Well, lookie lookie, another day, Yippee! Grandbaby sleeping in my bed, and the lights are out, off, time for nonighs. But not me, I am sitting over this little computer typing away. Okay typing away might be an over statement.  Stupid Pandora keeps cutting out and ruining my train of thought. I have gained another year in my Book of Life, and I can do this.

Middle of July, I met a guy. He scooped me off my feet and straight onto my back. Wait, I wasn't always on my back. We were all over the place. It was great fun. All of it. A lesson learned. Well, a few lessons, and not many were learned in the boudoir. I picked ten things I learned:

Number One- I can feel happy, giddy, ecstatic, as well as all the other stuff that  you feel when you're first in a relationship. I still desire the mushy stuff. Yes! I thought that emotional stuff passed with Dennis. It didn't because I fell fast and hard. I want those feelings to endure and not fall into the complacency of a relationship.

Number Two- I can still feel the pain of things ending too fast. But that is how the whole affair began, too fast. The first date "I love you," began the whole spin out of control (he said that, not me). All those hours texting, talking, arm in arm. Then to hear, "I don't want you to get the wrong idea, and this has NOTHING to do with you or your affliction, but I need to take care of my WIFE." WHAT the HELL!?!? Did I hear WIFE? Did I see it in that Dear Jane e-mail? Oh hell I ignored those initial red flags that intuition was waving in my face. I ignored every single one, hoping for the best (Polly Anna go straight to hell. Do not pass go, or collect $200).

Did I mention that HE HAS A WIFE??? Okay, here is what I thought and had been told by him. He was divorcing. Ummm, he was thinking about it, sure, but she had the papers, she was in control. Oh hell she's always been in control once they started their "thing." I forgot. She is an addict. Prescription drugs. Enough of an addict that she told him to leave and literally threw him out for another man with pills. Over and over. And he went. Over and over. But prior to all her anger the were stints of rehab, with her saying I am good, and then him finding the damn drugs not two days later hidden. That could have been a slap in the face for him, had he not had the depth of feeling for her. Wait. It is codependency. Anyhow he told me it had been over 1 1/2 years since they were together. Oh until he called her and she was sad, or something. Then SHE called him a few weeks later and asked, "Will you pick me up from the hospital?" Of course he did, and WHAM I am out the door. Gone from his existence. No longer a factor in his life. WHAT?

Number Three- Some men are seriously STOOPID. I cried for 45 minutes, but then got pissed off that I could be thrown in the dumpster just like that. Hmmm... he was down the mountain that's what he wrote. Intuition said go see. So I did. The son-of- good parents was LYING.  Fucker. Can't say SOB or bastard, he is neither. So what I hadn't taken home a week earlier was quickly put into my car, and he was panicked. Ha I looked up and saw he had put his wife in the car thinking I was going to flip and go bat shit crazy. I didn't. I wanted to, but I realized his circus, his monkey. I wasn't going there with him, because there was no place to go. I did wave and smile, and then went on about my business of retrieving my belongings. I made him have lot's of 'splaining to do and I hope it wasn't easy, but it was probably just that. He spun lies to me, and I figure he could twist things to tell his wife anything. Did he really think I would just wait to be contacted? I listened to that for three days and then said I had enough. 

Number Four- I wasn't over it until today. Okay, maybe yesterday. I think I am writing this out to confirm it, console myself, and build me back up. Yeah, that's it. I'm done feeling for him. He was my first thought in the morning. Even BEFORE coffee and that says a lot!

Number Five- I still have the libido of a 20 something woman in heat. I wore him out. I sent him places he had never been, more than once. Betcha he will remember that. It's nice to learn I can still accomplish that.

Number Six- Although I want to say screw you to him, I can't. I won't. I know what life is like to be in such a twisted relationship. I was married to a druggie until I had had enough. I figure the whole point of life is love, and love doesn't fit into me being stupid and doing things I would immediately regret. Revenge does, and I am not seeking that to be a part of my life. I want love. Peace. Serendipity. No bullshit, no games. Period.

Number Seven- Life does indeed go on, and friends are a great way to realize it wasn't me in this mess. It was his poor choice in telling me all that hooey. Friends said to me I was worthy of more. Better. He was a stepping stone back into a world I have not tread for 20 years. Holy smokes there are still more jerks than princes out there and I am not kissing anymore frogs. I won't jump into a relationship either no matter the sweet talk that I crave. I think it was saccharin, fake sweet.

Number Eight- I am not alone. Strange happenings. Eagles and hawks. Hummingbirds. Shooting stars. Took me long enough to realize those were signs from people who care for me that now are in the Great Mystery.

Number Nine- I miss my husband and everything about him. Maybe I miss the security and complacency.

