming tidy neat thoughtful attentive careful watchful alert reliable inspired inventive resourceful ingenious productive exciting energetic lively vigorous bouncy active joyful blissful pleased ecstatic cheery sane rational sensible reasonable normal complete capable genuine inspiring proud approachable peaceful honest giving nurturing accomplished whole perfect undivided achiever great confident compassionate content humble unassuming happy satisfied comfortable at ease relaxed able knowledgeable skilled proficient expert adept rich wealthy affluent prosperous full gorgeous valuable abundant fruitful powerful deep productive prolific understanding dynamic useful helpful constructive beneficial positive functional worthwhileTotal words circled (actual Self Score)= _____91________91/128=71%. This is in the positive range, with some good aspects of who I really am. However, I am not in touch with my true authentic self and am denying myself some very powerful strengths. I don’t feel worthy of my goals, have some self doubt and lack self confidence in truly appreciating my potential.So, there it is. That’s what I need to work on. The next tasks will be in breaking down the self concepts I have that are in error.On another note, I have a date Friday with a guy that says he signed up on match.com just to meet me. We have talked at length on the phone and this seems really good so far. Time will tell. I know one thing for sure, I will not be making excuses for the red flags. Instead, I will pay attention to them and make decisions based on what is truly best for me and not what some silly dream in my head wants. Yes, I intend to do this with authenticity. I do deserve to be treated with dignity and respect - I need to believe that in my core.

This, too, shall pass.

Thank you Jim. Your words mean a lot to me. I know that this too will pass, I just wish it would pass more quickly. Today is a better day. My heart is not so heavy and I can see hope. I am not crying today, yet I do still feel anxiety from time to time. I am clear headed, so now is a great time to write down the logical side of this break-up so I can refer back to it on the bad days, as bad days have a way of popping in from time to time.

It is a list of the pros and cons of Dale.

I miss him.
I don’t miss him as much as I missed me when I was with him.
I really miss climbing.
I can find another climbing partner, and probably one who won’t expect me to help him/her put up new routes.
I love him.
I loved what he made me believe he was. That person doesn’t not exist. That person lived only in my mind. Who am I kidding? I didn’t love him, I lusted for him. There is a difference. I could already see things that I knew would bother me in the worst ways once I grew used to him. And love has to be a two way street. How can I love someone who doesn’t love me for me. As long as I “behaved myself” I was wonderful. But as soon as I “acted up” I bummed him out and he didn’t know how much more “we” could take.
I am lonely without him.
I would have been lonely without hope if I had stayed with him and married him.
He could be so kind and generous to me.
He could be cruel and hateful. It would have become so much worse as time went on. No addict can avoid causing pain to the most important people in their lives. And oh, did he have a mean streak.
He was a warm lover.
When he could love me. And he was also a little on the boring side.
I loved his friends.
He hated my son.
I really miss climbing.
I already said that. Hey, there are other climbers around here. Find them.
I don’t want to lose the conditioning that was happening with my body.
Then don’t. Get out there and move. You know how to do this.

Ok, so there aren’t any good reasons to miss this relationship. Right now, I can’t even think of one reason why I should even miss him. It must be another brain thing - you know - caught in a feedback loop. So let’s reboot.

Why should I be relieved? So many reasons - many already mentioned. And I will have time to finish my paintings, and start some new ones. I can watch my favorite tv shows. I can start my novel now. And now, thanks to Dale, I know what happens that puts Beth on that ledge, and I will have some good ideas for getter her off of it.

I have my life back. I have me back. I am alone again, but that’s not new. If I am going to find someone to spend my life with I have to actually live my life. So I will live it. Which means I will continue to put myself out there and make mistakes. Some will be small, but some will be huge, and will hurt like hell. But I will make them and I will learn from them.

Eventually, I will get it right.

Grief

There are moments when I can scarcely breath. My heart pounds out an attack, then retreats, leaving me cold and ruined. I force breath deep into my lungs, probing for proof of life, then the air leaves me in utter anguish.

Oh the tears - how they strive to drown me in my sorrow. My grief wraps around my neck and strangles my hope. For that is what I mourn for, my hope. It was snatched from my bosom in one sure and callus blow. I wander aimlessly through the forests of desperation, calling to the one for guidance.

No answers come to me now. I stumble and fall. Then I drag myself to my feet, only to stumble and fall again. My skin bleeds, my muscles cramp, but they are no match for the desperate ache I suffer.

All that is left is the echo of emptiness, an absolute loneliness that feels so familiar. I bid my heart to resume beating. I beg for solace from the hurt. I pray for a reprieve from the darkness.

Time, they say, is the cure. Time and again I have waited. Time and again, I have trusted a hope for naught. Time and again, time betrays me.

Where is my gratitude? Where is the joy I once knew? Where is my hope? I long for them so.

The guru was always inside.

I didn’t need to climb the mountain to find my way. All of the answers were already there for me, waiting for me to see them. They were there from the very beginning, red, and waving brightly, desperately warning me of my own weakness. I didn’t want to see them.

