txt's - sometimes we reach out - to just anyone who will listen - or it seems that our lives hang in the balance of the world of others.  Feeling that we have no real purpose within our own four walls - we reach out. 

When no one responds we panic --  When everyone responds we are overwhelmed.  Is there no happy medium?

Wondering to myself - perhaps it is like a bra.  Finding the right bra is somewhat of a challenge and then what kind of bra do you really want

Are we happy with one with under-wires - the kind that pinch and poke us?  Or one that is just barely there.

Do we want one that gives us a little extra push up so that all the world can see possibly what we have - if anything at all.  

And why is it that we wear bra's to begin with 

to give us support?  To lift and separate?  Or something to wrap around our body to make us feel whole.

Which leads me to ponder that whole question too.  Do we actually need something in our life to make us feel whole?  Cannot we feel whole on our own, without the aid of others?

actually I'm thinking not .....

I know I cannot feel complete unless I have someone to make me feel whole, and I am really grateful for the people in my life who make me feel that I am worthy enough to be in their thoughts and lives.

My children make me feel whole - they make me smile, they make me mad.  They make me wanna throttle them sometimes cause they are being unreasonable.  But i would not be complete without them.

So is the human spirit -- we all have needs.  We all want to feel that we are valid human beings.  We all want someone in our life who will wrap themselves around us like a bra.  Who will lift us up, and separate us from the masses.  They can make us feel pretty and special.  

Someone who will txt us in the middle of the night cause they cant sleep.  Or they wanna sleep but just need to reach out and touch us for a moment to help them get back to sleep.  I am guilty of doing that.  Reaching out in the middle of the night
with a txt

Usually it goes upon sleeping ears.

Sometimes i would txt i love you, and the txt would come back i love you too.

Funny how we have that need -- to be validated -- to know that someone cares.

I remember when Rick and I first started being a couple, and we would have the most wonderful conversations via txt.  Now -- we live together, we have our conversations at the dinner table, and I am comforted by the sounds of him sleeping in the room next door.  Thank you my sweet prince for helping me validate my own existence and to know that I am not just a dust bunny under the bed.

There comes a time, when you just have to succumb to the silence. The lull of the conversation as, there is really nothing to say.
I will sit in the same room as my mother, knowing that she is just content to feel that I am present.
My sister is quiet, I am sure thinking about the friend she wil need to take to the vet this afternoon, and put to sleep. Poor Sophie had a doggie stroke a few days ago and can't get around. It is the best thing to do at this point. I feel her sorrow.

Today -- I get to go visit my mother.  I am looking forward to this.  Even tho she is opinionated and hard to be around [because she is almost 89 for goodness sake] and as a child she was oh so critical of me.  I know that she loves me so so much, and waited so long to actually hold me in her arms as a wee little one close to 58 years ago.

Giving me a question that I have always had.  

Why was she my mother - why was I her daughter?  How come did I get the brother and sisters I got, much less the nieces and nephew - grand niece and nephews.  

Knowing full well it is all spiritual - but also wondering - if it is spiritual, then why are we not better, or more kind to each other.  Why do we take things for granted - or why do we feel that we are entitled to certain behaviors or materialistic objects.

I have a sister, who I believe has paid her dues, and I believe that for once she is in a rescue space that she is entitled to.  I believe that she has found a partner who will nurture her, and make things right.  I know that my mother had voiced discontent when this partner first arrived and stole her away for a few days at a time - but I as I think about it - I think that it was just jealousy, and missing my father.  Then there are those who believe that my sister is being selfish. But that is because they can no longer manipulate her into giving them the items, time, finances they think they are entitled to. 
I don't think that she is selfish - I think that she is healing.  I think that for once, she is finally coming into her own, and not succumbing to what her family or community thinks is good for her.  Only we [as a singular entity], as spiritual being actually know what is good for us - but only if we listen to the inner voices we hear, think, or feel.  

So yay! for my sis -- and yes I get to see her also.  I think that it will be a good visit, even if it is going to be for only a day.  It will still be a good visit.

My Faerie came to see me today -- She brought me a wonderful bag of Lavender.  
Sigh -- It smells so good.  Relaxes the mind and the body.  I clipped it, put the flowers in a container to dry, and the stems I put into another container to perhaps begin to make essential oil with.  
Searching I find several ways to capture the oil from the Lavendar.  Some of it tells me that I need a gas stove [yeah right!]  I think I will do it another way.  I know that there are oils in the stems and the leaves --- mmmmmmm.

