Unwritten....

In 2005, I embarked upon a journey.

Newly separated from my husband, getting a divorce for the SECOND time, which in my family...

In my town...

Is a big No-No.

Big time.

Feeling as though I must be the world's biggest failure.

Defeated.

Alone.

Scared.

One day, I turned on the car and a song began to play.

The artist was new, but the beat was fresh, and as heavy as my heart was at the time, I couldn't help but get caught up in the music.

Somewhere between the beat and the choir singing in the background, I began to really HEAR the lyrics...

"Today is where your book begins. The rest is still unwritten."

And, from there, this song became my anthem.

"I break traditions. Sometimes my tries are outside the lines."

Hope sprung eternal from somewhere within me that I couldn't describe.

This girl that was singing GOT it.

She KNEW me.

"Staring at the blank page before you. Open up the dirty window. Let the sun illuminate the words that you cannot find."

Her words would pull me through the next year like I can't even begin to describe without sounding like a raving lunatic.

I guess sometimes, to really GET it, we have to be so down, only someone who's been there can understand. And, we are truly touched when we feel like there is someone out there who DOES get it.

Over and over and over again during that time, when that voice inside tried to tell me I was a failure, I'd plug in this cd, and I'd realize I was just fine.

Absolutely. fine.

"No one else can feel it for you. Only you can let it in. No one else...No one else can speak the words on your lips."

The rest is still unwritten.

Jump forward to two nights ago...

Now, people, each year my company holds its annual event in Las Vegas, and although we really look forward to going, it's an anticipation mixed with a little dread.

At least on my part.

By the week before time to go, I am a flutter of excitement, my phone ringing non-stop, and me dialing others, just to say, "I get to SEE YOU next week!"

BUT, I am an insomniac, as you may or may not realize.

Las Vegas is two full hours behind my local time.

Knowing that my eyes automatically open at 3 a.m. at home, my eyes are opening at 1 a.m. in Las Vegas...

Add to that the stress of knowing that we start at 7 a.m., which in my company's time, means 6:45, and knowing that we go until 11 p.m. or 12 a.m. each night...

Means, yeah. Pam will get one hour of sleep each night while she's there.

My obsessive disorder that dictates I must NEVER be late for ANYTHING, when coupled with the stress of knowing my company demands I be 15 minutes early for EVERYTHING...

Well, THAT part's a neurotic nightmare, at best.

This year, as the date approached, two additional strikes were against me...

My son was hospitalized the day before I was scheduled to leave.

And...

I had the worst cold known to man.

It's was a recipe for disaster.

But, as all of us who are fortunate enough to work for the company I call my employer, I arose in time to make my Tuesday morning flight, and as ever, by the time the plane touched down, I was ready and on go!

I was there, and I'd make the best of it.

My company was there to help me make the best of it.

When I tell you people that I truly love my job and what I do, I am not stretching the truth even a little.

In a world where most people hate to get up and go to work and hate the people they are working with...

Me?

Nah.

I wake up each morning ready to do my job and loving the beautiful people that surround me that are there to help me do it.

For someone who works from either a computer at home, or behind the wheel of a car, I have more camaraderie that most who go to a building full of people every morning.

Each day, I talk to my co-workers within my state and across the country, and because we all understand the work each of us must put into our jobs, we support one another...

We get one another by.

We are all very fortunate that the ones who are charged with managing us understood, even years ago as the company was forming, that we would NEED that companionship with one another and did all they could do to ensure we had it.

And, have it, we do.

The culmination of the week's events happens the night before we leave Vegas.

This is the night the awards are given to the top performers, and we, as employees, are treated like royalty...

Even little, tiny me, who did vow to do better next year.

This year, after the dinner, the stage went dark and an undefined voice announced, "Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, Natasha Bedingfield."

OMG.

OMG.

OMG.

I. lost. my. mind.

What?

My idol?

The one who got me through was here?

Are you KIDDING me?

But they weren't. She appeared on the stage, and I was in awe.

And, once again, her words, mixed with the classes I had taken over the last two days and the messages of encouragement and belief from upper management began to, once again, speak to me.

And, they speak to me even now.

Yes. I am back from Vegas.