“I didn’t want to know more, I would be disappointed if you were different than my mind made you out to be.” That’s what I wrote of our first date. But you are different. You are and addict, and alcohol is your only love.

Did you tell me that in the beginning? You told me your mother accused you of being alcoholic, but then qualified it by saying she doesn’t drink, and thinks everyone who does is an alcoholic. You hid your illness from me for a while, long enough to lure me in. I can’t help it, I do love you, but I won’t be a part of this anymore.

Yes, you told me you smoke marijuana, and even got in a tangle with the law. I don’t have any moral objections to marijuana, I don’t feel it is any more harmful than alcohol or cigarettes. You promised to keep it completely away from me, but you couldn’t keep that promise, could you? You are addicted to that too.

How many times do I have to see this illness before I can finally recognize it in the beginning? My mother, my father, my grandfather, aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters, my ex-husband. To be honest, I can only think of a handful of people in my family who are not addicted to alcohol or some other drug. I have seen this all of my life, been hurt repeatedly by it, and still I stick my head in the sand and refuse to acknowledge it. So much wishful thinking. I deserve this heartache.

I should have shielded my children from you. I really thought that your behavior towards my son would change once you got to know him and understood autism better. Silly me. This weekend I saw you treat your brother with the same contempt I saw you treat Zach with, and I knew better. The pain festered, and once again I hid it away and tried to ignore it. All of the things you lectured Zach and me about rattled in my head. You hypocrite! Zach has never treated me or anyone else as disrespectfully as you treat your brother and mother with. He is a better man than you are, even at his age. He doesn’t need to change. And neither do I.

Even Megan wasn’t really good enough in your eyes. Her spirituality, her goals, somehow were not in line with what you thought they should be. Not good enough. Was anything about me good enough? You expect everyone else to change to fit into your world. How is your life Dale? How happy have your convictions made you? How many people have actually decided that what you thought was best for them was really what was best for them?

I was reminded this week that I tend to alter my behavior in order to fit in. I commonly put myself aside to be accepted. I did that again with you, I am ashamed to say it, but it is true. That was what I spent so much time crying about. Not anymore. I deserve to be loved and accepted for who and what I am. I am a kind, sincere, compassionate woman who only wants to find someone who is kind, sincere, and compassionate.

I hate who I was when I was with you. I was afraid to express my opinion, my feelings, because you were so quick to put me in my place. I am not a coward, my family and friends have reminded me of this repeatedly over this week, and I will not give in to you any more.

I’m sorry you feel you invested too much into this relationship. You bought me some things, poly pro pants and hiking boots, that I cannot pay you for right now. You can keep them for what it’s worth. At least you didn’t buy the tickets to Hawaii. I don’t know what to say about the money to get added onto the cruise. I didn’t ask for any of it, you spent the money because it was what you wanted.

I’m not sorry, though. I wanted this relationship to be permanent. I gave it my best shot. I wanted to be the best friend, climbing partner and lover you wanted. I wanted a best friend too. But you couldn’t be that for me. When I needed compassion and comforting, all you gave me was guilt. Crying because I feel pain is not irrational. Staying with a man who causes me pain would be irrational.

I’m moving on now. You should too. You should face your demons and do something real about your addictions. I want the best for you, I really do love you and I will miss you.

Lost on Cache Peak

Seven Vultures
Pretty Purple Pine Buds
I made it to the top!
Cache Peak

Lost. I feel lost. I guess that is what happens when one goes so fast for so long without stopping to look at the journey’s path or the current moment of existence. Filling life with strenuous, non-stop activities is a great way to shut out the voices inside.

I climbed a mountain this past week! This should have been a great spiritual exercise, and would have been but for the sheer exhaustion I was already feeling before I even started the journey! I can’t say I was fully involved. I wish I could say I had a lot of fun. I wish I could say I feel stronger and better for it. All I feel is tired, sore and lost.

This will pass. I need to make myself revert back to the stone ages, when people wrote their thoughts on paper. Writing helps so much in processing the events and storing them in the places they should be. It calms me in ways I cannot express. How cool would it be to have a lap top to take with me?
Another wish to put in my box.

Tuesday we hiked out to Bracksiecks pillar to climb with Steph and Dottie. It was a pleasant sort of morning, hot, but not too hot. Steph and Dottie were already tired from the previous day’s activities. I was already tired from the previous two weeks of activity. As we walked, we passed a section of fence where seven vultures were perched. We all commented on how unusual this was, but none of us wanted to articulate how ominous.

The day was fun, but there was such a cloud hanging over us. It was Stephs last day here, and she was feeling kind of gloomy. We had a 4th of July party at the tipi. We got rained on a lot, but Dale had brought salmon and steaks and they were fabulous. We said our goodbyes.