Don't want to waste a bit of it.  Even tho I know it is early in the season, still don't want to waste any.

Rick -- Bless him.  Found me a shelf unit that I can use for my holiday bazaar's that I plan on participating in this year.  Fold up shelves that can be accessed from either side.  I think that the yard sale people he found it at did retail for a while.  He said that they used it to display seeds.  how wonderful is that?! as I plan to use it for my Lavender and Rice bags -- 

Today was really a good good day -- not only did I get to see my Faerie [Connie] and my dear partner found me something really useful.  But another friend - who I had almost given up on [and i was thinking really hard about her today - thinking that i needed to send her an email asking what was wrong, and had she given up on me] -- txt and we talked it out.  I am glad to have my friend back.. I hope that she understands that I try never to pass judgement on her or anyone, for that matter.  We plan to have coffee next week .. I sure could use some right now even :)

Dinner tonight -- Just me and Rick - cause Kelsey is spending some quality time with her best friend Logan.  

Iron Horse Restaurant -- 
Love it!
Had coconut Fried Shrimp - chips and salsa - a to die for salad and Rice.  Ice tea to top if off.  Yummmmm
Rick had Jambalaya -- He said it was really really good.

Rick's ex wife never cared for the Iron Horse -- but then she doesn't know much about much - otherwise she wouldn't have set him free now would she have :)  Just sayin ........

But then again - if she hadn't set him free - He wouldn't have me, nor I him - and that would be a sad state of affairs huh.

How do I feel when I, as a bookkeeper, work for my EX husband.
My stomach gets tight
the muscles in my throat get tight
and I feel much like a small and insignificant person that he always made me feel when we were married.

My heart beats really quick
my breathing is rather shallow
I feel a heavy weight on my chest

I believe that I might be having some kind of panic or anxiety attack.

I was asked once, why do you still do this.
Why do you still work for Neil.
I respond, cause then I can make sure that he pays the child support - spousal support.  It is all centered around his obligations to me and what I feel he owes me.  But,  Have I broken free of the painful marriage?

I am thinkin -- not so much

Think that I should break free - think that I need to have a conversation with my partner.  Think I need to create more art and not pay mind to can he or can he not pay the support.  

There comes a time when you just gotta let go.  when you need to pass the resentments that you have for people in your past, back out there.
Your resentments no longer need to live within your mind.  They no longer need to have a place that they call home.

There comes a time that you have to erase the tape that plays
Program it with something lovely, something more deserving.

there comes a time when ....

How is it that all theses people even live within the confines of your mind any way?  Isn't it getting rather crowded up there?  Is there even room for you.


Resentments are much like roommates that you live with, but you can't stand.  How does your stomach feel when you come across these roommates.  How does your heart react.  It is time, Robin, to let these roommates go.  Tie them up in a big balloon and let them go, cast them out.


Dang its cold in here all of a sudden.  You hands and arms are cold.
You can't you cry out.  I can't let go -- they wronged me, they made me feel small and insignificant.  And that is something that I will always have to live with - because I gave them permission ... 
They ignored me.  And I feel unworthy to be alive.  I felt that I deserved all that was given.  All the abuse.  


but ...


Point given my dear child - they are still abusing you in many respect, if you chose to hold on to the memories.  If you choose to replay the scene  that played.  If you choose to relive the moment, and hear the talk. You will always have resentment, and you will always feel less than a worthy human.

I just read this article - found it on a friend's Facebook Page -- Speaks volumes

http://www.essentialmums.co.nz/mums-life/health/8757837/Passing-on-body-hatred


Dear Mum,

I was seven when I discovered that you were fat, ugly and horrible. Up until that point I had believed that you were beautiful - in every sense of the word. I remember flicking through old photo albums and staring at pictures of you standing on the deck of a boat. Your white strapless bathing suit looked so glamorous, just like a movie star. Whenever I had the chance I'd pull out that wondrous white bathing suit hidden in your bottom drawer and imagine a time when I'd be big enough to wear it; when I'd be like you.

But all of that changed when, one night, we were dressed up for a party and you said to me, ''Look at you, so thin, beautiful and lovely. And look at me, fat, ugly and horrible.''

At first I didn't understand what you meant.

''You're not fat,'' I said earnestly and innocently, and you replied, ''Yes I am, darling. I've always been fat; even as a child.''

In the days that followed I had some painful revelations that have shaped my whole life. I learned that:
1. You must be fat because mothers don't lie.
2. Fat is ugly and horrible.
3. When I grow up I'll look like you and therefore I will be fat, ugly and horrible too.

