And then, I found ME

Today, I found someone I thought I had lost and would never see again. I found me. I went to bed feeling pretty good and carrying a new mind-set.
Knowing that bad things that people around me did would no longer hurt me. It would only hurt them. We allow ourselves to be affected by other people's actions, whether we have a bad reaction or a good reaction, that is our own choice.
I woke up to the contents of the bathroom trash can all over the apartment, and poo and pee (the dog's) in the living room. Not the way you want to start your day. I went to day #2 of #LiveBig feeling angry and resentful and not in the mood to laugh, or dance, or locate those inner most feelings inside of me. They were right there all over my face. I was...well, let's just say I was angry.
Then we were taken for a little hypothetical ride into our heads, into the deepest part of our minds where we hide our anger, resentment, hate, guilt, jealousy, hurt, and we were told to find the one person who we felt had caused those feelings and talk to them (once again, in our heads, hypothetically), and tell them that we didn't want them in there, in our minds, anymore.
I don't need to say who it was that I talked to in my head because that is not important. What is important is that I released all of that "junk" that was in my head, and let. It. Go.
I took the hand of the sad little girl in my head that was hiding and lonely and felt unloved, and ugly, and fat, and weak, and old, and I promised her I would never let that happen to her again. That I was there to take care of her and protect her.
Any anger or resentment I had felt this morning, or on any other morning in my life, was gone.
I felt peace.
I have discovered something in the last 24 hours that I really should have been smart enough to figure out on my own.
The story that was placed in my head about who I should be, or how I should feel about myself is NOT MY STORY.
That was somebody else's story that I chose to believe my whole entire life.
But now, I do not.
I write my own story. Of who I am and who I want to be.
I am my own Creator. I am writing a new story. One that will help me to be exactly whom I want to be.
We are not our parents, we are not our siblings, we are not our children (although, they are amazing and I'd have no problem being them at all), we are not our ex-spouses, we are not even our religion.
They do not define who we are, or who we can become, because we are our own Creators.
We need to stop being Reactors and feeling sorry for ourselves because of some wrong we feel was done to us. It's so DUMB! It sounds ridiculous!
Why do we choose to drag that "JUNK" around with us everywhere, destroying our own lives, messing with our children's lives, ruining relationships because we feel a need to have everyone feel as bad as we do?
"Hurt people hurt people".
And it needs to stop.
I don't want to do that anymore. I have felt like I was suffocating and lost for so long.
Today the weight is gone. The air is clean. My heart if full. I am at peace.
I do not need your validation. I just need others to see that they can be free of their own "JUNK" but only if they choose to.
Own your own "JUNK" and let it go.
Be who you are meant to be.
Be enough.
Thank you
Gerald Rogers

Because I have a stalker....

I have had to change my passwords on EVERYTHING. I have had to cancel my debit cards. I have had to block. I have had to buy a taser (actually, my daughter bought me one). I have had to buy mace. I will probably have to cancel my email address (that I've had for years) and change to a new one. I've had to lock all my windows when normally I would leave them open on a hot summer night (and day). I can't take my dog for 10pm runs. I check around corners when I'm about to unlock my front door. I am paranoid. I have had to spend two days in a police station and the courthouse. I got 4 days behind in my homework. I don't enjoy life. I worry that my car will get keyed or the tires cut. I sit low in my lounge chair on the back deck so I can't be seen above the railing by passers-by.
So much for being "Fearless Over 50" but I am trying. I think I changed the name of my blog because I wanted to remind myself that I will be...fearless. I think I'm going to get a tattoo that says "Fearless", right on my arm, to remind me when I get afraid. I am afraid now.
I dread dating because I have come to realize that I have a pattern. I choose abusers. Whether they are obvious (the recent one) or subtle (my ex-husband).
I have to have therapy. I was told by the victim's advocate that I have PTSD. I will be single for a really long time.
But I have my children. And my wonderful grandson. They make me feel loved and cherished and really funny. Not that I feel funny, but they help me feel like I can make people laugh. My youngest has become my protector-ish. (He still needs to be reminded to lock the front door) And my oldest, who has never been that involved in my personal life (I don't blame him!), is now getting involved in even little things like telling me how to block someone. My daughter has rescued me so many times in the last two weeks just by being here to be my guardian. She is tougher than I. She continues to remind me that this is not my fault.
But I am still afraid. I am afraid I will let my guard down and there he'll be. 9 months and I can move away. Stuck with a stupid apartment lease that won't let me leave. Somewhere with beaches and palm trees and peace.
Thinking about this always makes me sick to my stomach so I think I will stop for now.