Number Ten- I will survive and grow from this as I have, and move on into all this new stuff. It has strengthened my resolve to be a better ME and that's it. No playing or participating in the bullshit games even adults play. I still live by that Golden Rule, and I am sticking to it. I need to understand myself better and finish that before I am ready for anything else. I have a little list in expectations- Trust, truth, honesty and respect. Oh an ability to keep up with me in the sack, because I think that is waaaaaaaaaaaaay delicious and wonderful, and I want that physical connection. Every day. Maybe twice a day. Haven't had an opportunity for that in years, but I'd like to see. Anyhow back to me surviving. I don't want to just survive I want to thrive!

Other happenings, I had another birthday I survived. My eldest was in the hospital, and he was discharged on my birthday. Cool beans of a gift!

I will survive the heart burn of bad things. I will revel in the joy of good things. I will give prayers of gratitude for waking up each day. I will continue to seek out the positive, loving aspects of life and leave the rest of that stuff behind.

that's enough.

Peace, love, and more peace.

It's been so long since I have written that I am not sure I still am capable.

Two years ago I was numb. Numb because of death. Grief had barely begun to set in, after the passing of my husband, Dennis. Cancer had ravaged his body and it finally  succumbed.

Grief had already been a daily part of life, the knowledge that the man I loved wasn't going to exist at any moment. I grieved the fact we would never see the sequoias together, no driving to the redwoods to sleep under the stars. We would never get beyond the house except for trips to the hospital, the specialist, no fun day trips, just ones that would extend Dennis' life.

During these past two years oh so many things have occurred. Children grow, leave, come home and then take flight again.

My heart was so heavy, and I was so alone that I chose to be still for awhile, but my heart and soul cried for human contact. I became a victim of facebook. All forms of electronic connection. I didn't want to leave the safety net of the house. I could converse, laugh and write whenever I wanted.

The past 6 months I had readied myself to venture into the world of seeking for a new person to spend my time with. I had missed the closeness and warmth and strength of a man in my life.I took a chance and posted a profile and someone started talking. I wrote back. Several people wrote and I could choose who I connected with.

Then I was glimpsing through the many faces one day- and wham! One man stood out.
So I clicked "like" and the next thing I knew we were talking throughout the day by messages. I bit the line, and hooked onto the hope that I really could feel again. Pleasure. Pain. Happiness.

So we met. What a whirlwind!!! Days without hours, moments without end. It seemed that way. Inseparable. Lost in the flesh, lost in the rush of a new person, the physicality, the touch of another person. Legs entwined while talking, falling asleep nose to nose. I kissed him. I opened myself up to the most intimate and vulnerable me. I should have never kissed him. This means I did, and I fell hard. 

The very first night together was magical. Talking until dawn. Legs entwined, hands clasping. Kissing which had been vacant from my life for 13 years. Just the touch and closeness of being with another person totally evaporated any sense of dread or sorrow. Pillow talk together, noses touching, entwined in each other's arms. In the early morning light I heard, "I don't want to ruin anything, but I have to tell you this. I love you." I should have only heard the words instead of listen.

Escapes to the mountain, bag in hand with a piece of lingerie and little more. Many days spent forgetting about time, place or responsibility. The sheer delight and rush of the initial connection of two people, mentally, physically, and I thought emotionally. Red flags popped up here and there but through my veiled eyes, I didn't see them. Time was of no importance to me, or seemingly him. Just the delight of being in each other's company. The physicality of lust and the ability to realize I still COULD receive pleasure and also give it just fueled the fire for more within me. Deep desire was alive. All the years of sleeping alone, being alone within a relationship had erupted into a wild, insatiable being which could only crave more. I felt alive after so many years of being numb within myself. All thoughts of self preservation were out the window. All inhibition was as well. I should have seen those flags as they were thrown in the distance. I, as others also say, should have put the brakes on and slowed way down. My impulsive self wouldn't be attentive if I would have tried.

Being bipolar means signals are crossed, innuendo is misplaced, and sometimes I just don't hear the reality when I am in my little dreamworld. The depth of feeling was awesome. I could feel my hair and skin grow. The highs were amazing. There were no lows. Another flag, for my own sanity was waving in my face and I brushed it away. I did think of it, and began second guessing, but then tossing that doubt to the wind.

The daily time together, and few hours away from each other just made my head spin more. Drunken with the desire to be needed and wanted I failed to see the reality. 

Things slipped a bit away when the comment was made, " you just need to relax. I could probably get you healthy. You wouldn't even need medication."  For me this means hey take the rough off by going crazy! Stop your medications and see just how bizarre things could become! I am thankful the conscious cricket in my head said no way. 

I had a new hairstyle for a day, and it was requested as a more often item. Then comments about types of clothing. How to do this, how to do that. Always time between the sheets would allay my fears and nigglings. Foolish.

