Monthly Archives: August 2016

Breakthrough Depression in Words

Walking down the shore at dusk, the air is soft and warm, the smell of the ocean is inviting. My mind begins to wander, thoughts of what is yet to come fill my mind and I sigh happily content with what the future may bring. And then it happens, I hear a little voice in my head and that voice isn’t talking to me. It is a distant memory that I have buried in the back of my mind and it is getting louder. One glance out to the ocean and I can tell it is uneasy. As the waves begin to bubble up my body tries to turn so that my steps take me further from the waters edge but I am frozen. I am frozen as the sudden wave comes crashing over me, threatening to pull me into the depths of the water. As the waves crest to crash again I hear that voice louder this time. The water stings my eyes and as I try to blink I see memories of the days in the past. The water is tugging at me and it knocks me to the ground. The swell happens again and the voices and the pictures and the memories flood over me as I cling to the sand holding on for dear life. Tears fill my eyes over and over again and the waves crash and I sob, nails digging into the shore unwilling to let myself be pulled into the chaotic whirlpool that is the angry water. The waves last an indeterminant amount of time, and the salt water mixes with my tears and I am no longer able to tell the difference. My body is sandy and soaking as I press myself to the sand begging the water to cease. Finally, battered and worn, I feel the warm air on my back again and I realize the water is further away than it was to start. The waves have calmed and my body is tired. I pull myself into a sitting position, knees to chest, arms wrapped around to warm myself and I watch as the sun finally sinks into the water. My eyes swollen from the memories they saw, my body tired from the fearsome fight and my mind full of what ifs. But I made it, and it did not pull me down this time. I am allowed to cry, I am allowed to feel sorrow and pain, I am allowed to fight through the pain all of it caused but I am NOT allowed to give up. I deserve the solace and peace of mind that comes with moving forward. I deserve the happiness that lays in front of me. I know the ocean has not finished its fight with me and I never know when it is going to try to pull me under again but I know that I will be ok. I’ve come so far and I am ok.

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Here I go again on my own

Once school starts fall should automatically begin. Once kids are back in school, the weather should cool down and we should get 3 or 4 perfect months of hoodies weather. Or at least have it happen on labor day….I may just be cranky because I am totally sunburned. 

So today was the first day of school for the kiddos. I walked then to the bus, cried my way home and went to sleep. I was so emotionally worn out after an hour and a half that I needed a break. Reasoning behind it you ask…well

The summer went by so incredibly fast, I don’t even remember what I did for half of it. Only that I wish I had spent more time running around and playing with the kids. I wish we had taken more pictures and had more ice cream. There are lots of things I could should myself on and won’t because I know my kiddos had a great time and loved every minute.

And me, over the summer, I wrote and I healed and I cried. I laughed and I bonded with the people that care. I built my strength up and learned how to get along on my own. I prepared myself for what was coming up to round out this year. I prepared myself for today.

The first day of school, of excitement and joy and the knowledge that my babies are growing up so quickly. The first day of school, I always had someone holding my hand ad I let go of theirs. Today I didn’t have that. Today was hard. But I was ok.

I realize that intentionally or not I tried to find a replacement. Not for validation, sex or even a relationship. I was trying t ok fill the only part of my soul I can’t yet completed on my own. The part that remembers what it’s like to have a partner, a confidant, someone to fill up the empty moments. And what I’ve learned from that is that although I am lonely I am still ok. The world will keep on turning. The air will still smell as sweet and my heart will be filled with the love of my children and the live I’m learning for myself.

First day of school.

First page of a new story.

Here’s to us!

Sparkle thoughts

Shaye

Desperately Seeking Solace

My need to fill the space in time that I spend lost in my thoughts is swallowed by meaningless messages from strangers. Far safer then actual encountets, I can hide behind the safety of the Internet while I chat with them…The need for dependant validation exceedingly obvious.

It’s funny really, in all aspects of my life I am growing, extending, prospering even and yet I hide behind a mask of words in order to feel like I am going to bed full filled. I wonder if that thirst will ever be quenched or am I bound to spend endless moments typing away when I could be doing something real.

I have made life altering d3cisions. I am preparing for life changing and saving surgery. I smile everyday and hold an honest joy about tomorrow. I’ve made plans for the future that include no on save for the pixie and the sprite. Yet dear future husband is something I find myself writing everyday.

