Monika Basile's Blog: Confessions of a Bleeding Heart, page 6

Saturday Night

I know my youngest daughter views me as somewhat pathetic.

On a Saturday night, after helping a friend move, cleaning, cooking dinner for an assortment of children, and then cleaning up again, I was simply relaxing and surfing the next. She was waiting for her friends to pick her up.

“Mom? Why don’t you go out?”

I look up at her a bit confused, “With who?”

She is a wonder of a beauty at the age of fifteen. “Uhm, I don’t know. What about with that guy you went out with this week?”

“He has his kid.” I turn my attention away from her back to the computer.
“What about Deb?”

“She has her in-laws over to finish helping her move.”

She continues on and is getting exasperated as she lists people who I no longer hang around with or who live far away now, or who are simply busy with their own lives. “You really should go out, Mom.” She averts her eyes and flips her hair.

“Why is this so important?”

She just looks away and doesn’t answer and I get it. She is feeling sorry for me. After all this time—she finally wants me to have a life which is something she fought against tooth and nail for the past six years.

The youngest daughter had the hardest time with the divorce and the idea of me dating. She did as much as she could to make it hard on me. She threw tantrums or called a hundred times when I was out. She did everything possible to make me feel guilty to want to enjoy adult company in any way and to want still—a life outside of my children. Though her father had been living with someone shortly after the divorce who he later married, the youngest dear felt that I should be alone until she grew up and moved away.

Until now.
What has changed in her or about me that has made her recant her former wishes?
I think it might be because she has finally realized that she is growing up and will move away and is having her own life. I think it is because she realizes that once she leaves, I will be alone and it bothers her. I think my youngest daughter, who I go round and round with, finally understands me. Good. I have been waiting for it to happen.

However, I hated the thought of her thinking I was lonely and pathetic. “I’m really tired anyway. I’ve been out enough this past couple of weeks. I had four dates in the past ten days.”

“We could go out, Mom.”I appreciated the offer but I know too the last thing this child wanted was to go out with her mom. Something tugs at my heart though, knowing she actually cares a bit. I am her mother though and I care more.

“No, that’s okay. I’m too tired. You already made plans so you should keep them.”

And what I really wanted to say was--I’ll be okay my dear. No matter what life brings, even when you are grown and away. I will be okay so don’t worry. But I don’t say that because I know it would embarrass her.


Monika M. Basile

First Dates

First Dates...ugh...yeah!

It involves a feeling of anticipation and dread, of excitement and fear, of hopefulness and insecurity. I love/hate first dates.

The" freak out" phenomenon (and no, I am not meaning I will hurt myself, run screaming naked through the streets or start picking people off from a clock tower)causes a distinct uneasiness in me. Will he like me? Will I like him? Will it be wonderful or a disaster? Will it even just be nice or will I be trying to come up with reasons to leave?

It is worse when it comes to internet dating as we do not really know the physical person at all..and they do not know us either. Ahhhh...here is where all the unique surprises come in. One of the surprises is that we don't look how the other has imagined. Pictures only capture so much. Pictures and profiles are not liars-just gross exaggerators of the truth.

I sometimes wonder if maybe it would be smarter to post photos of me- pre-morning coffee, jumping out of bed after a night of little sleep, wandering through the house bumping into the door in a too dark hallway and stubbing your toe on the door jamb with hair sticking up on end pictures instead. We could then say, "Here it is. Here is me at my worst and if you can't face this sometime in a future morning, be on your way."

Yet, it isn't just about what a person looks like. It is their presence, the sound of a voice, the crinkle of an eye during a bout of laughter too. These things we cannot truly know until that first date. I am eager and apprehensive at the same time. I can come up with a dozen scenarios good and bad of how it will all turn out. And it never does turn out any way I can quite imagine. I wonder if men do the same or if they are all cool about it and don't even give it a second thought.

