Nothing like seeing something “shiny” that causes one to burst into tears in the middle of a museum!
Nothing like seeing something “shiny” that causes one to burst into tears in the middle of a museum!
One of my “areas of expertise” as a Psychotherapist is relationships, but do not take the following as professional advice. Certain decisions are 100% personal.
Something I have seen so many times is outright lying, and I still don’t understand it.
It’s one thing to engage, for example, in “cheating” in a relationship. It’s a whole different level of yuck to lie about it, straight to someone’s face…even AFTER you’ve been caught!
I can almost understand the act of being unfaithful…there is almost always a perceived element of being carried away by something bigger than oneself, feeling helpless in the face of something, etc.
But the lying part…willful…crazy-making…calculated…that’s the part that would do me in. I couldn’t cheat because I would suffocate under the incredible crushing weight of the having to lie part.
And the lying part ends up to be the most damaging part of the whole thing, not the act of infidelity itself.
People who do finally do tell the truth about cheating can rarely offer good explanations.
Even my own former husband, after 13 years of what I thought was wedded bliss, only had this excuse to offer when I asked him why.
“Well, I thought I could get away with it.”
So if you wandered and did not get caught, think long and hard before indulging in that guilt-relieving dump some people feel compelled to do under the guise of total honesty, or “coming clean”. It is usually just for the cheater to get out from under the hefty guilt-weight of his or her actions. Or worse, it’s a passive aggressive move to make sure your indiscretion is known so it can actually hurt your partner.
That is your shit to carry…possibly forever. So shut the fuck up and live with it. Deal with the real issues!
But if you have been busted, tell the truth, for God’s sake!!
Don’t gaslight someone you supposedly love.
End of obviously biased lecture of the day!
There ain’t no use in me trying to tell you how I feel
’cause what I feel ain’t what you’re feeling
I don’t know what we did wrong
I just know if you come home
I ain’t gonna let you break my heart again
There ain’t no use in me trying to find out where you’ve been
Where you’ve been ain’t where I’m going
’cause if I ask you where you’ve been
The hurting starts and it don’t end
So I ain’t gonna let you break my heart again, no
I ain’t gonna let you break my heart again, no no
Tears don’t become me
Pain ain’t my friend
It seems like you enjoy my crying, baby
You always said that I was strong
But I believe that you were wrong
Lately, God knows, I have been trying
There ain’t no use in you trying to kiss away the hurt, baby
’cause it hurts where it’s deep down inside of me and it’s hiding
If you decide you’re coming home
You walk in, it won’t be like before
’cause I ain’t gonna let you break my heart again, no
Ain’t gonna let you break my heart again, no no
The theme this week from Helen is Colors. Another obvious one from me but maybe I will post it first or something…
Thanks Helen. This song is certainly still relevant today!!
Ain’t Cyndi somethin’!!!
OK, here’s a story for you about Bridge, not a bridge or the bridge, although there are significant bridges like that in my life. I have even posted about some of those.
No, this is a story about the card game, Bridge. But be warned! There are three tragedies in this story and only two happy endings.
For many years, I held onto a beautiful treasure that belonged first to my grandmother and was passed down to my mother. It was a lovely novelty set of China, used only for Bridge Tournaments! A set of 4 plates, one shaped to represent each suit in a deck of cards, and a tea cup to nestle on to each plate. The plate below is a “Spade”. The beautiful shades of silvery blue with goldish orange accents always grabbed my attention.
There was also a clever stacking teapot, creamer and sugar container.
Tragedy number ONE: In my 30’s while moving, a well-meaning helper placed the very special treasure box containing my mother’s Bridge china set, as well as a pile of antique handpainted, glass Christmas Tree ornaments, on the trunk of my car. My friend was sure I would see it there before driving off to the new house.
TOPPLE, CRASH, SMASH, CRUNCH, and all that was left was a huge box that when lifted, made that nauseating, tell-tale sound of broken glass. (Silent, major profanity here remembering the event. I did NOT keep those swear words to myself at the time though.)
I was as crushed as all those shattered heirlooms!
The happy ending for that tragedy is two-fold. One plate (the “Spade” in the photo above) and two teacups were unscathed! AND, a few years later, I met this woman, a talented potter, who took all the broken pieces of the Bridge Tea set (of COURSE, I had not thrown them away!!) and “mosaiced” them onto small clay flower pots, so I could put lovely, growing things in them.