Years later, I looked back on this conversation and the hundreds that followed and cursed you for feeling so unattractive, insecure and unworthy. Because, as my first and most influential role model, you taught me to believe the same thing about myself.

With every grimace at your reflection in the mirror, every new wonder diet that was going to change your life, and every guilty spoon of ''Oh-I-really-shouldn't'', I learned that women must be thin to be valid and worthy. Girls must go without because their greatest contribution to the world is their physical beauty.
Just like you, I have spent my whole life feeling fat. When did fat become a feeling anyway? And because I believed I was fat, I knew I was no good.

But now that I am older, and a mother myself, I know that blaming you for my body hatred is unhelpful and unfair. I now understand that you too are a product of a long and rich lineage of women who were taught to loathe themselves.

Look at the example Nanna set for you. Despite being what could only be described as famine-victim chic, she dieted every day of her life until the day she died at 79 years of age. She used to put on make-up to walk to the letterbox for fear that somebody might see her unpainted face.

I remember her ''compassionate'' response when you announced that Dad had left you for another woman. Her first comment was, ''I don't understand why he'd leave you. You look after yourself, you wear lipstick. You're overweight - but not that much.''

Before Dad left, he provided no balm for your body-image torment either.

''Jesus, Jan,'' I overheard him say to you. ''It's not that hard. Energy in versus energy out. If you want to lose weight you just have to eat less.''

That night at dinner I watched you implement Dad's ''Energy In, Energy Out: Jesus, Jan, Just Eat Less'' weight-loss cure. You served up chow mein for dinner. (Remember how in 1980s Australian suburbia, a combination of mince, cabbage, and soy sauce was considered the height of exotic gourmet?) Everyone else's food was on a dinner plate except yours. You served your chow mein on a tiny bread-and-butter plate.

As you sat in front of that pathetic scoop of mince, silent tears streamed down your face. I said nothing. Not even when your shoulders started heaving from your distress. We all ate our dinner in silence. Nobody comforted you. Nobody told you to stop being ridiculous and get a proper plate. Nobody told you that you were already loved and already good enough. Your achievements and your worth - as a teacher of children with special needs and a devoted mother of three of your own - paled into insignificance when compared with the centimetres you couldn't lose from your waist.

It broke my heart to witness your despair and I'm sorry that I didn't rush to your defence. I'd already learned that it was your fault that you were fat. I'd even heard Dad describe losing weight as a ''simple'' process - yet one that you still couldn't come to grips with. The lesson: you didn't deserve any food and you certainly didn't deserve any sympathy.

But I was wrong, Mum. Now I understand what it's like to grow up in a society that tells women that their beauty matters most, and at the same time defines a standard of beauty that is perpetually out of our reach. I also know the pain of internalising these messages. We have become our own jailors and we inflict our own punishments for failing to measure up. No one is crueller to us than we are to ourselves.

But this madness has to stop, Mum. It stops with you, it stops with me and it stops now. We deserve better - better than to have our days brought to ruin by bad body thoughts, wishing we were otherwise.
And it's not just about you and me any more. It's also about Violet. Your granddaughter is only 3 and I do not want body hatred to take root inside her and strangle her happiness, her confidence and her potential. I don't want Violet to believe that her beauty is her most important asset; that it will define her worth in the world. When Violet looks to us to learn how to be a woman, we need to be the best role models we can. We need to show her with our words and our actions that women are good enough just the way they are. And for her to believe us, we need to believe it ourselves.

The older we get, the more loved ones we lose to accidents and illness. Their passing is always tragic and far too soon. I sometimes think about what these friends - and the people who love them - wouldn't give for more time in a body that was healthy. A body that would allow them to live just a little longer. The size of that body's thighs or the lines on its face wouldn't matter. It would be alive and therefore it would be perfect.

Your body is perfect too. It allows you to disarm a room with your smile and infect everyone with your laugh. It gives you arms to wrap around Violet and squeeze her until she giggles. Every moment we spend worrying about our physical ''flaws'' is a moment wasted, a precious slice of life that we will never get back.
Let us honour and respect our bodies for what they do instead of despising them for how they appear. Focus on living healthy and active lives, let our weight fall where it may, and consign our body hatred in the past where it belongs. When I looked at that photo of you in the white bathing suit all those years ago, my innocent young eyes saw the truth. I saw unconditional love, beauty and wisdom. I saw my Mum.