Tonight is a first date night. I am eager and apprehensive. I need to stop here and get ready before I am late which never makes a good impression. I have to also factor in the time it will take me that is extra when I get lost (I always get lost). And the weather has changed suddenly and dropped twenty degrees so I have to rethink what I am wearing. I will make sure to have the girls look me over so I don't have anything unzipped, unbuttoned, stained or something stuck in my teeth. The heels I wanted to wear I have already decided against since I tend to be a klutz and even more so when I am nervous. I have already embarrassed myself greatly in a text that was autocorrected...

Me: I get off at four. What time do you want me to come fart you?

Me: omg

Me: get, I meant get.

Him: Sixish would be good.

Him: Fart me?

Him: Hey, I'm not that kinky. Lol

At least he will be fun.

Monika M. Basile

Leap of Faith

Leaps of faith must be taken on a regular basis. It is how I live my life and definitely the reason I experience the heartaches I do. It is also the reason my life is filled with surprises and immense joy at times too. We have to play to win. We have to live to actually, well...live

I watch many people I know hide behind the walls they build and false bravados of, “I don’t care. Not going there.” and, “I’m doing just fine on my own.” Not true. It isn’t ever true that we are really living if we are hiding with blankets pulled over our heads fearful we might be attacked at any moment instead of taking the chance and stepping out into the world—the real world. Not the world we carefully construct around ourselves making sure only the right experiences invade our premises. The real live world where anything can and usually does happen. The world where we have no foresight to know what is just around the corner waiting for us.

There has to be room for the dark horses and odd occurrences to happen—the things that we do not plan or aren’t expecting. It’s scary thinking about everything wrong that can happen, but it is exciting to still enjoy the wonder of what good might come too or even come out of any horror we battle. This is where faith comes in. This is what dreams are made of. This is what living is.

Each of us walks through darkness. We fall ill, we lose those we love, or our jobs. We are broke or wounded, or simply desperate. We are jaded and confused and alone and bitter. However, it doesn’t have to own us. Those awful heartaches do not have to rule our existence unless we simply stop jumping to the next part of our lives to see what happens next.

We lose hope sometimes when others hurt us, when we feel lonely and disconnected. It is understandable but it is not the place we need to stop in. When we stop in those moments of heartbreak we don’t get to find out the rest of the story. We don’t get to find out what lies right over the next hump. We instead dig our own graves and close the earth right over ourselves even though we still walk around in everyday life.

I have made the conscious decision to not stop no matter what. I will forever leap, jump and even spin pirouettes as I stumble through my life without any idea where I will end up. I will not stop until I have made it all the way through whether I wind up in pieces or not. I am not giving up—not ever—no matter how low life can take me and it has taken me down into some pretty deep dark holes. I will not build walls of steel or bricks or even diamonds to stop others from reaching me.

I will continue on, even when I ask myself if I am crazy to do so. I am not crazy—I am simply alive, with a heart beating huge thuds and a head filled with the faith that it will be good. I just have to keep the faith.

Monika M. Basile

On Love and Psychos

When is that moment when we lose our minds over someone? Are we absolutely conscious of it or does it just sneak right in, causing us to behave in ways that we never would have if we were thinking clearly?

I am guilty of this as I am sure everyone has been at one time or another in their lives. However, I try not to be for the most part what most would call, “Psycho”. I am pretty good most of the time in controlling those awful impulses to say and do what immediately comes to mind when you feel you may be losing someone or something.

I am not a drunken texter or dialer though I am one to definitely think of it—of everything I want to say or do to that person. There are times when I would love to make a list of everything that has bothered me and every grievance I never voiced aloud. It is a battle within me to not allow the inner “Psycho” to lash out. I don’t even think it is a matter of having control, but more the thought of knowing how bad I would feel later—no matter how good I might feel to unleash it all in a moment of hurt or anger.

I learned this lesson early on. In high school really, when a boy I loved had broken up with me and I sent him letter after letter telling him how I really felt—the good and the bad. And I remember too, the humiliation I felt later—after I was thinking clearly, to tell someone who no longer cared for me the workings of my inner soul. I was lucky. He was kind and never mentioned the letters and he thankfully never showed them to anyone else. I am sure I made him horribly uncomfortable. I wonder now if he cringed when he read my words and my feelings splayed out on white lined paper, baring every heartache and hurt I could possibly put into words. I am embarrassed now—so many, many years later. Lessons are sometimes learned the first time.

