T.L. Gray's Blog, page 27

Oh, My Weary Soul

God, this world is so messed up, and I’m broken in so many shattered pieces, there are just some days too heavy for me to bear. I’ve lived in this valley for a long time, actually I think I was born here, and I can’t seem to find my way out.

I’m so tired of saying ‘goodbye’. What the hell is good about bye? What the hell is so wrong with me that I’m never enough to fight for? I don’t think it’s that I’m not enough, but that I’m more than they deserve. Because I know I sure as hell deserve a lot better. I deserve something real, and the world is full of cowards too afraid to be real.

I have scars all over my body. I try to hide them, not because I’m ashamed, but because I also carry the inner scars that were created from them and don’t want to share them with just anyone. People are strange creatures. We’re controlled by our fears, and often can’t see a person beyond their skin. We lie to ourselves and convince ourselves that our faith, our beliefs, our values, or our philosophies guide and lead us in our decisions, but they don’t… our fear does.

I have a friend who says he fears nothing, but he’s lying to himself. He runs as I hard as I do, perhaps even harder, because he’s afraid. But I don’t have to tell him. In the silence, he knows the truth. However, knowing the truth doesn’t keep him from being an asshole. Even still, he’s beautiful and I love him, even though I also hate him for his vanity and cowardice.

I heard a quote this morning from Jim Carrey – “My soul is not contained within the limits of my body, my body is contained within the limitlessness of my soul.” The Journey of Purpose. I believe this. When I look at someone, I look beyond their flesh and try to see their soul. When I tell someone they’re beautiful, it isn’t their body I’m talking about, but their soul.

Who sees my soul? Who can see past the smile or beyond the scars? I believe no one. I’m just the girl who ______ (fill in the blank).

My soul is weary. My heart is crushed. My faith is weak. I’m tired of carrying this mangled scarred body around. I can’t run any more. I wasn’t meant to run, but to fly. I’m lost.

Elusive Dream

Elusive dream, why do you turn into vapor every time I dare to touch your essence? 
I watch you swirl around others, guided by the gentle wind. I can see the euphoric expressions on the faces of those you entice, hypnotize, and fill with your peace. 
But for me, you recoil. You tease me, taunt me, but most of all haunt me, showing me your beauty yet leaving me in the cold, dark shadows. 
Elusive dream, I’ve learned to hate you. Though I long for you, desire you, and love you deeply, I yearn for the sun to ignite and consume you into mist, evaporating my torture along with you. 
The sun refuses to shine and the moon fights for permanent dominance. Without the radiant light my branches wither, my leaves fall, and I slowly die. 
Elusive dream, release the night or else kill me. I can’t take anymore. Please.
~T.L. Gray

All I Want for Christmas ...

Well, it’s that time of year again. The last two holiday seasons haven’t been very ‘joyous’ to me because I’m having this internal struggle with what form I want to ‘celebrate’ the holidays. I suppose my struggle all along has been me fighting against tradition and expectation more than anything. I find myself once again pushing back on this huge, sometimes seemingly insurmountable, block of tradition trying to dictate to me what I should do and how I should feel. It reminds me of a Norman Rockwell painting. I always felt out of place because I lived in a world that was nothing like his paintings, yet I wanted that world more than anything. I eventually created that world for me and my family – and enjoyed it for nearly 20 years, but felt like a fraud the whole time.

Everyone has their own experiences and interpretation. For some it’s in keeping the religious observance. But even for those who march to the crusade to keep “Christ” in Christmas against a PC world trying to destroy other people’s faith in their own bitterness, they too fight that same curse of tradition - like everyone else. What I find ‘funny’ (not really funny) is that Christ often rebelled against man’s traditions, explaining to them they lose the heart of their sacrifice in order to keep the observance, thereby invalidating their efforts. In the end, he was crucified because of tradition. It all goes back to Cain’s offering – it wasn’t the offering, but the heart in which the offering was given.