Next morning Dale and I set out on our journey. The weather was gloomy and hot. I was already soaked before we even got to North Park. My mood was dismal at best. It turned to irate when I fell into the creek. Then we started to climb a hill in the rain, which turned my mood furious. My legs were burning, my feet ached with every step.
We stopped and set up camp long before Dale intended. Poor guy interpreted my mood as hatred toward him and his feelings were really hurt. When his feelings get hurt he gets quiet, which feeds into my insecurities becoming a horribly vicious cycle. I told him I would attempt the ascent the next day, and I did.

I made it too! It was tough going, no trails to walk on meant stepping over/on all forms of flora and fauna. I hate “bushwhacking”! I hate it! I hate it! I hate it! I don’t hate Dale, which is what he thought, I HATE BUSHWHACKING!

But if I had been in a better place emotionally and spiritually, the true object of my hate could just as easily been seen as a challenge to be met and surmounted. I caused so much suffering with my own attitude that I really don’t like the mirrors in my house today! I mean, what am I, 12 years old or something? NOT!

Well, what can I say. I have another opportunity to prove my worth, and I intend to do better. And now that I really know that I do have the power to hurt Dale, I intend to never again use it! As a matter of fact I intend to make this up to him as best I can.

It feels so strange to actually have the power to hurt another human being (aside from my children). I think I shouldn’t just assume that I don’t. I think I may actually hurt people I care about without ever knowing it because they don’t say anything, and I’ve assumed I don’t matter enough to them to hurt them.

I must find my place in this world, and accept me in it! Or at least act like an adult.

So off I go this weekend to the Sawtooth Mountains. When I get back, I will be found!

To: The Universe CC: Cheri

How do I tell you? What can I say? I’m sure the fact that I omitted my fear from our discussions is a clear indication that I see clearly the problem at hand. I closed my eyes and wished it away, but it remained.

It was just a familiar twinge at first. How quick I was to explain it away. How quick to judge me irrational. But I am not irrational. I am not wrong here, no matter how much I might wish it.

Unconditional love is a wonderful thing. I think I have truly seen it, as it comes from me. I have felt a great love for someone, not because they were perfect, or because I could see the good in spite of the bad. The imperfections are a part of what is lovable, a part to be adored and respected. But only as long as they don’t destroy me.

I worked so hard for so long to find me. My name is a gift from you, a constant reminder of my validity. I am valuable and loveable just as I am. I do not have to change me to be loved. I would rather lose the love of another than to lose me.

It’s not just a bump in the road, not just a rough patch to work through. This is survival. It would make me so sad to have to say goodbye, but, it would be utterly tragic to abandon me.

Maybe I don’t have to choose. I understand that most people don’t understand what it is to love unconditionally. Can I love me enough to stay strong in the storm? I don’t want to go down with the ship, I don’t want the ship to go down at all. Maybe It’s time to learn to sail. Batten down the hatches and seek the inner solace and guidance you give me in abundance.

I can love another’s inability to love me perfectly right now. Just because there is a lack of understanding doesn’t mean there is an inability to learn. “I’m really trying. I don’t always know what I’m feeling, but I’m really trying!” Isn’t that all it takes? A desire to succeed goes a very long way.

I now stand naked before you. I cannot see the end, nor do I wish to. It is the journey, the process that matters. Is it really as simple as holding on to me? Is that the true test of unconditional love? Loving me while loving another?

Hmmm.

Summer Photos

The Next Level

Tending a relationship, nurturing it, watching it grow, anticipating the fruits to come, is a joyful art. The soil must be worked, and I worked it for so long, with so much care and love. I added all of the nutrients I thought would be needed to cultivate the union I had sought for so long. Then I found the prettiest seed I had ever seen. I planted it in the warm soil and contemplated the possibilities.

Soon, a sprout emerged. I was surprised by it strength and beauty. It grew quickly and courageously. It stretched it’s leaves to the life giving sun. It flourished and grew.

Then one day, the sprout wilted. My heart nearly broke with concern. My first reaction was to chastise myself with self blame and hatred. Of course that only made the problem worse. The sprout sagged and I was sure it would die.

I checked the soil. It was dry, so I added some water. The sprout came back, even stronger than it was. New leaves sprouted like magic. It grew and continues to grow taller and taller. I think there may even be a bud starting.

Yes, we had a hiccup. Usually, a hiccup in my relationships has meant doom. Fortunately, both Dale and I wanted the relationship to survive enough to water it. We talked through some differences, and worked through the problems. Now, we are stronger than before. We are happier than before. We are more confident than before.

We’ve taken us to the next level. No - I don't know what that means, but it feels sooo good.

Zach sitting with his class at the ceremony

The graduate and his sister (in the background)

The proud graduate

Rumors

Here I am! Were you beginning to think I was just a rumor? The last couple of months have been an incredible whirlwind! I have been so busy developing this new part of me that I have neglected much of the rest of me. School’s out now and I hope to use that extra time to find some balance.

Like in Yoga.