Still sick, but strategizing...

Ready to get back to work.

Because once again, those words spoke to me.

Today is where my book begins.

The rest is still unwritten.

Get Back, Honky Cat...

"I found a penny today

laying on the ground.

But it's not just a penny,

this little coin I've found.

Found pennies come from heaven,

that's what my Grandpa told me.

He said Angels toss them down.

Oh, how I loved that story.

He said when an Angel misses you,

they toss a penny down;

Sometimes just to cheer you up,

to make a smile out of your frown.

So, don't pass by that penny

when you're feeling blue.

It may be a penny from heaven

that an Angel's tossed to you."

That email came to me from my best friend today with some message saying something to the effect of,

"Thought I should send this to you. How many hundreds of dollars in change have you found lately?"

Funny.

This song has run through my head over and over and over and OVER again since all the madness started in July...

The resouding phrase?

"Oh! A change is gonna do me good!"

Coins...

Change...

Yep. Things have changed.

Those coins on the driveway are just proof to me.

He's here, friends.

Maybe even moreso than before.

He IS here.

He cheers.

He laughs.

He chastises.

He IS here.

Never, EVER should you doubt it.

He's calling for CHANGE!

I'm trying, ever so diligently to listen...

Seriously.

I am.

Then, he does something silly like locks a door on me, and I FORGET I'm supposed to be serious, and I start to laugh.

OH! A change is gonna do me good!

I got your change, brother.

Just you wait and see...

Although, I suspect you already knew that.

I've listened.

I'm ready.

We're on the move, buddy!

You ready to drink whiskey from a bottle of wine?

OH! A change is gonna do me good!

How Can You Mend a Broken Heart...

Ah, people, we're all tired, right?

I can see it...

I can hear it.

It's not in what you say or do...

It's in what you don't say...

Or don't do.

Friends, we're all dealing.

All our lives are on one level or another.

Your life is either at "low"...

Or your life is at "level"...

Or your life is at "high"...

Which, in my opinion, is far more dangerous than "low" or "level" any day.

"High" is at the level in which we lose...

"Level" is a mediocre center of the universe in which we all descend into "low".

At least when we're at low, there's no where else to go but up, right?

I've become well-accustomed to "low".

In fact, sometimes, I think I like it here.

Far better than at "up" or "level"...

Nah.

"Up" and "level" are places from which to fall.

I don't particularly like falling.

I'd rather sanctimoniously plan my downward spiral.

At least that way I don't lose my footing, right?

If no one sees me fall, there's no one there to laugh, right?

I like it that way.

A few, I let in.

A very, very few.

Heartbreak is tough.

The lessons that come with it are even moreso.

Sometimes, we're able to spread our wings and try again...

It is in those times that we are able to define just who we are.

It's not how many times you fall, friends...

It's how many times you pick yourself up...

Dust yourself off..

And, start all over again.

I've tried...

I've succeeded...

And, in my success, realized I've failed.

I've failed...

Tucked my tail under...

Accepting life "is what it is"...

And, somewhere...

Somehow...

The lesson was realized in the darkness...

Through a broken heart, a battle was won.

How many times do we try?

Over and over and over again...

I guess.

Until we, at long last, feel we're "on top".

Tell me, just how do you mend a broken heart?

I don't have the answer.

I just know that my spirit keeps believing...

Keeps longing...

Keeps trying...

To save me from my own...

Broken heart.

I'm Movin' On...

Since Monday, I've been keeping a secret.

Not so much because it's a secret, but more because...

Well, I'm a little embarrassed to say it.

Tomorrow, all I own will be packed in boxes or on trailers, and...

I'm moving.

Now, I aint' goin' far.

In fact, it's less than a half mile down the street.

Me, the Queen of Unpacking is...

Packing.

Seriously.

I hate this house I'm in.

I've hated it since the first box was laid on the floor.

I've HATED it.

Since July, I've been plagued by bad times.

Poor house is not to blame, but, well, it takes the blame...

For every dark day;

Dark cloud;

Dark month...

I blame this house.

On Monday, I just decided to see what was out there...

By end of business on Monday, I was the newest townhouse dweller on the bayou...

I've downsized...