Love, Kasey xx


This is an excerpt from Dear Mum: a collection of letters from Australian sporting stars, musicians, models, cooks and authors revealing what they would like to say to their mothers before it's too late, or would have said if only they'd had the chance. All royalties go to the National Breast Cancer Foundation. (Published by Random House and available now.)

- Daily Life




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Ahh it's Saturday. The sky is a lovely shade of blue.  I sit in my yard, in the area that will soon be a magical courtyard. 

Early morning.  I have been awake since 5.  Rick is at work. Only a few more days now. 

Kelsey sleeps, as all teenagers love to do on a weekend.

The cats, well, they are stalking bugs, or dust flecks.  Climbing on the tables, countertops. Scheming on how to escape once the door is open.  Well, at least the younger one is.

I have been reading this book "Health at Every Size" by Dr. Linda Bacon 
So far it is a pretty good read, and I understand that I am not a failure cause I weigh more than what society thinks I should.  I believe that once I accept me, for what size I am, and love myself because I am a wonderful human being, I will be much happier in life.

I am learning, not just by reading this book, but by life itself, that we are what others have instilled upon us.  Their ideals, their perceptions of how others should look, feel, etc.  I have learned over the years, through life experiences that I am who I am, and I need to embrace that.

If I have a different relationship with food, and if I listen, I mean REALLY LISTEN to my body as I eat, I will eat less, enjoy more of what I eat, be full and satisfied.  Example .. This morning for breakfast, I chose to cut an apple and have it with cheese.  I ate slowly, and I did not finish it.  I am full with half my bowl gone.  I can save the rest for later if I want. 

I was raised in a family where you eat everything on your plate, and Rick is pretty much the same way.  Even if you find no enjoyment eating what you are eating, you finish it.  Hence, you eat till you can eat no more, and force yourself into eating the last few bites cause they are there.  My mother would say, there are starving children in ...  Waste not want not ...  Rick says, I paid for it, I'm going to eat it, or... It has been in the fridge for a week, I better eat it before it goes bad, and if I add a little hot sauce on it, it will taste better. 

I believe you should enjoy what you eat, if you don't like the taste, then don't eat it.  I'm that way with my coffee, I only (as a rule) drink the coffee I prepare at home.  I don't enjoy the brews that coffee houses prepare... Just that simple.  Coffee is my drug of choice, might as well enjoy it the way I like it.

So yes, I believe that I can have a better relationship with me.  And I am looking forward to it also.

Kelsey and I have started a yoga class, and attempt to go once a week. I am feeling a bit more flexible, and not so stiff.  Yay me!

 Next is to utilize the gym membership, once I get over the feelings of intimidation from other gym members.  Yes I know, who cares?  Well you are reading from a female who could be intimidated off the tennis practice wall if there was a person in the park 500 feet away.  So afraid that judgement would be passed by a complete stranger. 

I think that it has much to do with confidence, and doing your best to not hear the tapes that your parents, classmates, friends, coworkers, and doctors would say as you evolve.  You want to do something, and you are much afraid to ... Cause you might look silly, stupid, make a fool of yourself, embarrassment.

I have a wonderful friend, Juanita, who encouraged me to go on a kayaking adventure with Rick, even tho I was afraid.  She asked me, what are you afraid of?  I said, cause I'm 50 something, I've never done it before, afraid of looking stupid, and disappointing my friend Rick (cause I believed that he would no longer be my friend if I didn't measure up).  She said, "DO IT". You don't know how it will be if you never try.  Does Rick make you feel safe? 
Yes I said.. 
Then ... "DO IT"

I did, and had the best time ever.  And I think that it really made me look at Rick in another light, as well as made our relationship a whole lot more solid.

How when there is one piece of cake left on the pedestal, no one eats it?
How there is always something left over, cause no one wants to claim it?

have you often wondered why some of us wait for others to turn our lives around, and why we never really step up to the plate - for fear of hurting feelings and stepping on toes.

why are the opinions of others more important than our own opinion or ourselves.

why our happiness hangs in the balance of perhaps one person.

How often have you asked your partner - do I make you happy?  Are we that insecure within our own to constantly ask that question - is it not a true that your partner would tell you if they were not content?  Or ... is it that you would not tell your partner that you were not content.

I am guilty

Knowing that I would not share my inner true feelings with another, especially if that other was a very significant individual.  So I ask the question that I dread to be asked.

Could it be that is why no one eats the last cookie, or the last piece of cake.  Because they are afraid that someone else actually wants it more than they do?

Really? ...  really? ...