T.L. Gray's Blog, page 16

Falling in Love... Day One

I’m on a quest.  It’s the greatest quest of all. It’s one I’ve accomplished before, and one I know I can and will accomplish again.  I want to fall in love.  I want to be excited about life, thrilled about all the great possibilities that lay ahead for me every day.  I want to see the beauty in everything around me because I’m looking through eyes of beauty, eyes that know love, feel love, and exude love.  That can only happen if I’m filled with love.  So, I’m on a quest to fall in love again… with myself.
As much as chemistry is important, the major factor of falling in love is a state of heart and mind.  Opening our minds and hearts, or also closing them, to the concept and acceptance of love is the beginning of any relationship.  If we are empty of love, we cannot give what we do not possess.  We then become vampires, because we have a need inside, a hole desperate to be filled, so we seek love from others around us, sucking the life out of them to feed that need, only to discover after we’ve drained them dry, the hole is still there.  That’s the thing about holes…  unless their patched, bottoms sewn together, mended, or sealed, everything that goes into them, drains right out the other end.
I used to be so angry at vampires, because they’re so fucking selfish. They’re so self-centered, desperate, needy, they don’t consider the damage they do to their victims.  They just need the blood, the love, and so they take, and take, and take, like a junkie using everyone in their life to get their next fix. They don’t “mean” to hurt anyone, but their disease controls them. A vampire’s need for blood controls them. They use, manipulate, lie and suck those that possess any love dry of that love, and then discard them, push their empty shells out of their lives, and then move onto their next victim.  And most often, these demons don’t realize they’re the vampire, destroying all the relationships in their life. Most see themselves as the victim, and most often at one time they were by another vampire.
I don’t want to be a vampire. I could very well become one. I have a huge hole in my heart, and it’s been bleeding for a while now. I can feel it turning more and more into stone day by day. I was recently so in love, probably the most in love I’ve ever been in my life. The world wasn’t magically perfect, and all my dreams didn’t come true, and all my problems didn’t disappear. On the contrary, loving this man pushed me so far outside my comfort zone and magnified the difficulties this cruel world has to offer. He’s a mess. He’s complicated. He’s damaged. He came with a lot of baggage.  Yet, I would light up just to hear his voice, my stomach pitched with butterflies when I stared into his beautiful eyes, and the peace I felt when he held me calmed the deepest storms inside. He had nothing to offer me, and that meant nothing to me, because I had the greatest thing of all… love. He was my soulmate. I was so deeply, madly, crazy in love and that made me happy.  I didn’t just fall in love with him, but everything that came with him. I know he loved me too, because I felt it.
I still don’t understand what happened, and I suppose now it really doesn’t matter. I may never know or may never understand why I lost that love, but I can’t allow the loss of it to turn me into a vampire. I LOVE the woman I am. I have worked hard to become her, and she is the woman that I cannot lose, refuse to lose, and will fight to keep. 
So, here I am. One of the things I learned from all the marriage counseling and couples workshops I participated in trying to save my marriage, is that all relationships require constant work.  ALL relationships, and that includes the one I have with myself.  In essence, THAT relationship is the most important one of all. How I love myself is the key to loving other people, it effects EVERY relationship in my life.
So, to my first love, my deepest love, Tonya… I see you and I love you.  I love your unending hope. I love the way you see the best in people, look beyond their weaknesses and imagine their greatest potential. I love how you defend the defenseless, and go out of your way to put a smile on someone else’s face, especially when you’re crying inside and just want to die.  I love how you would give up your lunch money to make sure someone else didn’t go hungry.  I haven’t forgotten the time you gave away a dress you saved MONTHS to buy to a stranger. Or how you opened your home to a pregnant woman who had nowhere to go. Even in the darkest of times, you always fought to protect, to save, even knowing you would pay the greatest of prices.  I will never, never, never forget the sacrifice you made to save a little girl from the hell you lived.  No one else knew the price you paid, but I remember, and I love you for it.  No one ever tells you thank you, hell, they don’t even remember you, most don’t even know your real name. You gave your gifts, your talents, your love, your support, and everything you had without hesitation and no one cared. I do. I care. I know your deeds, and most of all I know your intentions, I know the motivations of your heart, and you are precious.  Those are the very words God said to you, “you are precious.” Never forget them.  
So, in my quest to fall in love again with myself, I am going to keep reminding myself of the person I am, and see the virtues that I believe make me beautiful, and I’m going to do this every day until I can fill that hole, ease that pain, and feel loved once more.
Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