I think about that time in my life each time when I am hurt now. Each time I am desperate to air my heartache to whoever caused it. I stop myself. I sometimes come as close to dial a number but hang up before hitting call. I even write out lengthy texts or emails and by the time I’m done writing every painful thought, I hit delete. I am blessed that I am long winded, because I think that by the time I am done writing, it gives me time to change my mind and regain my sanity—at least for a long enough moment to erase it before I cause myself further damage.

Sometimes, we think that if we just told someone who has turned from us, how we really feel, or if we spewed or heartache, or even if we just called them a long list of nasty names we would feel better. We don’t. We are mistaken to even think it matters. When we expose our inner souls to those who have moved past us, we forget—they have moved on and they are not looking back.

We need to tell those “Psycho” voices to shut up, before we allow someone who has gone out of our lives our most precious thoughts.

Monika M. Basile

The Dumps...

It has been a strange feeling to be on the other end of it.

The dumper instead of the dumpee. It isn't a good feeling in the least. Usually it's me—the one who thinks everything is going well and then gets awarded a nasty surprise.

I don't like it—either position. I don't like being hurt anymore than hurting someone. I don't like that feeling in my heart or the light bulb that goes off in my brain signaling something isn't there or something is simply over. It is a sadness in me to know that I am throwing in the towel and walking away because it just isn't working.

To do it gently, kindly, gracefully? I struggle with it and the words I use are picked and chosen with utmost care. I hate the thought of making it worse than it has to be. But I hate the thought more of simply fading away—which is my instinctual feeling, which is what I want to do. It would be easier to ignore it all. Easier for me.

I thought about too, what I would like to hear, what I would prefer--yet it somehow doesn't quite apply. Because I am me and they are them so how do I know what the right way to do it is?

I decided to be honest--not brutally so, but as fairly honest as I could be.

"You are a wonderful man.I just do not have the feelings for you that I should."

It is the truth. However, it wasn't enough of it since he proceeded to then bombard me with touches of rudeness and idiocy that caused me to cringe. I finally understood why men are prone to do the "fade away" thing . It is easier. It is neater and cleaner and leaves less guilt. There is no real backlash. You just delete the person out of your life and never think twice. It doesn't mean it is right to do it though.

It is quite difficult to tell someone you know they are not the "one" or at least one of the "ones"(I do believe there is more than one person for each of us that we can have a decent and satisfying life with) Yet, I am just as sure that if one person isn't feeling it then there is nothing else to do but end it as soon as they know it deep in their heart. There is only so long we can wait for something to grow. Sometimes it just doesn't. At those times, it is better to let it go.

It is best to leave the other person with their dignity no matter how uncomfortable it may make us to do so. When we offer the human courtesy of good-bye rather than a disappearing act, at least we are giving enough respect instead of saying, “You weren’t worth a second thought”.

Monika M. Basile

Just Do It

“I’m not responsible for your happiness…”

Yes you are. And I am responsible for yours.

There is so much advice these days that absolve us of being responsible for others—in our love lives, family lives, work and play. Yet, we are all utterly responsible for each other and every action we take makes a difference of some sort in another life.

I was told recently that we all should be happy with ourselves and then we can love others. I disagree. I am not saying that we should walk around as miserable dregs of society. I am merely pointing out, that we humans, we have the power to bring joy as well as the power to bring sorrow. And maybe if we do some things simply to make someone else happy (as long as it does not damage us) then wouldn’t the world be a bit better off?

We have become selfish in our self preservation. We have become careless in our criticisms and pointing fingers at others and refusing to accept the blame our actions may have caused. We have focused on the “me” in our lives and are constantly trying to make ourselves better. Yet we have forgotten to focus on those around us just as much which may just have a chain reaction and make them better right along with us.