And it isn’t for sex and it isn’t for love…or is it. I honestly know that I need to connect on some level beyond physical attraction, which is why I can hold in depth conversations about silly or mundane things. I crave the intellectual randomness that you can only achieve getting to know someone new. But I sit there and wonder, am I lying? Are they seeing all of me? Do they even care?

The questions pile up and I know they won’t be answered.  I know that I won’t find what I am searching for online even though I have already discovered it in myself. A rare and true connection, where all the elements combine is life altering. I think I’ve had enough of those moments for now. 

I know though,  as soon as I post this, I will wander back to my deep dark dive bar on the web. Filled with smut and sweet and those desperately seeking solace. And I will validate them and they me. Because for even but a moment, sometimes all we need is a moment.

Weighing in on Weighing in

This is something that is incredibly important to me. So I cross posted it onto this blog from my bariatric blog. I hope it sheds some light on how my mind works and maybe helps you a little too.

​I know, I know I broke a promise. Not only to you my loyal readers but to myself. I promised that I would hold myself accountable everyday. I promised I would update you in my journey, not only for you but for me too. To see where I was, how far I have come and what I’m running towards. Tonight I don’t come here with excuses or justifications, though I thought up a whole batch of them before I typed this out. I came here with the truth. The reason why there have been far fewer updates than I promised, no pictures and less content than I wanted all boils down to one word….Fear.


That’s right, I’m afraid. I sit behind my computer screen or on my phone everyday, just after I weigh myself and  watch the cursor blink. 5 billion thoughts come to mind and I can’t put them down, simply put, because I am afraid. I’m afraid of judgement and not by you but because I judge myself. Far be it from me to say I have done everything in my power to be in the best physical shape I can be right now. I haven’t. I walk as much as the weather, my health and my state of mind let me. I eat or at least try to eat 3 meals a day and keep healthy snacks around. I drink tons of water and managed to get my soda down to one a day. I quit smoking. I’m pretty fucking proud of myself. But the numbers on the scale haven’t moved.

I know in my heart NSV’S are the best kind of victories and I try to celebrate them. But trying to get my motivation up when the numbers on the scale bobble between 7 pounds is really hard. I know I’m trying, I know surgery isn’t that far away….but I have this voice in the back of my mind that I try to ignore. That negative Nancy that tells me it’s all for naught. So I don’t post my progress, because to me I’m stuck, not progressing. I figure no one wants to see that.

As I write this I realize how childish I sound. I realize that if I were my best friend I would tell myself to put on that selfish outfit and start snapping a weekly pic. That I deserve to show off my journey. That I have come do far. I know it all starts from within and lately I haven’t been practicing loving the self within. But I have decided to turn the page. I am going to try my best to update you more regards, try out new smoothie recipies, walk more and just take care of me. I want to hear your stories on your journey down this path

 Feel free to write me. Let’s take this one step at a time!

Together!

Eliza Dushku is so hot

I had a long winded rant that I was going to go into, about life and why this week was going to be really stressful but I happen to be sitting in front of the TV and while the TV is generally not a distraction…Eliza Dushku sauntering on, during try-outs for Bring it On is just fucking distracting. Now I knew for a long time that I had weird feelings when it came to girls, that I wasn’t sure why I got that tingle in my belly when I had sleepovers just like when I played football with the boys but I never really thought of when I had a sexual awakening. Thinking about it now, I am not really sure I can pinpoint it, it had to have come sometime in high school, I mean that was when the experimentation (meaning kissing girls for fun and sport) really started. But Eliza Dushku…

I remember the first time I saw Faith on Buffy, there was something about the feisty, sparkly, sassy extra slayer that just got my juices flowing. Now, looking back on it I can totally tell you that I was highly attracted to her but then I think it was a mixture of that and wanting to be her. Which kind of ties into what I was thinking about before. What I have been thinking about for the past few days. What I want to be when I grow up. Now I am not still fantasizing about being Eliza Dushku…meeting her, yes but not being her. When I am talking about growing up, I am obviously and adult and I do realize that….and I am not talking about my career path. I am talking about the kind of person I want to see reflected back at me.

