Message from the Universe

My most vivid dreams happen in the early hours of the morning. This morning I had a particularly poignant one - I figure it was a brick thrown at my head by the Universe. For the past several weeks, I have been walking the precarious edge of depression again. I have tried to reason it out, to figure out what is causing it. It could have been a number of things: me not working as much as I was led to believe when I was hired, the whole situation with my ex, being worried about Payton and what will become of him in Kindergarten next year, living paycheck to paycheck. You get the idea.

I have been patient for a long time. Well... really not. I feel like I have been dealt an obnoxious number of hardship cards and I have been scrambling to make the best of them and find the positive lessons hidden within. Some days are easier than others and my self-confidence is getting better, but damn it! I would really like to have some peace in my life and to have some easy flow to it. I swear I will not take anything for granted! Promise!

I know that help comes when it is most needed. When we are really short on cash, something comes along and we are OK. We get by. When Payton is having a really difficult time, he surprises us at the last minute. When things look their bleakest, a light will shine.

The dream I had last night went deeper than that. It was a message from the Universe telling me that the struggles are nearly over. I have had such a great personal struggle for the better part of 16 years. So much loss and hurt. It's almost over. I just need to trust my own strength, but the key to it is relying on those who love me and surround me on a daily basis. I do not have to go it alone.

I was at a huge Thanksgiving dinner. My mother was in charge and finishing up the last of the cooking. There were about 40 or 50 people there - all my friends and family. People from college and high school. All the people who love me unconditionally. Tony was next to me. My brother was there - everyone. We were all seated at a huge, high wooden table in some sort of an open barn or pavilion. We were all on tall high-back chairs with wheels on the bottom. Over to the right of the table area, there was a very steep, long country road that was leading away from my family. It was so pretty: tree-lined and fragrant, it led past horse pastures and a pond with ducks.

My mother gave me a glass of red wine and wanted me to give a toast before we started the dinner. She was only serving white wine with dinner, but I had asked for the red. She found a half bottle and uncorked it for me and filled my glass. I remember it being sweet.

I was being drawn to the road, so I scooted my wheeled chair and went flying down the hill. Green and flowers and dogs running and the horses. I lost myself in the steep slide down. I finally stopped at the bottom of the hill. I looked up. Oh my. So far away and the hill looked impossibly steep and long. I got back on my chair and did my best to scoot back up the hill. I made it most of the way. Then the rutted dirt road became slippery grass. I remember seeing the dew drops and feeling it in my hands. I tried to climb the last few yards, but the road became steeper and steeper. I had to let the chair go. I was so concerned that I would never get it back, but I decided that I was more important than the chair - it was slowing me down and getting heavier and heavier by the minute. It was all wet and muddy and my hands were slipping. So away it went.

Even without the chair, the climb was still perilous. I would gain a couple of feet, only to slide back a few more. I remember feeling helpless and hopeless. The ground would give way and I would slip again and again. Then there were tree roots. I would grab hold. Rest. I could finally peek over the top of the hill ridge. I could see my family around the table - they were waiting patiently for me and having a good time. I tired to climb up the tree roots, only to have the branches get in my face. I was so incredibly frustrated. I could see my goal, but the tiny thicket of sharp branches was in my way.

I finally got down on my belly and slid under the branches leaving them behind. I had made it back to the top of the hill! I laid on my stomach and just breathed in the warm smells of Thanksgiving and happiness. Something caught my eye. A gentle sparkle just beyond my reach. I sat up and looked. There in the wet grass were my wedding bands. I hadn't even realized that I had lost them before I had slid down the hill. As soon as I picked up the rings, I woke up.

So, thank you Universe. Thank you for your message. I get it.

Making this easier.

I need to put names to labels.

The Ex will now be known as Ryan. His fiancee (now EX fiancee) will be Shay.

Tony will be Tony until the end of days and always in my heart. Payton is Payton is Payton. Love that kiddo.

I have two step-children. Because they are not my own flesh and blood, I need to really watch my bounds when writing about them. My step-daughter is 7 and for the purposes of this blog, her name will be Belle. My step-son is 11 and I'll call him Brady. I don't anticipate writing much about them anytime soon. They are awesome kids and I'm very very glad they are in my life.

So much has changed.

Why did I not blog about it as it was happening? A combination of things, I'm sure. I just read through my last entry from August 2nd and whoa boy! That is like last year's Thanksgiving leftovers! Here's a brief list:

- The court date was just plain awful. I was made a fool in front of the judge by my ex and his lawyer with what I knew were lies. I just wanted to scream. It turned out well enough with Payton's schedule, but as of today, he is already deviating from what is written in the court order. Looks like we'll be going back to court soon enough.

- My "I told you so" moment came so much quicker than I ever imagined. I figured it would come after the ex and his fiancee were married and had added another child to the mix. Not so much. My moment came on September 18th in the form of an e-mail from Shay saying that she had moved out of his apartment after only three months of living there. She and I have been talking and e-mailing since. Oh my, there is so much I know now it makes my hair stand on end. I am infinitely glad that she was able to get out before she became permanently enmeshed with the ex by having another child. Getting married would have been a bad move as well.

- I have a new job at a high-end spa as a Massage Therapist. I love my job. I just wish I had more clients! The paychecks have been a little lean due to me being the low man on the totem pole. One of the more senior girls is thinking of moving on. I have to say that even though she is a great gal, I hope she finds greener pastures elsewhere. I need more bookings!

