Porn Star Dancing

Okay, the title has pretty much nothing to do with my writing. I hit shuffle on the old iTunes and that’s the song that was playing when I decided to start typing. Caught your attention though.

I’ve had this urge to write a letter to the one who broke my heart. There’s no way I would ever send it because it would only serve to feed that person’s already over-inflated ego.

I’m going to give you fair warning here and let you know that this is a no holds barred piece. You might come away saying I’m bitter or give me advice to just let it go. Those are great words. Legalizing/decriminalizing marijuana are great words as well, but putting it into action is, well, pretty impossible. I’ll save my marijuana thoughts for another day. Hopefully the DEA won’t come knocking. They would leave sad and empty handed.

Here goes nothin.

To the one who threw me away like garbage:

Our relationship began as a friendship. That’s very important because I felt like you already knew me and I knew you. I knew that you lived with your mom in a trailer that had no air conditioning or heat. I knew that you never even went to middle school because you were too overweight to wear a belt to school. I saw the dead roaches on the counter and saw the mice on the porch. You knew how many times I had been married and the domestic abuse I had survived. You knew that I had two children and that I threw things when I got mad.

Instead of looking at you as someone who was beneath my standard of living, I looked at you as a person who saw what they wanted and went for it. You never knew this, but one day I was taking a nap in your bed and I awoke to overhear you and your mom talking in the kitchen. “Are you sure about that?” “Yes, mom. I’m as sure about her as I am about being a police officer.” It was then that I trusted you completely. You were sure. You were going to be there until the end. I trusted you so much that I poured every penny of my divorce settlement and my retirement into making a home for us. I sold my vehicle. I bought you guns, knives, legos, anything you wanted. I put in a pool, I built a deck, I fenced in our property and fenced a yard for our dogs.

I put up with your mind games. The ones where you demanded that I tell you that I loved you more than anyone I ever loved in my life. The ones where you would talk about how fabulous you were and how every woman on the planet adores you. I watched you admire yourself in every passing mirror you could find. Funny thing is, I was not attracted to you physically. I was attracted to your heart.

I put up with those things because of the way you smiled at me every day. If I wore my hair in braids you would tell me how cute I was. You were always happy to see me. You called me your princess. You loved the lyrics to music the way that I loved them. You saved me from myself sometimes. You taught me to respect myself. You taught me to defend myself. You taught me how to properly handle firearms and I have a pretty tight pattern now. You made me stop throwing things when I get mad, which is your biggest accomplishment yet! When we went to the beach and had bought an umbrella without a “pokey” end, you dug a hole with your hands to make sure I had some shade. You could make the most delicious food out of nothing! You filled a place in my heart shortly after my dad passed away. I thought you were so much like the greatest man I’d ever known. I guess I was wrong.

For some reason, which I assume I’ll never know, you suddenly decided that I was insane. Unfit to live with. You didn’t want me any longer. You broke off our engagement through a text message while you were in the middle of a shift at work leaving me at home to go crazy. Thank heaven for my family and close friends who were there in a flash. They stayed with me until I was ready to go to sleep. Thank God I had somewhere to go because at that point I had no money and no vehicle. I left within three days. I was responsible. I took only what I came with or purchased. I left you with a bed and your beloved guns and the $800 gun safe that I bought.

Some people say that I over-reacted. That I should have stayed. Stay? With someone who doesn’t want to marry me? You don’t go from engaged and back to “living together”. You don’t get the cow or the milk at that point.

I’ve been told that you still openly discuss the fact that I’m crazy, insane, whatever to people who used to be my friends. I don’t think that’s fair. I don’t know the reason for it. Your niece has said horrible things about me as well. That’s very sad. I remember buying her a beautiful dress and shoes to match for her graduation from high school. I remember taking you, her sister and her to Emeril’s for a lovely dinner after her graduation. What did I get in return? Ugliness from both of you.

I’ll get over the pain one day. I know that I will. I live a good life and I’m happy being where I am now. I just wanted you to know how I feel/felt about you, about us, about how unfair it all seems. Life isn’t fair. I’m on a path to somewhere. Maybe it’s somewhere that I never would have reached if you were in the way. Maybe you’re going somewhere in life that I shouldn’t be. So many maybes. Maybe I’ll never know.

I have no idea how I feel about you now. I don’t think I could ever look you in the eyes and have a conversation. I don’t think I would want to give you the satisfaction of being in my company again. I’m pretty special and I know it. Women are special as a whole. They adapt for their mates, they comfort, they entertain.

Not ending this letter with love or regards. Simply ending it. I may write to you again. I might not.

To all who read this, Peace from the Rogue Mare

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Why where it was made matters to me

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Several years ago I visited the remains of a town that was once a booming textile community. They proudly made sheets, bath towels, kitchen towels and such. This visit was way before I thought about American made and such, but I can remember feeling the energy that once inhabited those streets. I felt bad for the people who no longer had jobs and wondered what they did to take care of their families now.