Do It Anyway

They say wisdom comes with age. I’m not so sure that it’s only an age thing, but a combination of that and experience.  Life’s lessons aren’t just lessons learned as Father Time ticks away the years, because I’ve met many older people who’ve led very sheltered and narrow-minded lives, and never learned a damned thing. However, experience alone doesn’t grant us this wisdom either, because I’ve also seen some people who have experienced some tragic and great things, yet still never learned anything, either.
So, what is the key to wisdom?  I think it might have something to do with learning from the experiences we’ve had throughout time.  Not that we can learn everything, because no matter how much we try, we are fallible humans.  Everything we do learn, or are exposed to, is filtered through our level of understanding.  For some that level is higher, more open, and allows more to filter through, while others have smaller holes, and very little gets through.  Our filters are made up of our preconceived ideas, theologies, cultural influences, regional inspirations, religious teachings, parental guidance or lack thereof. Our filters come from the pain we’ve experienced, and the joys of pleasure.  My filter has some very small holes, as well as some very large ones.  But, have I learned anything?
Love is an enigma.  It’s the one thing I’ve pursued harder than anything in my life. It’s also the one thing I’ve ran from faster, and has eluded me more times than I could count.  It seems just when I find it, it’s taken away from me.  It’s like the biggest cosmic joke.  I’m so afraid to be happy, because just when I find happiness, it’s taken from me - first by death, then by cancer, and recently by … well, I’m still not sure what happened. It’s the most confusing of all.
So, what can I do?  Though I’m scared. Though I’m confused. Though my filters are all messed up. Though my faith is weak.  Though my heart is one big fucking mangled mess… I do it anyway.
I dare to hope, when I see no hope.
I dare to dream, even when my dreams are filled with nightmares.
I dare to smile, even when I feel like dying inside.
I dare to sing, even when my voice is cracked or hindered by the big knot in it.
I dare to love, even when I’m not loved in return.
This is the thing I’ve learned.  I could choose to hate, and be angry, and feel sorry for myself.  That’s easy.  I could hold grudges, return pain for pain, be vindictive, and be selfish.  That too is easy. These are the actions of the weak-minded, selfish, shallow, and deplorable.  They only breed onto themselves and cause more of what hurt them in the first place.  These become the ugly monsters in the universe, spreading their disease like a zombie. Once infected, they spread their hate to everyone else that dares to love or get close to them. I choose to be different.  I’d carry pain to keep from causing pain. I’d give everything I had to prevent someone else’s suffering.  I choose to give the very things I need most in my life. Because I know, that I know, that I know – because I’ve learned – the only hope I have is to give love if I ever hope to receive it. Real love. Not this imitation bullshit called passion, chemistry and infatuation.  Those are nice, but only temporary and vain.  Though most of the world accepts that vanity, and never moves beyond it, confusing it for love, I can’t. I’ve felt the real thing, so I can’t accept the imitation. If I have to sit across the table from a thousand men, or ten thousand men, I hope to someday look into a pair of eyes and see the love I’ve been waiting for, that I’ve been sending out into the universe, hoping and praying it makes its way back to me.  And if not… then I leave this world having sown love, hope, joy, goodness and kindness… so that maybe someone else doesn’t only meet made monsters.
This song sums it up perfectly.
Do It Anyway – Martina McBride
You could spend your whole life building something from nothing, and a storm could come and blow it all away… build it anyway.You could chase a dream that seems so out of reach, and you know it might not ever come your way… dream it anyway.
God is great, but sometimes life ain’t good. And when I pray, it doesn’t always turn out like I think it should… but I do it anyway. I do it anyway.This world’s gone crazy and it’s hard to believe that tomorrow will be better than today… believe it anyway.
You could love someone with all your heart for all the right reasons, and a moment they could choose to walk away… love ‘em anyway.
God is great, but sometimes life ain’t good. And when I pray, it doesn’t always turn out like I think it should… but I do it anyway. I do it anyway.You could pour your soul out singing a song you believe in, but tomorrow they’ll forget you ever sang… sing it anyway.  Sing it anyway.I sing, I dream, I love ….anyway.