I've traded the big back yard for a house with light and a feeling that I can move about.

As of Sunday night, I will call a new place "home".

I look around the present walls that confine me, and I see...

Darkness.

I remember back in July, still surrounded by boxes and the smell of cardboard that at 10 a.m...

I turned off all electronics, lit candles and sat in silence for one hour.

My body was here, but my heart was in Merrickville.

Over the next few weeks, I giggled as doors closed when they shouldn't have...

And a collection of spare change began to evolve on my driveway, carpets and patio without explanation.

And, with every giggle, I hurt.

I blame this house for that darkness.

It's not its fault, but I have to leave it for that reason.

I have to move on.

Surely, he goes with me when I leave for the last time.

He doesn't like this house...

He likes me, right?

Nearly six months ago, I sat right where I am at this second, and he and I had our last conversation.

"Why are you still awake when it's almost time for you to get up?"

As of tomorrow, I'm movin' on...

All the darkness.

All the sorrow.

All the doubt.

It leaves me tomorrow.

In its place, I will be surrounded by...

Light....

Comfort...

Understanding.

Him.

As of tomorrow, I am new again.

Thankfully, he needs no packing.

He just fits right there in my heart.

Wherever my heart is, there he is also.

Swiller, I love you.

Think you could help me lift this box?

Cause, buddy, you and me are moving on...

Who Are You?

Who are you?

The question seems innocent enough...

Although it's difficult to pack 25 years of life into one explanation.

Wanna know who I am?

I am a 43 year-old woman who, in her head, is still 18...

It is only when I look in the mirror that I realize I no longer am.

I am...

A mother.

A sister.

A daughter.

A friend.

An employee.

I am as confused today as I was in 1984, and yet, I realize 1984 no longer matters.

I have loved.

I have lost.

I have been up.

I have been down.

I have cried.

I have laughed.

I've been the victor.

I've been the loser.

I am...

Happy with who I am today.

In fact, most days, I believe if I were a total stranger to me that...

I'd LIKE me.

I'd RESPECT me.

I'd want to BE like me.

Who am I?

I am the mother of Kelsie, a 22 year-old young lady that has the power to amaze me with her strength.

I am the mother of Camron, a 17 year-old boy that has the power to overtake my heart with his smile.

I am the ex wife of C...

The father of my children...

Whom, I just "outgrew".

I am also the ex wife of D...

Who made me the bitter little bitch everyone knows.

I am the daughter of Mary.

I am the daughter of Joe...

Who continue to mold me into the adult I want to be, although statistics say I should be "raised" by now.

I am the sister of Paul, Susie, Judy, Jan and Beverly.

And, we may not like each other most days, but you had probably ought to.

I am an employee of a website...

Most of my work is done behind either a computer, or a steering wheel...

And, I love it.

I am a writer.

I have found that through words, I am able to articulate many thoughts far too deep for my superficial facade to convey.

I am the most loyal person you will ever know.

I am the most blatantly honest person you will ever know.

Even if it means your feelings get hurt.

Which amazes even me, because, let me assure you, if I know I've hurt someone, it drives me BANANAS!!!

Although, anyone who knows me will tell you that I am the QUEEN of justification.

Sometimes I drink too much, but then again...

Sometimes I think to much.

My best friends are named Cherie, Merideth, Nadja and Leslie...

I call them "My Girls".

There is an "internet" side to me that I never expected, in all my lifetime, I'd develop...

My best friends in THAT world are Diana, Lyndsey, Kim and Cami...

Although because of Facebook, that number continues to grow...

And, actually, there is NO differential between the two...

Both groups know of the others' existence and are honorary members.

I lost one of my closest friends to suicide over the summer, and I continue to struggle with that loss.

I want to define a relationship with a certain "someone"...

Thank GOD he knows I'm struggling, so we put the "definition" on the back burner.

So, my friend, at the end of the day, I am just...

One. hot. mess.

Not really much different that the girl you knew way back when.

Now, tell me...

Who are you?

Mad World....

To Write Love on Her Arms...February 12 - 13, 2010.

http://www.facebook.com/?ref=home#/event.php?eid=210328952677&ref=mf

In November, we all wrote "love" on our arms.