I was manic, spending money I didn't have. Bills were neglected. Then I worried. But I knew time with him would make all the bad things disappear, at least for the time we were together. So I spent more time together, to the point that my true self, Ms. Bipolar showed up. Thinking and over thinking and fretting about things that weren't important. Half of the things I thought were contrived by me, for me only. Doubt. All the insecure ramblings of a dented mind crept into my thoughts. Then affection was not shared as it was before. No hand holding. More like the comfort of old couples who just shared space. I thought it was me, thought I had done wrong, so I kept thinking. I always center my thoughts on my shortcomings, whether real or imagined. It is hard to explain to another person how you feel or think, as they are within oneself, and you cannot show them like a tangible thing. 

Another day in paradise. I thought this blog was gone into the realms of cyberspace, but lo, and behold! It is still here. 

Life is funny in many ways, so very sad in others. This past weekend two phriends of mine passed on. One from stupid pulmonary hypertension, the other from brain cancer. I guess that it is the point of my life where people start dying, instead of having babies and the glorious continuation of life. It is strange to see the circle. Hard sometimes, too. But life rolls on and I am hanging on to the handles of the ride, hoping to glean the real "meaning of life," but it has become to me, that the real meaning of life is the ride itself, and how we face each day.

I don't like being chronically ill. I want to be normal, but then I look at normal and think HOLY HELL I don't want to be normal. I like me how I am. I just wish the chronic pain wasn't here, and I had the energy I did. Everything is a drag. Move things, heavy or not, and the pain sits inside for days tormenting my body to the point I want to just lie down and sleep. There is happy in there, but the stupid medications seem to dull my senses. Make me lethargic, apathetic to my surroundings. This is "Normal?"  My doctor and therapist tell me this how average people feel. THIS SUCKS, who said again, I need to be normal? I disagree. I miss my highs of mania where I am creative, attentive, and moving like Speedy Gonzales. Instead I am just here. Bleech on psychotropic medications. They stun the senses and make my brain dull. Boring. Average. I don't like being average. I enjoy excelling, spontaneity, the joy of living. The desire to do.  It isn't here with stupid medications. For the past 30+ years I have swallowed the drugs, and I wonder, what has this done to my brain? Is the real me inside still? I know if I am non-compliant, that my kids will freak out. They will put me into "child mode" saying Mom take your pills. Did you take your medication? Oh what is it like to just be me. 

Caregiving has changed me too. I am tired, all the time. Does Nana need to bathe? How much longer before her dementia worsens. What will the day bring? I peek into her room and check that she is still alive and breathing? What will I do if she isn't? I have dealt with death so often, that some things numb me. Just numb me. I feel like I need to sit in a small area so I may control my surroundings. Sean, oh I finally hung my proverbial hat on being his caregiver to the extreme that I have. To break loose of those bonds. Emotionally okay. Physically, okay. I have finally begun to let go of the things i cannot control. Hard to do when it has defined me for the past 30 years. But I am trying.

My shrink and therapist said, "Define yourself. Who are you?" I had never thought of it before because I have been mother, wife, care giver. What do I aspire to be? Who am I? What makes me happy? Fulfilled? Whole? Geeze, I never thought about myself until they put forth that question to me. I am still searching, thinking about the answer. I get asked the question EVERY time I go in to talk, but I still haven't come up with an answer. Is there an answer befitting me? I have been conditioned to be the proverbial caregiver, mother, wife, mate. How do I look into myself to see who I really want to be? Who I am? Sheesh, in my twenties when I was a wee bit wilder (okay lots) I was a party animal. Drinking, dancing, and having fun. Was it really fun upon reflection? I think yes. Did it define me? Maybe.

Two men from my past are begging me to come and "be" with them. I cannot. They are old and are going to die, and I have done enough death to feel like the Grim Reaper, and I am tired of this. If you're going to die, please don't do it on my watch. I am tired of death. I have abandonment issues.

Ugh that gets brought up in therapy too. Abandonment issues. Yes, I have them. I know I do. How to I manage that? Mountain first. He made me feel safe, safely tucked under his arm, in the warmth of his embrace.The world could not hurt me, harm me or do wrong. I watched him die in a hospital bed, then found no reason to live. I calmed my soul with using drugs, and drink. It did no good.  I still felt alone. 

Next my mother. She is my best friend. Still long after her death. She has been gone for 12 years now, and I miss her so much. I have a hard time reaching out to people, and the hollow spot she has left in me cannot be filled. Okay, I managed to accept that she was gone. I watched as her soul left her body, free from cancer and the pains she endured in life. I functioned. Good thing the whole house flooded right before I came home, it distracted me enough to not think of the gaping hole in my life. I think she had something to do with it actually.

Life keeps rolling on and I need super glue to hold me on---the coaster moves faster than me most days!!!!!!!!!!!!1

Wow it seems life is going faster and faster! Remember when as a kid we just wanted to grow up? Seems like each day was a month? Now as an adult every day flies by like a moment, and each month zooms like the speed of sound.