Dragon Point

Well, I'm writing a new story, and I'm really excited about it.
Here's just a snippet to get you started. 


“I saw a dragon today. It’s not every day a girl gets to see a dragon, but I’m not your typical girl and this isn’t your average dragon. Before I get into the details of the mysterious beast and the amazing story of what happened, I must take you back to a beginning. All adventures should have a good beginning, and this one has a most curious one.”
 It was a cold, windy day and not a single cloud appeared in the bright azure sky. Baby cobalt kissed the horizon, while deep cerulean ruled the atmosphere. The golden sun god sent its rays in fat, voluminous beams coaxing thousands of sapphires to sparkle upon the rippled water. Poseidon’s presence was felt as the Renascence cut through the dark waters disembarking from Waterline Marina, slowly meandering around Ballard Park, and then into the beautiful Indian River. 

Moving Forward

“Life is fluid, ever-changing, filled with both joy and despair, love and heart-break, it's evolutionary and quite contradictory.”
That’s how I started the essay for my online dating profile. I can honestly say, not many of the men who respond get what I’m saying, but I didn’t expect them to understand. 99.9% are responding to my pictures only and never even bother to read the essay. I’m not complaining because I understand society on a whole and men for the most part. BTW, I read all the essays.
Men are very visual creatures. They will convince themselves how they feel sometimes exclusively based on what they see. They can lie to themselves of their attraction, love, or lack of both depending on their partner’s exterior beauty or flaws. This visual addition is what makes a man overlook his morals and common sense, and in his own lack of confidence and self-esteem, and find himself fawning for a cheap despot and push a beautiful soul into the dreaded friend’s zone.  They honestly desire that beautiful relationship with a soul mate who will respect them, want them, and bring out all the good qualities of being a man, much like they receive from the friend, but they go about it all the wrong way because they try to find those things outward-inward, instead of inward-outward, and end up with a long history of abusive, selfish, and soul-less women. 
Don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of women who do the same, but it’s not as common, because the very base instinct of a woman is to nurture and love and see beyond the physical. Well, for most women anyway. There are some women so comfortable with using people because they have that outward beauty, have never had a good solid relationship, they don’t have that natural nurturing character, but that’s from being a selfish vampire. Most women understand a man’s addiction to outward beauty, that’s why many try so hard to fit that ideal or wear the clothes, hair and makeup they do to appeal to a man.  I’ve been there, done that. I’m now at a point of my life that I don’t dress to impress or attract a man, but concerned only with what impresses me.  Could be why I’m still single.