I felt bad inasmuch as I didn't fully comprehend what the day stood for until the day was there...

And, I was left rushing to write the word "love" on my arm...

Getting people to join in my cause.

I wrote the word, but...

At first I tried it in pen, and it didn't work...

So, I traced over it in eyeliner.

That worked.

To Write Love on Her Arms Day is, without doubt, the most beautiful, simple way I have ever heard of in which to memorialize and to support those suffering depression.

Depression.

Seems a taboo subject to us.

Sad fact is?

It shouldn't be.

I could tell you a story about, just over a year ago, when my own depression had sunk me farther than I ever wanted to go.

In a split second, I made a decision that could have ended my children's lives; my friend's lives'; my family's lives...

And, friends, at the split second I was making that decision, I was so full of pain, I didn't care...

I just wanted the pain to stop...

Even if it meant my own life would...

Stop.

I had a friend who fretted...

Called me, without ceasing...

Until he was sure the danger had passed.

I'm happy to say, I made it.

My past mistakes never to be repeated.

My friend?

Not so much.

I had coined him from the second I met him...

Because "crazy" knows "crazy", right?

Our love for one another grew.

He identified weakness in me that I identified in him...

The difference?

He was able to call me out, whereas, try as I may, I could never call him out.

And, call for him, I did...

Until his last breath.

I called for him.

It was to no avail.

His pain was more than I could atone for, and more than he could bear.

Since, July, I have grieved...

I have cried...

I have hurt...

I have cried for him...

I have cried for me...

I have cried for this world...

A world that was cheated of his goodness; his intelligence; his wit.

It's a very, very mad world.

I KNEW that boy...

Inside out, backward and forward...

And, like all who really knew him, I KNEW it was coming...

I was powerless to stop it.

No one could have stopped it.

His pain was just that intense.

He needed it to stop.

He stopped it.

I wish I had known then what I know now...

But I didn't.

I can't change July, but hopefully...

I CAN change the future.

As ever, he continues teaching...

Continues loving...

Continues his march.

It's in me...

It's in you...

It's in all of us that loved him and could not change things for him.

It's in all of us that face the day with renewed spirit and decide to listen...

They are speaking to us, friends...

Their words are unspoken, but their silence says it all.

I WILL stand up and speak for those who can't find their voice...

They have no reason to be ashamed...

Illness is illness, and, honestly, I don't believe anyone blames a cancer patient...

Depression.

It's not a death sentence.

It's simply a diagnosis.

In this mad world.

Friends Forever...

For me, life withing the walls of Tioga High School was, in a word...confusing.

I always struggled with how I looked;

How I dressed;

If people liked me...

If HE liked me...

How I was perceived.

To the point that I kept within my group of friends and did NOT venture out of the circle.

Those people knew me, loved me, accepted me...

And, I had nothing to explain.

Funny thing about being 16...

You feel as though the world is plotting against you.

Funnier thing about being 43...

You realize the world could have cared less.

Seriously...

There are bigger problems to solve.

And, people, I had resolved myself long ago that high school was a self-induced nightmare that was better left behind by me.

Never, did I EVER attend a reunion.

Ever.

Although, I'd get reports back and WISH I had been there.

And, in this electronic age in which we live...

And, I MAY add, this electonic age that allows me to make a living...

Things began to change.

A year or more ago, I joined Facebook.

I didn't want to, but everyone else seemed to be there, and, well, not to be left out, I followed suit.

IMMEDIATELY, that damned search engine found me...

Suggesting, "You both went to Tioga High School and graduated in 1984. Add as friend."

And, I ignored them.

The Class of 1984 owed me nothing but a diploma, and I had that.

One day; however, the name of a girl that I really, really liked back in the day showed up...

She had gone on to marry another of my classmates that I really liked, so I clicked "Add as Friend"...

The dreaded button...

I had done it...

There was no turning back.

And, wonder of all wonders, the next day, my wall read:

Pam and TFC are now friends.

Shit.

What to do now? Do I acknowledge? Do I let it pass? Do I act like I care?

So, I choose to write, "'Sup, Tracy? Long time, no see," on her wall.