Today I needed to buy new sheets for my bed. I couldn’t find anything that wasn’t made in India. My mind went back to thinking about those ghosts who still walk around the textile mills. Empty parking lots with chained link fences and buildings with broken windows abound in that area. Images of people with their metal lunch boxes walking from their cars into their steady job filled my mind.

The mills have since been leveled, imploded, demolished. I’m sure that there is a lingering heavy spirit that still covers those grounds.

There was a nearby village where mill workers lived. I did a little homework on this area and found out that the collapse of Fieldcrest-Cannon and the surrounding village was basically put to death by Wal-Mart’s insistence to send production overseas. The company, then Pillowtex, refused to do so. Because of undercuts by other companies, 7,650 people lost their jobs. The Cannon Mills era was over.

This was just a spot on a map when I visited. I didn’t realize the impact that it had on me until many years later. No wonder I felt the sadness and the energy still lingering in the air. There’s no telling how many families were destroyed, how many suicides complete, contemplated or attempted.

What you buy does matter. Take small steps in buying American made products. Don’t let it overwhelm you.

Make 2012 the year you try to make a difference in the American economy and in the lives of those who work here. Don’t forget to make it a happy new year too!

Peace from the Rogue Mare

Dark Places of My Heart

Maybe it’s the holidays or maybe it’s the nearing anniversary of my father’s passing. All I know is that I feel as if my heart has been turned inside out like a pillowcase and all that is exposed are the dark corners. These places are so dark that you cannot see your hand in front of your face. Do we all have these dark places or do I carry with me an ever-shaded hitchhiker that taunts me from time to time?

I try to appease myself, calm myself, and find my center when this aphotic cloud emerges. Some would say this is depression. I don’t think so. It’s more of a tugging restlessness that pushes its way into my soul. Television doesn’t help. I can’t focus on reading a book. I’m just being tossed about right now. Soon enough the waves will stop crashing and there will be peace again.

I attend college and I’m on winter break right now. I think that leaves too much time for my mind to go haywire. They say that idle hands are the devil’s workshop but an idle mind is vulnerable to self destruction.

It doesn’t help that I’ve allowed anger to move back into my life. I’m still angry at someone who hurt me. I don’t know where to put that energy or how to use it for my own good. I talk people through this sort of thing all the time but I can’t take my own medicine. A very dear friend of mine told me to stop letting people “rent space in my head.” I loved it when she said that and it makes total sense. The people who insist on hurting me don’t deserve a moment of my precious thinking…… but that’s easier said than done.

Those of you that have read my other posts know that this one is a bit unusual. It doesn’t have a focus. It doesn’t have a theme. It’s simply my inside-out heart on a page. Maybe it will help someone else or maybe these words will leave the tips of my fingers and I will once again find concilation.

Peace from the Rogue Mare

Am I the “right” type of Christian?

I know this will stir a few feelings and opinions on the topic of gays but I just need to get this out.

Yesterday I was horrified to see Governor Rick Perry’s advertisement which slammed gay people serving in the military. At first I was angry and then I thought that maybe I interpreted the message wrong. His message goes on to talk about how Christians are unable to talk openly about their beliefs and so on and so forth. I am a Christian. I know I will be persecuted. It says so in a Book that I read. I’m not the first and I won’t be the last. I’m okay with it because that’s the expectation. Will I attempt to pass for something that I’m not? No way.

I am also able to be a friend to anyone. It doesn’t matter what your belief, race, tribe, or sexual orientation. I was examining my openness and I suddenly began to feel like I was not a good Christian. Am I supposed to shun homosexuals? Would some of my fellow churchgoers consider me lukewarm? Then I thought about Christ. He was kind to prostitutes, destitute and lepers. Isn’t that who I’m supposed be like?

I don’t believe in the death penalty. There I go again. What a weird Christian! Where does it say that I have the power to decide when someone dies? Someone tried to convince me that we are simply following the law of the land by enforcing the death penalty. I’m not buying that bag of tricks. Which land? Shall we cut off one another’s hand if we are convinced that  someone stole something? There seem to be a lot of Christians who believe in the death penalty but not abortion. Wouldn’t the death penalty and abortion be classified as killing? They both have the same end result.

I’m done questioning myself. It is not my job to convince anyone that they are doing wrong. It is my job to love them and the Holy Spirit’s job to convict or guide. All of us ponder from time to time that another person is doing wrong but isn’t that when they need a friend the most?

If you don’t believe in God, I’m okay with that. That’s your choice. I just know that I have nothing to lose for believing and living the way that I do.

I’ve taken a few online quizzes to see if I’m a liberal or a conservative. Normally the computer gets frustrated and just crashes. It can’t even figure out what I am.

One last note, if you’re serving or have served in the military, gay, straight or none of the above, thank you for your service.