Don’t even get me started on the commercialism of the holiday. It’s really gotten to the ridiculous stage. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a giver. It’s in my nature to give. It’s something I desire to do for those I love, and even the occasional stranger. That will never stop. It’s just who I am. However, I detest being told to give, or being expected to give to people who don’t give a shit about me the other 364 days of the year because I happen to be related, in the same community group, belong to the same church, or work with them. It defeats the whole heart of the giving in the first place. But, with the sales that go on – it’s the best time to buy for those we love. The whole process has become so … hell, I can’t even think of a good enough word to describe it. It sucks the life and joy out of the act… and the pressure it puts on people - abysmal. I have a feeling the commercialism destroys more relationships than it ever helps.

The holidays (Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s) were the most fun when my kids were younger. Doing things to see their eyes light up on their faces, watching their joy and excitement as they dress up, pig out, and with sleepy eyes open their presents, and watch the fireworks explode in the night were the best times. It wasn’t about the stuff, or the tradition, it was about the connection.

All I want for Christmas this year is connections. This has been a tough couple of years – lots of changes, lots of adjustments, lots of fear. Walking away from all my security and everything ‘normal’ I’ve known, facing uncertainty every day, and then standing face to face with death - kind of changes a girl’s perspective. I want those simple beautiful moments that make this life worth living – a phone call from a friend to talk to me when I’m having trouble sleeping, a link to a song that touches my heart and reminds me of beautiful things, just hanging out while wrapped in pair of friendly arms so I don’t feel so alone, a friend showing up to spend the day with me killing aliens and talking about nothing important, a silly text from one of my kids, a Skype session with my bestie talking bullshit, or getting annihilated in a game of Words with Friends. These are the things I crave most. I don’t want the world or anything in it. I just want to love my friends and family, and be loved in return.

Someone recently told me they were sorry for not being able to give me what I wanted, to love me like I wanted, yet they never asked me what I wanted. They just assumed my expectations and made the decisions concerning our relationship for me. I had no say. I had no choice. I think they would have been surprised by my answer, but now they’ll never know. It turns out, it wasn’t the relationship they didn’t want that was lost – but the one they already had. It was something precious and beautiful, though I doubt they’ve noticed it’s gone. It’s not their fault – I’m simply unlovable. If I could give them a gift – it would be happiness. But I know I’m not the one who can give it to them.

I don’t know what tomorrow holds. I have no more faith to wish for a tomorrow. All I can see is today. Yesterday means nothing, it’s gone, it can’t be changed, it can’t be re-lived, nor can it be revived. Today is all I have. Today I want love… nothing more, nothing less. If there is no tomorrow for me, know I loved today the best I could.

For those who believe - Christ gave his life for us because he loved us. I know that includes me, but knowing something and knowing something is two different things – and I know nothing.

Till next time,

~Clueless at Christmas

Cowards and Fools

You know, I have fears just like everyone else. Contrary to popular belief, I’m a human being and have emotions. There’s a lot of evil in this world, and I’ve unfortunately faced a panacea of it, and the result is I carry a constant wariness. I’ve learned how to build walls, place distance, and shield myself by saying no and gathering the courage to walk away. Yet, despite my shaking hands, I face most of my fears. I’m not afraid to fuck up, nor am I a coward to own up to my mistakes. So, I find it quite vexing to be surrounded by cowards – people who talk tough, puff out their chests, and project an image of strength. Yet when it comes times to act they run and shoot their arrows from the shadows, negating any sense of responsibility.

Right now I’m fighting the biggest battle of my life and it literally rips my heart in two when I see great men run away in cowardice… over stupid little shit that means nothing. A great man isn’t the one that can hit the hardest or kill the most. It’s the one that can do all those things, yet with the simplest touch of tenderness earn the devotion of his men.

Case in point.

I recently had the honor and privilege of meeting a man who is strong by all outward appearances, even physically he looks like he could tear your head off with relative ease. What attracted me to this man was his sense of authority. When he spoke, those around him listened and followed. He was a natural leader. I got to witness this leadership, not by his words only – but by example. He jumped into the trenches, wasn’t afraid or too haughty to so the menial things in order to help build his team. Oh, he was tough, and spoke tough, and was hot-headed like you wouldn’t believe. I watched him verbally incinerate people like a pit bull. That’s what I compared him with – a pit bull whose growl made all the other tough-talking men sound like puppies in comparison. I was impressed by this, not because of his domination, but because I saw his aggression as passion. Passionate people love deeply and hate magnanimously, but they at least feel. I got to see that compassionate side too… when he stuck around to help a wounded friend. I was colored impressed.