And, from there, I continued to reunite with the Tioga High School graduating class of 1984.

Funny.

I was talking to a friend of mine today about the amount of friends I have on my Facebook, and I told him, "Some are there by simple osmosis. Many of them are there because we went to school together."

I went on to tell him how it is that I look forward to reading status messages...

Wall posts...

Even stupid quizzes...

Posted by my beloved class of 1984.

I told him of my old high school friend, M, who, ironically enough, ended up living behind my parents...

Many, many, MANY times...

It was her family that helped my dad off the ground after a fall.

Typing that out just now made me tear up.

Thanks, M. Thanks for caring for my dad. You will NEVER know what that means to me.

EVER...

But, I promise you this...

If I can ever return that favor, sister, I will...

You let me know...

I'm there.

So, to the Class of 1984, I salute you...

Matt evolved into race car driver.

What?

Tracy evolved into nurse...

Todd evolved into, apparently, party animal....(NEVER saw THAT coming!)

Micki evolved into The Deer Hunter...

Mark's in Arkansas now...

Sherry is Supermom...

Roland LOVES the Facebook apps...

Dewitt didn't graduate with us, but he LIVES in Mardi Gras get-up!

And, guys, just in case you ever wonder, Pam turned out just fine...

She's alive and well...

And, within her heart, she carries you all.

I LOVE being 43.

Because, at 43, you realize what is really important...

It is with those that you can claim to be...

Friends forever.

LOVE MORE IN 84, PEOPLE!!!

And, I do love you...

We are friends forever.

Hallelujah....

Can I tell you people I've heard this song a million times before and it always spoke to me, but it wasn't until about ten minutes ago, I actually heard the lyrics?

Once you hear the lyrics, to the wandering heart like me, the words REALLY begin talking.

How awesome the words would come together with the thought...

Today, of all days.

Last night was a strange night, indeed, in my house.

The boy was up with his head, which awoke me around one, and before things settled back down and I was, once again, in the sanctity of the warmth of my bed, it was near three.

Funny thing about being up and down and up and down again...

It gives your mind time to wander.

And, wander, my mind did.

It wandered over years and years and miles and miles.

In that time, I saw and spoke with husbands past...

Friends past...

Boyfriends past...

And, friends present.

As my eyes closed, blessedly in slumber, my heart realized something...

It wants what it wants.

What I turned away a few months ago, maybe it wants back...

Maybe it's not there any longer...

I don't know.

Only time will tell.

Maybe what was once there years ago is gone and it's never coming back...

And, it's time I accept it.

Maybe things change only because they cannot remain the same.

Maybe the secret to life is to be ever-evolving...

Maybe the key to happiness is in my hands.

Maybe it's time I let go and run free.

Maybe.

Love, my friends, is ever-escaping and long-suffering.

What is true love?

Can anyone tell me really?

My definition of love is my mother...

Devoting her life to my dad...

Even though, most days, lately, he lives in a world that no longer exists.

It's no matter to her.

To her, he's her husband, and she will be there.

It brings a tear to my eye to realize that I may well have discarded any chance on earth anyone would ever exhibit that undying devotion to me.

In her heart, Mother remembers...

When he was strong and tall and protective.

Today, she is called upon to be strong and tall and protective.

And, my friends, that is love.

Love lives within a girl in Michigan.

She pines for what might have been.

Life no longer holds the shine for her it did six months ago.

She cries...

She grieves...

And, no matter how much we love her or hold her close...

We cannot compare.

Seems silly to some, but to her - to him, really...

It was as real as what most of you have within your own home.

Love is an enigma.

My 17 year-old thinks he's found love...

And, maybe he has.

I don't think so, but who is to judge...

If she can love him...

Through his insecurities...

Through his failures...

Through his successes...

Through life, who am I to say no?

Although all that is in me screams, "NO!"

Perhaps, my friends, I am learning...

Today, what I know is that I know nothing.

Nothing.

I am re-committed, as of today.

I WILL discover me.

I WILL allow myself to feel..

I WILL allow myself to open...

I WILL allow the world around me to discover...ME.

I've been hiding...

I've been lurking...

For far too long.

Come get me, world...

I'm a-waitin'!

Hallelujah!