I think we get very lost in the thought that we must come first, we must please ourselves before we begin to help others or heal others or please others. It isn’t true. It just isn’t. I don’t have to be perfect to love you, to help you and to give something of value to you. In the giving of ourselves with no thought of "I am not good enough to do this yet", we become good enough. We become closer to that person we most want to be.

We are responsible and we shouldn't take that responsibility lightly. We are as responsible for other's happiness as well as their sadness. It is so simple yet so complex at the same time.

If I knew that all it would take to bring a smile to your face was a simple heartfelt, "I love you." or a hug, or a pat on the shoulder, a kiss on the cheek, a kind word--why wouldn't I give it in a heartbeat? Why would I wait or withhold what is dearest to another if it isn't a lie and causes me no pain to do so? What stops us from giving what costs us nothing to give? What stops us from giving what even has a high price if we know that it simply makes a difference in the world?

If it causes someone else to be sad or hurt because I ignore what they need or want doesn't that make me responsible? Doesn't that make us all responsible to do the best we can for each other? I think it does. If simply being there actually counts in someone's life, why would we ever think not to be there?

We tell all the people in our lives they are loved by our actions and our words. They count and we count. Why would we ever choose to deny them the best of us? There is plenty of it to go around.

Monika M. Basile

Being Careful What I Wish For

It is funny how there is a rare occasion when we get exactly what we have hoped, wished and prayed for. Then we have a hard time believing it has happened and think it might be mere coincidence instead of just being thankful for our good fortune.

I started an experiment last September. I asked God for a boyfriend (though I feel I am too old for that term it was the easiest to use) for Christmas. I know that sounds a bit ridiculous to most people who will read this. It is even ridiculous to me though it was me who prayed diligently and specifically on the off chance that if I was consistent in my thinking each day, what I asked for…would be mine.

What I asked for specifically was for God to bring into my life the man who would be kind to me, good to me, and the man whom I could feel as good about as they would feel about me. I asked God to choose since I am so horribly awful at choosing for myself. And I also took the advice of my crazy lady client and I got back on the internet as she told me too though she said God knew I was afraid to.

I joined a dating site finally in November. I got my courage up after the big freak out I had at the beginning of last year. Yes, I had reason to freak out at my last attempt—my prospects had been unusual and daunting. Including the man who sent me an odd rambling of sorts how he had invested a great deal of time to find me and spoke of his hobby of collecting exotic pets. The pictures on his profile showed him brushing his teeth happily with a squirrel sitting on the edge of the sink and his raccoons walking about on the kitchen counters. (In case anyone is wondering—to me this is wildlife not exotic pets) There were men who outright asked for dirty naked pictures and those who thought it might be flattering to tell me I looked like the kind of woman who was into casual sex. I had real reason to cut out on the whole internet thing. However, I tried again as I felt I should give the whole dating thing another chance.

And again, I had gotten the barrage of odd requests and an abundance of twenty something men to ask if I was a cougar and interested etc. I had one man ask me how curvy I was and when I responded, “As curvy as God made me” he replied, “Cute, but can I have measurements?” I said, “Absolutely not.” He never responded again. Despite all of this idiocy, I didn’t give up. I didn’t let it scare me this time. I held firm to my thoughts and continued to pray, “A boyfriend for Christmas, God… a boyfriend for Christmas…”

I even was so silly that when people asked me what I wanted for Christmas I said, “I asked God for a boyfriend…” and then would laugh as if I wasn’t quite serious because it sounds loony—yet I was deadly serious and meant every word.

In mid December, a man contacted me and was respectful. He called me and asked me out to dinner two days before Christmas. He was a gentleman that evening and we went out the day after Christmas too. Real dates—dinners, a movie, regular phone calls and texts. Normalcy—something I am not used to. When I returned to work a co-worker asked me what I got for Christmas, and I responded, “It’s a bit surprising but I may have gotten a boyfriend like I asked for. We’ll see.” My client asked me, “Did you get a boyfriend for Christmas?’ and I laughed and told her yes. She crowed loudly, “I told you! I told you! God told me you had to try again.”