Peace from the Rogue Mare

Altering traditions to make life fit

Being a divorced parent has its drawbacks. I think that it caused my youngest son to hate any and every holiday because of being stretched too thin and trying to make it to everyone’s house to make everyone happy. He’s the type of kid who will just give up if he’s losing the race, so when it comes to the holidays he’s the one who will go hide in a cave and not visit anyone.

That being said, being a divorced parent has its benefits. I don’t have to share miserable holidays with the father of my children! Gotta look on the bright side, right?

This year I’ve decided to make the ultimate decision that our family and close friends will celebrate Hanukkah. It has always intrigued me. The tiny little area in stores that has set aside two square feet of decor for some of the most persecuted people in history. I always wondered about the Jewish traditions and belief system, but then again, I’m very curious about many beliefs. I guess I’m more interested in Judaism due to the fact that my beliefs have Hebraic roots. I believe in tolerance for any belief system as long as no one mistakes tolerance for weakness. Aside from the “religious” (don’t like that word) aspects of the evening, I’m just looking forward to enjoying time with my family.

I suppose I should call what we’re celebrating Chrismukkah. For some reason I’m not completely comfortable with that. If someone told me it was okay then I’d probably believe them. From what I know, Messianic Jews celebrate Hanukkah so that’s how I’m keeping it real.

Hanukkah also has many benefits in the fact that you have eight days to share your tradition, gather with family and friends and most important, learn a bit of history regarding Judaism.

We will be eating fried food, lighting the Menorah and sampling some Maneschewitz!

My husband is very conservative so this is going to be a stepping stone for him. He might just sit in the corner eating a matzo ball but that’s okay. He married me because I’m fun, keep things interesting and a stone-cold fox. hehehe

My oldest son was the sweetest when it came to my “changing up” of tradition. He said, “But I still want to see you on Christmas.” I told him that would be wonderful but that I just didn’t want he and his fiance to feel pressured to being somewhere at a certain time. What a sweet man I raised!

As we enter the winter solstice, may you all enjoy a peaceful holiday and enjoy your families. Try not to stress about the gifts. The greatest gift has already been given.

Peace from the Rogue Mare

Hello Mr. Rejection

Rejection. It doesn’t even sound good when you say it. Some words like love and joy roll right off your tongue and make you smile. Not rejection. It crashes into the back of your throat hits your tongue and the roof of your mouth before it spills out with ugliness.

I don’t think that in forty years I had ever experienced true rejection. It wasn’t until ten months ago that I received a striking blow that I’m still recovering from. Somebody broke my heart. I know, everyone’s had their heart broken. Not like this though. Not that I’d ever seen.

The love story: Over the course of about two years I felt like I was in a territory that no other human had ever experienced. Love, wonderful love. What a magical little drug!  Little did I know that going to such heights would set me up for my biggest fall. Playing with fire is fun until someone puts out your flame.

Until recently I kept asking myself why I was still in pain. I’ve moved on and I live a very happy life, but why the pain? I ran through all of the possibilities. Pining away for a lost love? No. Could I imagine myself running back into the arms of the one who rejected me? No. Could I even imagine hugging him or looking him in the eye? No. So what did I want? I wanted answers but there are none to be found. I have to believe that my Creator had other plans for me and, although it hurt like hell, I was destined to be on another path.

I know I still have a bit more mending to do due to the fact that I can’t stand the sound of my former partner’s name. I don’t know what I would do if I ever ran into him. Would I have enough gracefulness within me to nod and keep walking? I would like to think so.

I am a why person which tends to get me in trouble from time to time. A new rule on the books receives a why? from me. If an animal suffers because of someone’s ignorance, why? Why do two negatives make a positive? If I withdraw money out of my bank account twice that doesn’t mean that I suddenly have a deposit.

Through this acceptance of rejection I have had to learn to quell the why voice. I may never know the reason, but deep down in the thinking part of my brain, I’m sure I know why. I had actually lowered my standards to be with this person. I was giving up a lot of myself to make this person happy. I did learn a lot during the relationship. I learned things that I still use. I learned self-respect and I learned to fight fair without letting my anger get the best of me.

I had a good run, not having met rejection until I was forty. Hopefully the why voice will become more and more quiet as it pertains to rejection.

Peace from the Rogue Mare

In the beginning…..

When I first sat down to write I received a rush of insecurity when thinking about how folks might pick apart my misuse of commas, under-developed knowledge about religion or politics and any other area I may decide to blog about. How sweet it is to know that I chose to blog about being human. As humans we all have different ideas, levels of intelligence, levels of compassion and we understand God to be many different things. To be human is a walk of tolerance, war, suffering and don’t forget joy.

This blog is open to anyone’s enjoyment, criticism, release of anger or if you feel that I need to educated on a certain topic. The topic of who God is will be tricky though if your intent is to sway me. The price is firm on that one. These are my words and I will be more in tune with others by expressing myself this way.

Thanks to all of my fellow humans out there for walking with me through this life. May we enjoy one another’s differences and learn to play well with one another.

Peace from the Rogue Mare

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