But, that’s not what this article is about.  It’s about being at a point in my life where I’m moving forward. I’ve had some great moments over the last few years.  After my divorce, I started running toward this new life, discovering myself, discovering my hopes, dreams, wants, character, and desires.  Then I ran into a roadblock that knocked me flat on my ass, halted that great forward progression, and pretty much knocked the wind out of me. But, in my darkness, there was a beautiful light that lifted me, helped to inspire me to get up and try again.  Oh, I opened my heart and for a little while… and man, oh man, I flew. I felt happiness, joy, love, passion, and most of all, hope.  I felt the love inside a pair of strong arms and the joy of friendship, companionship, and being able to share a part of myself that I kept inside for so long. But it only lasted for a short time before the difficulties of life interfered and pushed me outside and ripped away that beautiful dream.  And I got the breath knocked out of me again. I still find it difficult to breathe, because of how beautiful that dream was – not the big things, but the little things… the long conversations, the texts throughout the day, the games, the silly moments, the simple laughter… oh, damn.  The part that touched me most and that I realized I missed in my life was those precious moments of being part of a family. I fell in love with that family and will always love them.
I learned a lot about myself and what I want in this life thanks to that experience.  I hate that once again my direction has been changed and another roadblock has forced me to turn again, but that’s life… it’s fluid, ever-changing, filled with joy and despair, love and heart-break, it’s evolutionary and quite contradictory. My only choices are to stay where I am and slowly die or get up and move forward.  So, I move forward.
These last few months, since my birthday I’ve been trying too hard to hold onto broken, shattered pieces, and the only result is a bunch of scars.  I’ve held onto nothing. I’ve washed my cuts, applied ointment, and covered them with band-aids.  I’m healing. At the same time, I’m getting back to myself and picking up many of those things I dropped at my first roadblock, especially my love for adventure.  I’m different. I’m changed. I’m moving like a slow flowing stream. I’ve just fell down the side of one mountain, and now I’m climbing another, but I’m not in a hurry to reach the top.  It’s about the journey on the way.  That’s life. The river, the trail, the wind, the rain, the sun, the clouds, the moon, the stars… that’s life.
For me, that fluidity is in my adventures. Yes, love is also an adventure and I’m trying to keep my broken, crushed, damaged, bleeding heart open for that opportunity, but it’s not my focus.  I’m also not in a hurry.  The world seems to always be in a hurry.  I went sailing yesterday with two men who are just friends I met online, and I can’t express how much being around them was medicine to my bleeding heart. Their friendship is a salve because they expect nothing from me and love and accept me just as I am.  It was so freeing to enjoy the adventure without being on guard. I’ve been on a several dates lately and I have thick armor, because I’m understanding how fluid I am and I feel most of the men I meet have such hard defined ideas of what their looking for in a woman, a lover, a friend, and a mate. While I’m looking for passion, connection, and attraction, I’m so on guard that I bolt at the first inkling of a man that just wants that physical relationship.  I want love.  I don’t feel like I can ever love again, but I will keep myself open to let love in should it happen.  However, at this point in my life, I just want adventure, to be happy, fulfilling some of my dreams, getting back outside and chasing some of those experiences. Some days I’m very lonely and miss the intimacy I had with my last relationship, but I’m finding more and more days being content and breathing a little easier.  I may be alone for the rest of my life, but then again… I may find the love of my life today or tomorrow while I’m out living this fluid life. I’m moving…forward.