My baby is graduating tonight. During practice yesterday I kept flashing back to touching his incredibly soft baby hair and skin, the way he smelled and how much I loved to rock him. I kept thinking about the wooden block he had to hold in order to walk. I remember him running and running in circles at grandma’s house wondering how many miles he must have gone.

He’s not a baby any more! No one has worked harder for anything than he has for this night. I am so proud of him. I will definitely post pictures of the big event as soon as I possibly can.

Things with Dale are still going strong. We have already had a couple of bobbles, but we worked them out and I didn’t get dumped! I am finally seeing me as others have seen me. I am really a lot of work. I get upset about something and clam up. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is? He does the same thing! We are really a lot alike.

We are both in our 40’s and used to doing things our way. Set it those ways to the point that we are surprised that anyone should even consider any alternatives. There sure is a lot of room for compromise there!

Then to top it all off, I have gone off my anti-depressants (Dr. guided - don’t worry). I have been riding a roller coaster of emotions over the past several weeks, but I think I am beginning to level out now. And - uh - I guess the anti depressants do cause sexual side effects for me. Yep, now I’m back to being me again. Can I handle it? Can anyone else? Time will tell.

I am glad to get time off from work. The past couple of months in that arena have been horrible. The teacher I work for was not terrible supportive of my new relationship. I think she is one of those people who only liked me as long as I was as miserable as she is. But I’m not now, and am starting to truly resent being victimized by her co-dependency. Unconditional acceptance is a goal, I’m not there yet. Even if I were, I know I would have to make changes for me. I’m just not ok with having anyone expect so much more from me than anyone else. I get paid the same as all the other paras and I deserve to be treated with at least as much courtesy - especially from her.

Is that the Wambulance I hear?

My art is coming back. I am teaching myself to draw/paint birds of prey. I am going to paint them on Dale’s new tipi. It is so cool, see?

Well, my new life is calling my name. I will write more often.

Dora

Hi Dora! It was really nice to talk to you the other night. There was so much more I wanted to tell you, but time is fickle and stingy. So I have led you to my most private thoughts, for I know I can trust you with them. It will take a long time to read it all, and I really don’t expect you to. But in this blog you will find the most important details of where I have been since you left, and where I am now. I am really looking forward to a time in the near future when we can catch up face to face, and you can meet the most amazing man I have ever known - and he can meet one of the best friends I have ever had.

......

Dale


I have posted a couple of pictures here, but bear in mind - he is not highly photogenic. I could not convince him to give me a real smile, so here is his “take my picture” smile. I have also posted a picture of me rock climbing, and having a lot of fun doing it too!

This blog thing is fun. I have not been posting much over the past month, but school will get out at the end of May, and I will definitely get caught up. I will have some really happy posts to offset the posts I wrote while I was depressed.

I really miss you and can’t wait to see you!

Dale and Maeve

Not the best angle, but(t) I was having fun!

Hi! I made it!

Shosone Falls April 29, 2006

Shoshone Falls April 29, 2006


Well, folks, the falls are booming this spring. I don’t know how much longer this will last, but if you are coming out this way, don’t miss it! This is a show worth seeing.

I thought we had a great flow when I posted the pictures a month ago. Check this out! They are awesome!

.......

Shoshone Falls April 29, 2006

.......

Shoshone Falls April 29, 2006

Dale

Things with Dale just keep getting better and better. I don’t spend any time worrying about the future or whether he really likes/loves me. I don’t have to! He shows me every day how important I am to him. I get to go on a cruise to Hawaii with him and his family this summer! I have never done anything like that before. And the fact that his mother jumped through hoops to get me on the ship after already having made all the arrangements says a lot! She and I have not met yet, and the fact that she was willing to do this says a lot about how Dale feels about me.

He did tell me that everyone sees how happy he is now. Everyone sees how happy I am now too.


Lynn

I just wish everyone could be happy for me. It is one of those terribly sad facts of life that I surrounded myself with people who enjoyed my misery. What is sad is that I didn’t know who they were until I fixed the part of my life that they feel they are lacking.

Lynn has been married forever. Her husband makes a more than comfortable living for her. She has the best of everything and never has to worry about money. Without all of those things, she would have nothing. Her life is empty where she needs it to be full, where my life is filling up now, and it is cutting so deeply.

She has been quite depressed this year, I have seen it worsen. If I were half the person I hope to be someday, I would handle things with her much better. But she has been very discouraging when it comes to my newfound happiness, and has even said things that reminded me a lot of things my mother might say. The things that only got said when Cheri was getting too happy, and needed to be brought down a peg or two.

Summer break is coming, maybe a few months apart will help during this time of change for me.


Zach

My son is graduating at the end of this month. I am so excited for him. No one ever worked harder for anything. He has a stick-to-it-ness that is unrivaled. He has a long hard road ahead yet, but I have no doubt in his ability to make it. He is definitely liking my new happiness. He really likes Dale. They are spending some time together doing things guys do. Little things that dads are supposed to do with their sons, but Zach’s dad never had time for. I think Dale kind of likes the idea of getting to be dad-like right now.