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I have taken time out in the past few days to reflect on things that have been going on around me, I have been told to take a deep breath and write what I am feeling if I come up to a blockage to write through it and keep writing till I felt comfortable. I fought against that notion until this very moment. I have only thought about writing for the past few days and here I am. Now all I have been feeling is that the winds of change are blowing and if I don’t put my umbrella in the draft I am going to miss my chance and life is going to start passing me by. I have been thinking about my plans for the future, for what life is going to be like in the next couple of months, weeks, days even. A lot of stuff is happening…So let’s catch up.

This week, the kiddos are gone on another mini vacay with their Nanny so I could get stuff done while they had fun. This week is looking towards being super stressful. Back into court with the ex, figuring out exactly what is going to happen with all kinds of custody things. Hoping it turns out fine but I feel like in some ways I am being set up. Seriously…who asks the main parent to pack specific full wardrobes for children for a ten-day vacation and returns the bags with the clothes untouched? Was it a test? T make sure they have clothes? My children are well taken care of, they are healthy, well fed, happy and well adjusted. They are going to be involved in music lessons, piano and violin, drama club, sports, gymnastics and Hebrew school this year. They have so much going on and I am not going to let ANYONE ruin that. So that is all going to be taken care of on Thursday, hopefully, it is all worked out amicably….Because I don’t want to have to go through a whole court battle, it won’t be ok for them and they are all that I care about.

After this mess is cleared up we continue to gear up for school, now it has hit me that I am really doing this on my own. Now I know I have been on my own for the past 7 months, trust me that hasn’t failed to fall on my shoulders but this is different. This feels new, like a new leaf, new responsibilities, and a whole new book. Maybe because it finally is a new year and as a Mom, the start of a new school year is the real beginning. Maybe because there are so many adventures on the horizon and I finally feel up to the task of doing it myself. Maybe because I have realized that I have the ability to do it on my own and it is actually a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders. Either way, the new school year is a big deal and that is approaching rapidly.

Also my house, I am rearranging, throwing out, reorganizing and getting rid of the old. I am done with things that have bad memory and juju attached to them. I want my kids to look at things and smile. I want to curl up in my bed and have it be my sanctuary because I am a fucking princess. I don’t need a prince to tell me that.

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Then we come to my surgery, as of the 26th I will be making my last appointment with my surgeon before we schedule my gastric sleeve surgery. I am totally excited and totally terrified all at the same time. I can’t wait to continue on my journey with a new tool in my bag that will help me become a new, healthy me. I am terrified because I have actually become half convinced that I will not recognize myself anymore. I have so many thoughts in my mind about what is going to happen with the surgery that I give myself a headache. I know it it is going to amazing and wonderful and incredible. I also know it is going to be a huge lifestyle change, it is going to be a whole new me and I have to accept the fact that I will look different and I will feel different and I will get different attention. I have to be ok with that. I think it is the different kind of attention. I don’t know what it will be if it is going to happen and that is the biggest part that scares me. I think I am scared people won’t love me for who I am anymore but for what is on the outside. But I shouldn’t worry about it so much because I still know who I am and I love that person….Are you still keeping up? I think I lost myself about a paragraph ago.

So ahem….now that we have caught up on what will be going on I will leave you with this. I have finally got the courage under my wings, and a voice whispering in my ear, and a foot kicking me in the ass to really get on board with my book project. It is still in the futzing around stages right now but I can tell you it is going to be amazing. I can also tell you that I have been working on my bariatric blog and that has been going pretty fucking well too. I am going to go back to watching Eliza Dushku shaking her ass…and I am going to pick out a whole new bedroom set while doing so. Because I am starting a whole new book and this sassy slayer gets to start shaking it in style too.

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You Can’t Make This S#%! Up

A hilarious and real story that could only happen to one of my dearest friend. So without further ado and in her own words…I give you, Arboria- 

I was in Atlanta this week for work.  I stayed at my usual hotel near the office.  Generally I don’t see very many people around,  but it was pretty hoping with a group of gentlemen that liked to hang out in the bed of their pickup trucks or out in front of the hotel this week.  Seemed wierd, but whatever.  On Monday I arrived and for ease of travel (and Pokémon hunting) I was wearing capre yoga pants and a tight-ish tank top that showed off my figure.  I was walking around the hotel parking lot looking for Pokémon that evening and I noticed one of the guys sitting on the curb in the parking lot starring at his phone. I did a walk by to see if he was playing Pokemon.  He wasn’t so I kept waking.   NBD, but when I was back upstairs later that night walking the hall (ok, hunting more Pokémon) he showed up and sparked up a conversation.  He told me he was watching welding videos and we had a quick exchange before he went into his room (right across the hall from me).  