Dinner for One

Thanksgiving and Christmas used to be my favorite holidays.  Well, they usually fell right behind Halloween, yet still a favorite.  But in the last few years, I’ve come to dislike all of them.  So, I’ve been thinking why has my heart changed about the three times of year I looked forward to most?  It didn’t take long to figure it out, and part of me just holds my breath as I try to get the huge lump in my throat to ease.  
I loved these holidays because they reminded me of the innocence of childhood, they were some of the few happy moments I experienced, and then for my kids… oh, my God, to see the looks of excitement, joy, anticipation, and happiness on their faces made me try even harder to make those times better and bigger.  Some of my fondest memories are hearing my kids try to negotiate opening presents earlier than scheduled, sneaking bites of the Thanksgiving meal before it was served, and getting a sugar-high from all the candied loot and the excitement from corn mazes, haunted houses, and riding around looking at Christmas lights.
I dread the holidays now because it’s a reminder of the life I no longer have, the children that are now grown and don’t need me anymore, who are located so far away that I’m not even part of their lives. I started crying in the grocery store the other day because I saw all the Thanksgiving items stacked in the center isle… I have no one to cook for.  I used to start preparing a few days before Thanksgiving marinating the Turkey with salt, butter and Cajun spices, and checking off my list to make sure I had all the ingredients to make the full menu.  I’d start the slow prep like cutting the onions and celery, so they’d be ready when I started mixing, and start boiling the eggs, baking the cornbread and biscuits to use for the dressing and stuffing.  I’d be making my list for Black Friday shopping, mapping out a strategy to get the biggest items first before the sun even came up, usually in a divide and conquer plan my ex-husband and I split. Then after spending the first few hours of daylight wrapping presents, Christmas decorating would commence.  While lights were being strung outside, I decorated the tree and the inside.  Which now reminds me… I don’t even know where the decorations I’ve collected over years are.  Did I leave them, did he throw them away, are they boxed somewhere, does it matter? The end of the year was celebrated with Sparkling grape fruit, upcoming wishes, and fireworks.  Then the day after all the decorations would be packed away very carefully, to start again the next year. 
So here I am now… single, no kids, most of my life still packed away in boxes stuffed inside a storage unit being exposed to the heat, cold, and rats.  How did I get here?  I was a good wife. I was a good mother.  The key word is ‘was’.  I don’t know who I am anymore.  I can’t be where I want to be, I can’t be who I want to be, I’m stuck in a life where I’m so lost and very much alone.  Can’t I just sleep until January?  Spending time with friends and their families don’t help… it’s a just stark reminder that I don’t have a family of my own anymore. I know they mean well, but it doesn’t help. How did I get here?
I’m going to try hard to be jolly this season, to be thankful, to be happy during the holidays, but forgive me if the tears fall when I order a dinner for one with food I can’t even eat, or give gifts to others that are not my family. During the holidays, if you see someone else alone, I don’t know what to tell you.  Sometimes reaching out and offering a hand, an invitation, can make a huge difference, but sometimes it can make them feel worse.