I guess time will tell the tale. And when it does, I’ll write it here.

Not all men are dogs!

It was a wonderful trip to Boise. I was treated like a priceless treasure, a princess to be pampered and wooed. We went shopping (for climbing gear), ate sushi, and climbed rocks. We walked to the sushi restaurant from our hotel. It was magical. I've been to Boise many times, even lived there for a while, but I'd never seen it like that before. I felt like a small town girl escaping to the big city!

The whole night was wonderful. I was completely swept off my feet. But I'm stupid sometimes. Sometimes it is better to just keep the big mouth shut. Especially when insecurity raises its ugly head. He's a kind and gentle man, and never sighed or rolled his eyes, but I know I gave him pause for thought. I suppose that isn't necessarily a bad thing.

Yesterday I spent making Chicken Cordon Blue, Wild rice pilaf, roasted asparagus and apple dumplings for Easter dinner. My two children, my boyfriend, my dad and my neighbor were my guests. My neighbor and my son bagan discussing politics. She had my son going in no time and I couldn't get him to calm down. Dale left early. I felt so bad. That whole dinner was supposed to be about HIM, not her. I'm so mad at her that I will consider whether I should invite her again. That's sad. Unconditional Acceptance. Practice, practice, practice.

I haven't really messed anything up too bad, I guess. He is talking about how he will introduce me to his mother. I guess we'll see.

Fire and Ice

She stands so close to the fire that she can feel the heat of the embers touching her skin. The warmth is welcomed on this frigid night, and it thaws her frozen core. The numbness in her soul begins to subside. Her heart begins to beat. Her lungs begin to breath. Then, she remembers the storm that captured her life, and turned it into a sad and lonely ice sculpture.

So long she stood in the lonely silence that she had forgotten how wonderful it felt to move. She can move now, and feels more gratitude than she knew was possible. Even so, the fear begins to creep in. She remembers the sting of the storm, the pain that tortured her into stillness. The cruelness of the wind as it tried to knock her down and shatter her. What hidden strength bore her through the ravages of that evil winter? Does it still exist in her?

Her blood flows through her veins now, reaching out to each and every cell. Fear grips her. She loves the warmth of the fire, but doesn’t really trust it to last. If it leaves her, will she be able to withstand another winter? Fires are not dependable. They never have been. Only the winter is constant.

She is warm and alive now, and the thought of reverting back to ice is revolting. The fire could turn her to ash, and she could float on the wind for an eternity - or it could simply disfigure her, and leave her hopeless and empty.

What should she do? Should she trust this fire to burn? Should she return to ice? Should she jump into the fire? What will I do?

Pumpkin

Happy One Month Anniversary, Sweety!

It has been a month now, I can hardly believe it! In some ways it feels like I’ve known you my entire life, and yet, I really don’t know you at all. You’ve opened pathways in my soul that I didn’t know existed. You’ve led me through doors in my heart that give no escape. I’ve gone too far now to ever turn back, I’ve seen too much to ever want to leave.

I need you to walk with me now, through this unfamiliar landscape, and share with me the things it so freely offers. The flowers, bright and beautiful, perfume the air with joy and bliss. The sun warms the earth with love and safety, casting shadows of hope in our unknown future. The sweet rivers of happiness meander and twist through every moment. I shout my devotion to you from the highest mountain.

Your arms bring me the peace of knowing your love, your smile assures me of your devotion, and your kisses coax the butterflies in my heart to flutter with excitement. You’ve come to me now, at the end of an old life, ready to help me explore the best things that are yet to come. We celebrate the eve of us.

Dale is so sweet; I think I might actually be getting a toothache.

So, I got to rock climb on Saturday. It was a heartbreaking first half-climb as the shoes I borrowed were much too narrow and small to do anything but wish I could just die. But then Dale took put his climbing shoes on me and taped them up really well, and I discovered a fun like I’ve never known.

My toes magically gripped the smallest rock crevices, and lifted me into the next, my widespread hands caressed the rock and gave me leverage, and my fingertips grasp the tiny ledges and pull me along. I imagine it is a lot like being Spiderman. It is magic, a waltz with the rocks. And Dale kept me safe; I knew he would never let me fall.

We will go climbing again Thursday and Friday. He is planning to spend way too much money on me. He is so romantic and giving. He is exactly what I’ve always wanted, and so much more. I never knew how wonderful it really is to have someone who genuinely wants to take care of me. I never knew how safe it makes me feel to want to be taken care of.

His eyes are so blue.

He makes great mochas for in the morning, and serves me in bed.

He lays out my favorite fruits for breakfast.

He makes me peanut butter sandwiches for lunch.

He touches me as though he’s never known such beauty.
He loves me.

I love him.

It is a very happy beginning.

It's All Good!