This man’s compassion was also evident in the way he spoke of his friends and allies. The love, pride, and admiration that he espoused stirred up my longing to be a part of it, carrying a hope that one day he’d speak of me with like compassion. I followed this alpha dog around the yard, so proud to be part of the pack, enjoying all the rough-housing, the playful yard fights, just happy being there… until one day he turned around and bit me. At first I thought it was a small nip of correction, but it wasn’t. He got a taste of blood and the next thing I know he’s got me in a throat clamp.

Up until that point, I could understand. I was a new bitch in the yard. I needed to be tested before I could be fully accepted. My presence stirred some of the Betas to become courageous, and because one dared to deny the alpha, he was rejected from the pack. That principal in and of itself, I could understand. But what shocked me is the display of cowardice that followed.

After the big yard fight, and my submission, all became quiet and the Alpha took his spot on his throne and the rest of us all went to our little corners to lick our wounds. Assured by the Alpha and all the Betas privately that all would be well as the sun set, that all was forgiven, that tomorrow was a new day, I woke with the golden light of dawn to an empty yard. The liars moved on in the middle of the night, in the shadows, slinking away like cowards as I slept. Yet, they were far from unified. As they reached the edge of the wilderness, they all scattered like the wind. All but the Alpha circled back to me alone in the yard, promising me that I was part of their pack, and that all would be well when tempers cooled. If not, that I had a place in whatever new pack they formed.

This once beautiful pack that I loved, admired, and was often jealous of their bond wasn’t as it had seemed. For a while I thought I had caused the fissure between them, and the guilt ate at me. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. When taking care of myself was the most important thing in the world, I instead worked tirelessly to try and breach the gap – urging all of them to return to the Alpha without me and make things right – because what they had was worth fighting for, it was one of the few beautiful things in this gray-colored world. But the Alpha disappeared into the forest, leaving the pack scattered.

I know now that the cracks were not created by me or my presence. They were already there and I just happened to be a catalyst that brought those hidden things to the surface. I still believe that there can be reconciliation, but not from the shadows. I’ve moved on and joined another pack, yet determined to remain independent at the same time. My hope is that these young pups return to their Alpha. Life is too short to have stupid shit like this destroy something so beautiful. If they could see themselves the way I saw them, they’d see it’s something worth fighting for.

I’m forced to face the possibility of death as I fight for my life. In this perspective some fights are futile, yet some are worth the pain. There’s enough shit in this world, don’t let this be another piece of it. The beauty of this pack was never about the game, but the brotherhood. Scores don’t mean shit, skill means nothing, and tournaments don’t compare… to the friendship, the love, the support of knowing someone’s got your back, someone’s there when you need them, someone gives a shit whether you’re dead or alive. Trust me – those are the important things in life, they’re what make life worth living. Cowards get hung up on the bullshit, because they’re too afraid to let someone get close. Getting close, means exposing yourself to the possibility of getting hurt. So, instead of putting that possibility on the line – they hide in cowardice – kick out, unfriend, ignore, and run away because that’s the easy thing to do.

I’m such a fool. I know I’ll die a fool and I’m okay with that. In my foolishness, I’ll still love the unlovable, even when they will never love me back. I’ll still love my introverted friends who don’t need me or want me. I’d rather be a fool than a coward, though I’m often both.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

The New Bachelorette: Dating After 40 - Get Back in the Game

After taking quite a bit of a hiatus, I believe it’s time I got back into the game… the game of dating in the twenty-first century after 40. This makes round three??? Hopefully it won’t be three strikes and I’m out, but to be honest …dating is exhausting.

I made some mistakes in the first two rounds that I’m hoping I’m more wise to avoid the same curve balls this time. I’m learning to weed out the players, and how to spot something genuine, something worth fighting for.