I thought that was the ends of it,  but when I got back to the hotel the next night he was there and we chatted a little more.  I was getting a weird vibe so I cut the small talk sort and headed into my room.  

Next night, I get back to the hotel and he’s out front in a group of his buddies chatting with them.  I gave him a smile and said hi and went to the elevators. He must have jogged to catch up with me and when we got in the elevator he said.  “Are you single, I was gonna ask if you wanted to get a drink?”  Ah,  wierd vibe ID’d; he was just really bad at flirting.   I told him I was married but I’d chat with him later if he wanted to hang out.  Asked if he wanted to hang out in the hotel lobby the next night (safe place with staff on duty at all times just in case! Also meant I knew where to go for help if things got weird).  He said he had plans for that night and he was flying home the following day,  as was I.  Anyway,  I went back to my room, he went to his, but about an hour later I get a knock on my door.  It was him asking what I was up to, and if I wanted to go downstairs then.   I must have looked flustered or out of it.  I said I was working on something,  but I’d finish up.  He changed his mind and said let’s do it tomorrow (he must have changed his plans,  yikes,  getting creepy!)  We both go back to our rooms.  I’m wondering if his posse from downstairs was egging him on eventhough I told  him I was married.  
Next day I decided this was all too weird for me so I stayed at the office until after he’s usually no longer around the hotel.  Got back about 10p.  I stopped at the front desk and told the guy there that the gentleman across the hall had asked me out the previous day and I was a little weirded out since he knew what room I was in.  I asked him to send someone up in a few minutes of I didn’t call down.  Thankfully no encounter, guy across the hall was asleep as I guessed (i could hear him snoring!)  I called down and gave the all clear,  but I was feeling kinda bad for the guy because he really could have been just a nice guy and I didn’t want to make him feel bad about getting “stood up” so I left a little note in his door that said the boss took us all out for dinner and I didn’t get back until late,  and that I hoped I hadn’t ruined his plans for the evening.   I figured, we’ll that’s the end of it, I never see him in the morning, so I’d be safe and hopefully I hadn’t hurt his feelings. He really did seem like a nice guy.  He never even told me his name and I didn’t tell him mine.

I got up, had breakfast at the hotel and left and didn’t see him again.  Did all my normal leaving Atlanta stuff,  returned the car,  took the train to the terminal, hunted some Pokémon (i have a problem!), grabbed a sandwich for on the plane, went to my gate, got ready to board the plane,  turned to ask the random stranger next to me what group they had just called because I wasnt paying attention, and…………………….. ladies! It was the guy from the hotel!  I shit you not,  the freakin guy staying across from me in the hotel, the one that asked me out.   In all of the thousands of people in the Atlanta airport,  I asked THAT guy what group was called for my flight,  the flight he was boarding…..my brain:  holy shit, is he a stalker, how the fuck did he find out what plane I was on.  I never gave him my name,  did he have cameras in my room, did he hack my phone or my computer,  is he buddy, buddy with hotel staff since he’s staying there for an extended period of time, did they give him my name.  OMG, who do I call,  WTF am I going to do (logical brain me slaps paranoid brain me across the face and takes control of the situation) see that look on his face, he didn’t recognize you at first,  really, truly,  didn’t have any idea who you were.  Shut up paranoid brain, you’re an idiot!…so I talk to him for a little while because it would be obviously very rude not to and there are tons of people around, and truthfully he’s probably just a really nice guy and I’m being a paranoid idiot.  He said he got my note and said he was going to ask if I wanted to go for a walk cause he knew I was playing that game (Pokémon) , I had it on so I showed him a few things,  but he didn’t seem interested at all,  so I stopped…(seriously if he is really that sweet and thoughtful I hope he finds a great girl). We chatted about our seating assignment…I’m in row 13….he’s in row 12!   (Dear universe, what the hell are you trying to tell me,  I’m not getting it!)  We sit and have a bit more small talk.  He’s going to Philly,  but he has a long layover,  he’s from Westfield,  PA,  someones going to pick him up.  I tell him I’m going to my parents to get my daughter,  give him a town close by (not the actual town, because paranoid brain still gets some say in this interaction and he’s probably the first person I didn’t try to show pictures of Kitten to…don’t want him to know what my kid looks like if he’s a stalker!)  Funny thing about the town I picked,  that’s where the company he works for is headquartered  (Really universe, REALLY! Am I supposed to run away with this random stranger or something?)  