It’s been nearly a month now, and I became suddenly scared. This is the time when I typically get dumped. The guys in my past have been so mean about it too. One day everything seems fine and great and I’m buying lingerie, the next day it’s over with no reasonable explanation. Sometimes not even a phone call. So I was scared. Dale is different than they were, I know that. A prolonged lack of sleep really messed with my head.

This week has been difficult; not sleeping enough coupled with the time change and Boom! Who am I and what did I do with Cheri? I am somewhat delusional and I know I am seeing rejection where exhaustion lives, boredom where needing sleep resides. I couldn’t help but wonder if he feels the same way?

But I took a nap yesterday. It was a well deserved, much needed and very welcomed nap, and it did wonders! I went to his house and reclaimed my butterflies. He looks deep into my eyes and my heart goes pitter patter. He’s still just as into me as he was, and I am so into him. No second guessing, no pushing, no clinging. This is a time for enjoyment.

Today I get to really enjoy! I get my first climbing lesson today after school. I am so excited! We’ll camp on his land tonight. It’s a great time to be alive! I’m so glad I didn’t give up too soon.

I love him, I love him, I love him! I’ll try hard not to watch the clock today. I know how the next five hours will go, how they will stretch into an intolerable infinity. Then the hours that follow will seem to be nothing more than a flash of lightening. In the end, I know that time is on my side. I have countless hours to wish for him, fleeting seconds to spend with him, but a lifetime to love him.

Spooning

Dale is so wonderful. I am head-over-heals in love with him. He says he feels the same way and I believe him. I have never felt so cared for, happy, excited, contented or hopeful. Yes, this is happening fast, but when it's right doubt never creeps in. And there is no doubt here. He is all I have ever wanted. I've never been in this place before, I intend to stay here forever.

I wrote him this poem, and I intend to write more for him, so - just bear with me here.

It's called

Spooning

In the dark we lie

My head nuzzled into the crux of your arm

Our fingers entangled at my breast

Your touch is gentle and comforting

The heat of your breath on my neck

Your hot flesh against my back

The rhythm of your beating heart

My hips cupped into yours

Our legs entwined

Our feet embrace

We are close

So close

Yet I long to be closer

I ache to become one with you

Two flames of one fire

Sharing the silence of the night

My Life is So Sweet!

Dale
I haven't been posting much lately, haven't had much time for computer stuff, or cleaning, or sleeping. My life has taken a turn for the fantastic! The guy in this picture is the reason why! Ok, so maybe it's not the best picture for showing off my boyfriend, but I will get some that are better. I like it because dang he's hot! Hangin on to that rock face in those shorts! hmmm So much better than chocolate!

Well, there it is. I have fallen really hard for this guy. Guess what? Feeling's mutual!

Maybe this weekend will bring some time to write about spooning. OH MY HECK!!!! Life is soooooo Great!

Gotta go now, time to get ready for tonights date!

I Offer You My Hand

My hand

I’ve been told that drawing hands is very difficult. I thought it was fun. I had a blast exaggerating the lines and shadows on my hand. The drawing makes my hand look much older, but it definitely has plenty of character.

Probably the most powerful symbol in human existence is the hand. The human hand is so unique with it’s opposable thumbs and limitless dexterity. The hand carries all of the trials and tribulations of a life. It boasts our greatest strengths and exposes our weaknesses. It is used to heal and harm, create and destroy, give and take, help and impair, hold and crush. Our hands offer our hearts to God.

Our hands do our bidding, whatever the cause.

Today I offer you mine.

Dale

I gave a great deal of consideration as to whether I should post this. I'm not sure I know exactly what it says about me, but I can't concern myself with what other people think. Maybe I'm afraid of a Godly reprimand. Maybe I'm afraid is not a good reason to not post this, though. After all, I have made a conscious decision to not base any more of my choices on fear.

So, here it is.

I love that you called me every day this week. Well, except for Wednesday because I called you first. I am so thrilled that you think about me so much, because I can’t stop thinking about you.

It sounds so ridiculous, but I have done everything that seems to have jinxed every past romance. I told all the girls at work, told you I liked you right away, I even bought new underwear. You still call. You still want me. It still feels right.

So Friday night finally came. I met you at Johnny Carino’s in my new outfit. I showed you my pictures of vacation spots and of my art. You were impressed. Cool.

We didn’t smooch much, not because I didn’t want to. I can show some patience, see? Then you took me home. To your home.

You gave me the tour of your house, and said you hoped I would live there with you someday. The tour ended in your bedroom. Ok, so this might be too fast, but what can I say. I don’t want to play games, and the honest truth is, I want this.

It was so wonderful to have a man touch me the way you touched me. Always lovingly, always gently, always warmly. You didn’t move too fast, I never felt rushed. Nothing happened until I was ready for it.
I always thought it was just a cliché, the way women gushed about feeling like they were one with their lover. I’d never felt it before, I thought they were making way too much out of nothing. I thought that until that wonderful night I spent with you. I really did wonder where I ended and you began.