Why did I use the word fight? Because every relationship is going to have ups and downs, and if it’s worth anything, it’s going to require a fight to make it work. I can make pretty much any relationship work, and the differences doesn’t come down to the guys – but to me, at least that’s how I’m looking at it. How much will I have to change to make it work? How much of me do I have to sacrifice to make room for someone else in my life?

Before you roll your eyes at that last statement, let me explain.

I’ve been alone for a while now. I needed this time. Though it’s often hurt, and has been extremely lonely, it’s forced me to take care of myself, to put me first, to give me the time to experiment, analyze, experience, and determine who I am, what I want, what I like, and what makes me happy. I love the woman I’ve become. I love all the new experiences I’ve jumped into and the obstacles I’ve leaped over. I regret none of them. I’ve faced death and learned to live. I’ve faced rejection and continued to love. I’ve had my heart broken, but realized it still beats – even battered and bruised. I’ve felt the earth shift beneath my feet and know what lightning feels like. If I felt it once, I can feel it again.

I’ve also learned a few things from my two earlier strikes… I’ve learned not to hold back saying what I feel, no matter the consequences. I’m not ashamed of my feelings, it’s who I am, it’s how I feel. I’ve tried to play the games, but I’m just not a player. It’s backfired. Every time I held back what I felt, not wanting to risk disrupting the relationship, I’ve watched what I wanted slip through my fingers like trying to hold onto water. By the time I found the courage to speak my heart, it was too late and they’d moved on to someone else.

I’ve learned to go slow. I really enjoy those early moments, the messages, the butterflies, the excitement of seeing each other, the flirtations, the getting-to-know you long talks, because those are beautiful moments. I wish they could last forever. For me, those are my most cherished memories – the funny, playful, innocent moments. My fondest memory is watching someone play a video game.

I’ve learned to walk away. I will never again be where I’m not wanted. I lived too long that way and for me it’s a deal breaker, no matter how much it hurts to leave. I will never chase what doesn’t want to be found. I’m devoted in everything I do, and to those I care about. I love my friends and their lives, their problems, their joys, their loves, their wants, their hopes, their dreams … all of it is important to me. I try to be their cheerleader and let them know and feel how much I love them. To someone I enter into a relationship with, I’d be even more devoted, supportive, a cheerleader, an advocate, a coach, a lover, every aspect of their life would be important to me and I’d protect it, do what I could to enrich it, and love them with all the love I possess – in honesty and faithfulness. But, the moment I feel I’m not wanted (I’m not talking about being mad at me – because I guarantee I’ll make you mad.. probably on a daily basis because I’m passionate and have an opinion – but I love a good verbal sparring – it releases endorphins), no matter how much it hurts and rips my heart out, if I’m not wanted, I will walk away.

If I knew, without doubt, that someone I loved truly loved me – wanted me – desired me in their life – that’s going to be one lucky son-of-a-bitch. I don’t NEED anyone. I’ve learned to take care of myself, fulfill my own needs, and to love myself. The person I let into my life won’t be because I need them or need anything from them, but simply because I WANT them, that I choose them, and I’d let them know by word and deed every day how much they’re wanted, they’re loved, they’re desired.

Well, it’s time to get back into the game. I’ve got the bat in hand. Let the dating begin.

Till next time,

~Bachelorette on Deck

No Beauty in Indifference

I clearly remember the day when after years and years of running, I finally stopped, turned around, and faced the God I feared, the God I hated, the God I loved but was certain hated me. I was 24 years old and had already lived and survived three lifetimes, I knew hell, and hell knew me.


I remember the moment I put my nose to the carpet of a little country church, warm tears dripping from the tip, darkening the fibers as they fell. I sincerely prayed for the first time since I was a little girl. I didn’t ask for blessings, or prosperity, or health, or love, or proof of existence, or even a miracle. With every fiber of my being, I asked God to open my eyes and ears, so that I could see something different in humanity. All I could see was the ugliness. All I knew was how to survive monsters, to look for the danger in their words and actions, to assess my risk, to read the body language of liars, crooks, thieves, and predators. I needed to believe in goodness, gentleness, kindness, trust, and love. I needed to see the good potential in people, to be able to see God.