(As I write this, I am remembering one of my favorite novels called Broken for You by Stephanie Kallos. A great read partly about broken china and wonderful concept!)
Tragedy number TWO: I have been complaining on my blog that I lost my camera. I even let this loss prevent me from blogging for several weeks!! (I mean, what is a post without visual aids, right?)
I did try last Wednesday to use my phone to photograph the above plate for this Bridge Post. Lousy shots so I was grieving for my old friend even more.
I loved my camera. Just a very small, simple point and shoot Canon, but with the best telephoto and macro capabilities of its generation. I had become intimate with this camera, familiar with all its quirks and loving it anyway. And it knew all the most moving moments of my life, first hand. So the loss has hurt. No idea where it went to, but we have recently moved from the top half of the house to the bottom to make room for my son and grandsons, so I kept thinking I had just packed it somewhere and that it would turn up…but it didn’t! It was nowhere! Another heartbreak.
The happy ending? Just yesterday, while facilitating my new Women’s Art and Support Group, I was presenting the day’s activity: “crafting art out of things you already have around your home”.
I LOVE photography. I have since I was in the 4th grade, snapping away with my little Brownie camera. I didn’t get to be any good at it until these more modern digital options came around. But that’s only because I can afford to take a million pictures now, knowing that somewhere among the plethora of lousy shots, might be a surprise.
Anyway, one of my favorite hobbys for gift making and the occasion Craft Fair is to use my favorite photos for handmade greeting cards.
Three examples of cards I’ve made.
Well, I opened the box I keep the finished cards in and Voila! There was my camera!! It had been hiding right there where it belonged!! I cried and had to excuse myself from group to go tell James I found it because I knew he’d been plotting to buy me a new one.
I LOVED this happy ending!
Tragedy number THREE: My Mom died when I was young so her keepsakes still mean a lot to me. Those China pieces are precious, not just because they are beautiful, but also because they are a reminder to me of the amazing woman my mother was.
The first half of my life with her, my Mom was all involved in motherhood, house-wifing, PTA, her new church, and her favorite, playing Bridge at her Women’s Club in La Jolla. Apparently Mom was a secret Champion. Taught by her church upbringing that she should never brag, we didn’t even know the trips she was taking up the West Coast were because she kept winning huge competitions in Tournament Bridge! (She did finally tell us shyly about beating Raquel Welch’s Mom at Bridge at her local Women’s Club though.)
She would bring home souvenirs for her daughters from her mysterious trips. The hotel rooms were loaded with soaps, lotions, sewing kits, etc) and from the tournaments, lots of Cracker Jax-type charms. Tiny metal and plastic animals, cars, crowns, keys and little people. I never understood the charms and figured maybe they won them or used them to bet with or something?? Anyway, she seemed happy and lots of folks were drawn to her!
The last half of my time with my her was painful. To my sisters and me, as her children, we suffered from her depression and alcoholism, but it must have been unimaginable for her. Her last few years alive, she just really did not want to be here…period.
When I was a youngish teen, she tried for that big “Final Check Out” twice, only to be rescued from her pill-induced coma’s. The third time, she wasn’t taking any chances and used a much more reliable method, a gun. She finally succeeded. Gone from her pain.
No happy ending there…bridge burned! Period.
But I do have to say that her life, the way she knew who she was, and the courageous way she tried again and again to find a way to be herself in a world that repeatedly stomped on her, have been a non-stop inspiration to me. She left the church her family was adamantly committed to. She joined the navy in the 1940’s, almost unheard of for women. She tried being the domestic handmaid she was programmed to be in her family. And finally, she struck out on her own, still determined and still searching, until her own chemistry got the better of her and she finally succumbed to the only answer she could find. To me her life shines brightly, full of examples and lessons to learn.
As Don Henley says in his wonderful song, “My Thanksgiving”,
“Sometimes you get the best light from a burning bridge.”
Maybe that’s my THIRD Happy Ending!
Helen’s challenge for us this week is to
post a song about alcohol, or a song that has a type of alcohol in the title or lyrics.
This challenge was easy! Here’s one of my favorites!!