You went on your long planned climbing vacation the next morning. You still call me when you have a signal. It’s a lot more work that a guy playing a girl would go to. I hid my match profile. It took me a little longer than it took you. I believe you really want this. I don’t think you are lying. So I will wait for you to get home Friday. I will give this new romance every chance to work. I am looking toward the future with hope.

I am really looking forward to really getting to know you. I want to learn to climb. I will learn more about you while you teach me than you would guess. It’s nice to know we’ll get there. I love that you want to be my boyfriend, and I am happy to be your girlfriend.

And I will take comfort in knowing that nothing has happened too fast, or not fast enough. It has and will happen just exactly how it should. I’m amazed. I asked for you, and there you are. That is the last jinxer you know - saying you are heaven sent! But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true, either.

Second Date

Neither of us wanted to wait until Friday. You called me on your way home from your ski trip Monday. You were concerned that it would be too late to go for a walk, but I insisted it wasn’t, I wanted so badly to see you, too badly.

I headed out ten minutes too early, and ended up watching the water overrun the giant pillars of basalt and crash into the river below. I tried to be patient, but my excitement exceeded my skill, and I checked the time every minute for the full ten minutes. I fanaticized a dozen ways to greet you, and forgot them all when you came.

You brought your dog, who seemed most uninterested in me. Perhaps she could tell that I wasn’t there to see her. Perhaps it was because she is just too laid back to express her feelings toward me in any outward manner. I wonder, did she like me?

We held hands and walked down the stairs of the Shoshone Falls outlook. The roar of the water couldn’t drown out the pounding of my heart. You decided that if a person drove a boat up under the falls, that he could climb right up the rock face of the falls. I’m really not sure what to think about that, but I know it is a part of you that I find fascinating.

We walked part-way up the centennial trail, and, when we found a private spot, we stopped. We kissed. Your lips were warm and gentle. You held me so close, stroked my hair, caressed my back. Your tongue was shy, so I teased it out. The taste of your mouth sent shocks of excitement throughout my entire body.

The night air took on a chill, but your body pressed against mine kept me warm and tingly. I never wanted to stop. You made me want to do things I shouldn’t even be thinking about yet. Is this moving to fast?

I can’t get over how comfortable I feel with you. I don’t have to prove my worth to you. When you touch me, I feel appreciated. When you look at me I feel beautiful. When you kiss me I feel. I can’t even say I know this feeling, I don’t think I have ever felt it before.

Oh, the chemistry is there. I recognize that. Every nerve ending in my body screams for your attention. Your touch brings to life every hair, every pore, every, well, let’s just say, I want you. I throb in places I forgot existed. I am alive, and vibrant. Inside I feel this can’t move fast enough. It feels so right.

Friday. It’s a long time to wait to hold you again.

First Date

I was so excited to get to meet you. I didn’t want to be early, waiting sucks. I didn’t want to be late, I have more respect for you than that. I was right on time. I was so nervous. You were standing there waiting, and I couldn’t believe how handsome you were.

There is something so classy about an outdoor adventurer. Dressed in black, tall, and gorgeous, you stood waiting with an air of confidence, but I could tell you were nervous. I was so happy to see you, and you seemed genuinely pleased to see me. I wanted to fall into your arms right at that moment, and stay there forever. I didn’t want to know more, I would be disappointed if you were different than my mind made you out to be.

We went into the restaurant prepared for a wait. Could you tell how nervous I was? Was it obvious that my stomach was turning somersaults, my heart swelling with excitement? I tried to calm myself. How amazing that I never felt I had to be anything but who I am. Nervous, excited, hopeful, but never insecure. I was immediately at ease with you.

The host seated us. We sat, pretending to study the menu, stealing glances of each other. I longed to run my fingers through your tousled, blonde hair, and gaze into your honest blue eyes for an eternity. You smiled at me so genuinely, crinkling your strong and dignified nose, and I tried to imagine your well manicured goatee tickling my chin. Your lips were a galaxy away.

Then the dance began. Probing questions were asked, never to the point but always leading to the right answers. How could it be? How could I have actually found another human being who really sees the world as I do? In Idaho! Our words reached out, whirling in circles, chasing, teasing, and catching each other. Before dinner came, they had formed into one single beautiful flame.

I told you some secrets, but not enough to spoil the mystery. The hours passed. All of a sudden it was silent. I looked up and no one was around. They had gone leaving us to each other. Only a handful of wait people lingered. They were so nice to let us stay so long after closing. We had to leave.

You walked me to my car, I dragged my feet. A little small talk and then…you wrapped your arms around me and held me close, and didn’t let go. Then you looked at me, you said something, I can’t remember what, then kissed me. Gently, warmly, perfectly.

I can’t stop thinking about you, and don’t want to. I can’t wait to see you again next Friday. You called me today! I am astounded that you feel the same way. You said so! I love the way this feels.

Memories

Charcoal Shells

This is one of my favorite charcoals because it brings back happy memories. The shells we got on vacation, the day I drew them was happy and peaceful. Not all of my memories are like that. As a matter of fact, my first memories were very unhappy.