The lady in row 12 sits down and he starts talking to her.  While he’s distracted I snap a quick picture and sent it to a friend who knows what’s going on in case he tries to grab me from the airport or something (paranoid brain never shuts up!)  I start eating my lunch, he turns around to ask how I’m doing, sees I’m  eating and goes back to talking to row 12 lady.  Once we’re at cruising altitude I grab my laptop to do some work I’ve been neglecting all trip in favor of Pokémon hunting.  I see him look back a few times,  but I really do need to work,  so I pretend not to notice.  

The plane lands, he says have a nice trip and he’s gone….I still don’t know his name! 
So that was my week,  how was yours?!

View from the inside

I wouldn’t say I worry about my writing. No worry isn’t the word I would use at all. I don’t worry about who reads my work, it is up to them if they continue to read it after they have realized it was written by me. I don’t worry about my content, because once again if you continue to keep reading after you’ve glimpsed what I am writing about, it is more of a proceed at your own risk. I don’t worry about the points that I try to make, I try to articulate everything I have to say as clear as I can. Granted I know they may come off as wacky, convoluted, snarky, sass and *insert your own adjective here* but I think I get my words out eventually. I will tell you what I “worry” about. My biggest “thing” I guess you would call it is wondering if I am touching anyone out there. I want to know that what I have to say is relevant to someone else and not just this big point that I have made in my mind. I want to know that in my manic phases and my borderline withdrawals I have not overstimulated my ego enough to think that my writing is SO GOOD that I am touching people’s lives when I am merely performing a literary masturbatory dance on a platform for the world to see. I mean some of you may be into that sort of kink and if that’s the case, go ahead and watch but I mean to affect the world.

I remember being younger, younger by days, months, years and just wanting something to touch me in a moment so that I would know that I wasn’t so very alone. That is how I took to the written word in the first place. I would crank up the music (much like the very 90’s playlist I have pumped in the background) and sit down and just write. I could write and write and write and cry or laugh or snicker bitterly at what they would never read and that would be my haven. I remember the first time someone read what I had to say, they told me that I wrote well and that I should think about writing for a living. I remember thinking that they needed to mind their own business and keep their fucking hands off my stuff. But in my mind’s eye (I hate that phrase) I dreamed of what it would be like to write for a living. I dreamed of an open-air studio, a hammock, scarves around my head, a typewriter (yes I had one as a kid and I would love to have one again) and just chronicling my life. I dreamed of taking people on adventures of the soul on journies through the mind and spirit. I wanted to touch people with my words.

Then that harsh hand of reality struck, as it always does, and I was forced to think about the future. About how writing held no real money and how I should focus on what I really wanted to do. But I REALLY wanted to write. OBVIOUSLY, I didn’t know better. So my writing went into journals and random blogs online. My poems went to those whom I loved and lost, who may or may not have deserved them at the time. Who knows, maybe pieces of me are still out there, in memory boxes of those who I wrote them to, little pieces of my soul scattered around the world, or maybe people aren’t as sentimental as I am. I still wrote as much as I could, I was still told that I should keep writing, but my words had taken a different tone, a darker one and as my mental health turned inward it continued to reach toward the light from a very dark place. It became a cry for help and when it wasn’t a cry for help, it was undauntingly the whispers of a soul crying for the loss of those she loved, used in eulogies of all who had passed from her life.