LOVE this guy.
Love what he’s done with his talent, with his life.
LOVE this song!!!
In 1971, we started our epic Camping Road Trip in Southern California. We wanted to see as much of the country as we could so we could pick our place to live. In our circumstance, the rat race of Southern California was just not going to cut it. (More on that later.)
We piled into my 1971 Metallic Blue Datsun 1200.
And when I say “piled” I mean enough stuff that in each campground people gathered to watch in awe as we unloaded and set up an elaborate outdoor domicile. By the end of our 4 months on the road, we were pretty impressive in our efficiency, both in setting up and breaking camp.
We drove up and down and back and forth across the southernmost United States so we could reach our goal of camping in every state. A few things stand out of course, like the Grand Canyon (though I was too sick to hike down to the bottom…more on that later also). We tried to find something unique wherever we stopped, you know, something only the locals would know about…like Chang Gonzalez’s Kosher German Deli in Blue Lake, New Mexico. Wait. I’ll let you digest that name…
On the Gulf Coast of the Deep South, we pulled into a classic KOA Campground in Biloxi, Mississippi. I remember us being exhausted that day and all we wanted was to set up camp, have a sandwich and a glass of wine, and hit the sack (or bag, as it were). Oh NO! Somehow, we had lost our wine corkscrew. This was not acceptable so we wandered out into the campground to see who looked like they might have one.
And there they were…Bill and Linda. To shorten a very long story (45 years worth, in fact) they had a corkscrew and they also had a flat in New York City, close to Columbia University where they were students. They were on the same quest as we were, camping across America to pick their place to live after college.
When I told Linda our trip would take us through New York City and we were excited to camp in their giant park (Central Park! What did I know??) she laughed and within minutes of knowing me, gave me the keys to their apartment so we would have a safer (more legal) place to stay in their city!
That was it! She just handed over her keys! When it is her turn to tell our story, Linda will say she knew she could trust me because I had already shared with her the fact that I was pregnant, and fairly proud of the fact that I had not felt the need to get married because of it.
After we each completed our months’ long searches to find our permanent homes, Bill and Linda chose Portland, Oregon to live in and we chose Seattle, a mere 3 hours away.
So Linda, the traditional girl from Ohio, student with her husband at Columbia, and Kathie, the Hippie Chick from San Diego, too “morning-sick” to climb down the Grand Canyon, in an instant, became fast friends for life. And we still are.
Linda has continued to “hand over her keys” to me for more than 45 years, to her house, her vacation homes, her psyche and her heart. And she has always made it safe for me to do the same! I could not have found a more perfect, lifelong best friend than my Linda.
Happy Birthday Linda! This post is dedicated to YOU for your love and patience and wisdom all these years!!
PS Your present is in the mail!!
Oh boy, I had to look this one up…maybe because I am the Queen of Holding On, of refusing to let go of stuff, especially love and also beauty…in any and all of its forms. And PEOPLE, don’t get me started. I hang on to people, healthy for me or not. I am still in touch with almost every boy I have ever loved!!
So I had a hard time “getting” the definition of this word…
|synonyms:||vanishing, fading, evaporating, melting away, disappearing;|
I learn so many lessons from sea shells. Having grown up by the ocean, I have been a collector all my life. But it wasn’t until an amazing sailing trip throughout Fiji, where we got to prowl along beaches so remote it truly felt like we might be the first humans to ever lay bare feet in that sand, that I realized I was a shell snob. That was my first insight into my own ageism. I only wanted those gorgeous, undamaged shells. In other words, the young perfect ones.
Even though we had to receive permission from the chief of an island to collect shells, it was the locals who pointed out I was gathering shells that might not be finished with their life’s purpose yet. Most shells are recyclable! I was stealing some hermit crab’s future home or maybe a pearl’s gestation container!
But this post is not about shells. My interpretation of evanescent is about all things with a life cycle, no matter how short or long. My lesson from the word this week is to remember how the Fijians (the iTaukei) taught me to fully appreciate beauty at every stage.
It’s easy to see and appreciate the evanescent progression in nature…
I can see the obvious beauty there…
But it’s a bit more difficult when I study the phenomenon of Evanescence while looking in the mirror!
Time…….passing at warp speed now!
That’s all I can say…