There wasn’t a flash of light or the sound of a trumpet call, but somehow over the years I began to see and hear differently. I still saw the ugliness, the risk, the danger, the lies… but I also saw the potential for goodness, the motive between the lines, love colored with hope and sewn with faith. I begin to love humanity even as we writhed in the midst of our ugliness.


What breaks my heart is how cruel we are to one another. Cruelty doesn’t always come from monsters. The greatest cruelty I’ve ever experienced didn’t come from the hand of a violent predator, but the gentle hand of indifference. To not care, to not feel, to not fear, to not love is a great cruelty. It’s just as cruel as being overbearing in narrow-minded views, excluding those who may think differently or outside their boxed ideas – this includes all religious, political or social mediums. The way humanity treats each other is both great and tragic. I see and hear the good and the bad, love and hate, and the cruelest of them all is indifference. There is no beauty in indifference.


Love me or hate me, but at least feel something. The cruelest act I’ve ever experienced is to simply be forgotten. I seem to be easily forgotten, dismissed, passed over as if I don’t exist. God tells us to love one another. That doesn’t mean overlook our ugliness and blindly cling to false truth and allowing the people we love to continually abuse us – but to see both our sins and our goodness, to see the truth and the lies, and then in the face of that truth choose to love, choose to hope, choose to see the potential for greatness. Forgive. Not forget… never forget, and sometimes walk away if needed, but forgive.


The thing I love most about my friends are not what they do, or what they have done, but what I know they’re capable of doing and becoming, and their capacity to love. We all have sins, failures, attitudes, hurts, triggers, scars, and walls. ALL of us. None are perfect or perfectly good. But with love – all things are possible. That is why I choose to love, to hope, to believe what my natural eyes can’t see or my ears can’t hear. It’s why I still hope when people push me away or put up their walls to block me out, and continue to love them even when they stop loving me. Yes, I walk away, but that doesn’t mean I stopped seeing them for the beautiful creatures, the beautiful, complex, deeply layered human beings that they are comprised.


My faith in God has been shaken, especially these last few years, and especially facing mortality. While I can’t always see and hear who, what, where, when and why… I am still that same young woman with her nose pressed in the carpet and opening her heart to her god, wanting something real, something more and bigger than what she was capable of doing on her own.


So, yes… I’m peculiar, strange, different. I’m a sinner like anyone else. God granted me my prayer. I can see and hear beyond the image, the masks of flesh we project and think protects us, covers our sins, hides our vulnerabilities, and colors our beauty. It was so much easier to hate humanity. Loving them is the hardest of all. Loving them when they don’t love me back is downright cruel. I wish I could close my eyes and cover my ears and go back into the darkness. Instead, Beautiful… these tears now fall for you. I wish you could see what I see and hear what I hear and know… what a beautiful soul you truly are. My last hope is that my god sees me in like manner.


Till next time,


~T.L. Gray

The Image We Project

I really need to stop looking beyond the projected image, because it gets me in trouble every time. Most often it just gets me hurt. I suppose I do it because I have this insane idea ingrained into my head that if I treat others how I would want to be treated it would just magically happen in return. It’d have to be magic, right? Because, seriously, who else walks around thinking about how they treat people? Who spends the time to peel back the layers in an attempt to really get to know someone? Who looks beyond the skin, the image, the resume, the labels, the skills, the talents? I tell myself all the time… “You do, surely there are others.” Well, the magic hasn’t happened yet. I don’t know why I keep getting surprised and hurt, but I do.

I look at the world around me, and I see example after example of a culture and society that can’t even get beyond skin color, much less any deeper layer. We’ve got riots going on all over the country because of racial bigotry and hate (and that’s not aimed at only the ‘white-privilege’ community, but the ‘black-oppressed’ community too). Hate can’t see past the outer shell and it sure as hell don’t solve anything. I don’t want to hear one word on either side of this debate – because at this point all I see is hate, and violence, and stupidity. Whatever efforts were made to open up a much needed dialogue, to peel back another layer, has been destroyed when the fanatics took over and started robbing, looting, burning and acting like dumb-fucking idiots. This whole situation has become lost and out of control and the ones fueling it, stirring it up, are the biggest hatemongers of them all. (No, I don’t want to debate, talk, or discuss it in anyway. Don’t respond to this post with anything to do with this whole issue. I’m done with it. Seriously, I’m done. I won’t engage and you’re wasting your time.)