Journals upon journals, half empty pages, torn out half written scribbles, they fell out of the boxes I had packed them in when I finally moved into a place that could hold them all. It had been years since I wrote anything of substance. I had shifted my mental focus on the two lives I had grown within and given up all hope of touching anything but their lives. Through my struggles to become a better mom and a better person I was starting a journey to figure out exactly who that person was. As I came across the whisperings of yesteryear everything clicked back into place. I remembered how desperately I needed that someone to take my hand and pull me through my darkest hour. I felt that tug again because it wasn’t too long ago that I once again needed that person. It had only been a few years since I almost lost myself to a diagnosis I did not understand. I felt as if no one could understand me. I did not know how to be a single mommy, let alone one that had this undeniable feeling of being alone all the time. I needed a shoulder, a hand, a heart to open to mine and show me the light. I found what I needed to pull me through and though there are still days I yearn for the caress of words to make the struggle so much better; What I want for more is to reach through that void and grab the hands of someone else faltering, even if only to tell them that they are not alone.

I feel sometimes that my words as not enough, that they will come of convoluted or even superior to the struggles that the demons inside take you through on a daily basis. And to that I have no words other than I am here, feel me with you, I have been there, hold on tight, I promise I get it. I do not think myself above even the lowest of days, the days of mascara streaked cheeks, of blanket nests, of the desperation that looks like a razors edge. I know the bleakest of grays and blacks but I know the glimmer of yellows and pinks, the glitter of the snow as it falls over the scars that have long since healed. And if it is only for a moment that I can hold you in my arms and let you see the world, see the hope, see yourself through my eyes;Let me show you the way.

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The Theory of Everything 

Not my title I’m afraid, Stephen Hawking’s….It’s 6:02am and I have been watching this movie for the better part of an hour or so. I turned it on because I have been waiting and wanting to see it. And in the wake of my exhaustion and insomnia it seemed perfect at the moment.

Whooping cough, everyone who is vaccinated is vaccinated against it, yet somehow this highly contagious disease has made its way into my house and my lungs as it were. The doctor said that it’s becoming more frequent to see things like this pop up, but that didn’t make me feel any better. It’s frustrating to have something that I’m protected against and that my kids are protected against, attack our immune systems because they have been given the capability to mutate do to the people nor taking vaccine seriously. No this isn’t going to be an antivaxxers rant, I’m just pissed off. I have to listen helplessly as my sprite coughs his lungs up. And I have to watch quite helplessly as the watch me not be able to function because my whole body is wracked from the meds.

Now, generally medication is supposed to make you feel better. But if you put all my autoimmune crap together and add a dose of antibiotics and steroids, I am done. My immunodeficiency made it easy for me to get sick, it also makes my immune system terrible and not want to fight back. Antibiotics are supposed to fight the bad things but the end up fighting the good ones too and steroids just lower the ability for the body to fight anything. 


Everything I am sick, I feel like I am doing something wrong. Now I know there is nothing I can do, not my fault in getting sick. I have two kids, kids get germs, I get sick easily. But when you’re doing it alone, you feel like you have to be healthy all the time. Now I know that’s impractical but it’s the way my brain works. 

I’m in pain enough already,  my fibro flares are daily, the migraines come and go, the exhaustion is constant but I push through. I soldier on because that’s who I am, I am Supermommy.But right now I’m tired, my lungs kept me up last night and I fell asleep on the couch because it was more comfortable than my own bed.

I feel awful because one kiddo is sick and the other isn’t. We’ve been told medicine and fluids and rest. One wants to play and the other to sleep, I am on the precipice of passing out all the time. The meds are rocking my body so very hard. I don’t want to and can’t let myself rely on anyone, not like I used to. It seems to me, sometimes, that I also fail at relying on myself.

I just want things to get better. I guess somedays, I still try to wish away the pain. The exhaustion. I disorders. I try to dream away all that’s gone wrong. I want to wake up feeling good again. I hope that maybe after my surgery I will be able to do that. I’m not putting all my ducks in a row, or my eggs in a basket or whatnot. I’m just hoping that maybe,one day, there will be a way to jump-start my body into producing more spoons. Into making it want to function.

This movie is drawing close to a close, it’s heart-wrenching. His story though, I know, still goes on. As does mine. Hmmm, funny that is, never thought I’d have something in common with the brilliant Stephen Hawking. But we both have stories to tell. 