Someone was up. I can still see the shaft of amber light that radiated beneath the door.
I was small, still just a baby, alone in my crib, and surrounded by an infinite darkness that was pierced only by that shaft of amber. I was ready to get up and go. I decided I could just climb right out of the crib, which is exactly what I tried to do. I had practiced this climb and was sure I could make it. I held on with everything I had and pulled myself up. Over the rim I flung my foot, and secured it on the other side. Ok, now what?

I was farther than I had ever been, and now, I was stuck! I had gone too far to get back into the crib, yet, if I let go now, I would fall into that abysmal darkness, to be lost forever. I was trying so hard to be quiet, it was not good to disturb mommy. I must have been crying because the door opened and there she was.

Her form silhouetted against the glow of the light behind her. Suddenly the abyss wasn’t so frightening, not compared to the wrath I knew she would bring against me. But something unexpected happened. Instead of yelling, she said “are you ready to get out of bed? Did you get stuck? Here, let me help you.”

The incident shouldn’t have mattered. The trauma of being swallowed into the nothingness surely wasn’t so traumatic. Getting yelled at was not unusual. People aren’t supposed to have memories that date back before age three, and I couldn’t have been three yet. I have a distinct knowledge in that memory of being in a room at the top of the stairs. The only house I lived in like that was one I lived in before three years of age. Unless my mom lied about the age at which I was potty trained.

I also remember my mom telling me about my sister crying a lot, and thinking it was so cute that I stood at the bottom of the stairs yelling “Ki!, oh Ky!” every time she started to cry. I am 16 months older than my sister, so I must have been close to that age.

I know I was being potty trained when we lived at the house on Highland. I remember it because my grandma Irene had come to visit and was leaving. We were walking her out to her car. Something caught my eye.
There was this most beautiful woman riding her bike with such grace and elegance down the street. I watched her bare feet as they somersaulted, heal over toe over heal. I was completely mesmerized. Her long brown hair was twisted into elegant braids. She passed me without even a glance. It was magic.

Of course, my adult memory recognizes that she was probably all of nine or ten, and that she was just a little girl riding her bike up and down the street on a hot summer evening. That would have put me at about 20 months!

As I was watching her ride away down the street, I was suddenly shocked back into “reality” with a swift swat on the butt, and an angry mother yelling that she had told me not to go into the street! I remember my grandmothers face. She was shocked, surely more by my mothers violence than by my act, but I saw it as concurrence at that time. I was sent into the house, crying.

My step dad met me in the kitchen. “Why are you crying?” he asked. I tried to tell him about the beautiful woman on the bike, failing miserably to be understood. “Are you saying you have to go ‘try’?” Try was the word for having a bm in the potty chair. The next thing I knew, that was where I was, in the bathroom, on the potty chair, step dad saying “Try, Cheri, Try!”

So according to these memories, I had to have been living on Highland just before I turned two. I remember that before we moved, my aunt Mila was visiting, trying to shame me into not wetting the bed. My sister was already successfully potty trained then. So that memory had to be closer to four.

I know we moved out of that house when I was four. That was when my great-grandpa Al sold my mom and step dad a house for a more than reasonable price.

I don’t know why any of that is important. Why would my mind hold onto such memories? The one thing they all have in common was the intense fear I felt for my mother. I think that is sad. I wish I didn’t have to be afraid of my mother. I wish that I had a mother that I could love and confide in. Someone who would tell me I’m loved and valued. No matter what, no matter. I can’t make this feeling disappear. A large part of me really doesn’t want to. How can I miss so much a thing I’ve never had?

Fallen Vessel

Fallen Vessel

We are not human beings experiencing a spiritual existence. We are spiritual beings experiencing a human existence. I read this somewhere and BOOM! I knew this was my motto. It so completely describes how I feel about this life. That is why I choose not to deny ego, that is why I choose to continue to have the experience. The fact that I can see this so clearly today is very encouraging. There will be more ups and downs for a while, I know. But there is hope.

I am ready to begin my new life. I did something strange and signed up on match.com. I have really gotten a lot of winks and responses on my profile so far. These are keeping so busy right now that I really haven’t had much of a chance to look for what I actually want in a partner. But I do have a pretty good idea. And it looks like there might be some guys out there who are as out there as I am.

So I’m adding a picture today. This one is a pastel drawing of a vase. In an art class the students were supposed to sketch designs that they wanted to sculpt into native Idaho clay. I have this drawing, but I was unable to translate it into clay. I am going to take a pottery class this summer with my work friend. It will be fun. 5 eight hour days in a row, shaping and molding hunks of mud into works of art. I can hardly wait.

Anyway, this vase is a representation of the soul of a woman. The base of the vessel is the beautiful natural wonderful person all of us start out as. The black is the messages we receive over our lifetimes that blacken and threaten to engulf us. It's never too late to realize what is happening and to change our minds about ourselves. We can reclaim our precious flower.