- With Shay and I speaking on a regular basis, it has dredged up the last of the crap from the bottom of the PTSD barrel. I have enlisted the help of a therapist who specializes in situations like mine. She has really helped me to let things go and to realize that even though he will never change, I can still function with the chaos going on on the other side of the wall without it affecting my life so dramatically. Anxiety has been my constant unwanted companion for the past few months (years) and I'm hoping to be able to cut it loose soon. Some days are better than others. I'm also working on my self-esteem and body image. That's a post in and of itself!

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There is so much more, but it's not relevant to the topic at hand. I'm sure I'll touch on some goodies here and there.

Day 19: Project 365

This is what love looks like.

I adore this photo. Tony and I got married on 09.09.09, but we had a small ceremony for friends and family at my mom's house the following Saturday. My mom's dear friend took this shot of us after dinner.

I was watching "Platinum Weddings" last night after the kids went to bed. The featured couple put on a lavish wedding to the tune of over $800,000.00. My first question is, what the hell do these people do that they can afford to throw away that kind of money on one evening? The second question in my mind is, who are they trying to impress?? Even if we had the money, I don't think we would even dream of spending that kind of cash on our wedding. That could buy a house for all three kids.

Tony asked me if I wished that we had had a big wedding with all of the trimmings. My reply was simply this: No. What we did was perfect for us and our family. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Day 17: Project 365

Bonsai seems to think that the bed is his. Especially on lazy Sunday mornings. I'm just glad that he matches my duvet cover.

Day 16: Project 365

This is my amazing husband with his Tai Chi student, Dewey. Dewey is all legs and good intentions and he is doing amazingly well! I think he's finally through the entire form and they are working on refining and perfecting.

It may look simple and easy, but when I workout with the two of them my legs are shaking about 30 minutes in. Tai Chi takes patience, persistence, a calm mind and a strong body. When a person is used to multi-tasking day after day in a hectic office, it is very difficult to completely switch gears, switch off the mind and let the Chi flow.

Tony started learning Tai Chi from his Chinese grandmother when he was 4. He also teaches Gung Fu and used to run a studio. Part of our five year plan is to open up a Wellness Center that will incorporate Chinese Martial Arts, yoga, massage and body work as well as offer various applicable clothing, organic products and a selection of whole leaf teas.

Day 13: Project 365

Yes, again. Same settings in Hipstamatic. I love how this app can make even the most mundane of things look all artsy-fartsy.

This past Saturday, my oldest step-baby was in his mother's production of "The Importance of Being Earnest". The productions take place in a warehouse where part of it has been converted into a makeshift theatre. The image is of some of the backdrop and lighting rigging that has been hung from the structure above.

This particular play is near and dear to my heart and one of my favorites. G did a wonderful job as did the other kids in the production.

Completely giddy

So along with my new Building the Muse blog project, there are a few other things that I am mentally ready to start tucking into my bag of tricks. The main one that I am completely over the moon about is learning how to bake. Baking is something that I have always envied in other people. To be able to turn out tender pie crusts and gooey perfectly balanced chocolate chip cookies is a skill that I thought possible only of the white-coated professionally trained gods and goddesses of the kitchen. And then I few months ago, I got to thinking. My MOM baked when I was a kid. I remember baking bread, sweet rolls, soft pretzels and sugar cookies. I remember licking the mixer beaters when my mom made cakes from scratch. The double boiler came out at Christmas when we made chocolate candies for our teachers. I'm skilled with my hands as an artist, why the heck can't I do this myself? Then to take it a step further - have you actually taken the time to READ the labels on the ready-baked goods in the grocery stores? They are longer than the inventory list at the San Diego Museum of Art. There are words in those lists that are not pronounceable without a degree in phonetics. And I have been eating that junk out of convenience for how long? Yuck. My intestines are sticking together just thinking about it. Shouldn't there be just flour, sugar, milk, butter, chocolate, vanilla beans? Simple ingredients, not chemically preserved sugar bombs meant to survive longer than radiated cockroaches.


So I started slowly with the obligatory banana bread. Then I pulled out the chocolate chip cookie recipe from my childhood. Now I'm ready to tackle sticky buns. Next, my grandma's chocolate cake with a possible detour to those amazing soft pretzels we made when I has a kid. Two Christmases ago, I was extremely successful at making caramel sauce. Sugar, cream, and butter - the real deal. I was so incredibly impressed with myself; I think I shed a tear. Really. I did it, and did it well! And it was good. Amen. A warm golden brown with a great consistency - not too sweet - just right.

So I have my list ready to go to prepare my kitchen with the tools necessary to succeed. My mom caught wind of my endeavor and got me started by bringing over my great-grandmother's ceramic mixing bowl last night. I can't believe this amazing piece of family history is in my home. It’s well over 100 years old. I remember my mother letting bread dough rise in it on the stove top. She had special tea towels to put over the top that were reserved for baking only. Heaven help the child who used them to mop up spilled milk!

Today I'm ready to purchase a rolling pin, long oven mitts to spare my arms from my clumsiness, parchment paper, a candy thermometer, a small cast-iron skillet and my own special tea towels. I'm going to splurge on Vietnamese cinnamon and European butter. And the most frightening item on the list is yeast. Yeast. Little tiny temperamental sugar-eating, warm-water swimming organisms. And they scare the heck out of me.

It's time to tackle the fears and hope that the weathered old bowl will bring me the wisdom of generations past. A little luck wouldn't hurt, either.