Maybe I’ll get involved with some charity organization where I’ll work in a soup kitchen to feed the hungry on Thanksgiving and buy me a new video game to help me forget all about Christmas.
Till next time,
~Jinx

Can't You See?

Do You Know How Much I Love You?

If I Had a Heart

This post is inspired by the theme song by Fever Ray from Vikings.


Lyrics:
This will never end
‘Cause I want more
More, give me more, give me more
This will never end
‘Cause I want more
More, give me more, give me more
If I had a heart I could love you
If I had a voice I would sing
After the night when I wake up
I'll see what tomorrow brings
If I had a voice I would sing
Dangling feet from window frame
Will I ever, ever reach the floor?
More, give me more, give me more
Crushed and filled with all I found underneath and inside
Just to come around
More, give me more, give me more
If I had a voice I would sing


The first time I heard this theme song it was the powerful music that touched me.  That constant and tribal thump of the bass line pulled at my deepest soul string, and my heart beat changed to keep in time with it.  It pulled me down into the depths of my own soul and stirred everything inside it… all the hope, all the love, all the pain, and all the despair.  All of it mixed together, swirling, swirling, swirling, deeper and deeper… ‘more, give me more, give me more. Dangling feet from window frame, will I ever, ever reach the floor?’  
That’s what my heart longs for… more.  But more of what?  At first I thought it was love.  Just like the song says, “If I had a heart I could love you.” It doesn’t say ‘would’, meaning having a choice… but ‘could’ as if incapable or unable. Love seems to be the most elusive thing for me to receive, yet what I tend to give more and more and more. I find it ironic.  When I first heard the scriptures that whatsoever a man sows, that also he would reap, I began to sow the things into my life, my world, and into others those things I wanted most for myself.  When I need encouragement, I give it to someone else. When I am hungry, I feed someone else.  When I am in need, I go out of my way to help someone else.  When I am lonely, I will provide company to someone else.  When I’m afraid, I will encourage someone else.  When I’m lost, I will lead someone else to somewhere I know.  But love… I give love to those who’ve hurt me, who’ve hate me, and who’ve reject me.  When I see a heart that has been broken and crushed, as mine has been so many times, I pour what love I have within me into them as much as I can.  For I am filled with love… love for myself, love for a broken and wounded world, because I am broken and wounded. 
For the longest time when I found myself in need, I would go without.  When I was lonely, my tears stained my pillow that no one ever saw, and hid my pain behind a smile.  When I was afraid, I’d wrap my arms around myself.  When I was lost, I wandered alone.  There’s two sides to that scripture… sowing and reaping.  I learned to sow, lived a life of sowing and giving and pouring into others, denying myself and carrying my cross, yet I had not learned how to reap, how to open myself to receive, let someone else sow into me, because I only knew how to be broken and crushed.
Our lives are filled with many dark nights, many storms, many battles, and many moments of pain, but joy comes with the morning. Let us see what tomorrow brings.  Be content, but never be satisfied.  Always strive for more, more and more.  Because this is life.  Living is surviving, rising, falling, and overcoming.  If I had a voice I could sing.  If you have ears to hear, then listen.  Hear what calls from the deep.  Forget the noise of the world above and allow yourself to fall into the depths and listen.
“This will never end, ‘cause I want more. More, give me more, give me more.”