I had some misgivings. This man is a nice man, a good guy, a normal person. What could he possibly see in me? However, he mentioned shyly one evening that he had contacted me almost a year ago and I never responded on the dating site that had scared me away. I remembered, after racking my brain his photo and simple letter and I am not even sure why I didn’t respond. It may have been I simply wasn’t ready for him then. Who knows?

He has met my children and all of the children in and out of my house. He hasn’t run yet. I haven’t really brought anyone into my real life for the fear of that—the running part. Last night he met my parents and family. I know my family was a bit shocked, he is not the typical man I date. He is pretty much the opposite in many ways. He is better. And he seems to still like me despite the utter chaos of my world. I don’t think he’s nuts in the least bit either which is really nice.

I don’t have any idea what will happen next or how long it will last. I got what I asked for and it’s really nice to have it. I had a New Year’s Eve date too—an added bonus since I have never had one before and I never thought to even ask for that one. I am willing to allow everything to unfold and see what happens next. I don’t have anything to lose and a heck of a lot to gain. We’ll see, we’ll see.

Monika m. Basile

My Blue Christmas

Some of us hide behind facades during the Holiday season. We pretend to be having a wonderful time and fill our lives up with parties and gift giving and spreading good cheer. When in our realities we are falling to pieces. We are sad or disappointed or lonely or grieving. Yet, the world expects us to buck up and push it all aside.

I want to not be ashamed of my sadness. I want it to be okay to say, “Yeah, I know the tree is lovely but it hurts to look at it and remember other Christmas’s.” I want it to be okay to simply cry all day and feel my grief and not try to hide behind a false bravado. It would be such a relief to allow myself the time to just actually fall to pieces until I could not be broken anymore and then quietly begin to glue myself together.

I wonder if the reason we have lingering sadness is due to not being allowed to feel it completely and to its completion. We cut our grief short because we are supposed to go on and remember others have it worse. We “snap out of it” to make others more comfortable or to take care of business. We don’t complete it. We don’t always go on and adjust and get used to it. Sometimes, we just ignore it all so we are able to go on at all.

Eventually it creeps in on us and sometimes takes us over. It seeps into our very pours and drowns us inside when all we want is to break free from the sadness. We cannot let it go while it lingers in neat little boxes in the dark recesses of our minds. And sometimes, we cannot let it go at all—because it shouldn’t be let go. It is part of us. It creates us as well as destroys us.

I know there are children starving all over the world but it does not make the sadness less in my heart knowing it. I will cry for them too as well as all of the people I am missing. It does not lesson my grief to know someone else is grieving too. It only makes me remember I am not alone.

We try to cheer people up and say, “It could be worse…” or “You have so much to be thankful for…” Well, yes, it could be worse. It can always be worse. I never forget for one moment what wonderful blessings I have had and do have in my life. No one needs to remind me of any of them. I see and experience an abundance of good each and every day. However, it does not fill up the holes. To know I have good people in my life does not erase the fact that there are those I love who are missing. Nothing fills up those places. Nothing does.

It does not matter what we have when what we have lost is irreplaceable. There is no magic pill or potion to change what other people do—or to bring someone back to life. So, let me be sad and miserable about it now and then. There is reason to be.

We walk around, especially at this time of year, with heartaches that feel like severed limbs and we are expected to carry on as if we are still the same. We aren’t. Not if we actually have let people into our lives and loved them deeply. If we really have allowed people to touch our lives then we are changed, made better or worse. We are changed and we should not be afraid to mourn who is missing. It is another reason to be grateful and not ashamed. That we have loved so well is a blessing in spite of the tears it may leave on our soul.

Monika M. Basile

It's the Journey

The journey I am taking is a wondrous one and a most confusing one. It is strange to see why certain things happened as they did in the aftermath. If we could be so lucky to know before those unknown steps are taken, we would never stick one toe out into the world.

Yet, this is how we learn about life and about love. We tentatively step—we courageously leap—we blindly fall—right into the midst of our lives not knowing what lies out there in the future.