Want to know how someone feels about something or someone, get them angry. It is how a person responds to adversity that you see them for who they really are, what they really feel, what they really think – things they’ve suppressed, hidden, and pushed down. It doesn’t mean they can’t change their minds – and once felt, always felt is a myth. Feelings change. Thoughts change. Responses change. That’s why forgiveness is so important. Don’t hate them for how they feel at that moment – try to figure out why and then work on changing it. But it does reveal a part of the truth, most often things they don’t want to admit even to themselves. I know it helps me see what I sometimes can’t recognize within myself. When I get angry, I begin to look around to see if I can recognize what hurt me, because 99% of the time my anger is a result of being hurt, most often me hurting myself.

Do I always succeed and rightly recognize my triggers? Hell no. I’m often just as wrong in those assessments as I am in trying to understand the motive behind someone else’s aggression. I’m a hot mess and I know it. I can’t help but wonder, surely there’s others like me. Does everyone have all their shit together, but me? Does everyone else always know the right thing to do, the right way to feel, the right way to respond, the right way to diffuse and understand the situation, except me? Does anyone even give a damn to find out what’s beneath this outer layer? Can they see the eyes behind the mask, or just the shiny glitter on the outside? Can they see the pain behind the smile?

I just want to close my eyes. I want to be like a turtle and hide within my shell. Most of all, I want to stop feeling, stop caring, stop hoping, stop loving. My cruel blind father introduced me to many of the evils in this world, but he also taught me how to see it differently – not with my eyes but with my mind and my heart. My invalid mother with MS taught me the cruelty of guilt, but also by taking care of her the beauty in sacrifice. My weak brothers taught me the stark reality of betrayal, but also what it meant to protect. My indifferent husband taught me the pain of being unloved, but also the pride of being faithful and dutiful and the strength to love myself.

It’s hopeless. I want to submit, but submission requires trust, and trust is something I don’t think I can ever give. I’ve tried. Damn, I’ve tried so many times. I’ve failed. I don’t even trust myself. My fear, my stubbornness, and my lack of trust – keeps me doing the stupid shit that causes people to get angry and push me away and makes me run. Oh, I run. It’s what I do best. I try so hard not to run, because I know running doesn’t solve the problems, just packs them down deeper so they can surface and cause an explosion that ruins any progress I might have made. Yet staying – staying incites hope, and hope leads to pain. It’s painful to hope for something and then watch that hope die. Faith has you believing you’re something more than what you’re not, and it’s awfully painful when you’re made of aware of how you’re really perceived, what your true standing is in someone else’s sight.

I love myself. I think I’m a beautiful, passionate, loving, faithful and honest person. I love to laugh, and I really love to make others laugh. I’m a natural cheerleader. I truly care about the people I’ve chosen to let into my inner circle, which is small, tight, and something I protect with vivacity. I’d do anything to protect them. Everything I am, everything I have, every gift, talent, and knowledge I possess, I share with them – without hesitation – as long as I’m wanted. I’ve lived too many years giving to those who didn’t want me… I can’t do it anymore. I just can’t. Finding out that I’m no one to those I deeply cared for, that I’m nowhere near as precious to them as they were to me… takes my breath away. I literally can’t breathe. But I will. I will inhale …and exhale …and wipe the tears away …and go on with my day.

Till next time,

~Breathless

Family

I’ve written maybe a dozen blog posts in the last week but haven’t posted them and never will because they’re just too painful. This time of year is really hard for me, especially lately as I’ve had a brush with mortality. I can’t lie, there are days I miss some of the things I enjoyed in my old life, the holidays are one of them. The holidays are about family.

Family
What does that mean? Come on, what does it really mean? I learned a long time ago that being related to someone doesn’t make them family. I’m related to a lot of people, mostly people that have hurt me, lied to me, stole from me, abused me and used me – all in the name of family, as if that word gave them carte blanche to do what they wanted. I look around me today and laugh, because it hurts too much to even cry about. I’m done. I’m truly done.