Howl of the Moon Goddess

Thump. Thump. The speakers vibrate as the heavy bass blares throughout the small apartment. Each beat moves Luna, stirs her soul, and stimulates her imagination.  Her head slightly bobs and she taps her foot to the steady beat, sometimes even moving her shoulders with each progression, but her mind isn’t on the music, she doesn’t even hear the lyrics she finds herself singing.  Her thoughts are on him. They’re always on him, or at least it seems that way to her lately.
“Concentrate, damn it. You’ve got a deadline.”
Luna’s fingers sit idly on the keys as she stares at the empty page on her laptop screen, but she doesn’t even see the white empty space.  She can only see flashes of his black eyes, those mysterious, sexy, exotic eyes, staring at her, undressing her, her wolf hungry and filled with a need to devour.
Butterflies flutter inside her, the music takes her deeper and deeper into her day dream.  She closes her eyes, leans back in her office chair and with the tips of her fingers she lightly touches her forehead, imaging it’s the soft, warm touch of his beautiful full lips.  She moves her middle finger between her brows and down to the tip of her nose and pauses.  She can see him clearly now in her mind.  His forehead rested upon her own and his dark eyes staring into her own, his warm breath upon her own lips, the tip of his nose pressed against hers. One hand cradles her head, while his strong thick thumb slowly rubs against her jawline.  She can feel him peering into her eyes, deeply, beyond her hazel irises and into the very depths of her soul. 
“I love you,” her wolf whispers.
Her breath catches.  She wants to say those three powerful words back to him, but she can’t breathe.  She’s paralyzed, filled with both fear and overwhelming emotion.  She’s longed to hear him say those words, but at the same time doesn’t trust them.  Too many other wolves have said them to only have never meant them, never even knowing the power of what they meant, and in their blindness walked away beneath the power of the moon. Staring into those black eyes, she knows she loves the spirit behind them, more than any wolf she’s ever loved before, yet she knows that someday he too will walk away. The wildness within him will howl, and he will run, just as all the wolves before him.
Warm tears well in Luna’s eyes as she opens them and stares once more at the empty screen in front of her. She covers her face with hands, props her elbows on the end of the table and lets the cries of pain escape through her lips, a howling cry, a wearisome wail. 
Why does she cry?  Luna knows she’s wild, and something truly wild cannot ever be caged, cannot ever be tamed, cannot ever be possessed – only equaled by something just as wild, just as strong, just as powerful, and just as free.  She is a she-wolf that needs to run and not be caged. Her coat is beautiful, yet delicate.  She’s been broken so many times before by violent teeth, iron bars, and messy nets.  She is now tattered, torn, and frail, but she can still run, it’s all she knows.  Her strength comes from the earth.  Her heart comes from the moon.  The stars call to her and guides her toward her destiny.  The waves sing to her, telling her of the deep things.  The wind speaks to her and howls her name.  The rain washes the heaviness from her soul. The thunder and lightning energizes her and fills her with strength.
Luna wipes her face, takes a deep breath, and once more sets her fingers to the keys.  She knows she’s going to run.  Perhaps she knows her wolf won’t run next to her, but she can’t let his choice stop her.  The moon is calling her.  Her destiny awaits her.  She is a she-wolf goddess and her throne waits for her to return. Her scepter is the words she writes.  Her crown is her vision and drive.  It is a heavy crown and comes with much sacrifice, but she knows nothing great comes without a great cost. She also knows to be part of a pack is the easy way for an ordinary she-wolf, but she’s not ordinary and cannot ever be ordinary.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.  Luna’s fingers fly across the keyboard.  With each stroke, her heart beats just a little bit faster.  Her hazel eyes widened with excitement.  Her gift flows through her, filling her, stirring her, pouring into her at the same time pouring out through her fingertips. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. The heavy beat of the music behind her moves her, pushes her, builds the moment must like the way her wolf makes love to her… building within her an explosive pressure, leading her toward a great release.
The words pour from her like a great river following around bends, navigating through rocks, and then plunging down over great falls.  Her imagination runs through the forest of fantasy like the spirit of her she-wolf, her feet barely touching the moss-covered ground, her heart racing as she dodges in and out hidden trails, inhaling the earthy scents of the forest, seeing all the vibrant natural colors. How wonderful would it be if another ran and witnessed the same beauty, but Luna knows only a wild wolf possesses such vision.
Ring. Ring.  Luna snaps out of her vision and her fingers rest once more on the keys.  She reaches over and pushes the power button on her iPod and silence fills the air that was just pulsating with heavy bass and erotic, tribal percussions.  Ring. Ring. Ring.
“Hey, babe,” Luna answers, eyeing the name of her wolf flash across the screen of her phone.
The tone of his voice through the phone tingles her ears, much like the way the drum beats just did a few moments ago through the music and she can’t help but smile. His soul draws her out of her imagination, leaving her wild trails to fade back into the recesses of her mind. Her mind now focuses on him, the memory of his touch, the intoxication of his scent, of the wildness inside him that is an explosive combination when it comes together with her own.  His bite is infectious.  His growl is erotic.
“What you doing tonight?” Luna’s nipples begin to ache and her breath shallows. Her soul knows it’s a new moon and she wants to howl tonight, to run and hunt with her wild wolf.
“I’ll be waiting for you.” Luna laid her phone down on the desk, glanced at the black font filling the page and smiled. Her wild-woman hazel eyes glowed as she shut the cover of her laptop. 