Sometimes we are damaged in our haste and sometimes, the damage is what in fact builds our characters. It makes us more, it makes us see, and it makes us become who we should be.

Recently, I had an odd experience. I had a few amazing dates and then a kind of lackluster one with a lovely man and then did not hear from him for awhile. I wasn’t too bothered. I was okay about it. But I did wonder now and then what had happened.

You see, in my heart feelings had been lingering of someone else. I seemed to still have this small thought that the person would again be in my life—sooner or later. Life surprised me instead and I learned something in a random sort of way that ended that thought and hope for good. And I learned things I never wanted to know or learn. Another painful lesson that somehow made me more and also made me free at a time when I did not realize I was still jailed with a distant longing of what could have been. I let it go. I let that part of my life that I still clung to go even though it hurt.

The next day, the amazing date man contacted me. Hmmmm, I thought to myself, Why now? I went on another amazing date. I don’t know what will happen or how it will turn out. I will simply enjoy the time for what it is. I will appreciate it.

I realized something which almost embarrassed me to realize. Maybe I wasn’t ready yet for the amazing date man. Maybe I had not healed enough for a chance to see what could happen because I was still turning one eye towards the past and thinking about that too much.

Maybe life just said, “Hey, you ain’t ready lady! So we are stopping here til your heart catches up to your head. You ain’t ready I say.”

I think, sometimes I am lucky to have life constantly intervening and putting up roadblocks here and there on this journey. We are better off having what we need now and then rather than what we want.

Now I’m ready. Truly I am. Now I am savoring each moment of this journey and not in such a blind rush to find out the destination. I know, in the end, I will be where I am supposed to be and I will keep learning along the way.

Monika M. Basile

There is Love

I was conceived the night before my father left for Vietnam.

However, this is not my story; this is Richard and Inge’s story. This is the loveliest love story I have ever known in my life. I am lucky to have been an eye witness to something that a lot of people think does not exist. I have seen it. I still see it each and every day of my life and it is beautiful.

My name used to be something that I was embarrassed of when I was young. It is different and pronounced a bit different. It is the German version of Monica and it is a part of their story. My father loved a song, a song he heard while with my mother in Germany about two young girls. When he found out about my impending arrival, he asked my mother to name me Geesela, the other name in the song, if I turned out to be a girl. My mother didn’t like that name.

The day I was born, my mother had not heard from my dad in months. She thought he was dead. And here, into the world, I arrived in the midst of an aching heart. My mother wanted to honor my father and still give me that name, but she really couldn’t stand it. Instead, she named me Monika. I imagine it was a very sad day, the thought that he may never know me, the torture of wondering if she would ever be with him again. I can’t truly even understand such a devastating feeling that must have been for her to face. Yet, while my mother was in the hospital, a news reel came on the television—my father marched across the screen. She thought she had lost her mind, but an aunt called to confirm it was really him.

Is this the reason they are going on forty seven years of marriage?

I think so. I think my parent’s learned very early on that everything can end in a moment. I think they never forgot that lesson at any time in their lives. And I think the average person forgets it so easily or never learns it at all.

My parents have known heartaches and tragedies. They have known great joy and happiness. They have known each other as we are supposed to know our mate. They have lived for better or worse, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer. They have known it and they continue to live it.

They put up with each other’s differences and the things that drive them crazy about the other and they love each other anyway. They realize, I think, that they are blessed to have each other—warts and all.

I am blessed that I grew up in a household where there were parents who giggled in the night and parents who could sit quietly saying nothing. I remember when I was young, wondering how they were not bored to just sit quietly. I had not realized what closeness there is between people when there is no need for words. It isn’t boring, it is a comfort and it is a connection of epic proportions.

I am watching my folks grow old together. What a joy to do so. What living proof that love is still alive and well in this jaded world. It is not that it can’t exist—because it does. It is only that some of us have not found it yet and unfortunately, some of us never will. But there is hope. Truly there is.

Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad!



Monika M. Basile