I have no mother or father. I have no brothers or sisters. I have no husband, no in-laws, no aunts, no uncles, no cousins, no nieces, and no nephews. I have no church family. All these people told me (or never told me, but were supposed to) they loved me. They lied. Empty words mean nothing. Words lie, but actions speak the truth.

Yes, I’m the one that ran. I’m the one who opened the door and walked away. I’m the one who closed the door behind me and invited no one to come along. I’m the one who finally decided to love herself and realize I didn’t have to take their shit and listen to their lies anymore.

Not one tried to stop me. NOT ONE.

But I am not without family. I actually have a beautiful family of my own choosing and its getting bigger every day.

I have my children, Meagan, Johnathan and Kelly. I love them more than life. I have no doubt they love me. I don’t get to see them much because they’re adults now and living their lives and making their way in this world and I’m not about to try and control them. I’m here for them if they ever need me. But I won’t let them use me, nor will I ever use them. I’ve enough bitter taste in my mouth from my own family to ever subject my children to such selfishness. I would give them the world, but I know they’d only appreciate it if they gained it by their own strength. It’s hard sometimes to back away, let them fall, let them make their mistakes, let them run headfirst into disaster. A mother wants to make their children’s lives easier, to spare them hardships, to protect them from the vultures. But, it’s the only way they’ll truly learn to stand on their own. The best thing I can do for them is to let them know that I love them, mistakes and all. They could never do anything to make me stop loving them. I know the pain of being unloved. I also know the strength in being loved. I may not support everything they do, but I will always support the persons they are… and show them I love them no matter what by being honest with them. I miss them. I mostly miss the sound of their laughter, seeing their faces light up on Christmas. The parts that really tear me up – I miss playing card and board games with them, showing them how to play in the rain, how to slip and slide on the kitchen floor, the clean-up game, the poker matches, the morning cuddles before school, the book debates (Snape is still the hero Johnathan), riding around looking at ‘kismas-ights’, laughing till you can’t breathe at all the Ozzies going ‘moo’, the swimming pool, and all the long talks about everything.

They are my family and I regret nothing I’ve sacrificed for them.

I have other family that have been with me these last couple of years. One is a crazy-ass writer in Washington who frustrates the hell out of me, but who I admire so much. No matter what I do, how much I try to run, how much we argue (and we argue all the time), Jeff also makes me laugh like no one in the world, makes me feel safe, and is always there to encourage me in my lowest moments. He tears me down too and has hurt me more times than I can count, because he’s not perfect and overly opinionated, but he’s real. I don’t doubt his love for me, nor my love for him. He is my best friend. I never see him and may never lay eyes on him (except when we Skype), but he is my family and always will be. He showed me what a true friend is like.

Another is a crazy-ass woman in Florida who lives with her crazy-ass cute dog. Jenna understands me more than anyone in this world. She knows when to push and when to back away and loves me in the middle of my craziness. I love her and all her craziness. She’s my conscious. I share everything with her because I can trust her with the most delicate part of me – my heart. I don’t share my heart with anyone, because I don’t trust them, but I can trust her. She knows all my sins, all my faults, all my fears, all my failures… and yet she seems to love me anyway. I’ve never seen her (except on Skype), but she’s my sister in every way a sister should. She’s family.

There’s a valiant soldier who has the thickest walls around his heart I’ve ever seen, (maybe even thicker than mine) but for some reason he let me into his circle. We’re not close, yet very close at the same time. Emilio touches my soul and I’ve seen a peek at his, and it’s beautiful. He’s a muse for me. He’s a hero to me. I respect him, love him, and want to see him happy. He’s young with an old soul. He’s wise well beyond his years. He’s smart – oh, man, is he smart. Most see no further than his beautiful smile, but I’ve seen his beautiful mind. He makes me think and see life differently. He’s family, and so is his little brother, Michael. I love them both, deeply.