Mountain Climber

I’ve started a new chapter. I’m facing a new mountain. I’m not just talking in my novel, but in my life.  How many chapters does that make it now?  How many mountains are behind me? Let’s just say on Sunday I’m turning (45) forty-five.  Wow.  I don’t feel forty-five, and yet I feel like I’ve already lived a hundred lives.  How many times have I started over? How many mountaintops have I crested? I can break my life into several different segments, each filled with adventure and tragedy, love and hate, hurt and healing.  Some of it terrible, but some of it great.  I feel I’m both blessed and cursed.  Where am I now?  What new valley do I enjoy now?  What new mountain do I face to climb?
I look around me and I don’t recognize much of me.  I’m living in someone else’s apartment, surrounded by someone else’s things, in someone else’s town.  At moments, this reality is overwhelming and I cry for my space, I cry for my familiar things stuffed away in some storage unit.  I often feel my life is stuffed away, melting in the heat, locked away, confined, and forgotten. I had begun discovering myself, gathering things around me that were mine.   It’s always “soon” I’ll have my space.  “Soon” I’ll get my things back.  “Soon” I can get back to my life.  Yet, soon keeps getting pushed back one extended lease at a time.  It was just supposed to be for a few months.  In a couple weeks it’ll be a year.  In my experience… soon often never comes. I feel helpless, trapped and wonder how I got here, why I’m here, and how long will I have to stay?
Other times, I’m grateful for where I am, because I’m not alone and I know my best friend and roommate loves me and all the mess that I am.  The confined space is suffocating me, but her presence, her love, and her acceptance helps me when I fall into that panic mode.  I love having her around, I just wish we had a bigger apartment.  Being confined into small places stirs up childhood and other nightmares. Sometimes I can’t breathe and become filled with anxiety.  She also works from home, which means during her work hours (which are late afternoons) our small space becomes even smaller because I have to be quiet and stay in my room. It’s not so bad when I can go outside, go explore my new city, go enjoy the beauty of nature.  But it’s July in Florida and hotter than hell, and being outside during the daytime hours literally makes me sick.  I mean, puking-my-guts-out-and-getting-overheated-or-burned-to-a-crisp sick. My confinement becomes even smaller, and I feel like I’m locked away in a jail cell.  Sometimes I can literally hear the slam of a thick, metal door, and the sound of sliding steel as the lock catches.  Even the door to my bedroom gets stuck sometimes and is hard to open, which causes my feeling of confinement and panic to rise. I know it isn’t real, just a ghost image my mind uses to torture me, but I hear and feel it. 
I miss my things. I miss my space. I miss my kids. I miss the mountains. I miss the woods. I miss a lot of things.  But, I don’t miss the isolation, the feeling of being lost and forgotten and unnecessary. After 20 years of marriage, 18 years of church service.  After two decades of hard work to climb the corporate ladder.  After 25 years of motherhood.  I felt like none of it mattered, all the sacrifice I made was for nothing.  No one cared.  I had nothing to offer anymore, so I wasn’t necessary and became forgotten, tossed aside. I just wanted to be loved, but it seems I could never do enough to earn that from anyone. I walked away, and no one stopped me from leaving.  Then my body turned on me too.  I hit bottom a couple years ago, as low as one could go.  I faced death, and he almost won, but he didn’t.  I’ve been fighting to pick myself up from those deep trenches, ever since.  I can’t express or explain or even describe what it’s like to prepare to die.  I didn’t prepare, I imploded. But this blog post isn’t about staying in that dark place.  On the contrary, I’ve posted all the darkness above to lead to this point so that you can see the light.  There is light, there is hope, and there is freedom.  Yes, I’m still in a small confined place, and some days it’s very over-whelming.  BUT, I’m also in a good place because the doors are not locked.  I am not alone.  I will have my space, but this time it won’t be a place of darkness, of sadness, or of loneliness.  I just have to hold on for a little while longer, and “soon” will happen before I know it.  Yes, I’ll still have days of panic.  Yes, I’ll still have days of extreme anxiety.  But, I don’t have to face those days alone.  I still miss my kids, but they’re grown and living their lives without me and finding their way in this world.  My ex-husband has now remarried.  My ex-church has accepted the new couple and replaced me very easily.  My ex-in-laws now have a daughter-in-law in whom they can be proud.  Those chapters in my life are now closed.
So, yes, I’m starting a new chapter.  As with every new chapter, it takes a little while before you get to the inciting scene, the moment when everything changes.  The beginning of a climb is often slow and the size of the mountain seems overwhelming and a huge obstacle.  It won’t be until I reach near the summit before I will feel victorious, but I have my eyes locked onto my goal, onto my target, and though it will be a difficult climb and push me to the edges of my strength and will, I will succeed.  Do you know how I know?  Because this isn’t the first mountain I’ve climbed, nor is it the biggest or toughest mountain I’ve faced.  The biggest difference …I’m not climbing on my own.  I have two wonderful people in my life right now that have their own climb to make and we’re climbing together.  This time, I’m there to lend a hand when they need it, and to grab a hand when I need one.  I don’t know what struggles tomorrow holds, and I’m sure there will be many, all I know is that I don’t have to face them alone. 
Till next time,
~Mountain Climber