Yesterday, I flew...

Still recovering from my jump yesterday. I don't regret a minute of my choice. I went with 7 of my co-workers (and other brave hearts). We didn't know if we'd be jumping or not because it had been too windy. We went and had brunch while we waited to find out (I shouldn't have eaten anything) and I filled up on Huevos Rancheros and OJ (bad choice). My biggest fear in making this jump was that I would throw up. Not that I would plummet to my death, or even break my leg in landing wrong. I love roller coasters but I can't ride them. Even ferris wheels make me whoozy. I've taken dramamine for family road trips since I was little. I can never be a passenger, always a driver, unless you wanna pack a barf bag in your glove compartment.

When we finally got to make the jump, they had separated our rather large group into three groups. I flew with Jill and Dustin. When my instructor, a short little guy named Mike, asked if I wanted to go first, I said "sure". Next thing I know, I'm standing in the doorway with my toes correctly over the edge. The photographer I paid extra for, hung onto the outside of the plane, waved at me, and fell to the earth effortlessly. I laid my head back onto my instructor's shoulder, arched my back, and we were gone into a backflip I've never attempted in my life. They had told us in pre-flight to breath through our teeth because breathing through your mouth when you jump is like trying to drink water through a fire hose. I never noticed that. My mouth was dry at first but after that, I was fine. 

I wavered between awe and trying really hard to not be nauseated. 

The earth was so far away. The instructor had me grab onto the feet of the photographer (who has more guts than I've ever known) and smile for the camera. I still wasn't afraid. Seriously. The thought of being scared, hanging 13,000 feet above ground never crossed my mind. We free-falled (is that a word) for 60 seconds (seemed much longer) , then the instructor pulled the cord. I remember him saying "We have a good chute", like I was worrying about it. I wasn't. At all. It was crazy. I was calm. 

The problem with being so far above the earth and aiming for a small plot of land, is that you have to spin in tight circles. Mike (the instructor) asked me if I was ok. I was breathing deeply, inhaling cool air to try and alieve the wave of nausea that kept hitting me. Spinning in circles is not something someone with years of motion sickness should be attempting. I told Mike that I was getting sick. He said "Oh, then you don't like roller coasters". "No, I love them. I just can't ride them". He told me to keep watching the horizon and breath deeply. It didn't help. I closed my eyes, totally missing the view around me, and inhaled a lot. I would open them once in awhile to see if we were any closer to landing but it was taking forever.

One thing I did notice, once he pulled the chute and we were gliding earthward, I could hear perfectly when he spoke to me. He didn't have to yell. The world was so quiet and calm.  No sound, no roar of the wind. Like standing in a room with no other sound. Peaceful.

Then, just as we were heading into landing, my breakfast decided to make a reappearance. I managed to block the first wave but, just as we were about to touch down, the second one hit like a vengeance. 

The landing was so easy. Effortless. I was more concerned with the Huevos Rancheros on my shirt, my pants, the harness, and even the leg and shoe of my instructor. Poor guy. I was apologizing over and over. He was great about it but I think he was pretty horrified. He didn't know what to do first: shower from head to toe or carefully pull the gunky harness off of me. 

The cameraman, who would normally interview you after you land, very graciously let me know they would close the video he'd shot just as I landed so the proof of my flight faux pax would not be evident. 

All in all, I loved it. I didn't love the barfing part, but I had a blast. If I hadn't reacted the way I had (stomach-wise), I would probably make a hobby out of this. An expensive hobby, but a hobby just the same. 

If you live in Utah, go see SkyDiveUtah.com. Just don't barf on Mike.