I’ve added a few new members to my family lately. Though they’re recent adds, they’ve already stolen a huge part of my heart – they’re my clan ‘We Are Immortal Gods’. They pick on me, haze me, and tease me more than a pack of angry dogs, but they also surround me, include me, and make me feel wanted and a part of the team. This is MY family, one of my own choosing, not one chosen for me. Though I’ve felt abandoned by God lately, I believe He sent them to me, because our coming together makes no sense, yet it feels right. This is a tight group and they don’t let just anyone in, yet they invited me without hesitation. I’m sure I’ve left them often scratching their heads, making them wonder what they’ve done. They make me think of a pack of wolves – there’s an alpha who leads them, but they move as one, hunt (play) as one, fight with each other on a daily basis, yet defend one another in the blink of an eye. They look out for one another. I already think of them as family and they’re mine… my Flop, my Crimm, my Haze, my Phoenix, and my Furrrball. I’ll fight with them, but I’d also defend them, and will always be there for them however I can. My door will always be open to them.

I have lots of other friends that I consider extended family, cousins perhaps, and I love them too.

I may be alone during the holidays, but I’m not without family. I will toast to them on Thanksgiving because I’m thankful they’re in my life, whether through writing, skype, or video game. My Christmas wish is for their dreams to come true. My New Year’s Resolution is that they find happiness. My Prayer is that they each know they’re much loved.

Happy Holidays,

~T.L. Gray

Someday, Someone

Adaptation

Life is liquid. It moves. It’s constantly changing. It has a starting point, a birth, yet constantly flows toward an end, a death. Along the way there are lots of turns, twists and metamorphoses - sometimes lazily moving at a trickle, and other times it becomes a raging river.

Sometimes I welcome change. Other times I hate it. Most often I’m scared of it. It has a way of bringing beautiful things and people into my life, but at the same time it also has the power to remove them. No matter what I tell myself, I have no control to stop the movements of in and out. The tighter I try to hold on, the more it hurts when it’s ripped from my hands.

I’ve done so many great things in my life. I’ve accomplished so many great things. I’ve also failed and lost just as many. I’m just as scared as the next person. Giving up is not an option. What mask do I wear today? I’m learning, it’s whichever one I need most.

I’m learning so much from being immersed in my world of Destiny and among my clan, We Are Immortal Gods. Maybe perhaps not learning, but being reminded. For instance – I’m remembering essential things through the simple act of trying to upgrade my armor and weapons. Having the right equipment, the right weapons, the right tools, makes a huge difference in my failure or success in a strike, a patrol, or a raid. The more durable, the more powerful, and the more accurate my shot – the better my chance, the lesser my effort, the higher opportunity for success. But, ill equipped, unknowledgeable, and inexperienced works against me and makes things so much harder. However, I’m one of the most stubborn people I know. I don’t give up – well, I don’t give up easily.

I’m running around with a bunch of pros. It’s humbling, yet it’s frustrating at times. It’s also what I need. While I often feel really bad for being a nuisance and a handicap to my clan as they make their way through their challenges, my admiration grows for them greatly with every invite they send. My natural response when I feel a burden is to run. That inner demon that tortures me – using the voices of the past to whisper in my ear of how I’m not wanted, I’m not needed, and I’m not welcomed is working overtime. I have to fight against those voices and trust in the bond of my clan that they do want me.

I want my clan to be proud of me. I want to become as skilled as them and a force to be feared and reckoned, not the butt of a cheesy joke. I want to be able to stand beside them in battle with pride, not be hid in some corner to be protected. The unfortunate truth, one that I’m forced to admit to myself, is that right now I need to be protected, both in the game and in real life. The game is teaching me that though I may not currently be properly equipped or have the strength to stand on my own, or the skill to make a difference (though I will not give up and will continue to increase those skills) – if I open my heart and look around me, maybe I don’t have to go at it alone. I can’t make it alone. Life, just like this game, was meant to be lived, to be played, cooperatively.

In my stubbornness, in my pain, in my fear, I have pushed everyone away in my life. I have run. I have hid. I have built my walls. I have worn my masks. But it’s time to stop running, to get up, put on my armor, and fight back. It’s time to adapt. Change is happening. It always is. I just hope I don’t have to face it alone.

Till next time,



~T.L. Gray