How Miss Jean Louis  (and nude orca riding) changed my life 

I was in no way a nudist by nature, in fact under the circumstances I most did everything that involved me being naked in the complete dark. Except showeting, though candle light makes everything sexy but that is not a topic we will delve into right now. So when the opportunity arose for me to experience a fully nude orca experience, you could imagine my hesitation. Not only because when I found the ticket for it in the bottom of my cereal box, I wondered how the hell it got there. But also because I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

Riding orcas naked, who does that? Unable to quell my curiosity, I called the number on the bottom of the free pass and booked my ticket. As I showed up on the pier that morning, there was a chill in the air that not even my double layers were ready for. I was alone, cold and highly unnerved as a single boat pulled toward the dock, a solitary wild woman on her deck. I inherently assume boats are female and this one has the name Misha scrawled on the side in a spinach green paint.

She was wearing a silk kimono, the woman not the boat, and she greeted me with a devilish smile and open arms. I took her embrace to be something between a friendly hug and an Esopus pulling me toward my doom upon the seas. She must have felt me tremble as I stumbled aboard her vessel, not making a sound, and looked at her wide eyed.

“Salutations and all that jazz” she said as we left the dock. “You look like I am going to swallow your soul”

“W-w-well” I tripped over my words, my tongue suddenly too big for my mouth. “I’m not sure what I am doing here”

She smiled knowingly and whistled to her monkey (she had a MONKEY!) who took over steering as she led me to a very comfortable seat. She handed me a silk robe.

“This is for when you’re ready”

“Today, you’re life is going to change, much like mine did the day I she’d my clothes and was one with the orcas. Let me tell you about it”. She smiled then, scooting next to me and looping her arm around my shoulders. She held one hand toward the skies as if she was painting a picture and she began to pontificate.

“Long ago, before there was the CW, William Shatner and Comic Con…There was this thing called free time. And in this free time, we had what you called fun. And during this fun we used to produce art. Art in so many forms that the human brain could not even imagine. We used our bodies, our minds our hearts, our souls, our words. We took what was nearest to us and created. Not I wasn’t much of an artist, I was awkward as I was gangly. I didn’t fit in with the artists as much as one would like me to. But I was determined to make my mark on the planet. I always had a fascination with the water, I believed that things and strange lands lived beneath them. My mother told me that I spent so much time in the sea, I was becoming part fish. And it was true, only she didn’t not know the extent of it. I fell in love in the water, in the dark if night I’d take to the sea and a merman would swim to meet me. We would find a dark shore and build our love in sand castles until the dawn tore us from each other again. For if you did not know, the day send the merfolk to their kingdoms, the sunlight does poison their skin. Well one night we were discovered, our art was discovered as was our love. I was unaware that not only had the human world discovered us (beaches were pretty strict about their no trespass laws) but he had been followed. I stripped of my clothes and took to the seas, as my hand slid in his we swam as far as we could until I tired and the sun became to come up. I was unaware of exactly the detriment sun was to my loves skin. I remember a softly kiss and a whispered I love you. The last I ever heard of his voice. When I awoke, I was nude, a top a great orca. I knew I was safe, but I knew my love was gone. As I looked into the eyes of this creature, I saw all I had lost. But the potential he gave me to create art with all my soul. So off we took to find the rest of the curse merfolk, me astride my lost love, nude and gangly for all to sea. A routine, a few dollars earned and the greatest art love can produce. He believed in our love and in me so greatly, that I was able to eli eve I  myself and go on.”

She took my hands in hers. And smiled.

“I knew you needed help believing in yourzelf, that’s why you’re here. To throw it all to the wind and ride in art and love”

I had listened to her in utter awe. This crazy, strange, fearless redhead in front of me was off her nut but had such a point. I stood with my robe in hand and smiled back at her.

“Where can I get changed, I’m ready”

Beautiful words. Shattered dreams

I cleaned out the happy jar, to save myself the pain of doing it at the end of year. My children should not think about what we’ve lost. I found beautiful words.

Lovely memories to smile upon 

But as I smiled the tears began to tall. Because such wonderful words were marred as I remembered…

That a little over 6 weeks later. The dreams turned to nightmares.

I began to cry harder as I wondered what was real and what was fake. Did those words express what was really felt.

I realized I believed in the words. In the life we once had. And I cried for the confusion. The loss of something real. Something beautiful. Something that will never be repaired.

A love that was so pure. An end that was never written. In the stars. A tragic faerietale.